


I Think I Love You

by Dustybaby, Winterscribe



Category: Bandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, And Brock gets more emo than the emos, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Attacks, Ass to Mouth, BAMF moms, BDSM, Birthday Party, Blow Jobs in a Car, Bottom Frank Iero, Brock Rumlow loves Disney, Brock lacks self-care when he's stressed out, But it's all through Google translate so please forgive me, Chick-Flick Moments, Choking, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Coming In Pants, Concussions, Consensual Non-Consent, Depression, Desperation Play, Discovering new kinks, Don't worry the ducklings have him taken care of, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, F/M, First Christmas, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frank Iero Is A Little Shit, Frank Iero Is A Sweetheart, Frank Iero is a Size Queen, Gambling, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Homophobic Language, Hospitals, Hugs, I'm Going to Hell, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Italian Mafia, Italiano | Italian, Jack Rollins Is a Good Bro, Jack being Jack, Kidnapping, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Inaccuracies, Meet-Cute, Mental Health Issues, Mentions Of Puke, Military Backstory, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Not Beta Read, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Pet Names, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ray Toro Is a Good Bro, Ray finally gets Swimming lessons, Revenge Era Frank Iero, Rough Sex, Rumlow Women are Badass, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Self-Doubt, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex in a Car, Sexual Fantasy, Shotgun Wedding, Shower Sex, Side Effects, Size Kink, Slurs, Smut, Soulmates, Spanking, Sub Frank Iero, Therapy, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tickle Sex, Timeline What Timeline, Torture, Touch-Starved, Tropical Paradise Dream Wedding, Trouble In Paradise, Turtles, Twinkies, Verbal Abuse, Victim Blaming, Water Park, Watersports, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Wetting, guided masturbation, mafia culture, non-con just for a moment then it turns consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 967,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustybaby/pseuds/Dustybaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterscribe/pseuds/Winterscribe
Summary: Brock Rumlow runs into a cute emo kid in a clothing store and discovers the missing piece of his soul that will forever change his life. Frank Iero's music career in the band My Chemical Romance is just starting to get off the ground when a handsome stranger turns everything he knows about relationships upside down.You do not need to be familiar with either fandom to be able to read this story, promise. Neither character knows of the other fandom elements and we create our own universe in the perfect blend of romance, humor, dark themes, and plenty of smut. Please give us a try!
Relationships: Brock Rumlow & Ray Toro, Brock Rumlow & Sam Wilson, Christa Toro/Ray Toro, Frank Iero/Brock Rumlow, Frank Iero/Gerard Way (past), Frank Iero/Jamia Nestor, Jack Rollins & Brock Rumlow, Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way, Steve Rogers & Brock Rumlow
Comments: 105
Kudos: 28





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fully collaborative work between Winterscribe and Dustybaby (please check out our other collaborative work in the Supernatural Fandom, Burn The Ashes, where the writing was all Dustybaby and plot/muse was Winterscribe) and so you will find that the paragraphs alternate POV _every other paragraph._ All mistakes are our own and we are searching for a new Beta reader.
> 
> All tags and characters will be updated as the story progresses. The smut starts in Chapter 2.

Brock hates buying work pants. No store ever seems to have the size and color combo he wants. Sure, he could go to the tailor again and get them custom made, but it is starting to get rather embarrassing needing new pants on a near-semi regular basis. But as ex-military now working security, Brock Rumlow tends to get them ripped far too often. At least this store is an upscale one. He refuses to step foot in something as cheap as a Walmart or a Target. Locating a pair of light blue jeans that appear to be in his size, he selects them off the rack and checks them over. They aren’t what he came for, but these, at least, look very ass-fitting. Not noticing a second body moving through the nearly empty store, he turns quickly to head to the changing room.

Moving around the racks of blue jeans in varying shades of blue, Frank Iero finds himself almost hiding but pretending that he is in search of the right pair of jeans. He knows that the store clerks already think he's going to steal. He looks like a gutter punk with dirty hair, tattoos, and well worn jeans. He could always buy a new pair of jeans, but—at the prices they are charging—that's not happening. Before he gets the chance to move to the next rack of over-priced cotton, something crashes into him, sending him back and to the ground, and taking two pairs of jeans with him. His eyes track up the body of a man. He's got a nice face, but he’s a brick house who could easily pummel Frank to death.

“Oh, shit. I am so sorry,” Brock apologizes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Just lower to the ground than most.” 

Brock reaches a hand down to help the young man, who appears to be not much older than twenty-one, to his feet. “Can I help?”

“Thanks man.” Frank replies, taking his hand, “I am just looking mostly. Sorry for being a tripping hazard.” He looks around the store for the clerk that had been following him. “I'm just here with someone else, so I'm killing time while they shop.”

Frank looks down at his already tattered jeans and discovers a new rip has joined the party, then he looks up at the well put together man in front of him and smiles weakly. 

Hazelnut eyes take in the slim form of the young man and widen at the shredded jeans and tattered tee shirt. He sticks out in the store like a sore thumb and is sure to attract unwanted attention from the store clerk and the security. Brock looks around. Sure enough, they are being watched. Figures. Stores like these always have mall cop level douchebags for what amounts to actual security and they always feel the need to over-exert their manliness. He levels the guy with a hard stare before turning back to the very nice, albeit homeless, kid right in front of him. “I’m so sorry about your pants. These racks can be very unforgiving sometimes and I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’d like to make it up to you. Please. Let me replace them with a new pair. Your choice.”

Frank stares for a moment, unsure if this man is being nice or creepy. Does he really look that unfortunate? Taking a moment to compose himself, he smiles. He flattens his shirt a little and picks the jeans he brought down with him. “You really don’t have to buy me pants. These are my old faithfuls.” 

“Nonsense. It would be my pleasure.” Brock smiles wide.

“No, it’s really fine. Don’t waste your money on me,” Frank replies with hesitation. “I’m not homeless. I look it but I’m really not.”

“But these are ripped.”

“Yeah with what I do for a living, my clothing gets ripped pretty easily. It’s why I won’t spend sixty dollars on a pair of jeans.” Frank grins, scanning his face, “Wait, why would you buy a stranger a pair of jeans from here? Take them to Target.”

Nose wrinkling in disgust, Brock shakes his head before smiling. “I would never shop there. And if you are ripping your jeans that easily, then clearly you need better quality clothing. Another reason why I should buy you the pair I ruined. My name’s Brock Rumlow, by the way. That way we aren’t strangers.” He holds out his hand to shake.

“Frank Iero. Nice to meet you,” he replies, shaking his hand, “I could use the thirty extra dollars from buying jeans at Target for gas or food. I gotta be practical.” Frank realizes that doesn't help the whole him not being homeless thing much. He explains, “I'm in a band! Not homeless.”

“Band? Local or someone famous?” He finds the kid interesting and rather adorable. Young though. He’s hoping he’s at least eighteen. The kid hits far too many of his buttons.

“I would be surprised if you had even heard of us. It’s probably not your kind of music, but I'm in a band called My Chemical Romance.” Frank takes a moment to see if anything clicks in the other man's face but knows it doesn't matter. “Localish I suppose, from Jersey.”

“My Chemical Romance? Sounds like a terrible cologne name. Or a drug,” Brock says, arching a brow and smirking. “Jersey, eh? Not too far from where I live. And by not too far, I mean it’s a state over. So, lemme get this straight. You wear ripped clothes… on purpose?” He is incredulous. Why would anyone want to look like a hobo? Or like some emo kid? Oh, wait. “Are you some sort of emo death metal punk kid?”

Frank blinks a few times to compute everything in that sentence before saying, “Well, I’m not a kid. I feel like after you hit twenty one, you lose that title. Emo, death metal and punk are all different kinds of music.” Frank is grinning by the end of the sentence. “I mean, when all your jeans look in some fashion like this, you kind of get used to it.”

“Oh, then I definitely need to buy you new jeans if only to help you out of this grunge phase thing. And I got over twenty years on you, kid.” He matches the kid’s grin with one of his own. He looks around and adjusts his white button-down shirt. “Let’s go try these on, okay? Before your friend returns or before you get kicked out of the store.”

“If I didn't know any better, I would think you were just trying to get me out of my jeans,” Frank replies, tilting his head to the side, hoping this doesn't get him punched in the face, “Why would I get kicked out? Because that dude has been following me since I walked in the store.” Frank points directly to the security guard across the aisle who is trying to be inconspicuous. 

Brock glances at the security guard briefly before dismissing him. “Because you look like a homeless kid who is planning on robbing the place. And if I wanted you out of your jeans, it wouldn’t be hard considering they are ripped from the knee down. Just need a good tug and they’d be off.” He bites his bottom lip. Yeah, he is flirting a little. He does want to help, though. He can at least keep Frank from being targeted as a suspect on Cops. He turns to the guard and shouts, “He’s with me, so go find some other punk kid to creep on. This one is mine.”

“I'm yours to creep on, huh?” Frank, fighting and losing against the reddening of his cheeks, insists, “I'm really not homeless… if I try jeans on, will you please just not shout at the rent a cop again?” Frank catches the good tug comment and realizes that the other man might be flirting with him. He is pretty damn cute, but why in the hell would he flirt with him, after all he looks ‘homeless’? “I’m pretty sure I have to shop in the kids section anyway.”

“Yeah, you are pretty short. Skinny, too. Are you sure the pants in your hand will fit? I think you need to go down a size, kid.” Brock can’t help it. The kid is just too easy to make terrible passes at. He’s not normally this insulting, but it just slipped out of him. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t seem to notice or care. Perhaps he realized he only meant it in a joking sort of way. He really hopes that is the case here. 

“I’m petite. Or whatever the manly version of that is,” Frank replies before looking Brock up and down once. “Besides, I think I know what size I can take… with me.” If Brock can make passes, Frank can be as obvious as a big red sign. Brock hasn’t walked away, called security, or hit him, so he’s gonna push this. 

Voice low, Brock teases, “Oh, do you now? You seem unsure. Perhaps when we get you out of that trash you call jeans, I can help you be sure you know what size you can take.” His hands itch to pick up this skinny kid and carry him back to his place for some one-on-one measuring. Goddamn sexy twinks. And this one has _sass_. Yeah, he’s _very_ much interested.

“Trash?”

“Oh baby, those belong in the dumpster, and you know it.” He didn’t mean to use the term of endearment, but it just felt natural. Oh, well.

“And just how do you think you know exactly what size I can take?” Frank smirks at the baby comment. “I feel like I might be more of the expert.”

“Frank? What the actual fuck are you doing?” A small dark haired woman with sharp features and dark eyes comes around the corner and stops to look at Brock and roll her eyes. She says, “I swear to god you wander off worse than a moron at a petting zoo. Can we help you?”

“Can you be nice? This is Brock.” Frank feels himself shrink under her presence.

“Yeah, don't really care. Can we go, I have a nail appointment,” she replies without looking at Brock, instead looking past him as if dismissing him.

Brock arches an eyebrow at Frank’s rather rude friend. But hey, to each their own. It’s not like people actually have to follow social rules, it is just nice of them to do so. Rudeness is not a big deal to Brock normally, but the way that Frank practically folded in on himself like origami bothers him. 

She storms past the two men and towards the exit without saying another word. 

Frank doesn't want to look at Brock; he knows how it looks to him. “I'm really sorry about that. She’s a bit...abrupt.”

Taking in a deep breath, he nods. “Some friend you got there. Sorry we couldn’t chat more. Give me the jeans?” He’s already taking the pair out of Frank’s hand and ripping the tag off. “Keep these. Because I take care of people I like. And you’re a good kid. Don’t do drugs, okay?” He hands the jeans back to Frank. “I’ll pay for these.”

“Brock, you don't have to buy these… Not a kid. _Don't do drugs?_ ” Frank scoffs at him, but also lightens as soon as she is gone, “I would have liked to talk more…” 

Frowning and taking a deep breath, he decides he should offer Brock his number. Tell her to find her own ride. 

"Yeah, me too. It was nice meeting you, Frank," says Brock, regret filling his voice.

“It was great to meet you too. Maybe don't buy homeless kids sixty dollar jeans. I’d offer to leave you a ticket for our show but I don't think that our emo death metal punk music is your kind of scene.” Frank gives him a sad smile, adding, “Hopefully, we meet again.” Frank walks away reluctantly, his shoulders getting heavy. The car ride is going to be degrading.

Sighing and attempting to not watch the way the young man's hips move when he walked, Brock no longer cares about the clothing he is holding or his reason for coming here in the first place. He doesn't care if the pants are sixty dollars or one million dollars. He can afford them regardless. He just wants to do something nice to make up for the fact that he interrupted Frank's day and practically body slammed the skinny kid into the ground in the first place. Brock smiles to himself as he makes his way up to the register. At least Frank will have something to remember him by. The kid really needs to pick better friends. He hopes the band members are much better. Should he have taken him up on his show offer? It's definitely not his music choice, but he would be willing to sit there with military grade headphones on and watch the sexy twink dance around on a stage. He would do it for Frank.

After paying and assuring the staff that no, he wasn't being held hostage by the homeless kid, and yes, he's paying for the "stolen" jeans that he himself ripped the tag off of, Brock climbs into his black Lamborghini and drives home. It's been a long day already.


	2. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of smut in this chapter.  
> Warnings for: verbal abuse and homophobic slurs

The week flies by with press events and the show. Frank keeps the smile on his face and plays along, but something in the back of his head is gnawing at him. The man at the store—Brock. His stupid smile and the way he gracefully navigated the awful way Jamia had treated him. He kept coming back to him. He won’t see him again most likely. He should have just given him his number. 

Even now, he should be listening to his girlfriend drone on about something that doesn't matter to him, but instead he is thinking back to Brock's lips and the deliciously bad things that Brock could do to him in the middle of a god damn Starbucks. He’s occasionally throwing out a “That's crazy” or a "Yeah, totally" to appease her.

“Are you kidding me?” Her tone sharpens. His eyes slowly meet hers; he's been found out. 

Brock can't believe his ears. Or his eyes. Two seconds after entering the Starbucks on his way to work, he hears a very familiar grating voice. He turns his head as he joins the line of people, and sure enough Frank and the woman are there. The way they are standing gives him the idea that she is definitely more than a friend. Girlfriend or wife, perhaps. The thought causes an ache in his chest. Clearly, he misread Frank's signals. Being over forty and a military man has not exactly granted him a lot of opportunities to go out and date. And most of the other gay men he meets either book it when they discover his history or want to stay for his money. He tries hard to ignore the couple, but he's finding it very hard not to listen in.

"J, just relax. I'm sorry I kinda zoned out," Frank replies in a voice as soothing as he can be.

"I don't even know why I try with you! Not only are you an inconsiderate moron, but as my mother says, once you fuck another man, you're tainted!" Jamia snaps back, her voice edging closer to yelling.

Frank's eyes widen, and his face turns a bright shade of red. He wants to stay calm, but he also want to tell her to fuck off. He hisses, "Keep your voice down." 

"You don't want people knowing you’re a fag? Maybe don't fuck other dudes," She replies as she pulls out her phone. "You're lucky that it's me dating you and not anyone else. They would have left your ass a long time ago."

Frank slinks a little lower in his chair and tries to pretend he isn't there. His head screams to just dump her and walk out, but he can't do it in public. That's a behind-the-door conversation.

"There you go again! What, you thinking about how colors work? Or maybe dick?" she says as she snaps fingers in his face. "Hey, stupid, stay here." 

Fuck getting coffee. Anger prickles Brock’s skin and makes him heat up. He's surprised nobody else in the coffee shop stood up and said something. But that's typical of society. They don't want to make waves, so they keep their heads down and try to pretend they don't notice. He can't do that. His mother taught him to help people. This woman is verbally abusive. He hates to wonder if she's physically abusive as well. He doesn't remember seeing anything visible, but perhaps that was a reason why Frank didn't want to go into the dressing rooms. He can't not say or do something. The fact that it's Frank only makes this more personal, him having felt a connection to the kid. He's been thinking about him non-stop for the past week, nearly to the point of interfering in his work.

He leaves the line and heads straight for them, eyes focused on Frank. He knows he's probably looking very intimidating right now, with his security uniform and a gun in a side holster, but he doesn't care. He needs to fix this. He comes up behind the young man while the bitch is at the counter and whispers in his ear just before taking her vacant seat. "If you need me to kidnap you, say Pineapple."

Frank jumps at the sound of Brock's voice in his ear and sudden appearance. He blinks, then blinks again to make sure he isn't in his head. His eyes dart to the counter to see where _she's_ at then back to Brock. "Pineapple? Is that your safe word?" Frank says with a wide smile as he sits upright and stares at the devilishly handsome man across from him. He is instantly lighter and feeling almost giddy. "Are you following me?" 

"No. I just stopped in for a drink. Or two, if I can't decide on what I want. And I just so happened to overhear some things that..." He pauses, trying to keep his rage contained at the woman and not at the beautiful man in front of him. He slides a business card over to him. It's got the Monarch Security letterhead on it with his name and cell phone number. "I don't agree with. I don't want to tell you how to do your relationships, but she's not worth your safety. You can do much better."

Frank takes the card and holds it in his hand. He can't find the words to say other than _take me with you_. This man who he can't get out of his head is actually in front of him and giving him a way out. "I'd say she's not always like this but I'd be lying." His eyes sink to the table. He can hear the terrible things she'd said to him. A week's worth of berating comments about his sexuality and his lack of a normal job. "It's been hell since the last time." Brock doesn't need to know that. _Cover it up and put on a face, Iero_ , he tells himself. _He's not like that_. Frank slowly looks up at Brock's face and feels his heart flutter a little, "Are you going to or coming home from a job?" 

"On my way, sadly. It's not even actual work, I just need to step into the office and do some boring ass paperwork. Hated it in the military and I hate it now." He tries to keep his tone light and the worry out of his voice. No matter what happens, Frank is not leaving with that woman. He's already making plans in his head in preparation for various outcomes. "It can wait though. You are more important."

"I'm not important, but thank you," Frank replies softly, _trying_ not to give him puppy dog eyes begging for him to go with him, but also not succeeding at it either. "I'm glad to see you again. I didn't know if I would." Internally he is screaming, _just offer me a ride, anywhere. I'll go. Just say the words._

"He must be one of the homos you're sleeping with because this isn't a fuckin’ coincidence, huh, Frank?" Jamia’s voice is now loud enough for everyone in the coffee shop to hear. He can feel himself shrinking down as she smacks the back of his head, snapping, "I told you: keep your gay shit behind closed doors. No one wants to listen to gay music!"

Brock's eyes darken dangerously as he turns to the woman. He stands and makes a subtle move that draws eyes to the very much visible gun at his waist. An unspoken threat of _back off._ Voice icy and hard, he says, "Excuse _me_? I don't know who the fuck you think you are, lady, but I will lay your ass out on the floor if you ever speak to me like that again, woman or not. I don't need to explain my actions to you either, but I'm not gay."

Frank feels his stomach clench. He read the whole situation wrong. But, he was flirting, right? Maybe he was just being friendly or naturally flirtatious. He can’t help but think, _Nice one, Frank way to fuck this guy's afternoon._ He takes a deep breath and works up the nerve to stand up and walk out.

"You're gonna hit me? Oh, Mr. Big Man with a gun!" she snaps back at Brock, "And don't lie to yourself, you're as gay as they come. I could see the big faggy heart eyes you two were throwing at each other!"

"Can we not cause a scene?" Frank's voice lacks the volume or strength to compete with hers. 

"I said I'd lay you out. I don't need to hit you to do that. But that's what _you_ do, right? Resort to violence and belittling to get your way. You like the little power trip it gives you to have someone else afraid of you. Why's that, I wonder? Afraid to be alone? Afraid that if you don't have a man at your beck and call, everyone will see just how hideous you really are? I suggest you leave here before I call the cops, if the staff hasn't already, ma'am," He practically spits the title. She doesn't deserve the respect he gives her. He's hoping Frank will say the magic word. Something to say that he's on board with Brock's interference. He can't help someone who doesn't want it. 

Frank stands and takes a breath in. Hearing Brock say the words he wanted to say feels nice. Looking Brock in the eyes, he tells him, "Pineapple." Then, turning to her, Frank says, "Please get your things out of my apartment by tomorrow." Frank turns back to Brock and gives him a nod, he grabs his hoodie and pulls it over his head, "I'm ready when you are." 

Pride and relief wash through him and he fights to keep his face from showing it. Not yet. He moves in between her and Frank in case she is idiotic enough to try something. He wouldn't be surprised if she does. “I'll get coffee later, this place suddenly stinks like perfumed shit. After you," he prompts, and motions Frank to head to the door, following and ignoring the woman behind them.

Frank's legs shake as he moves to the door. The feeling of Brock's words and kicking her out is like coming up for air after being underwater. He glances back to make sure Brock is behind him and that she isn't following them. He waits until the coffee shop door closes to stop and turn to face Brock. "You're not gay?" Frank asks with a lump in his throat, "Bi?" 

"Oh, I'm totally gay, babe. But she doesn't need to know that." He winks at Frank. "I don't look the stereotypical part so most tend to dismiss me. Besides, I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of her being right. It was a nice try though. Did you ride with her? I feel like she wouldn't let you drive. Bitch."

"Well, she drove. My car is in storage," Frank replies quickly with a smile and feels like he might have just found the golden ticket. "Sorry for bringing you into all of this." 

"You didn't 'bring' me into anything. I inserted myself into your business. I'm glad you gave me the magic word. I really wanted to drag you away from her but didn't want to cross a line more than I already had. Come with me?" Brock heads to his car, keys in hand. "We can grab a proper breakfast if you have the time."

"I have got nothing _but_ time, and I would love to get breakfast with you." Frank grins up at him, saying, "I was trying to send out the 'get me out of here vibes' so I'm glad you picked those up."

Brock laughs. "I'm better at picking up vibes than I am at pick up lines, I swear. It's the age. I just can't keep up with all the hip lingo." He unlocks the Lambo for them.

Frank gives him a concerned look, a hundred questions filling his head as he opens the car door. "Pick up lines are for kids anyway." Looking over at Brock as he sits down, he says "Picking up on homeless kids in the men's section is the newest trend." His grin is bigger than it has the right to be. He buckles himself in and turns his body slightly to face Brock. His stomach is full of butterflies and also growling from hunger. 

Once he's in the seat, Brock buckles his seatbelt and starts the car. He looks over at the slimmer man, from head to toe and back, enjoying the view very much and letting it show. "I do have a _,_ uh,strong _preference_ for the smaller types, such as yourself. Do you want the top down?"

"Oh uh, I don't care." Frank smirks but feels more aware of himself in this car that's probably worth more than his life. He asks, "So you like twinks then? You can call it what it is." Maybe he's a serial killer or a fucking prince going undercover because no security guard or company owner could afford this car. Is he going to have to get the car cleaned after Frank sits in it? Frank gives himself a moment to clear his thoughts, exhaling before speaking. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. And yeah," he chuckles as he lowers the convertible top, "I got a thing for twinks." 

"I get it. I'm fucking adorable." He's trying not to stare but keeps finding himself back at his face. "Where _are_ you taking me?” he asks. “I assume your boss wouldn't appreciate you bringing in a stray to work."

"Fucking adorable is only half of what I think about you. And I can take you wherever you want to go. Your choice. I'll make arrangements with my boss when we get there."

He thinks for just a moment. "I honestly don't care. I can eat most anything. Or just coffee is fine too." So, he's got a boss. But this car doesn't scream nine to fiver. "I don't want to get you in trouble,” says Frank. “Not a great way to start a relationship, if I'm nothing but trouble for you." Frank shifts just a little, his posture is stiff with his hands tucked under his thighs which he is squeezing together out of anxiety. This incredibly handsome guy can't be the real deal. This is some military boy's ritual to find the local skinny gay kid and beat him, right?

Brock grins wide. He can tell this guy is going to be special with the way Frank's more interested in looking out for Brock than himself. It makes him want to spoil the kid silly and give him everything he could possibly want and more. He's way beyond adorable with the way he's sitting in the car, clearly nervous and overwhelmed. It shouldn't be hot but it is. Or maybe it's because Frank is just ticking every one of his boxes that is causing him to feel things he usually doesn't until at least the second or third date. Instead of answering right away, he pulls out of the parking lot and into the main road, driving nowhere yet. He makes a snap decision, just to prove to Frank that he doesn't need to worry about him. It's not like he needs the money anyway. Pulling out his cell phone, he calls his boss.

"Hey, Mary. It's Brock. Mind putting Thomas on the phone? Thanks," he glances over at Frank and sends him a wink.

Frank looks over and gives him a small smile back. He glances at the dash of the car with all of the buttons, doing who knows what. He pulls his bottom lip in and messes with his lip ring with his tongue. He can feel his nervous energy radiating off of him. He needs to speak. "Would it come off as desperate if I told you that I left a ticket and pass for you at the last show of our tour here?" he asks with a soft voice and doesn't look up from the dash in front of him. 

Brock has never been more thankful when they arrive at a stoplight. Just as he is about to answer, his boss comes to the phone. He casually places his hand on Frank's thigh to tell him to wait and because he _really_ wanted to touch him.

"Hey Thomas. Just wanted to inform you I won't be coming into work today. Or ever. I quit."

Frank's face drains of all color. Brock didn't need to quit his job. That's not what he meant at all. A familiar panic hits him in the chest and robs him of air. He can't look at Brock but he has to. The hand on his thigh might be the only thing keeping him from full panic or floating out of the car. His eyes follow the arm up to meet Brock's face, his warm eyes and sharp jawline. He's hoping his face doesn't look as panicked as he feels. 

"Yeah, you know me. I never stay still too long. I might. Who knows," he laughs as Thomas jokes that he'll come crawling back to the company after a few months. "I swear it's not a mid-life crisis. Again. It was one time!" Thomas will never let him live down the one time he decided to try darts. Drunk. And blindfolded. It didn't end well. "Alright, man. I gotta go." He hangs up.

Frank blinks. "You really didn't have to quit your job. I swear I'm not that important or special." He can't find the right words, but they fall out of his mouth anyway, "Not that it matters to you. Or maybe it does. I don't know, but my job is only just taking off, so I'm not… it's not." Shouting internally, _'What are you doing, Iero. Shut up!'_ he looks at Brock's face hoping the good looks distract from the stupid in his head.

"Relax," says Brock soothingly. Again, he has to refrain from putting in some form of endearment at the end of his sentences. It is far too soon for that. He knows that logically, but apparently the rest of him doesn't agree. "One, I don't need the money. Two, Thomas loves me enough that I've quit and come back multiple times, and he doesn't even blink anymore. We go way back so we're cool. Three, just take a deep breath, okay? I want to be able to spend my time with you and get to know you. I can't do that if I'm guarding someone else's body. Alright? I know your head tells you different, but I want you to trust me, if you can. I don't lie unless I am at work or if a situation calls for it. I'll never lie to you." He hopes his words are reassuring enough to ease some of the anxiety Frank is so clearly going through. He recognizes it, having seen it often enough in the mirror. His thumb caresses his knee, glad Frank's wearing the jeans he bought for him the week prior. The light changes to green and he focuses on the road again, never moving his right hand. "I think I know just the place to take you for breakfast, if you'll let me." 

"I trust you. I didn't mean to insult you. I'll go wherever you take me," Frank says as he tries to settle himself. "And not just because you are driving, either." His legs relax slightly as he places his hands on his lap and tries to sit back. 

"I'm not insulted. I just don't want you to worry that you did something wrong. You didn't. So. I'm eager to learn all about you, and I'm sure you are wanting to do the same. I'll answer your questions first, if you want?" He wants Frank to feel more confident and comfortable and he'll do whatever he needs to make that happen.

He knows it's rude but the first thing that comes out before he can stop it is "Do you do this often, picking up strays?" Shifting himself towards Brock and not _trying_ to worry about where he is being taken. Frank takes a big breath in and thanks whatever God is out there that Brock glossed over the stupid and desperate question he'd asked before. He still has the too-good-to-be-true vibes, but it is falling to the back of his mind the more he talks and the longer his hand is on his knee. 

"Only the sexy ones." Brock can't help the teasing smirk. 

Frank narrows his eyes and tries to not show the twitch that is hitting the corner of his mouth. "I know you're not talking about me… the only sexy one here is behind the wheel." 

"Oh I most definitely am. You have no idea how incredibly attractive you are to me. And I would love to come see your show. I didn't mean to ignore that question, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. You were on the phone." He replies quietly. He can't believe that he is 'attractive' enough to draw his attention over the hundreds of much better looking men out there, "Who are you? I can't figure you out!" 

Brock laughs, low and hearty. "That takes all of the fun of dating out if I told you all my secrets! Besides, I already told you my name." He laughs again, car speeding under his joy. "Let's narrow that down, okay? I work for Monarch Security when I feel like it. Before that I was in the army for twenty years. Earned the rank of Commander of a tactical force you will have never heard of. I'm retired now. Does that help, handsome?" 

"Fairly clear. Have you lived in this area your whole life? I'm a Jersey boy, born and raised." His body softens a little more as he rests an elbow on the arm rest and moves his body closer to Brock. 

"I am actually first generation Italian-American. Born and raised in Italy and moved here when I was twenty-two and got my dual citizenship then. Lived in New York for most of the time after that, unless the military made me move."

"I would have never guessed you are Italian, like actual Italian. I assume you have family back in Italy." Taking a second to make sure he's not oversharing, Frank adds, "It's one of the few places I have been since we started touring. I didn't see much but it was fun." 

"I do. My parents own a villa on the island of Capri. And my sister and parents live there. Where did you stay during your time there?"

"We didn't really stay _anywhere_. We lived in a tour van during our time in Europe aside from our time in England." He feels his cheeks flush as he replies. He's forgotten about their drive and the destination being unknown. Brock makes him feel oddly safe, even though they have literally just met.

"That sounds terribly uncomfortable. I'm sorry you had to do that."

"Oh it's not bad. It was only for a month. It's nothing like how we lived earlier this year." He shrugs, saying, "Nothing teaches you to be humbler than having to clean up yourself in a gas station bathroom or on the side of the road with a camping shower." 

Brock visibly shudders. "I did that in the military, I never want to experience that again if I can help it."

"I understand the feeling. I know that my music isn't what you would regularly listen to but what kind of music do you like?" Frank touches his forearm with his fingers then his palm. 

"Not a whole lot, honestly. But I do have a sort of soft spot for the Italian opera as well as classical. What do you do in your band? Sing?"

"I play guitar and do background vocals.” Feeling a little starry eyed, he adds, "I do like classical music. Do you have a favorite composer?" Frank finds himself watching Brock's lips, even when he is just listening. His dirty mind is trying to pull himself into a place he doesn't need to be this early in this relationship. 

"Vivaldi. I grew up with my mother playing the piano and she preferred quite a bit of his concertos." Brock pulls into the parking lot of Kurant, an upscale restaurant near his apartment. They have some of the best wine he enjoyed and a pretty decent brunch menu. He presses the button to close the convertible top. "Have you ever been here before?" 

"I've never been here before. I enjoy Vivaldi. My dad was more of a Mozart man, so I grew up listening and learning the music. His composition of his Requiem is amazing and still gives me chills." Frank smiles at him as he unbuckles. He is giddy, this is like their first date. 

"It's a beautiful piece. It's both haunting and captivating. I think I have it on a CD at home. Would you like to go to the opera with me one day?" He gets out of the car, hopeful that their shared interests only expanded.

"I would like that," he replies with a grin. "If they let a punk like me in. If you're gonna try to get me to be more cultured, I'm gonna have to take you to a punk show." He has a strong feeling that Brock would be miserable at a show. He would be adorable trying to act casual and not bothered. 

"Well, I like what I'm seeing so far. I want to get to know _you_ not turn you into something you aren't. Except encourage you to wear non-ripped jeans," he chuckles. Competing desires war in him. He wants to take the younger man's hand and has to curl his hand into a nervous fist to keep from doing so. He needs to curb his enthusiasm or risk pushing him away. He settles for opening up the door for him instead.

"Thank you." Frank steps in and waits for him, a little surprised Brock doesn't attempt to touch his arm or hold his hand. "I have been told I am pretty stubborn, so you'll have a _very_ hard time trying to change me." He glances at the restaurant patrons and feels a little uncomfortable because he sticks out with his tattoos, the hoodie and probably his giddy expression every time he looks at Brock. 

"I'm not trying to change you, _tesoro_." His eyes widen and his face flushes at the slip. He didn't mean to say the term of endearment, yet. It is far too soon in everything. He barely knows this guy and already he feels as comfortable as if they have been dating for years. It’s wrong and Brock needs to back off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." 

"I don't know what it means so I think you're fine." Frank grins seeing him not be as smooth even for just a second, "What does it mean?" Waiting for the server to get them a table, he makes a decision that will either push him away or not. He slides his hand inside of Brock's and curls his fingers between his. His heart is beating harder than he expected it to as he casually glances up to gauge his response. 

Brock swears he feels his brain light up like the fourth of July the moment Frank's fingers slip into his. It takes every ounce of control to _only_ squeeze his hand back and not jump up for joy or scream. God, he feels like a teenager again. He wants to kiss him. Yeah, kissing him sounds much better. He can't do that. Damn it. What was the question again? Oh, right, his slip up. His face heats up again… now from the touch and his desires mixed with embarrassment. "The literal translation is treasure. It's used for couples." 

“Oh.” Frank beams up at him, saying, “I like that.” He is more than thankful that he didn't get shot down. If he didn't know any better, Brock might be even more excited than him. The slip of the tongue leaves him feeling like he might be dreaming. How is this even possible? He isn’t the exception to the rule; he isn't lucky. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s always been told that he was lucky to have whatever he got even if it was bad for him. An echo in his head tells him he is going to ruin this. Brock is going to find the thing he doesn’t like and send him packing. He has to do whatever he can to keep Brock. He's never felt this comfortable or safe before. 

Relief washes through Brock and he can't help but grin wide. His grip tightens on Frank's hand. It feels good. More than natural, it feels like it is meant to be. He itches to touch and feel every inch of this beautiful man's body. To see what the inside of his soul is and to hold it carefully in his hands. He knows then and there that he is never letting Frank go, if he can help it. He doesn't want a one-night stand. He wants it long-term. The thought terrifies him. He hasn’t had the best dating history, even though long-term was always his goal. Most couldn’t handle his dark history. Or his military past. Others heard what the family business was and booked it or worse–tried to rob him blind. He always was a romantic at heart, even though HYDRA, the nickname for his tactical force, tried to beat it out of him.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me. It's on par with 'sweetheart' or other similar terms of endearment. It's not something you tell someone you just met. And certainly not something you drop on the first date. And yet, it feels perfect for you." The server leads them to a table in the back and Brock makes sure to sit by the wall so he can have a clear view of the entrance and exit. And the best view of Frank in front of him. He automatically thanks the server and tries hard to turn all of his focus on his date. 

Frank can feel himself soften a little more hearing him say the words _perfect for you_. It doesn't feel like a first date. Let alone someone who he officially met less than an hour ago. “I have never met another person that I clicked with the moment we met.” Frank doesn't want to admit it out loud but he has to let it out, “It feels like I am being too forward but I don't want to keep it in because I like you.” 

His heart feels like a beating drum. To know that the other man feels the same as him, makes Brock want to sing or shout with wild abandon. He can't seem to stop smiling. This is the happiest he's ever felt in years with another. It is an intoxicating feeling.

_Do you believe in love at first sight because that's how I feel with you._

"Then don't. I want to know everything about you. Every thought or feeling you have. What your likes are and dislikes. I never want you to feel you have to hold back from me. I want to see you flourish with joy, not hide in the shadows of embarrassment, _tesoro_."

Frank wants to blurt out that he loves him. That might be too much so he’ll reel it in. He takes a big deep breath and smiles, his cheeks are starting to hurt but it’s a good hurt. “I mean everything is a lot but I am an open book. I don't feel like I need to censor myself with you. What do you want to know?” 

"I told you, everything," he chuckles. "But I like you a lot as well so I'll just have to deal with asking about your family. Do you have any siblings? What was home life like?" He needs to curb his enthusiasm before he sounds like some desperate, lonely, creepy, old dude. Which, he kind of is. 

“I have a brother, sister and a step sister. I grew up in Belleville. I am close to my dad, he is why I love music. He taught me how to play guitar but he didn't want me to be a musician. I think he assumed I would work for him or find a white collar job.” Frank rubs his neck feeling a little anxious, “He was not happy when I dropped out of college. He pushed me really hard to go. He wanted me in an Ivy league but I'm not that smart.” Frank watches his face when he mentions dropping out, “I met my band mates at one of their early shows… I may have been stalking them but only a little. I met Mikey, our bassist, and he asked me to play on their album two days later.” 

"That sounds amazing. I bet you are a phenomenal guitarist. I can't wait to see you play." He pauses to speak with their server to order food and his wine.

“You would come to see me, us, play?” He asks, unsure why he is so surprised by this. “Ummm, I don't have any pets. I collect records and guitars. My first tattoo was a jack-o-lantern that I got on Halloween.” He wants to keep babbling but worries he might be overwhelming. He is more giddy than he has ever been. 

"Of course I want to come see you play. Already accepted the offer of the ticket. Which I am excited about," he gently reminds Frank with a wink. "I'd love to know more about your tattoos, but perhaps in a more private setting? If... that is alright with you?" He wants to see each one and hear the reasons behind them all. Ink is one of the things that he finds attractive. It is just one more box checked in Frank's favor. "Ink is something special and I find it incredibly attractive."

“I'm sorry. I didn't… sorry," Frank trails off for a moment. “I can show you my tattoos in private if you want to see them. I have a very good collection of them.” He is more aware of his words now, trying to not make a mistake. That could be something that would push Brock away. “I was born on Halloween.”

"Relax, _tesoro_. I'm not upset with you," Brock suddenly wishes he could have bashed the woman in the head simply for causing this perfect man to expect backlash for a simple mistake. And it wasn't even something that was consequential to begin with. He's going to have his work cut out for him if he wants to change the voice in his boy's head to something more positive. He can only imagine what he's thinking now. "Being born on Halloween is pretty freaking awesome. Did you get both presents and candy or just went trick-or-treating as a kid?"

“Sorry, it was just clumsy of me. But, I had a lot of cool birthday parties. My mom always made sure that I got presents and probably more candy than any three kids could consume.” He forces the wince he can feel on his face to a soft smile, “I don't know if you mind that I ask but when were you born? I mean you don't have to say the year. Or anything. It's fine.” 

He shakes his head, smiling. "You are adorable. I love it. It's okay to ask me whatever you want. You don't need to be sorry for anything, sweetheart. I don't mind and I'm not upset with you for asking me my age. Relax, please? I know the brain gremlins in your head are probably screaming at you but trust me, it's okay. I'm fifty, by the way. I hope that's okay with you?" He holds out his palm in offerance.

“You cannot be fifty. You are way too pretty to be fifty!” Frank blurts out, “I’m- that er, I’m twenty-five. Does that matter to you?” He can't change his age but he can do what he can to seem like he deserves to be at the table with Brock. He carefully places his hand in Brocks and curls his fingers up inside his. “I just want you to not change your mind because I say something clumsy, that's all.” 

"I am not what's-her-face. I never caught her name. My point is that I knew you were under thirty when I ran into you in the store last week. I actually thought you were maybe eighteen. _Hoped_ you were at least eighteen. And not only does it not bother me, but I still think you are sexy as hell. I'm not leaving you simply because you say something "clumsy". Actually, if I have my way, I'm never leaving you at all."

Internally he is doing flips but keeps himself centered, focusing on what is real so on the outside he can be appropriate for the public. Brock's hand, his smile and the smell of food are all real. “Her name was Jamia and I figured you didn't expect me to be more than eighteen.” He leans into the table, “If you have your way, you're never leaving… that's interesting. Wanna share with the table what you mean?” 

Brock leans forward himself, keeping his voice soft. "I could say something really romantic here but I think I'm going to go with 'I play for keeps'. I'm not looking for something short or a quick one night stand."

“Oh baby you are the cutest man I have ever met!” Frank softly chuckles, “I think I love you already.” Even if it is cheesy, he can't help it. The words fell out but he doesn't regret them at all. “I'm just glad you're not just planning to kidnap me.” He looks down at the table and back up, trying not to smile too big.

He can't believe his ears. His heart skips several beats as he's sure he misunderstood the intention. Brock starts humming the song to keep himself from saying them back. Because surely it's just in good humor. A lot of people say it and while it's true it doesn't hold the same weight as the great 'I love you' does. There's no way either of them can possibly be _in_ love with each other. Right?

“David Cassidy? Is the song a… hint? Or are you having a senior moment?”

In a flash of pure immaturity he sticks out his tongue. "Hot as hell back then. Now, not so much. The drugs really messed him up. And anyways I technically already kidnapped you from Janis. You said Pineapple. So there." 

“Alright, fair. I should have said, you're not going to lock me in a- dungeon to keep me forever.” His hesitation at mentioning sex feels wrong, he’d never been afraid to bring it up before, “Why pineapple? And Janis?”

"Pineapple because it's prickly on the outside but sunshine sweet on the inside. And because I like the fruit. Jennifer because she doesn't deserve her real name. Like. Ever. As for the 'dungeon' well that's only if you want me to." He doesn't want to mention that he actually had something that kind of amounted to as such. Not an actual space per se but plenty of items to enhance the experiences. None of which he'll use on Frank without permission. Consent is sexy. He doesn't do the rape thing.

“Jennifer now?” Frank smirks, “Does that make you a pineapple? Prickly but very sweet?” 

"Depends. Do I seem like a prick to you?" He teases.

“If I am honest, I kinda thought this was not, well, this.” Frank doesn't want to say it because he worries it would hurt Brock, “I have been _harassed_ and assaulted in the past by a certain type that you, you wonderful and beautiful man, happen to unfortunately fall in line with appearance wise.”

Sadness fills him. His shoulders drop and he wants to both pull away and hold Frank tight. He never wants to be the cause of someone's pain ever again. He dealt with that enough in his prison of HYDRA. A few scenarios enter his head. Changes he could make for Frank. Maybe he could pull off being a redhead. Or get glasses. Something to differentiate the similarities for him. Anything to keep the fear and pain from those gorgeous eyes.

“But, I don’t–I know that isn't the case! It crossed my mind. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” He wants to pull away but stays still.

He shakes his head. "No. Don't apologize. I'm glad you told me. Thank you for your trust. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I never want you to be afraid of me. Think I'll look good as a blonde? Or a redhead?"

“Don't you dare change a fucking thing about you! If I wanted to date a redhead, I would. I'm sorry I said it. You change your hair and I'll dye it in your sleep old man.” Frank shoots back but immediately regrets the tone. His eyes widen and he seals his lips shut for a second.

Brock blinks. His brain is short circuiting from shock. This boy's got some sass and he fucking loves it. All he can think of is, "Fuck, that's hot."

“Sorry. I know that you are nothing like I expected. At all. I wouldn't have had you on my mind for an entire damn week, if I didn't like you. Or at least want to do inappropriate things to you.” Frank's face curves into a devilish smile.

"You and me both," mutters Brock. Kid has no idea just how bad he wants him. The things he wants to do. Even now that he got to know him a little bit more only fuels his desires more. He needs to dampen that for right now. Ease into a proper long term relationship. His cock disagrees but it will have to deal. He's waited years for the right someone to come along. He isn't going to mess that up because he jumps into the bed with him too fast. It can at least wait until the second or third date. Surely he can show _some_ restraint!

"Good. Then I'm not just the only one." Frank smiles, he wants to lean across the table and kiss him. Just crawl in his lap and wrap his arms around Brock's neck and never stop kissing him. But maybe not here, maybe he doesn't want people to see them together. That can't be the case. "I mean you're the reason we got into it in the first place." 

He smiles and takes a long drink of his wine before licking his lips. "This is true. So I've been asking all about you. What do you want to know about me?"

"Are you closer to your sister or brother?" Frank pops off quickly, unsure where it came from. "I have a million questions I want to ask." 

"That's okay. I've got all the time in the world and happy to answer all the million questions. I feel like I'm about the same with both my siblings. My sister is my twin so we have a special bond." 

"You have a twin?! But wait, are you like the normal twins or weird ones?" Frank realizes again, that's rude. 

"There's weird ones?" he laughs.

"Yeah, there are weird twin sets out there. They look outwardly normal but it's like behind their eyes it is vacant and the ones I knew had their own language. Very strange kids," Frank replies. He needs to stop interrupting. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm not some twin from Roswell, cutie. Just Italy. Brooke and I will slip in and out of our native tongue and occasionally finish each other's sentences but I like to think we're normal." He's grinning wide. "Well. As normal as we can be considering."

"Is there more to that considering? It feels like a pregnant pause." He wants to crack a joke like _good one Frank, insult the man's sister. That's usually saved for the third date_ but keeps it to an internal berating.

"Yes but I think I like a little mystery. Keeps you on your _twink_ le toes. We have a family business and I'll save that information for at least the third date. Gotta keep you coming back for more somehow," he winks.

"If you think that I don't find you endlessly fascinating, then I am apparently being more restrained than I feel like I am being. But fair enough." Frank can't keep from smiling as he replies, "What do you feel is your bad habit?" 

"Hmm. I'd say I have a tendency to take in "strays". Does that count? Some of my best friends from work would call themselves strays as you said before. Apparently it's a natural thing for me. And I drink a lot. And I snore." Speaking of drinking, he finishes off his wine.

"So you're a drunk who snores and has a kennel of strays at home. Got it." Frank winks with a dumb smile, "I don't think from my limited but expanding knowledge of you, that your kindness is a bad habit. I was thinking something like being a smoker, which I am." 

He can't help but tease. "You make it sound like I'm some old dude. I've been drinking wine every day since I was seven. It's a thing back home so I rarely get drunk. Parents give their kids wine when they feel the child is old enough or they wish to build up a tolerance. I could probably drink you and your band mates under the table, _tesoro_. I've never done drugs or taken up smoking. Never found them appealing. Do you do drugs?" He's not exactly thrilled about the smoking but he figures as long as Frank does it outside, he'll learn to be okay with it. Drugs are a hard no for him.

"No. Caffeine and nicotine are the only drugs I do. In my stupid teen years I smoked pot. But it doesn't appeal to me. I'm not much of a drinker so you could drink me under this table right now. But frankly, love. Wine doesn't count as drinking." He beams at Brock. Feeling proud that he can get in a little tease into this uncomfortable part, Frank asks, "Something light-hearted, what's your favorite color?"

"Rainbow." He laughs hard at his dumb joke.

"You're a beautiful idiot." Frank chuckles, "I'm serious. If you hate the color green and I bought you a green shirt, I don't want the 'oh it's lovely as I donate it to charity'"

"I hate the colors orange and yellow. Everything else is fair game. How's that?" 

"Fine, I'll take that answer." Frank softens his smile. "What's a normal day consist of for you?" Before Brock can finish his last bite of eggs and answer, he interrupts. "I can answer my own question if that buys you time?" Frank realizes that he's hardly touched his own food but only because he doesn't want to lose any of Brock's attention. 

"Sure. Give it a shot and I'll tell you how far off the mark you are."

"I say you are an early riser, seven AM at the latest. You obviously work out, so you hit the gym and shower." Frank pauses, he's thinking about him naked. "Probably coffee. The usual emails and phone calls. Then probably saving children and puppies from burning buildings. Maybe around three, a nap. Then cruising the men's department for homeless teen boys such as myself. Home by five for dinner. Maybe a movie or book before bed around ten or eleven?" 

Well the kid isn't wrong on some points. Others, he is just so off the mark it is hilarious. "You've got some things right and some not even close. I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself which ones are which. I will say that I do _not_ save children and puppies, though those are admirable things."

"So are you the one who's burning the orphanage down then?" He takes a drink then smiles and speaks softer "I'd like to know from firsthand experience."

Chocolate brown eyes darken with lust at the words. The implications. His possessive streak rears its head and suddenly he wants to drag Frank to his place and take him apart and make him scream. He forces himself to relax instead. He feels like they should leave but he doesn't know if they should part ways for the day or not. He's not ready to leave him just yet. "That is the plan. At some point whenever you are ready." 

"I'm always ready," Slips from his lips and immediately stains his cheeks a deep red. He knows the inevitable goodbye is coming but is also very selfish and doesn't want it to end.

"As am I but that wasn't the ready I was referring to, baby," he says low and huskily. 

"I'm sorry. Whenever you are ready to go, I'm ready." Frank's face is now a deep crimson for the mistake. He leans to the side and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. 

"You look good all red and flushed. Makes me want to do wicked things to you. See just how red I can get you," he places his hand over Frank's wallet. "We don't have to leave yet, if you don't want to. Unless I get the pleasure of taking you someplace else. And this is my treat, _tesoro_."

Intrigued by the idea of him trying to turn I'm another shade of red. "I'm ready to leave here just not you. And I am sure that you would be more than pleased with the variety of reds I can turn. And many of them I do to myself." Frank looks up at him almost in a challenging way, "I'm not poor. Maybe I want to pay as a way of saying thanks for kidnapping me." _And don't take me home yet._

"I never said you were. But I like taking care of my people. Quite a lot in fact. And I want to take good care of you in so many ways. You have thanked me by gracing me with your presence. Please allow me to get this?" Maybe it is his insecurity showing but Brock wonders if Frank can see it in his face the times he's been burned before. How many people convinced him they loved him but turned out they were only using him. For a while he was convinced he would die alone without someone to share his life with. Each new date brought a new hope only to crash and turn sour over money. He hopes it doesn't come across as compensating. And he hopes Frank isn't like the men in the past. He is getting too old to keep trying for love. He wants to take care of his boyfriend but he isn't a sugar daddy. 

Frank frowns but lightens to a smile, "Ok fine. But I get the next one, and you don't get to bitch. Or be sneaky and prepay. I didn't work my ass off and sleep in passenger vans dirt fuckin' poor to get money to _not_ spend it, especially on someone I love." 

Brock's voice is quiet and soft, nearly too afraid to know the answer. "You feel it too, then?" 

"Yes, I do you silly man. I literally said it earlier and panicked about it when you disregarded it." Frank cocks his head to the side with a wide smile as he squeezes his hand. 

Brock feels his face flush. "I honestly thought it was something made in jest. And not anything deeper. Too soon for that. Or so social convention tells us. Do you believe in love at first sight? Soulmates, that whole thing?" He is relieved to know that Frank feels the same way that he does but he's not ready to give over his whole heart just yet. He can't. Because they _have_ just met and feelings lie. He needs to trust that his own are not deceiving him now.

"I don't say that to anyone besides my family and maybe my bandmates. I've spent a large part of my life trying to do the opposite of social norms because they are stupid. I do believe in soulmates and I do believe in love at first sight." He pauses for a joke, "If not, I can walk by again. I'm sorry. I had too. But it's a feeling about you that my head and heart oddly agree on." 

"Get out. Just so I can watch you walk and shake that ass. And because that joke was really terrible. I love it. I love you," Brock laughs.

"Oh I'm not leaving without you. Because I kinda wanna keep you. My apartment is small but I think I can store you in my closet… or bed." Frank's face shifts to an expression much more mischievous than before, "And you are kind of my ride." 

"Check please!" Now. He needs to leave _now_.

Frank laughs and drops his head back as he leans into the back of the chair, "Man, if I knew that's all it took..." 

"Oh shuttup you. I am not that easy, kid. I would take you back to my place. I've got all the fun stuff there." He's never so thankful the server actually heard him and he was able to just give her his card without even looking at the bill. He doesn't care. He just wants to leave and be with Frank. In any capacity the kid will let him.

"Not to sound easy but I'm game for anything. Only thing I had planned for today was to navigate the day without buying anything for _Jennifer_. Again, you can always come to Jersey City and never leave…" Frank replies with a slight hesitation, purposely trailing off.

What in the world? He doesn't think that anything he heard about Jamie would please him. He really hopes he never meets her again. It wouldn't be pleasant for her. "You mean to tell me that Jocelyn made you buy her stuff?!"

"All the time. She would literally pick things out, pass them to me and walk out. If I said no, it was a tantrum much like the one at the coffee shop." His reply is dry but has the trace of sadness to it. 

He squeezes Frank's hand gently. "Was Jackie always like this or did she turn into a hag slowly?" Way to go, Rumlow. Frank loves her, let's not insult her too much.

"She was always a bitch but I'm not sure when or _why_ it turned on me. I suppose once the mask slipped, I was invested and she knew it?" Frank can feel him shrinking slowly at the thought of her. 

" _Tesoro_ , may I ask a very personal question?" This is a sensitive thing but he feels he needs to know.

"Of course, you don't have to ask." 

He lowers his voice, thankful that they are relatively secluded. He doesn't want to cause the kid embarrassment or shame. "Did she ever hit you? Did she ever hurt you physically in any way?" He swears to all that is holy that if she did… 

"What's in the past stays in the past," Frank smiles softly trying to keep his poker face. "Besides, it's not like you are going to hurt her down and break all her fingers."

A dark look crosses over his face. If only he knew what he is capable of and would do. Still, he tries to not terrify him. "She lays a hand on you and I'm breaking it."

Frank has a strong feeling in his gut that those words aren't just words. Using his thumb, he strokes his hand as an act of comfort. "You don't have to worry about it. She is my problem. I won't have to see her again as long as she moves out without any _issues_." 

"I protect what's mine. And you are very much mine. If we are to be a couple, then your problems are now mine. If it's important to you, it's important to me. _You_ are important to me." He stands, and reluctantly takes back his hand to drop forty dollars in cash on the table before stepping away to leave and offering his hand again. He needs to keep touching him.

Frank has been palming a ten in his other hand knowing Brock would cover all aspects of the meal, but he can contribute, even covertly. He quickly drops it with the forty, takes Brock's hand, and attempts to pull him towards the door. Brock's words had hit him in the groin, the possessiveness is weirdly a turn on. He's not the type to be kept, but fuck he could be now. 

They head outside and Brock wants to pin _his boy_ against the car and kiss him senseless. Instead he gives a bright smile. "Did you need a smoke before we got into the car? Sorry, but you can't do that in my baby. She's sensitive." 

"No, I'm good," Frank replied, putting himself a little closer to Brock than he should be. Knowing Brock isn't a smoker and it is probably disgusting to him, he can go without. "I wouldn't even think of smoking in a car that's probably worth more than my entire existence."

Brock gives a wry smile. "As long as it's outside, I'm good with you sucking on the cancer sticks." _And other things..._

"I promise babe, I'm fine. Unless you are encouraging my delinquency and sinful habits." Frank glances up to see his reaction.

"I can be supportive even if I don't agree with the choice. I do like most sinful things however and will most certainly encourage that." He unlocks the car and gets in and lowers the top again. It is a great day outside. Might as well enjoy it.

Frank's surprised he doesn't open the door for him. He sits and leans across the console and plants a kiss on Brock's cheek, retreating quickly to his seat and buckling in. He might have crossed a line but it was much more PG than he intended.

The kiss sends chills up his spine and forces a soft groan out. His left hand grips the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles turn white. "Holy hell, boy. The things you do to me." Brock takes a deep breath and exhales to keep from jumping the sexy twink. "Wanted our first kiss to be somewhere else not in my car but you are making it hard to resist you."

"Oh," softly escapes his lips; not expecting the response. "I'm sorry for ruining your plans. You ruined mine, boy." 

Brock growls, his voice deep. "You don't get to call me that, boy. That's my job you sexy fucking Twinkie."

"That sounds vaguely like a threat for..." He stops himself. "Twinkie. Really? You don't even know if I have a cream filled center." Frankie shakes his head and fees the shame of his bad joke ruining the tingles he has in his low stomach from the growl. 

The growl continues over. His pants are becoming increasingly tighter. Shit. He starts the car if only to do something. Brock doesn't know where to drive but he doesn't care. "Keep this up and I'll..." 

"You'll what… I don't think you'll do anything, _boy,"_ Frank knows he might be playing with fire but he's invested in riling Brock up. His hand slides over the armrest and carefully sits mid thigh.

Brock guns the car, hard; speeding and weaving in and out of traffic. He needs more space than the close confines of his car to do the things he wants to do to the twink in his car seat. None of them are truly appropriate for a first date but Frank's sass is making him hot and bothered. Just the right amount of fire and submissiveness. It makes his dick twitch in anticipation. He speeds faster, going twenty over the limit and still climbing. It's a damn good thing he's an excellent driver.

"Maybe don't kill us on our first date," Frank quietly replies to the silence but leaves his hand on Brock's thigh even though every single nerve in him says to pull back and apologize.

The hand on Brock's thigh is hot and inviting. He has just enough presence of mind to take Frank's hand to reassure him, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then he slides Frank's hand down to his crotch where he is sure he is tenting. "This is because of you, twink. And as soon as I find us a place to pull over, I'm going to do something about it. _We_ are going to do something about it."

Giving him a gentle squeeze before sliding his hand back to this thigh, Frank smirks, "Oh, is that what you think? Glad I can have that much of an effect on you, _kid._ " He is literally playing with fire and not sure if he is ready for all that but he'll have a hell of a good time getting him worked up. 

Growling, Brock finally finds an empty parking lot just before he has to turn onto the I-78 for the Holland tunnel and pulls into the lot, angling his car away from passing cars. "Get out," he barks, unbuckling and following his own order. He's around the vehicle in a matter of strides. He has to cross his arms to keep from ripping Frank out of the car, only adding to the pissed off air he knows he's projecting. He's only half irritated; however he's not going to show that part of his hand.

Frank knows he has to look surprised with the speed Brock moves around the car. He can feel his hands shaking a lot more than he expected, he pushes the latch for the belt and slowly lets it click back. Partially to mess with Brock but also a little scared. Rising out of the car and feeling his stomach clench, he's thankful the new jeans are a little baggier than he is used to because they hide his fear-halfie. He puts a crooked smile on his lips and tries to keep his voice from shaking, "I'm out, what now?" 

Fuck, the sass is strong and he feels himself get harder. He bet Frank was never like this around Joanna. Another growl escapes, as possessiveness rises again. He did this. Made Frank bolder. He hopes anyway and _that_ is the story he tells himself. The thought makes him only more turned on. It is enough for him to grab the twinkie the moment Frank is within reaching distance and pull him into a searing hot and desperate kiss. Fuck having their first kiss someplace special. He needs this twink, _now_. One hand buries itself into Frank's hair and the other around his deliciously small waist, pulling him flush against the hard lines of his body. A shift of his own weight has him pinning Frank against the car.

Frank moans against Brock's lips and grips the front of his shirt. Kissing him back with the same intensity; afraid he might rip Brock's shirt. He was never more turned on with someone new. He's not this much of a smart ass either. The feeling of the car against his back and Brock's body in front is making him feel like he is trapped but he sure as hell doesn't want to leave. 

God _damn_ Frank tastes downright amazing. He feels even better underneath him. He wants him to squirm and beg and arch while he fucks him, but the parking lot is no place for that. Maybe the car? No. Not enough room. The kiss is pure bliss. He needs more. Now. He groans into the kiss, hands snaking down and grabbing two handfuls of ass before picking him up to sit at his waist. One of the things he loves about twinks is that he can lift them. He can't help but grind his hips into Frank.

"Fucking twink, got me riled up on purpose, didn't you? All that sass. Love it. Drives me fucking crazy for you."

Not expecting to be lifted in the air, Frank gasps in and gives a small moan at the new pressure from Brock grinding into him. His hands let go of his shirt to wrap around the back of Brock's neck. "I don't know what you mean… I'm a nice boy." 

His hips jerk at that. His mouth finds its way to the soft skin on his neck and latches on, needing to claim. Sucking hard and grazing teeth on his boy's pulse point may now be his new favorite pastime. He presses and rolls his hips harder into Frank.

"That's right, baby. You're a good boy. _Mine_. And I wanna make you scream for me. You have no idea how bad I wanna bury myself inside you right now. Make you moan. Want to watch you come apart under me. _Fucking Twinkie_."

"Holy god, Brock. I need you. All of you," he moans, gripping the back of Brock's neck and pushing back against him. The burn of his teeth and the release of his suction makes his head spin a little faster. His whole body is alight, every part of him wants Brock. It isn't just physical but something inside of him needs him. His voice is soft and full of need "Please." 

"Yes," he whispers in his ear before biting the earlobe. All of his restraint is out the window. He wanted to wait; to draw this out. Lavish all the attention he can before getting him into bed. But he can't wait. Frank is far too intoxicating. "Not here though, baby. Your place." 

Raking his nails into Brock's scalp, Frank asks, "Are you sure?" He hates himself for asking but he didn't want to push Brock too far. This is a different feeling. Brock already meant more to Frank than he should. But fuck his mouth is fucking fantastic, he can only imagine the rest of him will be. 

Biting none too gently on Frank's newly red hickey, Brock reluctantly sets him down. Only to spin him around and bend him over the hood of the car, rubbing against him to get some relief from his achingly hard cock. He can feel himself leaking into his boxers, he needs Frank so bad. "Want me to fuck you here? Just like this?" 

Frank whines against Brock's bite but doesn't have time to enjoy it. The quick movement and the feeling of the car against his hard dick elicits another needy moan. His knees give out when Brock grinds against him. He needs to come. His dick is throbbing, like it's begging for release. "Fuck yes. Please, Brock!" 

He leans over, blanketing Frank's body with his own. He loves how much Frank's perfect ass fits in between his hips. He can't stop grinding into him, even as he fumbles for the boy's jeans. He pauses with the zipper, getting lost in the moment and in his own desires. Without thinking, he pulls back just enough to land a sharp blow on Frankie's ass before squeezing it and returning to pressing him against his car and slowly raising up the twink's shirt. 

Frank gasps and jerks at the sudden pressure, his head jerking back to look at Brock. He feels his face turning a deeper red. _'Why am I this turned on?_ ' His fingers press into the hood of the car. He doesn't want to fall apart untouched. He drops his head to the car and let's Brock take control, "Oh fuck. Just touch me, B." 

"You liked that, twink? Want it again?" A grabs a handful of Frank's hair tightly before moving back and spanking him again. He wishes he was hitting flesh instead of fabric but it still did wonders for his libido. "Fuck Frank, you're gorgeous like this." 

Frank jerks under the hit, rubbing against the car. The feel of the fabric on his cock with the weight and pressure from the hit sent lightning through his veins. He can't find words. A moan slips out. 

Holy shit the sounds coming out of Frank's mouth are downright porn-worthy. They were music to Brock’s ears. He growls low, needing to hear more. He hits him harder and faster, alternating between both cheeks. He doesn’t care that they are out in public where anyone can see them. He can’t stop even if he wanted to.

Frank's moan gets louder, with the pain and pleasure pushing him to come. He's not a fucking teenager, but for fuck's sake, this is the hottest thing he's ever experienced. His legs are shaking as his breathing grows ragged. He can't take much more. 

Brock punctuates his words with a hard slap, "Don't. Call. Me. Boy." With a yank of hair, he arches Frank's back and bites hard on his neck, opposite side of the hickey he left earlier. His other hand comes up to slide up Frank's shirt and toy with a nipple, flicking and pinching it hard.

Each slap pulls a pleasured cry out of Frank, causing him to grind against the car, every part of his body wound tight. The feeling of Brock's hand up his shirt touching bare skin and the intensity of the bite are what he needs to push over the edge. He can't find words; his ass jerks up as he moans out. He's a grown man who just came in his boxers; but it was fucking worth it. He relaxes against the car and under Brock. 

Brock's jaw drops and he lets go of Frank when his _boyfriend_ suddenly moans and goes boneless underneath him. He's definitely keeping this perfect man. His touch turns gentle, caressing his chest and kissing him softly. He doesn't want to overstimulate him if he did what he thinks he did. Which is probably the most erotic thing he could do right now. The thought makes his own dick twitch in the confines of his jeans. Brock will definitely be filing this away for the spank blank later. He only wishes he could have seen his face when it happened. No matter; he's not finished with his boy yet. There are plenty of times he'll be able to watch Frank cum undone for him. He nuzzles him, leaving tiny little kisses everywhere before whispering, "Did– Did you– Did you just cum?"

Frank doesn't want to speak. His ears are burning as hot as his face. The touch of Brocks lips to his skin sends tingles down his spine. Using the softest and smallest voice he pushes out, "Yeah." He waits a beat and feels the overwhelming feeling to apologize rise in his chest. "I'm sorry,” slips out in the same softness.

"No need for an apology, baby. That was probably the hottest thing I've ever seen," he whispers. "I loved it. Wouldn't mind a repeat performance. The idea that I got you so worked up, you came untouched is fucking _hot_." He pulls away and gently tugs on Frank's hips to get him to stand upright. He knows the shame and embarrassment he must be feeling and he wants to wash that away with reassurances. He's not judging him, he's praising. It was hot. And Brock wants to show just how much he enjoyed it.

Frank can feel how red his face is as he stands upright. His legs are still shaking slightly. He shifts and the wetness of his boxers force his eyes to widen. He slowly gazes up at Brock's face meeting his eyes. knowing that he is about to get some kind of degrading comment. "I would understand if you just wanted to take me home… I should have; no, I could have held out." 

Brock suddenly seizes forward and kisses him, passionately but gently. He pulls away and cups Frank's face. "Did you hear what I said or did the brain gremlins drown it out, sweetheart?"

Frank blinks, "I was in my head. I'm sorry." He looks down at Brock's chest.

"I love you. I liked what you did. Found it hot." He settles for the abridged version. "And… I'll take you home alright. To pound you hard into the mattress so much the bed breaks. But, there's something I want to do first."

Frank nods slowly, confused by the sweetness from Brock. He gives a soft confused smile to him, trying to hide the little trace of shame from Brock, "What's that?" 

With a mischievous smile, he slides to his knees in front of Frank. He's a little too tall to be exactly at groin level but he likes this better. Reaching up, he unbuttons the jeans and lowers the zipper easily. The wet, dark red boxers peeking out at him is a more than pleasant surprise. Because they are in a public place in the middle of the day, he only lowers the jeans far enough to show off Frank's perfect package. He can't help it, he licks the cum spot, sucking the fabric.

His eyes dart around the vacant lot for a moment as Frank’s jaw drops. His thighs tense slightly, as his left hand reaches back on the car while the right falls naturally on the back of Brock's head. Resting his fingers in his hair, with a slight inhale and whispers, "Oh fuck." 

Licking and sucking the cotton as much as he can, Brock pulls away to grab the red waistband in two fistfuls. "I will replace these." He rips them in half with one strong pull, threading them out of the jeans and setting them aside.

"Jesus Christ." He doesn't have the words he wants to use, instead he pulls him up to his lips and kisses him, "Where did you come from?" 

"Italy, you goof. Now let me worship your dick, you gorgeous twink." Pulling away, he returns to his knees and licks a stripe up Frank's cock, sucking and licking all the remnants of the sticky substance. He's both gentle and firm.

Inhaling sharply as he watches Brock using his tongue against his dick, he fights the urge to close his eyes and drop his head back. It has been so long since he has been touched by someone other than himself.

Once he's sure that every trace of cum is swiped away by his tongue, even sucking gently on the head a little, Brock stands and tucks Frank away. He even zips and buttons him up, with a smirk. "Feel better?" 

"I, yeah," His head is fuzzy with the dumb grin on his face. He isn't sure what the plan is but he would follow that man into hell at this point. "What now?" 

"We get you home. And we finish what we started here." He's still very much hard as a rock and he's eager to get Frank into bed.

"Oh." 

"That is, of course, if you want to. If not that's fine too. I've got time and patience."

"Let's just stop right there." Frank reaches up and grabs his chin to make him level with his own face, "You had me at 'take me home' as long as you're _coming_ with me." He kisses Brock before smiling, he wants to call him boy but doesn't dare. 

"I intend to, _tesoro_ ," he says, giving a quick kiss before moving to pick up the discarded underwear. He balls them up and pockets them before getting into the driver's seat again and heading back on the road. 


	3. The Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoy Chapter 3!  
> All mistakes are our own, though mostly Winterscribe's as she is the one who does the editing, lol.  
> Quick disclaimer of we don't make money off this, this is an obvious work of fiction, so please don't sue. We are still looking for a Beta. so if you are enjoying the story and don't mind the themes, please send us a message. Also, if you have any ideas or constructive criticism, please let us know.!

"Take a left at the light." Frank is almost too giddy to sit still. He is half hard and getting himself worked up with the ideas that swim through his head. Brock does and snakes his right hand over Frank's groin, teasingly. Just to be mean. Or playful. Probably a bit of both. "You're a fuckin' tease..." He loses his nerve at the very end of his sentence, choosing to give Brock directions in the hopes that he forgets that slip. "I have a parking spot in the garage if you want to park her there. Unless you want to keep an eye on her, in which case you would need to park in this area because you can see it from my kitchen window." 

Brock angles the car into the parking space that Frank points out. He doesn't know the area so he definitely wants to keep an eye on a car that will most likely get stolen. "Will this get jacked if I leave it?" 

"No. I mean, it is the city so it's not a promise, but I've never had my apartment broken into or my car stolen. And I kind of forget to lock it like eighty percent of the time."

"That's not exactly comforting but I'll take it." He parks and turns off the ignition. He turns to Frank before he unbuckles to get out. " _Tesoro_ , can I ask you a favor?" 

"Anything." 

He's not sure how he can word this that won't trigger the brain gremlins in Frank's head. He doesn't want him to be upset or worry about what he is or isn't doing wrong. Because he's not technically doing anything wrong; he's an angel in Brock's opinion. A little hell angel. Okay maybe his own brain gremlins are trying to attack today. Bastards. He rubs his face.

"Did you get lost in there?" Frank asks softly. 

"Yeah, a little," he says with a soft smile. "Here I am worrying about you when I'm doing the very thing I'm worried about."

Frank wrinkles his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I am a very dominant person. I take charge and command others and they usually listen. I've commanded a team of men who trusted me with their lives and it's not something I can exactly drop away. It's a part of me. That being said, I don't exactly feel comfortable being called boy or kid. This is nothing you did wrong, _tesoro_. It's just me feeling kind of weirded out by it."

Frank wrinkles his forehead but softens it slowly, "Ok. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." 

A thought occurs to him. "Do you mind if I call _you_ twink? Or Twinkie, because I _have_ found the cream filled center, baby. You know I don't mean it as a slur but I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

"I may act like it bothers me on occasion but I don't mind it at all. You can call me whatever you'd like…" Frank tries to maintain a straight face but the color in his cheeks gives him away. "But oh my god Brock! Points for using me against me to make me blush." 

"That was so hot. I'm never letting that go." He leans over and kisses him lightly. "Let's go inside."

Frank carefully exits the car and offers his hand to Brock. "I'm on the fourth floor but the, uh, elevator is out. Sorry." He pulls the door to the apartment open. Sounds of life being lived spill into the street. Televisions and talking drown most of the noise with the occasional cry from a baby. Frank feels the anxiety building in his throat; this is going to make Brock bolt. After a _quick_ walk up four flights and trying to regulate his breathing because he really needs to stop smoking, he stops in front of 404. "The handle is a little tricky." He jiggles the handle turning it slightly then inserting the key but not turning it as the door pops open. It isn't the safest lock but he's never had to worry. It lets the light flood into the narrow hallway. A small table with a lamp sits by the door. Frank drops his keys there and turns the lights on illuminating the apartment's exposed brick wall, dotted with band posters. A framed gold record leans against boxes of more records. "You can come in. You won't catch anything." 

"I don't know what's smaller. Your twinkie body or your apartment. It's cute though. Much like you." Brock makes his way through the small space to check out the records. "These are nice. Shiny." He carefully observes the gold one.

Frank beams a little. "It's probably the only hobby I have." He opens the bedroom door and scans the room to make sure his belongings are still there and that there is nothing out that could be embarrassing. "There is water in the fridge. I don't think there is much else." He steps out and watches Brock for a moment wondering how uncomfortable he is.

He's smiling, one hand in his pocket and enjoying watching just how cute and adorable Frank is right now. The place is quaint and somehow fit the young guitarist's road life. It isn't something for him–he prefers more than one room and more windows but at least it is lived in. He goes over to Frank and wraps his arms around the slender waist. "This place has character. I like it. I like you more though." 

"I was thinking the same thing. Except I figured you'd hate it." He grins as he grabs the front of Brock's shirt and pulls him in for a quick kiss as someone over head drops something on the floor. He leans into Brock, feeling his jeans rub against him.

Hands tighten on Frank's back at the sudden noise and he tenses for a moment. Once he realizes what it is, he forces himself to relax and pulls Frank closer. It may or may not have been for his own nerves.

"I'm sorry it's noisy. I promise you're safe here," Frank speaks in a soft voice as he relaxes into Brock. "If I'm not worried, you shouldn't. You are fine." He glances to the couch then back at Brock, "I'll protect you."

"That's supposed to be my job," he says softly. "How did you know?" 

He smiles, "I know things… a lot of things that I don't think you realize I know." 

"Like what? And how? I haven't told you anything else but the basics and–"

"Hey. It's nothing bad. I notice things… like how you drum your fingers in your steering wheel at red lights. Or how you're oblivious to the way women look at you. Or that when you stepped into this building you wrinkled your nose like it smelled bad." Frank grins up at him. "You also flinched."

He's fairly certain he just fell a little bit more in love with him. To have someone notice habits that he himself tends to not realize he is doing, makes him feel special. He gives a soft smile. "I know I did. I was just wondering how you knew what to say as if you knew what went through my mind. You surprise me, Frank Iero. And I love it. I love you."

He leans up and kisses him. He wants to drag him to his bed but he's gotta have a little class. "I love you too, Brock Rumlow."

Brock slowly blinks and bends down, capturing soft lips in his own. Keeping the kiss chaste at first, his hands slip up under Frank's tee shirt and hoodie to tug it off. He breaks the kiss. He whispers sensually, "I believe you said you'd show me your tattoos in private. Why don't we go into the bedroom and you let me look?"

"I'd love too." He grabs the front of Brock's shirt and backs into his room. He flips the light on and keeps moving until the bed is just behind Frank's knees. 

Hands grab the firm ass and lift Frank up again. Instead of having him sit on his waist, he holds him straight up. Brock enjoys holding him while he leans upwards and kisses him again. Tattoos are mostly forgotten as he marvels in the size difference between the two of them and blood rushes south to his quickly re-hardening dick. _Fucking Twinkie_.

Frank wraps his arms around Brock's neck and kisses him a little harder. He wants Brock in his bed but can't force the man to move, instead he pulls at his shirt as his kisses get a little hungrier. Matching his arms, he wraps legs around Brocks body, hoping he gets the damn message. 

He gets it alright. Plain as the day outside, he gets it. Adjusting his grip allows him to bend over and slam Frank onto the bed hard. He moans low, his kisses turning frantic as he fumbles to get Frank's clothing off, needing to see him in all of his naked glory. 

Frank yanks at the middle of Brock's shirt trying to get it off. His lips move between his neck and lips. The harder and more urgent Brock's need for Frank is, the harder the gun and holster presses into him. With an annoyed growl, Frank pulls the button of Brock's jeans open. These damn pants need to come off. Now.

Calloused hands caress pale and inked skin, itching to mark him up. He tries to lift the shirt up but due to their position he can't and so he just stops caring and fists the fabric and rips it in half. He's hoping he can replace that too. Right now though he doesn't give a flying fuck. More ink colors the lithe chest and he makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl at the sight. He falls on perky nipples, licking and biting while his hands slowly work his gun holster off his pants. He needs to fuck Frank soon. He is starting to hurt; so hard and desperate.

Outside of the apartment, four men stand in front of 404. They are talking loudly in the hallway with large black bags slung over their shoulders. One of them mentions forgetting a key and the others laugh. The handle jiggles softly at first; a shoulder hits the door but it doesn't budge. The handle is being yanked and twisted as the same shoulder hits the door again. The door gives away and allows the men entry into the apartment.

"Fuck. That door is stubborn," a man's voice echoes in the entryway. "He said he would be here soon." 

The moment the door slams into the wall from being forced open, Brock is off of Frank and the bed, his gun in hand and pointing at the bedroom door. He's on alert and tense, ready to shoot at the first sign of movement. All sound disappears except his own heartbeat.

"Shit! Brock, no!" Frank springs from the bed and touches Brock's arm and back, "Baby, I know them! Don't shoot!" 

A taller man with curly brown hair steps into the door frame but doesn't enter, immediately putting his hands up. Another man, peers in but quickly pulls back. "What the fuck Frank!?" Two other voices echo in from the hall but aren't visible to Frank.

There's a slight tremor in his body from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He doesn't know these people and the only thought running in his head right now is to protect Frank from the intruders who broke in. He's not thinking rationally. He's not even fully aware of where he is anymore, his head tells him he's someplace else and blurring past and present.

Frank isn't sure what to do. "Guys, just don't move please." His voice is a little shaky but as soft as a whisper, as he says, "Brock, baby. It's okay, we're ok." He kisses Brock's shoulder. 

_"Who are you,"_ he says in Italian. _"And why are you here?"_

"Brock, I don't speak enough Italian..." Frank says in a normal voice. He doesn't know how to fix this. "Baby, please come back."

It takes a few moments to realize these men, these new strangers are unarmed and terrified. For a snap moment, he wonders if there should be something they are afraid about that he needs to protect _them_ from in addition to Frank but then he realizes that **he's** the threat. He takes a huge breath of air and it's like suddenly a window opened up in the room. Sound comes back. He can feel the tension in his arms. He can hear Frank's terrified and worried voice next to him. The warm steel is a familiar weight in his hands. His heart skips a few beats and his breath catches. His arms drop loosely to his side. He nearly killed them. He could have killed them all. And only because they fucking _scared_ him. He doesn't belong here. He's too dangerous for these people. A broken, "Oh, god" escapes.

"Hey, B. It's okay. We're fine. I'm not scared." Frank touches his face and turns his head towards him. His voice is steady and stronger, "I told you, if I'm not scared, you don't have to be. Okay? I won't let anything get you or me."

He's nodding without even thinking. He's still slightly shaking and he needs to be outside or someplace elsewhere right now. Trying to keep his hand steady, he reholsters his gun before meeting Frank's eyes. "I need to go outside for a moment. Okay? I'm sorry. I just can't–” 

Frank nods and touches his chest then his cheek, "Okay. Whatever you need… don't be sorry. It's not your fault!"

He nods. "I'll be back. Okay? My word." He turns to the others in the doorway. "Forgive me. If you'll please excuse me. I need to leave."

Frank shoos them out of his way by waving his arm behind Brock's back; watching his band mates empty into his living room and Brock leaving the bedroom. _Well, at least it wasn't me who drove him away_. He walks into the hall and sees the door close. Frank sighs and turns to face his friends in his living room. "Maybe fucking knock, you god damned heathens!? He could have killed you, Ray!"

Ray grins, pushing the curls from his face, "How were we to know? You and J never have sex, so it is _normally_ fine!"

"Who's your new friend, Frankie?" Gerard says from the back of the room, his dark hair framing his pale face.

Mikey, standing to the side of the room quietly adds, "Why does your new friend feel the need to have a gun?"

Frank sighs, he expected this but not like _this_ , "His name is Brock. We met a week ago. We had breakfast and have gotten to know each other. He worked security, that's why he has a gun but I think he just carries one for protection."

"And you just brought a strange gun toting man back to your place for… a good time? Fuck sake Frank, he could be a murderer!" Bob says as he places the black bag on the floor. "He's not stable."

"Brock is fine. It's just PTSD from the shit he dealt with when he was in the military. He's not dangerous and I actually really like him." Frank snipes, "Hopefully, you fuckers didn't scare him away!"

"Look at you doing a service for your fellow Americans…" Ray grins and elbows Frank in the ribs.

"I will push you out my window." 

"Is he the reason your shirt looks like it lost a fight with a woodchipper?" Gerard's tone is less than thrilled. 

Frank rubs his neck, "Yeah. You are the worst fucking cock blocks ever." 

"When he isn't pulling guns on people, is he good people?" Mikey asks as he pulls his glasses off and cleans them. 

"Very much so." 

"Where'd you find him?" Gerard asks, faking interest.

"He ran into me at the clothing store." Frank tries not to smile hard, "Then he just kinda manifested at the coffee shop when I was getting shouted at by… her." 

"Well hopefully we didn't scare him off, we gotta make sure he's good enough for our Frank," Ray says stepping in for a hug and squeezing him tight. "We brought you guitars!"

"I'm going to get an actual shirt on. Give me a minute," Frank disappears into his room, glancing at Brock's shirt on the floor before opening a drawer and pulling out a thin black Star Wars shirt. "Thank you for keeping the guitars and not having the Roadies deliver them this morning." Frank rejoins the group.

After several deep breaths and a few techniques his VA counselor taught him, Brock spends a few moments sitting on top of his car just taking in the cool breeze and thinking about nothing. He can't because if he does then he won't stop and it will cause him to run and no matter what he never wants to do that. He's not the type of person to leave someone he cares about. He tends to run in other ways however and he doesn't want to do that to Frank either. Once he feels he is back to baseline, he slides off the hood and makes his way back into the narrow death trap that is the hallway and stairwell. He gently knocks on the door. 

Frank turns to the group. "Maybe you bastards didn't make him run." He takes a breath before opening the door with a smile, "Hey! Come in!"

If he were in any other mood, he would make a suggestive comment about coming in, but instead he gives a soft smile to him and the others, keeping his hands in his pockets and uncaring about him being shirtless. He enters and stands near the door in such a way he can keep an eye on the single window and the group.

"Hi." Yeah, he's not totally okay but he's getting there. He officially hates the apartment now.

The bandmates pause for a moment before Ray speaks up, "Hey, I'm Ray. It's nice to meet you!" The others gauge Brock's response before introducing themselves. 

Brock extends his hand, "Brock. And I'd like to apologize for pulling a gun on you. I swear I don't normally do that."

Ray shakes his hand, "It's fine, Brock. Water under the bridge. In Jersey, that's just a standard Sunday hello." 

Mikey extends his hand with a friendly smile, "Mikey Way. It's good to meet you as well." 

Frank moves a little closer to Brock but doesn't want to crowd him.

"I'm sorry did you just say your name is Milky Way?" He can't help a grin. He puts his arm around Frank and pulls him into his side.

"Close. Apparently, it's trademarked or something. So my parents went with Mikey." He chuckles and pushes his glasses back towards his face, "Close enough though!" 

"So we got a Ray of Sunshine, a Milky Way bar and a Twinkie.... You sure your band isn't some weird food group?" Brock teases Frank. The two he met so far are nice and helping him ease his anxiety. Frank being right next to him only further makes him feel better. He doesn't know about the other two yet but he assumes they are just like Frank. 

Ray laughs, "I see why you like him, Frank! He's got your sense of humor."

Mikey chuckles and shakes his head as Bob smiles wide and offers a hand, "Bob Bryar. Any _friend_ of Frank's is already cool with me. Even if he has dad jokes."

"Brock Rumlow. I suppose they would come naturally to me considering I'm probably your dad's age. What are you, fifteen?" He grins, wide. His instincts are telling him that these kids are good. He likes them already. Not as good as his boy though, but enough.

Frank moves closer to Brock and slips an arm around his waist. He is nervous about Gerard, he is the one who can be an ass without saying a word.

Tension leaving him, Brock squeezes Frank's shoulder and kisses his temple. He whispers to him, "Told you I'd be back, _tesoro_." 

Gerard steps closer and puts a hand out, "Gerard Way. You must be the reason we had to hold on to his guitars so that crazy ex didn't steal them." Frank feels the warmth from his body leave. 

"Having met Jolanda, I am rather proud of that statement. And it's nice to meet you too," he replies, shaking his hand.

Frank wants to strangle Gerard. "So yeah. They are really sorry for breaking into my apartment."

"Who is Jolanda?" Ray asks, tilting his head to the side.

"It's J. But he thinks it's best to not waste time on remembering her name, instead it's any J name he can think of." Frank replies before putting his hand on Brock's torso.

"Oh, I know her name. I just don't care and think she doesn't deserve it. I like this better. Especially since I've got a feeling that it would piss her off." And he's more than happy to oblige that, having marked her in the category of people he hates but can't kill. "Julia can kiss my old Italian ass." 

Gerard smiles genuinely at Brock, "That I can happily agree with. She was awful, Frankie." His tone towards Brock warms from before.

"Yeah, you were way too good for her," Bob adds quietly.

"Frankie, huh? That's cute. Kind of like 'Twinkie' but more puppy." Brock's looking directly at Frank and with a playfully mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Frank's ears warm as he tries to fight back his smile, "Yeah. That's me..." 

"Frank was saying you guys met at a clothing store and you ran into him, is it cause he is low to the ground?" Mikey jokes, enjoying seeing Frank squirm. 

"Low enough that I didn't see him and practically body slammed into him. He's so lightweight he goes flying. Thought for sure I'd killed him or something."

"No, don't forget the best part of us meeting, babe…" Frank pauses and looks up at him.

"You being weird and purposely wearing ripped jeans? Which I still don't understand but whatever. Or did you mean later at the coffee shop where I kidnapped you, oh so willingly?"

"I mean when you assumed I was a homeless kid and you tried to buy me pants." 

Brock makes a show of looking around the apartment. "I still stand by my point and I got you into those pants so I'm winning."

"Wait, you kidnapped him?" Ray replies with a grin.

"Have I mentioned I don't like Jolene?"

"Oh, you manifesting him… gotcha. I'm caught up." Ray nods, remembering how Frank described the way Brock appeared out of nowhere while he was arguing with J.

"So you say you're our dad's age, how old's that make you?" Gerard asks as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'm fifty." 

"So that makes you twenty-five years older than Frankie. That's interesting. Are you not able to find old guys at the AARP meetings? Or is it Bingo halls now?" Gerard asks with a trace of venom to his voice.

"Well it was kind of hard to date someone when I spent most of my time killing people. Turns out not a whole lot of dates are ok with that sort of thing. And when I can move better and faster than most eighteen year olds, I'd rather not be stuck in a _dying_ relationship. I hate Bingo," Brock replied both casually and coolly.

"And why does it matter, age is in many cases a social construct that is used to box people into definitions that don't fit every person," Ray says with an upbeat tone. "As long as they are consenting adults, age ain't nothin' but a number"

Frank nods, "Well said!" He shoots a look at Gerard. "And as long as I am happy and he's happy. It doesn't matter." 

"I agree. I do hope to win your blessing, in time however. I know you are just trying to look out for your friend and bandmate. I'd be concerned if you weren't, actually. So, thank you."

Gerard gives him a look from head to toe. "Frank is important to us. Keep that in mind before you break his heart. While Frankie pretends to not like anything, he feels everything."

Frank drops his head, inside he is begging them to leave. His fingers press into Brock's side unintentionally. "I will be fine, Gee."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Way. I have no intention of doing any harm to Frank that he doesn't ask me to do. And even then, I'll decide if it's safe. I am surprised though. Considering that Jenna was his last partner, I figured you would see me as a step up from the abusive bitch, not a threat." Brock rubs his thumb across Frank's shoulder and holds him tighter. He isn't trying to start a fight. And he wants these kids to like him, but he’s hard headed and stubborn enough not to back down from a challenge. His words are still causal, not intending to incite anger but to at least call him out on his bullshit.

Frank remembers the bite mark on his neck and turns a new shade of red. Bob opens his mouth but quickly shuts it. Mikey exhales and rubs his thumb over his palm, trying to keep himself out of this. Gerard looks Brock in the face. "She was warned too."

"Well now that Gerard has marked his territory, we should probably give you guys some space, er, time." Ray says with an awkward tone before turning to face Brock again. He smiles warmly; he likes Brock. 

"Actually, I think I'm going to head home. It's been a fun but tiring day." He tries for a joke, "Gotta get that senior's discount dinner you know?"

He turns to Frank and whispers to him, "You are welcome to come with me back to my place but I can't stay in your apartment, _tesoro_. Come stay the night or three." He didn't know how else to explain that not only was the apartment bothering him on a subconscious level but he felt that he needed to give some space of his own between Frank and Gerard. He got the feeling Ray was speaking more than just metaphorically about Frank being his territory.

He had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions. Frank's certainty that Brock wanted to leave deflated his heart but the invitation to go with him brought him back around. He looks up at Brock with a small smile, "Three? You're showing restraint, Rumlow." Of course he was going with him.

He chuckles softly to himself at how eager Frankie is. He loves it. He still wants to lay him out in bed, just not in _this_ small apartment with its unpredictable noises and lack of security. He kind of likes the friends too, though he was unsure what to think about Gerard. "I always show restraint, _tesoro_. Even when I'm compromised." 

Frank smirks as he rests his chin into Brock's side. Brock's ability to bounce back from wherever he had gone and still be able to smile and make _terrible_ but adorable dad jokes makes him fall a little bit more for Brock. He turns his head back to his friends and takes a deep breath, "Please don't take this the wrong way but I've seen your ugly mugs every day for the last year, I don't want to see you for at least five days." 

"Five? Are you sure your band tour thing will survive you being gone for that long? I don't want to kidnap you from your job. You still have one and I can always bend myself around you."

"Baby, we are done with this tour… I'll explain it later; better. I'm sure you can be quite _flexible_ with me and my job. The boys understand, they have their own girlfriends and lives they should take care of, right?" Frank replies throwing out the _get the fuck out_ signal with a big red neon sign. "Besides, I think you need to not be cramped up in my rats nest." 

"Pack a bag then. Should only take you a few seconds, right? Homeless kid like you probably lives out of a box. What about Julia? She got shit here still? Because I've got an idea where it can go…"

"Hope a trash bag isn't too offensive to put in the back of your car, it's all I got. I don't see anything here. I think it's a hair brush, toothbrush and probably a couple shirts." Frank glances behind Brock into his room to confirm, "Hey Mike, do you think you could stay here for a couple days until the landlord fixes my locks? I'll tell her I got mugged downtown again."

Mikey nods and smiles, "Yeah, it will be a change from the guest room at Gee's."

"Thanks dude, I owe you one." Frank ushers the band out of his apartment, quietly passing his keys to Mikey. He promises he would call in a few days to let them know he wasn't actually kidnapped before he closes the door. "I am so sorry." 

"You got _mugged_?!" Brock's voice made a cross between a concerned human and an indignant duck. He scowls. Already, thoughts of ways he could improve the rundown building entered his mind. Starting with that damn door. "I knew this place wasn't safe for you." 

Frank blinks at him, confusion written all over his face, "I've been mugged a few times and once in New York. It is not a big deal. I get punched in the face, they take my wallet and what I have on me." 

"Not a–! Oh my god, I'm never letting you out of my sight." He mocks slightly, " _Not a big deal_ he says. Oh suuure. It's _normal_ to get mugged. Nevermind that you're a target; goddamn _twink_."

Frank tries to make his body look a little bigger. "I am not a target. I'm just not built like a brickhouse. I have strategies to prevent them from getting anything important. You don't have to worry about me." 

Wrapping his arms around Frank and pulling him close, he leans down and kisses him lightly. "I'm always going to worry about you and your safety. You are my top priority. And I'll do anything to make sure you are happy and taken care of. Now go get your trash bag so we can beat traffic back to my place."

Frank smiles and shakes his head as he kisses Brock's chest before slipping into his bedroom, "What do I need? Just clothes? I–nevermind..." 

"Clothing and toiletries. And anything else that would make you feel at home. Bring a guitar if you want," Brock replied as he slips into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Frank throws clothing into his duffle bag. He searches for his phone charger, "Do you want me to bring a guitar? Also can you grab the deodorant in there?" He pulls the bag to the living room and sits on the floor. 

Brock exits the bathroom after washing up with the deodorant and tosses it at Frank. "You can bring whatever you'd like but I wouldn't mind hearing you play. I'd like to, actually."

Frank catches the deodorant. He can't contain his grin, "I can bring a guitar." He pulls the toiletry bag from the backpack he brought home from touring. "I am sorry they, well, broke in and put you in a bad headspace." 

A solemn smile graces Brock's lips and a shadow fills his eyes. "I'm normally not that bad. My counselor at the VA and I worked very hard to get me stable for civilian life. I was _much_ worse five years ago. The only thing I can't seem to shake is the reaction to unknown and unexpected noises that could sound like gun fire or a bomb. Had this happened a few years ago, I would have killed Ray without even realizing I did it. I'm sorry that I can't promise it won't happen again."

"I don't know how to ask this but I didn't know how to help you. If you can, would you be able to help me to help you?" Frank rises to his feet and moves to Brock, gingerly wraps arms around his middle, "I love you. I don't want you to feel bad because you can't help it baby." 

"I take a lot of preventive measures. I don't know if you noticed but when I'm out I tend to sit in the corner. It's so I can keep an eye on all the entrances and exits. Simply knowing and anticipating helps a lot. Like knowing the walls are thin or there's people above you and I can hear their movements. Friends coming over unannounced would have probably been okay if it wasn't for the damn door. As for the aftermath, Ray not moving kept him alive. Beyond that it's a matter of grounding me here and not in my head." It took him a long time to be able to recognize what were his triggers and how to take preventive steps to keep himself from accidentally killing people. To work hard on allowing other people to approach him from behind or not freak out in small spaces.

"I just want to help you when I can and thank you for not killing Ray." Frank presses his lips to Brocks chest then looks up at him, "I am proud of you for understanding and taking care of yourself because it's hard to do especially for men."

"My counselor is a good teacher. I owe it all to him."

"You need to give yourself more credit, Brock." Frank hugs him a little tighter, "I'm also ready to go when you are." 

"Lets go, then." He nudges Frank towards the door, eager to get on the road.

"The black case by your right hip, will you hand that to me?" Frank asks softly as he pulls the door handle hard; the wood creaks as it opens. "It's Bela, be nice to her." 

"I'll be sure to treat her with respect," he says as he lifts the case. "Need me to carry her or will your twink arms break from the weight?" Brock grins like the shithead he is.

"You think you're cute don't you?" He replies looking over his shoulder as he steps into the hallway, "I've carried things that are as heavy as you… before." He pauses and quietly repeats Brock in a mocking tone, "Will your twink arms break from the weight…" 

"I know I'm cute. Not as cute as you though. Or as small. But I'm hilarious." He walks down the stairs behind Frank, checking out his ass. "You know I love that you are so very much smaller than me, right?"

Frank can't help but grin as he trots down the stairs.

"Can't help but wonder just how tight your ass will be around my thick dick."

Frank trips slightly on the last two stairs at the insanely hot image that popped in his head. His face flushes but keeps facing forward trying to will it away, "I uh, I guess you're gonna have to wait and see… " _He is going to break me._

"Not for long." With that he quickly loads up the car with Frank's things and gets in, lowering the top again.

The band catcalls at Frank as he sits down inside of Brock's car. It takes a moment but the realization that the stairwell echoes and Brock is not a soft spoken man, makes it a guarantee that they just heard Brock's plans for the evening. His face reddens along with his ears and chest. 

"Did you wanna put a shirt on tough guy Tuesday?" Gerard speaks loud enough for Frank and Brock to hear, forcing Frank to shoot a glare at him. 

"Nah, I like showing off the six pack," Brock shoots back with a laugh. He starts the car and backs up.

Frank tries to not do it but it falls out of his mouth, "I'm sorry." He agrees with Brock, he needs to show off his body more. Like he never needs to wear a shirt.

Brock reaches over and pats his thigh, "You're okay, _tesoro_. They're just being protective. Wave bye before I gun it."

Frank waves like a puppy before looking behind the car out of instinct. He stretches his arm across the arm rest and places his hand on Brock's upper thigh. It was more like testing the water but also learning how to be comfortable with himself touching Brock.

Grinning, Brock peels out of the parking lot before dropping down to a more comfortable speed that won't grant him a ticket. Not that he's worried about one of those. He didn't want Frank to think he's an unsafe driver. 

Frank sits quietly enjoying the peace of not being behind the wheel. He had taken the drive into the city before a thousand times. Before he could turn on his brain to talk to Brock they were in New York. Upper Manhattan maybe? Near the park. A ping in his brain makes him stress slightly that what if this was just some rich guy game… pick up a young guy and fuck him then ghost. 

After parking, Brock assists with Frank's bags and leads him through the lobby, saying hello to the bellhop on the way into the elevator. They reach the top floor and Brock opens the front door using a biometric scanner.

Stepping in, Frank immediately feels like he is not supposed to be there. Like security would be escorting him out of the building because he was riff raff. His hands slip into his pocket and he tries not to touch anything.

"Are you ok with me just putting your stuff on the couch? I kind of want you to get the tour proper and settled down _after_ you check out the bed." Brock kicks off his combat boots by the door and tosses his keys in a little bowl on the kitchen island.

"Yeah. You can put my things wherever…" he replies as he pulls his converse off, copying Brock. It's not his place and he is the kind who has rules for a reason. Joking as a way to cover how out of place he feels, he grins, "You could put them in a closet… I assume I'd be sleeping in a storage closet."

Brock sets the stuff gently down on the couch before turning around to face Frank with a grin, "If that is an attempt at making a gay joke, it _sucked_."

"No it was a _poor_ joke." He grins wider, he puts finger guns up. He hates himself for doing it but he follows it through.

Brock huffs a laugh before shaking his head and pulling Frankie into his arms, "You are adorable. Sexy. Funny. Cute. And smart. I love you." 

Frank leans up and kisses him carefully, "Are you talking to the mirror again?" 

"No," Brock replies huskily before kissing him deeper and more passionately. He pulls him tighter against his chest, needing to feel him. A hand slips up Frank's shirt to caress his skin.

Tingles crawl his spine at the feeling of Brock's fingers. Worry still nagged at the back of his mind but it was quickly becoming background noise with the need to be touched grew stronger. If he was going to break him, Frank was on board for sure now.

Breaking the kiss, Brock shoves Frank's shirt up and off, tossing it on the couch. He takes in the pale lithe chest with beautiful ink and groans at the sight. He needs to feel every single inch of Frank's skin against his. He needs him under him and squirming with pleasure now. Nothing will stop him this time. He surges forward, kissing soft lips hungrily before lifting his _tesoro_ , his perfect treasure, into his arms and walking them into the bedroom. Laying him down gently, he steps away to remove his gun holster and secure it safely by the headboard and undo his pants.

For a moment, Frank was very aware of his body. The parts he hated being highlighted next to Brock's perfect physique. Laying on his bed, the huge bed, didn't help him not feel any less self conscious. He sits up on his elbows and follows Brock's movements around the room. Why did he want him? Watching his fingers as he worked the button of his jeans, he knew he should probably do the same but he was too transfixed on Brock. Beautiful, protective and sweet. Like the best wine money could buy time had only made him better, Frank was drunk on it.

Brock gets his pants undone and drops them, revealing gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The confines of his jeans had kept his hard length trapped and now the thin fabric barely hides his swelling cock. After grabbing a condom and lube from his nightstand and tossing it on the bed, he kneels to worship Frank, starting with kissing down his body from neck to navel.

Nervous excitement flutters in his stomach with each kiss. Frank's hand molds around the base of Brock's neck as he moves lower. He keeps his breath in his chest, not wanting to ruin anything. He's not this nervous about sex. He's been with men and women; what is different about Brock? The answer: everything. It didn't feel like anything he's ever had. It was like his first time all over again. Eager hands move to his hips to move this along, unsure if this was the right move. But the feeling of Brock's dick pushing against him as he moves along his body makes his whole body awaken.

Quickly undoing Frank's pants, Brock nips along Frank's hips before roughly yanking the fabric down, moaning at the sight. He flicks his tongue across the head of the perfect dick before swallowing him down in one motion, deep throating and loving it.

Letting out a shallow moan, Frank's stomach clenches as he curls forward from the wet warmth around his dick. Pushing his hand into Brock's hair, he cries out, "Oh god, Brock!" Something clicks in his head; Brock wasn't the only one who gets to have all the fun.

The hand in his hair and Frankie's moans go right to his dick. He loves the ones who are vocal and it pleases him to know Frank is one of them. Sounds of pleasure drive him wild and make him eager for more. He wants to make his love feel so good. A hand gently fondles and massages Frank's balls, while taking the hard length deeper, burying his nose in tiny curls. He moans at the feeling.

Frank groans loudly, losing all the thoughts he had previously. His hips rock slightly into Brock's throat, aware in the back of his head that he can't go any deeper. His fingers rake through the hair on the top of Brock's head exhaling a quiet, “Oh fuck!”

Brock has to pull off for air but he's enjoying himself far too much so he pushes himself a little longer before he has to breathe. The hand around Frankie's balls trails lower, a finger toying at his entrance. He pulls off with a slight gasp of air. He's panting hard and tries to cover it up by planting kisses on the inside of his thighs before nipping and sucking a love bite, worrying a little at the flesh on the high inside of his thigh. His other hand blindly gropes for the tube of lube, grabbing it and coating his fingers, one wet digit slipping in.

The feeling of Brock's mouth then teeth against his inner thigh force his heart to hit harder inside of his chest and punch out a groan that started in his stomach. As a finger slowly works inside of him, Frank's body tightens until he wills himself to relax and allows himself to enjoy the attention. He’s not had someone take their time like this. It was drunken and messy, not to mention usually in a cramped space where he was not supposed to make much noise. A quiet whine slips from his throat.

He makes his way back up Frank's body, trailing kisses as his finger pumps in and out slowly to get him comfortable with the intrusion. "God, I love the noises you make. Can't wait to learn your body and draw out more sounds from you. Drives me fucking crazy. Wanna hear you scream for me baby." His finger steadily picks up pace with his words before he adds another. The tight heat around Brock's fingers feels fantastic and it's only teasing him, knowing it's still too soon to enter him. Watching Frank's face contort with pleasure makes his cock weep in his underwear and he's certain he got harder from the sight. He's fairly certain a wet spot has formed. He could watch this all day.

Frank curls his fingers around the comforter as the finger works faster inside of him, quiet pants punctuated with little moans are the only sound that he can make. Brock's words make his stomach drop and his legs tighten. His eyes had been closed but something told him to open them as he pushed back against Brocks hand. “Oh fuck Brock. Please.” His words aren't coming out right. He bites down on his lip and pulls it in as he inhales to keep from crying out louder. His face tightens and softens as he tries to find the pace of his fingers. He needs this as he begs, “Please. I need you. More.”

"Fuck Frankie," he grounds out. "Don't hold back those sounds, baby, but you gotta hold on a little longer. Need to stretch you wide so I don't hurt you." He scissors his two fingers to force the channel to expand before adding a third digit in and spreading them. He can't wait much longer himself but he needs to put safety first. "Just a little longer, sweetheart." 

Frank's legs twist in at the insertion of the next finger. His breathing is the last thing on his mind as his shoulders push into the mattress as his back arches slightly. He clenches around the fingers before pushing back against them. He thinks he is keeping all of the words inside but his mouth betrays him by letting just small slips, “Please. Break. Me. Oh Fuck.” He glances at Brock to see his face, to watch his mouth and keep himself grounded. To make sure this was good for Brock.

His hand picks up in speed as he focuses more on watching Frank than actually prepping him. He's practically finger fucking him now and he wonders if he could make him cum this way. The idea is more than appealing and he has a hard time stopping the brutal thrusting just so he can strip off his underwear and grab the little foil packet that was somewhere in the blankets. "Sonofabitch." 

With a small groan of frustration, Frank adjusts himself on the bed, lifting up and finding the condom packet under him. “Looking for this?” All the built up tension makes the words come out a little brattier than intends but he fails to correct them or apologize. His face slowly matches his words as he watches Brock move to strip down. 

"Thank fuck," Brock mutters, unintentionally snatching the condom packet out of Frank's grasp. He tears it open with his teeth and one hand while the other strokes himself to keep him as firm as possible. He quickly rolls the rubber on and coats himself in the lube before lining himself up. He blankets Frankie's body and captures him in a frenzied kiss before slowly pushing in.

Frank inhales sharply at the sensation of being full. His eyes wide as his mouth falls open as he moans out, “Oh fuck!” His arm wraps around Brock as his body tries to adjust. The uncomfortable melts away and turns into pleasure as Frank's face softens into a wicked smile.

It's using all of his willpower to stay perfectly still to let Frankie adjust. He buries his face in his neck, kissing the flesh there as a way to distract him from the vice-like grip around his cock and to hopefully make Frankie relax. He groans low and soft from the wait; his words broken, "Please. Are you-- can I?" 

“Yeah. Yes!” Frank whines out as he strokes the back of Brock's head. He feels himself slightly shaking under Brock with frantic anticipation. His mind had played this scenario for the last week and it was better so far than anything he’d come up with. 

Testing the waters so to speak, Brock gently rolls his hips; the feeling cause him to let out a loud moan. It's enough to let himself go, hips snapping hard. 

“Oh fuck!” Frank cries out gripping onto his shoulder with one hand and the blanket next to his head. Each thrust forces a moan from him as he tries to find his mind to find his rhythm. He hooks a leg around Brock’s and finds the right moment to push back, “Please. Don't stop.”

He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. The feeling of Frank's body beneath him like a trapped butterfly only increases his desire and makes him thrust faster and harder. "Goddamn fucking twink. Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around me. Shit!" His words trail off in a guttural moan. He needs more. Needs to feel the small body moving beneath him. In a quick decision, he pins both of Frank's hands above their heads and lays on top of him, fully adding his weight. 

As the weight of Brock pushes down on Frank, a little panic sets inside his chest. His hips lose their rhythm and his hands fight a little against Brock's. His breathing becomes a little harder as he moans out at the deep thrusts from Brock. His legs are shaking as his chest pushes into Brock. He's unsure of what is happening but he doesn't want it to stop. Is he doing something wrong? “Fuck B. Oh fuck your cock is fucking perfect! Please baby.” He's not meaning to whine but it happens anyway. 

"Oh fuck baby don't stop. Move for me. Please," Brock isn't ashamed to admit he just whined, high and needy to keep Frank moving and wriggling beneath him. Just feeling him struggle a little bit is enough to lose more of his careful restraint and pound Frank into the mattress. "Oh god! Yes!" 

Surprised that he was doing it right, Frank pushes back against Brock. He uses his hips to push back against him and his stomach to press against Brock. His arms struggle just a little against the hold that was pinning them down. He struggles to get ‘free’ and moans out the neediest words he’s ever spoken, “Fuck baby please, harder. I need you.” 

"Shit! Yes! Yes! Fuck Frankie please!" He's rabbiting fast as he can into the perfect little body beneath him, chasing his high that was starting to form low in his stomach. He was getting close, far too soon for what he wanted but he no longer cares at this point. He's certain he hears the bedframe slamming into the wall but he doesn't care about that either. "Fuck! Oh god! I'm gonna-"

"Please come. Oh fuck, Brock." His voice sounds higher than he'd ever heard it before. His fingers grip onto the bed. He can't keep up with Brock's pace, instead choosing to writhe and push into him, creating a little friction on his cock that sends sparks through his body that ends back at his stomach. "I need you to come inside of me. Oh please!"

The words mixed with the writhing are like the match to a bomb. It's more than enough to send Brock over the edge and he's coming hard with a roar and Frank's name on his lips, only a small piece of him regretting wearing a rubber. 

Frank's body is shaking underneath Brock but not by choice. He wants to stroke his head and kiss him. He speaks softly with a ragged breath "I love you, Brock." He wonders how he would feel in a few hours, or tomorrow. Would Brock send him home because that voice in his head nags him that he didn't deserve this man.

Riding the waves of his orgasm doesn't stop Brock's hips from moving, instead it only draws out the pleasure. He releases Frankie's hands, now focusing on his pleasure, wrapping one hand around his neglected dick, firmly stroking him in time with his thrusts and kissing him deep. A pang of regret festers inside of him for coming first. He usually holds back until after his lover peaks. Frank was just so damn sexy and perfect. It drove him wild. He adds a little twist of his wrist on the upstroke and thumbs a little at the slit. Hips still shoving into the tight heat, albeit slower than before. "I love you, too, Frankie. Wanna see you come for me, baby."

"Oh fuck Brock!" Frank moans out, wrapping his arms around the gorgeous man in front of him. Each stroke and slow push from Brock's hips forces the heavy feeling in his stomach to get heavier. He didn't deserve to come twice but he couldn't stop it. Brock's deep voice calling him Frankie replays in his head. He kisses him back, raking his teeth over the bottom lip and gently pulling. He wasn't going to last and he knew it. With one arm clutching the bed, Frank lets himself go, every inch of his skin stimulated in the perfect way as he came, spilling onto his stomach. 

"Oh my god," Brock moans out at the insanely erotic sight. Frankie's face was pure pleasure and it went straight to his dick. The only thing that perhaps competed against that was watching him cum. He needs to taste it again. He couldn't stand his last partner's but Frank's tasted amazing. Or maybe it was just the love. He kisses Frankie once more before pulling out to avoid them both from being overwhelmed from the sensations.

Exhaling as Brock pulls out, he gets the feeling of fluttering in his chest and a love drunk smile pushes his cheeks up, "You called me Frankie." His voice's a little shaky and raspier than he expected but with all the moaning he didn't know why he was surprised. 

Smiling at him as he rapidly ties off the condom and throws it into the trashcan by his bed, Brock quickly gets into position to clean every inch of Frankie's body with his tongue before the cum cools. "I like it. Want me to stop?" 

"What? No. I like it too!" Frank sits forward unsure if he was supposed to or not, "You can call me whatever you like. I will always come."

He smirks before licking across his belly button and making a little noise of pleasure at the taste, "Good. Because I always want you to come for me."

He groans watching Brock run his tongue over his skin, he can't help but want to touch him. Kiss him just having him there. "I'm confident you won't have to worry about that." Frank pauses a moment to touch Brock's shoulder and push his hair back, "I'm more than sure you could make me come with just words alone."

He snaps his eyes up to look at Frankie, full of dark promises. "I'd love to try that. See if I can get you to ruin another pair of underwear again. In public, perhaps. Hottest fucking thing ever."

Frank's face turns cherry red, "I'm sure there's, uh, other things you… we can do that I can't think of cause my head's spinning." _How the fuck is he able to make me blush like a goddamned school girl?_ "Really? You think it's hot?" He's a needy goddamned school girl.

"I sped to your place just to keep from fucking you right then and there. Or in the car. Which is a must, later. You know I have them, right? In my back pocket." He plants a butterfly kiss on Frankie's arm where his hand is still on his shoulder before focusing back on cleaning him up with his tongue. He's extra careful and gentle around his soft tip. They'll still need showers but maybe after a nap if Frankie wants one.

He wants to crack a joke but nothing is there. He lets out soft exhales with each careful touch of Brock's tongue. He pushes his fingers in the beautiful man's hair. Frank had a deep feeling that he would do anything Brock asked of him, he was crazy about him already, "I love you Brock. I mean it." 

When he's sure he's got most, if not all, of the now cold and less appealing spunk off of Frankie's dove tattoos, he pulls back a little to lie down next to him, easily moving them so that Frank was curled into Brock's body and was being held. "I love you too, _tesoro_. I think we were meant to be… and I'm never letting you go. I don't want to move too fast and mess this up but everything feels so perfect, so natural with you. May I kiss you?" Some guys didn't like tasting their own release on his tongue.

Frank pulls back and gives him a look then leans forward kissing Brock. His hand cupping Brock's face, "You don't have to ask to kiss me. Even if I'm mad, and especially when you say sweet things like that." Frank kisses him again, "You won't mess this up… you're perfect." Punctuating each sentence with a peck. "I fucking love you. So stop being a worry wart."

He chuckles, "And you'll let me kiss you after eating foods like fish or onion? Or after eating that gorgeous ass out so much until you come from it? And I lick and suck your dick dry? I always want to kiss you, baby boy, and I wanted to be sure you wouldn't be grossed out."

Frank softly holds his chin and smiles then kisses him again, "With morning breath. Or onions and fish. Or me. I don't care. I want you to touch me as much and often as you want. You'll learn I'm quite needy." He lets go of his chin and brushes his hair with his fingers.

"I love you needy. And I want to fill every need you have and more. I love touching you and I want to all the time. Love that I can lift you and carry you. That you fit perfectly in my arms. And in my life. In my heart. I want to give you the world, sweetheart. And no matter what she planted in your head- no matter what the brain gremlins tell you- you deserve everything. Don't hold back anymore, I want it all. Anything you want to say or do. Do it. You were amazing. Loved hearing you. You didn't scream so I'm going to have to work on that," he winks.

Frank can't help himself from smiling wide, "I adore you more than I think you know, Brock." He dips his head and kisses Brock's neck gently. He hesitates not wanting to ruin this moment and decides to wait for the warm and fuzzies to cool. Instead working himself a little lower and resting his head on Brock's chest and placing a leg between his knees, "I don't think I'm a screamer baby. I'm not _usually_ a noise maker period."

"As okay as that is, I'm going to enjoy trying anyway," he snuggles down, happy to cuddle. He places a soft kiss on his forehead. "Did you want to take a nap or watch TV while we cuddle?"

"Brock, I'm fine with whatever. I promise it doesn't take much to make me happy. I'll probably fall asleep either way. Especially if I'm warm." Frank speaks with a soft voice that almost feels like a purr when it comes out, "Do you want to know something?" 

"I want to know _everything_ , remember?" 

"It's not a happy something."

"That's okay. I'm here for the good times and the bad, love."

"It's been a little under six months since I've had sex or been touched and never like this. Like the week of my birthday was the last time." Frank says with confidence. It's not the right place to be confident but it's something right?

"Ohh, yeah, that’s right. You’re a Halloween baby. I bet your mother dressed you up in the _cutest_ little outfits. I might try to do the same but a lot more sexy."

Frank feels his ears burning. He thinks it's now a hobby for Brock to make him blush. It has to be. "If you wanted I could take you to my mom's and she could happily pull out my baby pictures and enjoy watching me turn all different colors of red." Brock's words took a moment to process before responding with a grin, "Outfits?" 

"If you'll let me. I'm a _very_ kinky man," he responds with a smirk.

"Ok. I'll try anything. It's how I learned I like men more than women. And that I am terrified of spiders and heights." 

"So being up here bothers you?" He motions to the window where, should he look out, he would see the tops of trees.

"Only if I look down, you rotten old man." He replies trying to not show that indeed being this high up did kinda freak him out.

"Do you know why I live so high up?" 

Frank shakes his head no then rests his chin on Brock's chest.

"Because I know there's very little chance someone will climb twenty plus stories to enter the window. Same reason why I installed the biometric scanner instead of a key lock. Only those coded can enter through the door, which you wouldn't know by looking at it, but it's actually titanium coated and bulletproof. I don't keep security cameras because I don't trust that they can't be hacked by the government. Nobody lives above me so I'm not going to hear random noises and if I ever did, I've got a contingency plan to blow the ceiling down. It's not just paranoia, I know you are thinking it, but I've not only seen this happen but _I've done it_ to others. My rank and title when I left could potentially mark me and I need to take precautions outside my PTSD."

Frank quietly nods and listens, fingering figure eights into his chest. Once he finishes, he kisses him and stares for a moment at his warm eyes, "You don't have to explain anything to me like that. I trust you with... well everything." Gently lifting his hand to stroke Brock's chin, "You've lived a life that I never will and I hate that it's left you with scars. And I don't think I can fix them but I'll be here to try." 

"Shared burdens, _tesoro_. And by explaining, I'm hoping it will ease your worry about being so high up. I want you to be comfortable here with me. Well as much as you can. The furniture sucks. Except the bed," he grins before kissing him. "The last person who was in my bed left two years ago. Then you came along. Hasn't been anyone in between."

Frank exhales, here might be a test for Brock. "I think she left _us_ at least a year or so ago but stayed cause once we sold our album to gold status the royalty check came in." He pauses. "We weren't affectionate anymore. But..." He wants to chicken out but he's already gone this far. "During a break from her, I had a thing with the lead singer." 

Brock's nose wrinkles, his subconscious picturing Gerard and Frank together and just not finding it hot. Which is a good thing. "Is that why he felt threatened by me? He's in love with you? Or at least still very much interested in keeping you now that Witch Bitch is out of the picture."

"I don't think it was love. It was a convenience more than anything. I know he's jealous, have you seen you?" Frank can't look up at his face. Guilt for his past stings in his chest. "He is also upset because it won't happen again and I've told him this. He's not the most _generous_ partner." Frank watches Brock's face for the reaction. He shouldn't have said anything. He pulls back slightly afraid of his reaction. Is he going to be mad and hit him? Or just pull away? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." 

"Yes, you should have. That's something I need to know and I'm glad you told me. I'm not upset with you, love, so please don't be worried about anything. It happened. Did you use protection?" Awkward as hell, yes, but important info he needed to know. He nuzzles Frank to help ease his stress levels. And because he himself is a cuddle bear.

"Yes. I care about Gerard but I wouldn't without one." He's surprised by the question but also happy that he asked "She and I did _when_ we had sex. Cause I didn't trust her." He was still nervous that Brock would still not want him. He kisses his chest and hides his face to keep from seeing the disappointment on Brock's face.

"I wouldn't trust her either. I get tested once a year or if I'm dating a new person. Just to provide a piece of mind for the both of us. If it's okay with you, we get tested and it's clean, I'd like to lose the condom. I really want to feel you… and fill you… up."

Frank grins against his chest before looking up at him, "I'll suffer through a doctor's appointment for you." He kisses his chest and relaxes, "I gotta find a doctor but that's fine." 

"You can use mine. He's a private doc and I trust him with my medical secrets. Thank you, for trusting me. And for giving me this," he kisses Frankie lazily.

"Have you had someone in the past _not_ want to do this? Cause I feel like it's the only thing that's mandatory in _all_ relationships…" Frank pushes his brows together. He's curious about the medical secrets comment but won't push it, "If you don't mind me using him, that would be great!" 

Frank hasn't slept in a bed this soft in months. He forgot just how it feels to not have springs or hardwood underneath him. The warmth from Brock and the safety of his arms around him could put him to sleep if he wasn't careful. He wasn't ready to let that happen; afraid that he was dreaming and would wake up back in the tour bus or on the couch at his apartment. 

"Yes," Brock says simply. "I've had more than a few bad dates." 

"Good." Frank replies unapologetically, "Their loss is my gain."

"I like looking at it that way. That it led me to you. It's better than being used because I'm rich."

Frank sighs, "I'm surprised you even spoke to me considering how I looked when you met me. But I've been poor, stable, and now I have a little money and I'm by no means rich, but I can take care of myself and not worry. Money goes away and I really could care less." 

"You really don't see it, do you?" Brock tilts his head slightly, somehow surprised that Frank didn't get why they were together. As an afterthought it makes sense now considering Juanita. Whom he suspects did a considerable amount of damage.

"See what?" He's very confused by the question. "That you have money? No baby, I have eyes. It's not what… oh. _That!"_

"I have a type. And you hit every single thing. Like you have no idea."

"Oh, I know about that! I was confused. I didn't know what you meant because not to quote JLo but my love really doesn't cost a thing." 

"Okay, so instead of wondering why I like you, look at it this way. Every time you question why I am with you, every time you look at yourself and don't think you are attractive, remember that _I_ like it. So you are insulting _me_ for my preferences. And you, but we'll work on your self-image later. I wouldn't tolerate someone else speaking bad about your looks, least of all you. I don't know if that helps you have a little more confidence or just makes it worse so I'm sorry if it does." His voice is gentle and encouraging, not demeaning or spiteful. He's just trying to help. "I just really want to see yourself the way I do." 

Frank opens his mouth to maybe argue but hesitates. Instead he nods, "I'll work on that. It's not you, though, but I understand what you mean." _I will keep it in and not mention it._

Fuck, did he just make things worse? Did he just demand Frankie to change for him like _she_ did? Is he going to always agree because he's afraid to say no? Fuck he really despises Jasmine. And he needs to get more names because he's running out of J words… "You don't have to do anything you don't want to and you can tell me no."

Frank grins, "I know that I have some… _things_ I need to work on. The last thing I want to do is insult you or make you feel that way. And I said it before, I am pretty stubborn. It may take a while for me to get my past out of my head."

"Okay insult was a poor choice of wording. You don't really insult me but I figured you would feel better knowing that you just the way you are is _exactly_ what I want. You are who I want. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar and I'll fight them."

"I don't want you to fight anyone. I'm going to work on it. I want to be better and maybe not have the crazy in my head." Frank smiles before leaning up and kissing him, "You can't make me do anything that I don't want too, Brock…but I love you though."

"That's a relief. I love you Frankie. All I want is what's best for you and to make you happy. I think I'm going to turn on the TV. And nap," he reaches behind him and grabs the remote, clicking it on. 

Frank nods and turns himself to rest on his side. He shifts down slightly and presses his back into Brock. He lets the sound of the television lull him to sleep. He wants to sleep or even just nap but his brain doesn't settle. Worrying about everything he is doing is what will push Brock away. Worrying about Mikey staying in his place. Worrying that _she_ would try to do something to ruin this or hurt him. He opens his eyes and exhales, angry with himself for being like this.

Brock nuzzles the back of Frankie's neck, "What's wrong, _tesoro_?" 

"I'm just thinking and annoying myself." Frank replies softly. He needs a nickname for Brock. He could be a bad boyfriend… or would he be a partner, that's if he lets him be anything more than a good time.

He kisses the back of his neck. "Something I can do to help?" 

"No it's just my head making monsters. You should rest, love." 

"I am… This is about as relaxed as I get."

Frank smirks. This isn't relaxing. This is him stressing himself out over nothing, "I'm not good at relaxing or napping but I'm good at being quiet."

"Then tell me about your tattoos. There's a story for each, right?" Brock kisses his shoulder lightly.

Frank turned his face toward Brock, "Some yeah. Like my scorpion which I think might be your favorite place to bite, was put there because once I committed to the band and it took off I wouldn't get a real job if I had it. FTW is fuck the world or for the win, depending on the day." 

"Well if the band somehow tanked or you were out of a job, you could always come work for me," he offered.

"Work for you? Doing what?" He can't help but smile as he tries to think about what Brock could ever need him for.

"Running errands? I don't know. I'll make something up, unless you like cleaning. I despise it and have a maid come in once a week to do laundry and clean the house. What about a personal shopper? I could offer you a job in my father's company but I don't think that's a fit for you. In fact, I don't want you working for him. Or me in that capacity. I'm supposed to inherit it."

"I feel like you're looking for a personal assistant. And I probably shouldn't be trusted to shop for anyone. You have a stranger clean your home and do your laundry? I can do your laundry, you silly man." Frank took a moment before speaking again, "Why don't you want me to work for your father?" 

"I'm not so much as looking for a PA as I am trying to find something you could do and I could pay you for it. And what's wrong with a maid? Abby has been with me for several years. She's amazing. Doesn't judge and she's quick. As for my father… I figure you don't do well with violence. Probably not a good idea," he nibbles on Frank's earlobe.

"There's nothing wrong with having someone work for you as a maid, I was thinking that you are… _cautious_ and I wondered how much vetting she went through," he asks thoughtfully.

"Enough," Brock chuckles softly. "It's why I trust her. You want to do the laundry then I'll pay you for it and she can go home early after cleaning. I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

"You're not paying me to do the laundry, dork." 

Brock laughs. "Why not? I'm already paying for it. Might as well keep doing so."

"Do you know _how_ to work a washer and dryer?" He teases, "I can teach you." 

"I do, thank you very much," he swats Frank on his ass playfully. "I do know how to run my house, I just hate it."

"I can also show you how to run a dishwasher too…" he bites his lip, "I mean I knew a few rich kids who couldn't use a microwave. I'm just trying to help you learn life skills." 

"I am not that bad," he laughs. "Or did you forget I was in the military?" 

" _You were in the military?!"_ Frank asks with sarcasm dripping from each word.

Instead of replying, Brock swats his ass several times again, hard and sharp. He loves the sassiness and loves punishing him for it.

Frank tries to squirm away after the swat but isn't fast enough. "Sheesh, I didn't realize you military boys were so sensitive. Are you trying to make it hard for me to sit later?" 

"Shut up, you like it."

"I'm not saying I don't. Just asking to make sure you aren't trying to make me remember to not be _such_ a smart ass." 

"Well, better to be a smart ass than a dumb ass. And I love your sexy, sassy, ass. But you gotta know when to stop and I don't think you do." Brock runs a hand down his side with a featherlight touch.

"I do too!" He realizes before it was too late just how petulant he sounded.

"Oh, really?" Brock says just before tickling him.

Frank laughs and scoots forward, "I'll be good! I promise! At least five minutes!" 

He continues to tickle him, totally enjoying watching Frank squirm. A part of him finds his movements erotic and wonders how he can get his boyfriend to do it next time. Brock laughs, "An hour! Gimme an hour!" 

"An hour?! I might die!" Frank shouts then laughs before he tries to scoot down to escape, "I'm not sorry either!" 

Laughing, he chases him, pulling him back up so he can continue to tickle him. Frankie's laughter is beautiful and he makes a vow to himself to bring it about as much as he can. The squirming however is getting to him and it's making lower things stir. He pulls away, breathing hard himself from the joy. He can't stop grinning.

Frank inhales and exhales to calm himself down, "Fine I'll be good. I promise!" His ribs are hurting a little from laughing, "You're supposed to be resting...sir." He fights the urge to call him an old man.

"Am I?" Brock's voice is quiet and low. "I certainly don't recall saying I _needed_ to rest. I happen to enjoy cuddling. But I don't _need_ rest, sweetheart."

Frank bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, "I was just thinking because today's been _eventful_. That's all, darling." He feels the inner smart ass slipping out, "I love cuddling so I am fine with that." 

"Oh, true. But snuggling with you has done wonders. And I think I'm _very_ well rested," he smirks. "Are you, kid?"

"Of course! I'm not an… " he trails off before he finishes the sentence instead giving Brock big puppy dog eyes and a smile.

"Old man?" He raises an eyebrow, still grinning. "Uh-huh. I see. Well." 

"I don't think you should say those things about yourself. It's not very nice, babe." 

"You little shit!" he laughs. 

"I'm an angel! I don't know what you speak of." He says batting his eyelashes.

"Uh huh. I see those horns holding up that halo, you gorgeous dark angel. Feisty and fierce. Sassy. I love it. I love you," he blankets Frankie's body with his and kisses him hard.

Frank grins up at Brock as he breaks away from his lips, "I love you too Brock. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to trap me…"

"Only with my body. And maybe my fingers," he trails both his hands up and down Frankie's sides, only his finger pads barely touching soft skin. "Just… like… this." 

Frank feels the goosebumps rise along his sides and arm, "Your fingers, uh? That's very interesting!" He leans up slightly to kiss him again, not getting enough each time it seems like.

Kissing back, Brock continues to caress lightly at his sides, trying to illicit that tickle squirm again. He slowly increases pressure and speed, all the while moving so he's nestled comfortably between Frank's legs.

Each touch to Frank's side made him jump a little more each time, "I know what you're up to!" He is trying his hardest not to smile and look as serious as he can but he is failing. He tries his best to scoot down but doesn't go far.

"Really? You don't… think it's weird?" 

"Why would I? Love, you need to relax and stop worrying."

"Because I'm literally tickling you for sex? I _really_ like it when you squirm."

"It's not weird. You're making _yourself_ feel weird. Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir," he grins before kissing him again, tongue slipping out and swiping against his in askance.

He wraps his arms around Brock's neck and pushes his hips against him. Frank kisses him a little deeper. Officially knowing that Brock liked the squirm, he purposely makes slow offbeat circles and picks up the pace a little at a time. He catches himself softly moaning at the movement, the feeling of his skin rubbing against Brock. He _might_ be just as into this as Brock is.

Brock moans low, the movements and Frankie's own noises going straight to his dick. He kisses deeper, fingers dancing, needing so much more. Images of Frankie riding him fills his head and he groans deeply, his hips moving, making his half-hard cock thrusting up against his. He needs to grab another condom if they are going to do this. 

Brock hits a spot on his sides that forces his back to arch up and press him into Brock's body. The deep moan from Brock makes the muscles in his groin tense. Another moan from Frank's throat escapes, this one a little louder. He jerks up slightly to get a little more friction against his dick then back down to make B groan. He's harder this time than he was before.

Shit this feels so good. Whatever he did to make Frankie arch like that he needs to repeat like a dozen times more. He repeats a few motions, pressing down on his ribs and curvature of his hips moving over to his back. He _needs_ to find it.

Brock's fingers make him jerk and twitch slightly. His fingers move up his back and find the same spot that forces him to jump again. He pushes harder against Brock and it forces him to whine, a little "oh fuck" slips out, grinding against Brock as he lowers back to the mattress.

"Fuck, yes. Shit that's it," his hips rub against him hard. Forget about sex, he's not going to last very long with the way their cocks are rubbing against each other and Frankie's just _doing it_ for him. His hips pick up their pace and his lips chase the scorpion. Fingers press against the magic spot again and this time he's never stopping until they both cum.

This time his body moves harder against Brock's. His back arches and rubs harder against him. He keeps the pace with Brock with the random jerks up or to the side. He wants to make noise but he can't, instead the soft moans stop as he holds his breath. He wants to come with Brock. He can feel it building in his body. His legs curl up and then press down into the bed to give him more leverage against Brock. "Please," Frank whines out pushing harder against him. He's there just needing a little more. One more, "Oh fuck, B!" 

"Ah, fuck," he groans out. "Feels so good! So close, baby. Shit, I'm gonna cum." His hips snap harsher, chasing their high. He needs Frankie to go first. Teeth bite into the scorpion as the tightly wound coil in his groin gets ready to explode.

Frank nods, "Oh fuck I'm there. Oh fuck..." His hips stutter as teeth press on his neck sending the mix of pleasure and pain right to his groin. His legs tense and his chest pressing into Brock. He's panting the same three words over and over again, "Oh fuck B." 

"Cum. Come for me, Frankie," he pants out, pressing his fingers again into the magic spot. He's on the edge and only his willpower is keeping him from blowing his load already. "Fucking _dance_ for me baby. Cum, **now**." 

Frank lets a loud moan then comes like Brock spoke the magic word. Shooting cum on to his stomach and on Brock as he jerks under Brock's fingers in the spot that has done wonders for them both.

Brock punctuates each hard thrust with a curse before the coil bursts and he comes with a harsh cry all over them both. His head swims from the sheer intensity and he tries to push himself up and off so he doesn't suffocate the younger man. He feels boneless. They totally need a shower now. Or a bath.

Frank turns to his side and presses his lips into Brock's shoulder. His muscles ache from tensing hard. His heart thumps in his chest. "What are you doing to me? " He said with a wide smile before kissing his shoulder again. 

"Dunno, but that was insanely hot," he still has trouble catching his breath. "Definitely doing that again."

"I never." His words are lost, "Just wow." He has never imagined that would be something he'd want. Or like. Brock was incredible.

"So damn good," Brock breaths out on the exhale. He's still trying to catch his breath. "You were fan-fucking-tastic. Just perfect." 

Frank relaxes into the bed and let's his heart return to a normal rhythm. He stares at the ceiling and waits for Brock to return to stasis. 

Pressing close, Brock brushes his hair out of his face and gets his breathing under control. Breathlessly, he says, "Need those showers now, huh?"

Brock coming down was the hottest thing Frank has ever seen. The softened expression on his face makes him want to keep him right there. But the offer of a shower sounds amazing, especially if Brock is with him. He would even take a shower alone but didn't know where that would be, "Is that ok?" Already he regrets asking that way. He tries again, "I mean, yeah that sounds great!" 

"If we both weren't covered in cum, I'd definitely take that nap now," Brock chuckles quietly before carefully making his way off the bed and heading towards the bathroom en suite. He turns and holds a hand out. "Coming?" He grins at his joke.

"You're funny." Frank replies, taking his hand and following. He was thankful it wasn't a house 'cause he's confident that he would get lost. He grins to himself and asks, "I get a tour at some point right? Or is it strictly bedroom, bathroom and laundry room, earn your keep kind of thing?"

"Yes, you'll get a tour. If I don't tie you to the bed and have my way with you for the next five days anyway," Brock teases as he opens the bathroom door. "Bath or shower?" 

"I haven't taken a bath since I was a kid." Frank peers in and is in awe of the gorgeous white and black marbled bathroom. There's a glass shower the size of a walk-in closet on the right, with far too many shower heads and knobs. Straight ahead is a large tub, longer than the standard size. On his left is a black marbled vanity sink, "Brock. I feel like I am going to get something dirty by walking in here." 

"Well, duh. That's kind of the point. It gets dirty and you get clean, goofball," he kisses the side of Frankie's head. "I've got bubbles if you want a bath. They're the aromatherapy ones. Little bath ball things. Lavender really helps de-stress."

"You are just a big kid. I love it," Frank laughs. "Are you stressed about something?"

"When am I not; is more like it. And my therapist suggested this thank you very much. I hate the fact that he's right so I don't tell him I usually will take a bath after a trigger day. Did you want to shower or not? You never said."

"Sorry, a bath is fine." Frank feels a pang of guilt in his chest because he was the reason for Brock to be triggered. He wondered if it was a solo thing and if he would fit if it wasn't.

"No worries, _tesoro_ ," said Brock as he sits on the marble tub and turns on the taps. While the tub fills, he grabs a bath bomb from a container sitting on the floor and drops it in. Lavender fills the room, the heat making it heady and the water soapy. An image of the two of them sharing the bath, skin naked, wet, and slippery, forms in Brock's head. He's not entirely sure he would keep his own rule about the condom if they had bath sex. Bubbles quickly form turning the water's edge into foam. Brock stands and grabs them towels and washcloths, setting them on the toilet lid. He turns back to Frankie, "Think we can keep our hands to ourselves if we both get into the bath?"

Frank gives him a look then smiles, "I can behave. Can you?" 

"I'm insatiable and needy. No. But feel free to stop me. I'll just add it to the list of places I'm going to fuck you without the condom once we visit the doc. Because yes I have a list so hush you." Brock gently eases himself into the tub and gets comfortable before motioning to Frank to join him.

Frank stands in the door for a moment to take him in. Big strong handsome man taking a bubble bath made his heart flutter, like a damn schoolgirl. He was giddy because of him, and it felt good, "You sure I can fit with you? 

"I'm very sure. It will be a tight fit but I like it tight," he winks. "Come here, sweetheart."

Frank carefully steps in from the doorway, avoiding looking at the mirror as he passes and putting his hand out for help so he doesn't step on Brock, "I mean, I am on the smaller side. I can fit in most places even if it's a tight squeeze." 

Brock sits up and grabs Frank's waist, lifting him and pulling him into the water. He can't seem to get enough of him. He loves the fact that he can lift Frank so easily. Loves the fact that he can literally blanket him with his body. And he swears the need to touch him has only grown. At this rate, he may never get dressed and urge Frank to do the same. Naked cuddles sound perfect. After some slight manipulation in which he's acting as a pillow, Brock takes a deep breath and sighs contentedly.

Frank relaxes back and rests his hand a little below Brock's knees. His head is filled with questions and concerns but he keeps that inside, choosing to not share with the class. The closeness of Brock and the warmth of the water could make the clouds in his head roll away. 

When the water is high enough that Frank won't drown, Brock uses his foot to turn off the tap. His hands gently caress every inch he can reach of Frank's skin. In some places, like his shoulders, he adds a bit of pressure to massage away the tension. This is probably the most relaxed he's been all day. Taking care of Frank is by far his new favorite thing to do. Touching him might be at the top of that list more. "Should have gotten the radio out. Or my phone. Played some classical music. But it would put my old ass to sleep. Which I've done before."

"Yeah, let's not turn this into drowning lessons. I want to keep you alive and around…" Frank replies but trails off to not spoil anything. Instead he chooses to pull Brock's wrist forward and place a small kiss there and on his forearm before placing it on his chest. He turns his head to the side to look up at Brock's face, debating if he could kiss him without making a lot of movement.

"Fair enough," Brock says softly. "What else did you want to do today? Besides the tour. And food. I suppose I should feed you."

"Yes, you should feed your new puppy at some point," Frank grins. "I have no plans for the day. It's my first day off in a year. I am up for anything and I mean anything. Did you have anything you needed to do?" _Other than letting me suck you off or pinning me to the bed and fucking me stupid?_ The thought causes a devilish smile to replace his playful one. 

"Not really. Since I was supposed to be at work and all. I'm all yours today. And everyday," He switches gears. Maybe they could come up with an idea around food. "What do you want to eat?" 

"I dunno…" Frank pauses. " _We_ could cook something. I haven't cooked or had food that wasn't from a diner or drive-thru in a very long time. And surprisingly, I actually know how to cook. Even though my own fridge and cupboards look like I don't know what food is." 

"Ain't that the truth."

"Are you skinny shaming me?" He teases as he shifts to the side. Frank leans up and kisses him before sitting back again.

"Yes. But you know I like it, _twink._ " Brock grins wide.

"Oh I know you do… I've seen first hand proof. What are your thoughts on food? Do you have a preference or anything in mind?" Frank asks as he draws small circles into Brock's lower thigh. 

"Hmm. I'm always up for anything clean. Not a fan of diner food and questionable kitchens. We could go out but if we're going to cook, I've got to check the pantry first. I don't know what's in there at the moment. I'm usually not at home very often enough to keep a fully stocked kitchen. I usually eat out." He can cook but when he was working security for twenty hours a day, he didn't exactly have time to do very much. There was a reason why his place looked pristine and unlived in. He was rarely here.

"What would you _usually_ do on a day off? If you took them," Frank asks. "We can always just go to the grocery store and pick up things. Seeing you in the wild could be fun." 

"In the wild?" He couldn't help but laugh before slipping into Italian. " _You couldn't handle me in the wild, love."_

Frank turns and frowns exaggeratingly at the Italian, "Yes when you're not buying strangers pants; in the wild. Public…?"

"Ha. Ha. You goof. That was pretty much my normal. Why don't we go to Central Park? After lunch; take a nice stroll." He pulls Frank closer as the water begins to cool.

"That sounds like a plan! And I'm in." Frank smiles keeping in the bad jokes he could make. 

Using his foot again, Brock kicks the drain open, letting the water out. "We have to actually _bathe_ now. Sitting in soapy water only does so much."

"I could have done that, baby."

"But I don't want to let you go. And I've had practice." 

"Stubborn ass." 

"Takes one to know one." 

"We could just shower…" Frank offers. "You love this stubborn ass." He sticks out his tongue out before grinning.

"I do," Brock says before capturing his tongue with a kiss. Frank lets a small moan out and places his hand on his chest and Brock has to break it quickly before they get too hot and bothered. Again. He's just so damn responsive.

Frank can't help himself. He's worse now than he ever was as a teenager, "Sorry, I can't help it." 

"Got me feeling the same way, _tesoro_. Couldn't help but think 'is it really so bad that we screw all day?' and I realized that's probably an unhealthy thought. I can't get enough of you and I'm fairly certain I could go again at the drop of a pin needle for you. And I want to. You're like a drug." A drug that he knows he'll get addicted to fast if he hasn't already.

"Can you get out of my head?" He turns more to look at Brock with a silly smile on his face. "I have literally had the same thought all day. And I've been telling myself, you're just twitterpatted, Iero. Calm down and that he likes you but don't push it." 

"Twitterpatted? What the fuck is twitterpatted? I'm assuming this has nothing to do with the social media, Twitter. And that it's got something to do with puppy love?" Brock sighs. He was so confused with the lingo of kids these days. 

"It's like puppy love I suppose. It's just that fluttery giddy feeling in your chest. Heart eyes? I'm genuinely surprised you don't know what it means… my grandmother says it. Not that you are anything close to my grandmother. _Sorry._ " Frank dies a little on the inside.

He gets a little playfully indignant and full of sass. "I'm not _that_ old. Sheesh. I'm old enough to be your dad not your grandmother. Big difference. Besides, maybe it's an American thing. Did you ever consider that? No. You didn't. Shame on you." Brock laughs.

"Oh whatever. The Italian-American in me says, grow up. But it is from Bambi, that movie must have come out when you were in your eighties?" Frank snickers at his joke but thankful he is sitting down, "It's an old sentiment, baby." 

"Don't make me spank you, _tesoro_." Or go ahead. He's good with that idea as well. His cock twitches in interest at the idea.

"Wouldn't want you to break your hand..." He bites his lip and fights his urge, "Sorry." 

" _What am I going to do with you? I've definitely got my work cut out for you. Good thing I think you are worth it, my dark angel,"_ he murmurs softly to himself, not wholly realizing that he slipped languages again.

"Besides, it's a little too slippery to escape. I wouldn't want you to _get hurt or something."_ Frank is confident that whatever Brock said was probably not good for his ass's well being, "However, I love it when you speak Italian. It's insanely hot!"

"Shame you don't understand it or at least speak it. Not that I mind the English but it is my first language." Brock thinks back to himself pulling the gun on the curly haired kid. He asked him questions and nobody understood. Perhaps things would have dissipated sooner had Frankie knew what he was saying. Sometimes he forgot when he wasn't in the right headspace.

Frank turns to face him and sits on his knees being mindful of Brock's body. He can see his eyes getting darker and him slipping away for a moment. He touches his face before kissing him softly. "Baby. Are you there?" 

"Sometimes I forget what language I'm using. As you've seen," his voice is quiet and carries the weight of his pain over nearly killing a kid.

"That's okay! I don't mind. Just don't be surprised if I look lost. I don't know what's going on in here but I want to help. Please let me?" He touches his fingers to Brock's temple. He's going to learn Italian; now he has a reason.

"Okay," he nods.

"I just love you and like you want to take care of you," Frank replies before putting his hand on Brock's chest. "We should probably bathe or shower baby before we get sick.

"Yeah," he says, smiling softly. "Then a light lunch before the park."

Frank rises to his feet and offers a hand to Brock, "Come on, handsome. Let's leave our _brain gremlins_ in the bathroom. There will be no sad faces when showering with me…" 

"Deal." 


	4. The Brother

Frank pulls him from the tub and into the shower. Being his stubborn self, he figures the way to turn it on before Brock can. He stands under the water streams; why one human needed five shower heads was beyond him. He kisses him before pulling Brock under the water to wash away the bad. They shower quickly and Frank hands him his towel, smiling as he dries off himself, "Come on, handsome..." 

"Yes, puppy. I'm hurrying," Brock laughs as he begins to dry off as quick as he can.

"Puppy?" He grins holding back from tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah. _Cucciolo_ ," he says again in Italian. "Puppy."

"I'm your puppy, huh. I've been called worse. It's much better in Italian, though." Frank feels like a little kid as he smiles up at him.

"Everything is better in Italian, _Vita Mia_."

"It is so far in my experience." He leans against the counter watching Brock, "I think men are just built better in Italy." 

"Maybe you should just see for yourself?" 

"I'm alright. I would like to maybe have underwear… to like wear out. Is it okay if I grab my bag?" He asks feeling stupid for even mentioning it, "Cause I'm gonna do that." 

"Are you asking permission to walk about the place nude, _passerotto_? Because, yes. You can." Brock finishes drying off and pretty much struts out of the bathroom and into the bedroom without putting a towel around his waist. It was his place and it's not like Frank hasn't seen everything anyway or someone could walk by the window and peer in. He goes to the walk-in closet and grabs a polo shirt and form fitting jeans, pulling them on without underwear. 

"It's not my house. Of course I'm going to ask... _"_ He replies, stepping out of the bathroom. "Some people have rules." 

"Well I don't. Treat this like you live here. Or, you know, actually do."

"Told you that you'd _hate_ my apartment," he speaks quietly as he reaches for the bedroom door still wearing the towel.

"I didn't at first. Now it's too noisy." 

"I know babe and I'm sorry again," he says before stepping out to grab his duffle bag.

"Stop apologizing, it's fine," Brock says as he follows after Frank into the living room.

He grabs his bag and looks at Brock, "I'm working on it. Kinda." 

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry too. I should be less pushy." Brock pulled him into a tight but quick hug.

"You're not being pushy. You're being an active reminder that I don't need to apologize for everything." Frank presses his lips into his chest, "I'll be right back." 

"Okay." Brock doesn't bother pointing out that he could just get dressed here, already he thinks he's pushed Frankie's boundaries enough today. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to raid the pantry. He should buy food.

Frank dresses quickly and takes a deep breath. _His ass really just invited me to live here? No, I made that up…_ He looks down at his clothing and nods. He feels underdressed for Brock's life but he's gotta get that out of his head. He turns and heads back to Brock, choosing to quietly watch him in his kitchen.

Brock's muttering to himself about the things he probably should get. The basic essentials and the like when the sound of the front door makes a whirring noise. He looks up at the unexpected visitor. The door opens and a mid-forties man enters with short curls and glasses. He's dressed in business casual; a simple button-down light blue dress shirt and jeans. Brock immediately grins wide and hugs the man. "Jack! Haven't seen you in forever. How's it going, dude?" 

"Fine. Heard you quit your job. Had to check on you to see if you had possibly gone senile. What's going on?" Jack replies, hugging Brock back.

Frank tries to flatten himself against the wall and stays silent. He doesn't know what to do. Does he slip back into the bedroom? Who is Jack? 

"Love, my man," he clasps a hand on Jack's shoulder and opens an arm to Frankie. "Jack, this is Frankie, my boyfriend. Frank, this is my little brother from another mother, Jack Rollins."

Jack grins and offers his hand to Frank, "Hi, how are you?" 

Frank shakes his hand, "I'm good! It's nice to meet you! How are you?" His boyfriend? His heart flutters as he smiles wider. 

"Much better now that I know Brock hasn't lost his mind unintentionally. This is a much better outcome than what I was previously thinking about to be honest."

"You worry too much, Jack."

"Excuse you. I worry the exact amount I need to; considering this is _you_ we are talking about," Jack retorts. "So don't give me any Rumlow bullshit." 

Frank smiles but feels lost. He looks to Brock then Jack. Frank moves closer to Brock but doesn't want to cling to him. Instead he chooses to lean against the kitchen island. His brother being here might change things _but_ also gives him a little more understanding; maybe?

"Yeah yeah yeah whatever. How did you hear about Monarch anyways? Bit off your beat, yeah?" Brock moves to Frank and wraps an arm around him. "Don't you got better things to do for Dad than worry about me?"

"Hell yeah, but if you go missin' then it's my ass that's gonna get a whoopin'. No thank you sir. I ain't taking hits for you no more," Jack crossed his arms rather petulantly.

Frank needs to remember to ask more about his father. His guts tell him that he won't like him. He rests a hand on Brock's stomach and let's himself relax a little. He is curious about what Brock was like as a kid. Or a teen. He can't help but give a small smile at the idea of a rebellious teen Brock.

"Jack, have you been fooling around down by the docks again? You sound like you are trying to mimic some street rat from the Bronx back in the thirties. What the hell, dude?" Brock drawls, confused and wondering if his brother is the one that actually lost his mind instead.

Jack runs a hand across his face and laughs, face flushed from embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry. Listen to it long enough it kind of carries over. Dad's got me checking out the real estate down there. Not important though. Anyway. You two are cute. How long have you two been together?" Jack smiles at them both, unphased by the PDA. He's seen his older brother do some crazy shit for those he finds. And this kid, because he's clearly a kid, probably isn't much different. He's surprised that Brock is even looking at dating again considering the last boyfriend and the disastrous break-up.

 _'Real estate is absolutely code,'_ Frank thinks as his toes softly bounce against the floor. Frank glances up at Brock trying his best to keep a straight face. 

"We met last week. Hit it off pretty well." 

"Yeah he really _knocked_ me off my feet." Frank smiles up at Brock then Jack. He's trying to keep his heart eyes to a minimum. 

" _Just be careful about this one this time. I don't want you getting hurt again_ ,"Jack spoke in German.

Frank furrows his eyebrows and frowns. He's not an idiot and knows that whatever is being said, is about him. Probably his age. Or that he looks like a gutter punk. Or that he's after Brock for his money. He's never been more frustrated that he never learned a language to stick up for himself. He bites his cheek and puts a straight face on.

" _He's different. I promise_ ," Brock replies easily. "You don't have to worry about me, brother.

Frank watches Jack's reaction to Brock's words and how he responds. He just wants to add his two cents but chooses to stay quiet. 

Jack nods. He'll watch and see but for now he'll go along with his brother's choice. "So, Frank? Frankie? Which do you prefer?" 

"I prefer Frank but it doesn't matter." He chooses to reply warmly but knows he is going to have to tell Brock differently because his _boyfriend_ is the only one who gets to call him that. 

"Okay. So, Frank. What do you do for a living?" Jack asks curiously.

"I'm a guitar player for the band My Chemical Romance." Frank says with a smile. He knew Jack wouldn't have a clue who his band was. But it's the one thing that he hopes can make him not seem like a gold digger. Would he be called Brock Bait? 

"Is that a rock back or metal?" Jack asked. "Name sounds familiar but I'm not sure if I know your music. If it's not on the radio, I don't know it. But that's cool though."

"It's a rock band. We had a single on the radio. Helena? We have a single coming out next month, Ghost of You. If you haven't heard our music, it's fine" Frank chuckles then smiles, "You are at least closer to the kind of music we play than B was. Emo Death Metal I believe is what you called it." 

"Still stand by that," Brock nods.

"Stubborn, ain't he?" Jack huffs a laugh.

"Oh yeah, like a mule." Frank smiles, shaking his head then looks at Brock, "Baby, I'm making you listen to music from the band tonight."

"Only if you play your guitar."

"If you think this is bad, Frank, just wait until his paranoia crops up. Or when he's cranky and tired. You know, typical old man stuff." Jack grins wide.

"I bet you are adorable when you are cranky." Frank squeezes Brock a little, "I'm excited to see my crabby old man." 

Brock goes to protest but his stomach does instead, gurgling loudly. It has needs and it has decided to make them known. It does it again shortly thereafter.

"Hungry?" Frank asks as he moves his hand from his side to Brock's back and runs for a moment.

"It's either that or food's moving south towards the exit ramp," Brock replies. "But I think it's hunger this time" 

"Yeah, maybe we should feed you soon. Did you still want to cook at home?" 

"Oh, if you guys are going out, I know a great place to get some wings and a beer. Or burgers," pipes up Jack. "We could do lunch together if you want. Or not, that's cool." 

"Frankie, what do you want to do?" Brock asks.

"We can do whatever! I'm up for anything. I uh, just don't eat red meat." He wants to be greedy but he knows that family is always important, "I always can go grocery shopping later, so you guys can catch up!" 

"Where were you thinking, Jack?"

"America's Café and Grill up on 3rd Ave. Best burgers in my opinion and they got salads and wraps for you, Frank. No brews though, sorry."

"I'm game. Does that work for you, Brock?"

"I suppose I could not drink wine this time," Brock says with a fond and overly exaggerated eye roll.

"Oh no, stop the press! Brock's not getting wine." Frank teases and leans up, kisses his cheek, "I'm going to find socks and get shoes on." 

Frank smiles at Jack and slips away and heads for Brock's room. He's curious about his brother, his father and just everything about Brock that he doesn't know.

Jack watches the young man walk away before turning to his older brother, "He seems nice. Really young though. How old is he?"

"He's amazing for twenty-five. We're not finding the age gap to be a problem for us, which is great. We'll joke about it but it's not something that we are bothered by." Brock leans on the kitchen island and smiles happily. Anybody who wanted to make a big to do over their age gap could go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned. He figured the only person who could possibly give a damn was his father, not that he cared what his dad thought. It wasn't a big deal. 

"Twenty-five is a bit young for you, don't you think? I mean beyond the bond you two clearly have. He's practically radiating love drunk. But you aren't the type to love and leave and kids that age really don't want to be tied down. What's going to happen in a few years and your health starts to decline? Will he stay then? And how do you know he's not like Ryan? Tyler? David? All of them strung you along for months. I really don't want to see you left alone again because he can't handle the demons or the "family business. Or worse, steal credit cards and clean you out. Now I'm not saying he's like that. But you've been blinded on multiple accounts. I'm just saying be careful. Okay? That's my peace and I'm done." Jack holds up his hands, thankful he got to say what he needed to say. He's not trying to cause shit but he wants to make sure his brother's eyes are wide open this time. He doesn't ever want to witness a depressed and suicidal Brock ever again.

Frank is at the entry to the door, listening. He doesn't know if he should speak or stay quiet. He leans his head against the door frame. It was too good, it was fun. He loves Brock but it's his brother. He should take his side. He's nothing compared to family. Also what _was_ the family business? 

Sighing, Brock rubs his temple. He gets where Jack is coming from. He really does. And if the roles were reversed and it was one of Jack's girlfriends that were doing something like this then yeah, he'd say the same shit. And he's not totally wrong either. But Brock is sure that what he and Frankie share is real and meant to be. It feels different than his last partners. Looking back, he realizes the signs were there to indicate he was being played and instead he chose to ignore them. He wanted to buy their love and it only worked for so long. 

"I hear you. I do. But I need you to trust me, okay? He's special and different. And if things don't work out, God forbid…" he trails off for a moment. He really doesn't want to think about what would happen if things didn't work out. "If things didn't work out then I'm glad to have loved and lost than to be miserable and alone for the rest of my life. I'd rather be happy now than living in a shallow, empty shell of a piss poor existence."

Frank waits a beat to hear a rebuttal from Jack. He's itching to speak up but it is rude and probably looks like he's spying. He goes back and sets his duffle hard as a signal he's headed out of the room.

"Okay. Then I'll trust you to know what you are doing. And who," Jack winks to soften the blow. He's happy that Brock at least seems to be more aware of what could be happening.

Brock grins wide. "I think it's 'whom' there, brother. Maybe you need to go back to English school."

Frank puts on a happy face, taking a deep breath and steps out of the room but doesn't rejoin the two men. He's not exactly ready. He pulls his converse on then turns to face them.

"Screw you. I excelled in English thank-you-very-much, mister 'books are lame'. Jack crosses his arms. "You thought you were too good for school and was a perpetual pain in my ass."

"That was high school and a long time ago. Time to let the past go, dude," Brock jabbed. 

"Not that it's my business but when you two were in school, wasn't the abacus the hot new tech item?" Frank adds as he waits patiently. He's hungry and irritated. He is surprised that nothing hurts, which is a win for him.

"I wouldn't know, that's before my time. Brock's old enough to remember the stone age," Jack snickers softly.

"Get out," Brock tries to argue. "Remember, I know where you sleep, Rollins. Don't make me put itching powder in your bed again."

Hands go up in surrender as Jack heads for the door, opening it and heading into the hallway for the elevator. "No thanks. I'm good." 

"I'm actually hungry. Can we? I got my _wallet_ and things. I'm ready." Frank choses to take the less than high road.

Brock slips an arm around Frankie's middle and nuzzles him, "I'm sorry, _tesoro_." 

"For what, Brock?" Frank looks confused.

"For us taking too damn long to get out the door. We tend to catch up and forget about time," Brock says as he walks them both out the door into the hallway where Jack is waiting. The door clicks shut with a soft beep to announce it's locked. "I'm sure you are just as starving as I am." 

"You don't have to apologize for catching up with your brother! Family is important and I'm not going to slip between the seams in the hardwood." Frank replies slipping his hand into Brock's, "I've got nothing but time. Since my _job_ is on a break for a while at least."

Jack presses the button to call the elevator. He turns to lean against the wall and chat while they wait. "On a break? Is that like broken up and you get to see other people kind of break or does it mean something different in music land?"

"The band has been touring a year and a half straight with no real _time off_. But half of the year we were just kind of being thrown on to bills and would show up to play. So a break to me means, I get to be a person again and not have to sleep in a van with 5 to 6 other dudes for at least a month or so." Frank replies as he runs his thumb over Brock's hand. It's a fucking tell but maybe he wouldn't catch it.

"Sounds harsh. I'm sorry man," Jack says the doors open and he enters. "Must be exhausting. How do you not go stir crazy or get burned out so quick?'

"You don't go into this job for the hours. Writing new music helps. Having a good band and crew is important. We played kickball after sound check and before every show." Frank shrugs as he keeps his fingers laced with Brocks, "You kinda gotta lose your mind to want to be a touring musician. And the fans make it worth it."

"Oh so you are just as crazy as he is," Jack quipped, good naturedly. He presses the ground floor button. "No wonder you two found each other. Crazy loves crazy."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Different brands of crazy but from the same maker," Frank answered with a tone that was a mixture of friendly and sarcastic. "I suppose our crazies are going to _have_ to learn to _take_ _care_ of each other." 

"Crazy is as crazy does, little brother. We mesh well," Brock added, totally oblivious to his two favorite men's distention. "As you guys would! Jack, tell him about the time you were paragliding. Or fought a bear. Or that one time you ate a bunch of chicken wings and barfed all over dad's car," he says with a wide and excited grin.

"Wait. You fought a fucking bear?" Frank put a hand up like he was calling a timeout, "Why? Wh-?" Frank looks to Brock confused. He can't help but smile at his _boyfriend's_ big dumb grin. 

"Okay one, yes. Two, Brock's exaggerating. And three, it was a young bear. Like whatever a teenage bear would be? Maybe younger. I was hiking and guess I startled him or something. It was really inexperienced and _I got lucky_. Incredibly lucky. He was scared of me enough that it didn't actually claw me, just knocked my ass to the ground and tried to bite. I kicked it in the face a few times and screamed at it and it ran away. It's not badass, I got lucky as fuck. Had a severe concussion, broke my jaw, and his claws gave me this scar from the hit," he points out to the one on his chin. "But I'm all better now."

"So… I've done some crazy shit. But like I've never seen a real bear before, don't down play it Jack. That's pretty badass," Frank says with wide eyes, "I feel like both of you have stories for days." He can't pretend that he isn't impressed or curious, even with his anger towards Jack's implication that he was just a one and done or worse.

Nodding, Jack steps out when the doors open then turns to wait for them. Brock exits next, still keeping his fingers laced with Frankie.

"We've both got plenty that are safe for lunch. Has he told you about our time in the military? Those are pretty decent but I wouldn't say lunch safe," says Jack as they head out into the street towards the cars.

"I haven't yet," Brock answers. "It's a little too soon for that. Also, my car. And you are in the backseat."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Why am I not surprised? Oh yeah, because you are a dork. Just like when we were kids."

"I _can_ sit in the back." Frank offers, being nice and deciding that he is just going to be an adult and discuss this privately. Unless otherwise provoked. "I am _younger than you_." After that, he's taking the high road. 

"But you're my boyfriend," Brock says slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. There's something wrong. Frankie's acting weird. Did he do something wrong? Was it his fault? Was Frankie not okay with this? Maybe they shouldn't do lunch. He did say he could cook. Maybe he's mad about that? Was Jack right? An unsettled feeling brews in his stomach, a bundle of nervous anxiety and fear. He's not sure what has changed and he worries that it's not going to end well. He wants his brother and boyfriend to get along. He wants to keep them both in his life.

"Brock's just carefully reminding me that boyfriends get dibs on shotgun. And because I'm taller than both of you. It's got nothing to do with your age," Jack says, causally. He's got the feeling that someone overheard his warning to Brock and is more than a little pissed off. He doesn't care. This is his brother and he's seen Brock on the wrong end of the line far too many times over failed relationships. It's because Brock wears his heart on his sleeve; Jack _has_ to be the only one to protect it, dammit. 

"I know babe, but I was raised to be polite. He's not just family but bigger than me. Do I want to sit back there? No, but, I have to offer." Frank disregards Jack for the moment and looks up to Brock and touches his arm with his other hand, "If you don't mind the back, I'll sit shotgun." 

"It's just a seat. I honestly don't care," Jack shakes his head and pushes up his glasses. "I'll sit in the back and stretch out." 

"Don't you put your nasty ass shoes on my car seats, Jack. I don't know where you have been."

"Oh you know I will."

"I will beat you down, little brother. You may be the jolly green giant but I'm the bear that's gonna kick your ass," Brock mildly threatens. "And eats string beans like you."

"Cool, works for me." Frank shrugs and looks up at Brock, "See, no need for worried faces baby." Frank leans up and kisses him. Their banter was actually pretty damn cute. This was a side of Brock that Frank was excited to see. It answers questions he had. 

"Don't call me string bean you meatball," mutters Jack, aware he sounded like his kid self again when Brock was "picking" on him. The names stuck when they were kids, thankfully holding less insult now.

Snickering softly to himself, Brock loads them up in his car and heads East. Jack totally puts his feet up on the backseat much to Brock's chagrin and mild irritation. Brock gives a reassuring smile to Frankie and takes his hand while his _jerk_ of a brother gives him directions. The drive is relatively nice and short with a local radio station playing in the background just for noise and soon enough they pull into the parking lot of America's Café and Grill.

Frank quietly follows Brock into the restaurant, the smells of food immediately make his stomach ache for food, "I just want to eat everything." 

"That can be arranged. We can always take whatever we like and don't eat home, " Brock states simply, looking up at the menu. He agrees with Frank-- everything here sounded appealing, minus the breakfast items.

"I can make a few recommendations? But I usually get the burgers here so I wouldn't be much help with the deli stuff." Jack cleaned his glasses on his shirtsleeve.

"I… baby I wasn't being literal, nerd. I'm just hungry." Frank chuckles and shakes his head, "I can tell you're Italian." He was turning the wheels in his head to figure out a way to prove that he wasn't just a one and done for Brock.

"They are always thinking about food," Jack agrees. "If they aren't thinking about it they're cooking it or eating it."

"Or feeding you."

"Exactly!"

"I hate you both," Brock pouts.

"If you say no, God forbid you say no." Frank smiles and shakes his head, "They throw a tantrum."

"Brock, I think this kid's got your number," Jack laughs. "You'll never win with him."

"I'm serious. This morning he looked appalled that I didn't finish my food." Frank shakes his head, "Not to mention he might have had a mini heart attack when I was paying for the next meal."

Oh shit. That was right. Frank _did_ say that and somehow he agreed?? He's seriously regretting that now. Why did he have to bring that up? Brock groans softly. "I'm dying."

"Oh, chill. Drama queen," Jack grins. "You'll be fine."

"No, that feeling is called being taken care of," Frank winks at Jack. "You'll get used to it. And you aren't dying, not for a _very_ long time."

"I hate you both," he repeats, grumbling the words under his breath.

"Liar Liar," said Jack. "But you keep telling yourself that, meatball."

"Exactly. So lunch is my treat!" Frank nods at Jack then to Brock and raises his eyebrows, "Right?" 

Brock grumbles to himself and doesn't say a word. Instead he focuses on the menu. It's better than answering. He might get a burger after all because they do sound rather good. Too bad they don't have wine here or he would try to find a way to get drunk from his brother and boyfriend totally ganging up on him.

Frank already knows what he is getting. He needs protein if he's going to keep up with Brock. He also needs water. He leans in and kisses his cheek, "We only tease cause we love you." 

"This is true," Jack tosses over his shoulder as he approaches the counter for ordering. He orders the NYC burger with fries and a soda before heading to find them a table that will make his brother feel okay.

Knowing better than to argue with them, Brock follows Jack and orders the same, adding a salad. Frank flip flops between the turkey burger and veggie burger then panic picking turkey burger and a bottle of water. He pulls his wallet and puts his card down with a firm, "It's on me." After the meal is paid and the food is cooked quickly and to perfection, the three of them retreat to a table in the back, Jack foregoing the option to sit outside. He'd rather not have a bug in his food. Brock is happy enough and sits so he and Frankie are touching. They sit and chat about things past and future.

Frank sits quietly and listens to them chat. He has figured out how to address the things that are bothering him but he's trying to unsuccessfully hide. "So, Jack. You speak German? Dutch?" Frank asks quietly at a lull in the conversation.

"German." 

"So you must do the thing where you slip into German in conversation. B has done it a few times and as an under _cultured_ product of the American education system, I don't know what he is saying and I feel awful. So I'm curious, is this a common thing?" Frank asks, feeling his chest tighten as he sits waiting for a response.

"I would say so, yes. But I know the feeling. When we were young and before I learned Italian, our sister and him would switch languages without taking a breath. It was infuriating because I was sure they were insulting me. Turns out they were insulting each other."

"I understand that feeling. I suppose I should learn some Italian just in case something happens and I need to be able to communicate with him." Frank pauses, "I know his brain gremlins happen. Lord knows I have my own." 

Brunette eyebrows shoot up from behind wire frames. Jack looks at Brock, eyes full of worry and concern. "Brock. Did you tell him or did something happen again? Are you okay?"

A small exhale of breath and a head tilt was the only response he had at his irritation over this topic. He knew Jack meant well. And it was good that he cared so much about him. Brock knew that on a logical level. But his emotions decided he didn't need to be worried about, because he was fine. He knew he had his issues under control excluding some unforeseeable circumstances and really there were just some things in life he couldn't fix. He'd learned that a long time ago. He just couldn't understand why his family didn't agree with him.

"I'm fine now," he states.

"But you weren't before. What happened? Is everyone okay?" 

Frank immediately regrets his choice of words, "Everyone and everything is fine. It's nothing." 

"Why do you automatically assume someone got hurt? I'm not that bad," ruffles Brock.

Frank reaches for Brock's hand, nervous that he upset him with what he said. He looks up to Brock then immediately quiets any line of questions he had created in his head. 

"Because people have gotten hurt," Jack's voice is tinted with gentle concern. "And I worry about what might happen if something did again. For your sake. I'm not accusing you, brother. I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Frank says quietly. _Please don't be mad at me._ He seems to be excelling at being an embarrassment for his partners; he should get it on a business card.

"Well for what it's worth, I'm glad you did Frank."

"It's fine, _tesoro_. It's just not something I see as a big deal and Jack disagrees. It's not your fault, you didn't know. It's something he and I have always disagreed on." Brock pats Frank's knee and kisses his cheek. 

"I still feel like a dick!" Frank responds in a sing-song voice. "But it was my apartment. It wasn't something he was ready for. It's not Brock approved for many reasons." He swallows and takes a breath. He is already dreading this because he is terrified of pushing Brock away, "Also I feel like I need to have a conversation with you both at the apartment because this is an inappropriate setting and I already feel bad… awkward? I feel some kinda way that isn't good."

Brock swears he feels a bucket of ice water drop down his spine. Nausea churns in his stomach and he feels his heart race. Those words were never good words no matter what the relationship. 'We need to talk' was in no way anything positive in any setting in any relationship in the world. They just weren't. And no matter how you tried to spin it or take the edge off, it always bred fear and self-doubt. He felt sick.

"It's not bad. It's for my own sanity." Frank babbles out then winces slightly.

"Both of us, huh?" Jack says as he takes a bite of a fry. He's not sure what's going on but he doesn't like it either. If this punk ass kid hurts his big brother….. "I hope it's nothing I said or did. Sorry if it is." He means that. He doesn't want to see this relationship fail. He doesn't want to see Brock go through that again but if this kid is playing him, Jack will be sure to make sure he limps his skinny ass back to wherever he came from. 

Frank's words don't entirely make him feel one hundred percent better. It doesn't take away the ill feeling he has in his chest and stomach but it does quite some of the whispered thoughts in his head. The half eaten burger no longer looks appetizing. He wants to go home. Frank looks Jack in the eyes, "It's related to you. But not here. And I have a question for you." Frank looks at Brock seeing the storm clouds brewing, "I'm not going anywhere. Until you don't want me." 

Brock gives a solemn nod, anxiety tearing him up inside. He's done eating. His stomach is in knots. He pushes through, "So, uh, we were talking about…" 

Frank put on a relaxed face even if he felt like he was going to fall apart, "I don't remember… oh language. It's not important." He can tell he's ruined this lunch and what an impression he's making on his brother. The fucker doesn't even seem to be phased. He isn't who matters, but Brock seemed to be unraveling in his seat. 

"Yes, we were speaking about me being German. And the twins totally being jerks to me at a young age," Jack nods.

"That's right. I have an image of kid Brock in my head." Frank smiles softly cause teen Brock was probably a jock.

"Well. What's he look like? I could tell you if you are right or not," smirks Jack. He realizes he ate all of his fries and decided to steal some from Brock's plate.

"You should eat more, babe." Frank touches Brock's hand. "He was a jock huh? Like sports, ball, kinda kid?" Frank asks Jack, trying to keep it light. 

"Not entirely. Not so much into sports as what amounts to the Italian JROTC. He liked guns more than was healthy, I swear. But also drama and theater. Mom got him into that. She is big on the arts and creativity, beyond the academics. I suppose I was more of a jock stereotype."

"My heart! I love the idea of you in a play!" Frank grins like a love sick teenager as he touches Brock's forearm and squeezes, "At least, I know you wouldn't have shoved me into my locker."

"Neither of us would have. Mom would have kicked our asses in front of the entire school with a switch on the bare ass if another parent said we were bullies," Jack laughs with a wince.

"As a nerdy music kid, I love your mother." Frank needs Brock to react. Smile or frown. Throw the fucking table over. Something.

"She would love you, too, _tesoro_ ," he says softly. "Be careful though, she adopts strays more than me." 

"Hey!" Jack is offended.

"Well, I am quite skilled at doing and folding laundry. So, I am useful." He said trying to lighten him up, but words are good. He'll take words.

Brock flicks a fry at Jack, "She adopted your homeless ass. And you couldn't do laundry like Frankie, so he immediately scores more points." 

"I was five months, you asshole," he retorts back, tossing the fry back and then regretting losing the food. He steals it back plus extra and eats those too. Eating the ammo.

Frank grinned at the banter and enjoyed it for a minute, offering Jack his fries as well. 

Not one to turn down fries, Jack swipes them without a second glance. He has his own ammo now; fucker. He smirks at Brock.

"Sorry babe." Frank glances over to Brock and gives a small shrug, "Gotta win him over slowly and with edible bribery."

"I can be bribed and I'm not ashamed to admit that. Plus I really like fries. Best thing America has." He chomps on his stolen fries like a mad king finding treasure. 

Frank chuckles and shakes his head, "glad it's the fries that you appreciate." He's not sure how to say he is ready to go but also not sure if he _is_ ready to go 

"Well that and the company," he dunks a fry in a small pool of ketchup, before wagging it at him. "Look, it's skinny like you. Brock wanna eat it?"

Frank can feel his cheeks warming at the dirty thought that landed in his head. 

"Maybe later. Not the fry." 

"Gross dude," he responds even though he not only knew that was going to happen but set it up. He knows his brother's preferences and enjoys teasing him about it. It's also a good way to vett the dates to see how they respond. A lot of the "fakes" would be too dramatic to the sexual innuendo, either telling him more than what he should have known or finding him way too funny. All of them knew their body and how easy it was to manipulate his brother into doing whatever they wanted just because they fit a certain type. Shake the skinny ass and Brock was putty.

Frank feels his entire face reddens. He shakes and lowers his head to hide his embarrassment, "anywho." 

"Not sorry, _tesoro_ ,"

"Same but for a different reason, Franklin," agrees Jack as he finishes his fries. His precious stolen fries.

"It's Frank." He replies without thinking of tone or anything after it, "so now that I am a nice shade of red, are we doing anything else this fine afternoon?" 

"Wait, it's not short for Franklin?" Brock asked. He always thought it was!

"Or at least something weird like Francis. Francisco. I can totally see you being a Francisco," Jack stands, pushing up his glasses and going to throw away their trays. "Or Francois." 

"I would have told you if it was a shortened version of something, love." Frank looking to Brock with a faint smile then turning to Jack, "fucking Francois? Do I look like a Francisco? I'm just plain boring Frank Anthony." 

"Am I to assume that Jack is short for Jacqueline then?" Frank fires back with a devious smile. 

"No. But at least I didn't call you some woman's name!"

"I'm not a Francine… maybe Francesca." He grins wide.

"Totally a Francesca. I might call you that just to fuck with you," Brock smirked as he too stood. The light conversation has helped ease his anxiety a little. Maybe it's not going to be so bad after all. He relaxes as he happily watches his two favorite guys finally get along. He's hoping they will at least be cordial but prefers them to be friends. His brother is his best friend and only family member in the States. He needs them to bond. "Remember what I'm doing for your birthday, _topolino_."

" _Topolino_?" Frank questions as he mimics the other two men.

"Frank is anything but a 'little mouse', brother. Cute nickname though. For a baby."

"A mouse? Not even a rat… then it could be cool like a street rat…" he laughs, "little mouse" 

"Also what the Italians call Mickey Mouse. Fun fact. Italians are weird." 

"Huh, interesting. I'm still not a little mouse. Maybe a small dog… but with a Napoleon complex." Frank says as he loops his arm around Brock's to stay by him. 

"My point exactly," Jack agrees.

"It's more than just 'little mouse' but I thought it was cute. I'm trying new things and getting a feel of what sort of endearments I like. Don't judge me Jackie." Brock grins at his brother's very annoyed face.

Frank grins and hugs Brock's arm a little closer to him enjoying 'Jackie' more than he should.

"Don't fucking call me Jackie," Jack snarls.

A young tanned man approaches the restaurant just as their group exits. He's wearing a white v-neck tee shirt with super skinny blue jeans. His short sandy blonde hair is held up by sunshades but a tendril is 'causally' falling into his eyes at just the perfect angle. He practically squeals at seeing Brock.

"Oh my god! Brock!" His voice is overly flamboyant and he prances up to them. "Hey, boo! How you doing sexy thang?" 

"Tyler," Jack growls by way of greeting.

Frank shoots a look at Brock and clenches his jaw. This is why he doesn't date gay men usually. He doesn't like him and he will hit him in the face if he gets too friendly again. He clenches his fist and looks to Jack for approval to punch this kid in the face.

Brock doesn't know what to do. He hasn't seen Tyler in years. It's interesting how he used to call this guy "boyfriend" and was in love. Or what he thought was in love. He doesn't know what to do. What to think. How to react. He should say something, right? People do that. He tries but nothing comes out as he suddenly feels Tyler's arms around his neck and pressing up against him in the most awkward and unwanted hug ever. "Uh, hi?" 

"Damn, did you get hunkier or what? Mmhmm," Tyler trails his fingers down Brock's arm. He turns to Frankie. "He got you too, boo? He's quite the _catch_ ain't he?" 

Frank lets go of Brock's arm. He looks to Jack one more time, he's gonna hit the kid. _Tell me no Jack. Even a nod…_

"Something we can help you with Taylor?" His words are pure venom as he glares with a tightened fist at his side. _Touch him again, I fuckin’ dare you._

Fists clenched, Jack tries very hard not to break every bone in _Tyler's_ body one by one. This was the asshole who thought it was great to string Brock along for eight months and decide to break it off after Brock "helped" him out of the two hundred thousand dollar college and credit card debt. Brock was talking about marriage by month seven. Nobody in the family thought they could have helped him out of the severe depression episode it put him in. The only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of this kid was the cop car across the street in the CVS parking lot, checking for speeders more than likely. But he couldn't take that chance.

"Did you need something _Taylor_?" Frank asks again, ignoring the catch comment. 

"It's Tyler, honey bun. And nothing from you. Just wanted to say hi to Brock," Tyler ignores the death glare he's getting from that asshole of a brother and probably another faggot for hire like he was and instead turns to Brock. "I'm _available_ if you want a piece of this again."

"Don't care. He's not. Move along, Thomas." Frank raises the volume of his voice slightly. 

"Yes. I suggest you move along, Ty. I know you remember what I told you the last time we met," Jack growls darkly.

"I remember. But you see that cop over there? Yeah he won't like that. And we both know you were jealous I was banging your brother and not you."

Frank looks Jack dead in the eyes. _Imma hit him_ written all over his face.

Jack wants to agree with Frank and just beat the shit out of this kid but he has a job to protect and a family name to keep out of the law. He can't react as much as he wants to. Of course Tyler knows this, Brock already having told him about the family business. Manipulative little bastard.

Brock is frozen. Knows he should do something to stop this train wreck but can't find himself doing anything but just standing there like an idiot. Tyler meant so much to him. Even now that he has Frank and can see what utter fakeness Tyler was, he still can't not be phased by him.

"Last chance Tyson, you said hi now _move along_." Frank's fuse is about to touch dynamite, "I don’t give two fucks about the cops or you." 

"Or what? Your skank ass gonna do something? Bitch, you're no better than me. Banging this rich ass dark roast for them dollars. Man's a freak both in bed and out. He ask you to dress up yet? Yeah you gonna wanna ask for a new gold watch, hun."

Frank can't help himself and swings hard, landing a fist in the annoying kid's face with a hard crunch of knuckles to cartilage. "Leave. Now." His voice is hard and unforgiving even if it's taking all of him not to pummel this kid to death.

Jack exhales and mutters under his breath, "Oh thank God." 

Tyler clutches his broken face and cries out as blood pours into his hand. "Oh my gawd! What the fuck is wrong with you!? My beautiful face!"

Brock is fairly certain he flinched at the punch himself. _Freak_ rang loud in his head like an alarm. He can't breathe.

"I warned you twice. Don't touch him. Forget his fucking name or I'll find you and do a fucking lot worse than that to you, you dumpster fire." Frank snaps his fist still clenching and ready for another round. 

"Fuck you you fucking fucker," Tyler screams out. "Freak fucker is more like it!"

"Frank, buddy, I think we need to take the trash out. I'd love to help you," Jack said coolly. Fuck the family name. It was one thing to have that asshole insult him or Frank but another to call his brother a _freak_. He cracks a knuckle. "I've been wanting to do this for _years_." 

"It's like you read my mind, Jack. I would love help with this Tribeca trash pile." Frank smiles at Jack with a nod and an eyebrow raise. 

"We each grab an arm?" 

"Gladly." He grabs the left arm and digs fingers into the kids skin.

Jack grabs the other arm just as tight. He nods to Frank, "Shall we? Dumpster is out back." 

"Thought you'd never ask!" Frank's voice low, "Move, Tracy."

"No need, Frank. We can move this trash _just fine_. If you can't lift the trash bag… well, dragging works just as well."

"Fantastic. Gimme a second..." Frank lets go of the intruder's arm before turning to Brock, leaning up to kiss him, "Love you." 

"Ready." Frank grabs him again and nods at Jack before moving forward. 

The moron struggles as Frank keeps his stride with Jack until they reach the alley before shoving him against the wall. Letting his head hit with a full thud before letting Jack do the honors this time. It isn't much of a fight but it is still worth it to see his stupid face bloodied. Jack punches the asshole first with his right fist and then with his left fist like someone who's used to doing this. When Tyler doubles over, Jack slams a knee into his middle before stepping back to let Frank step in.

Frank grabs the sandy blond hair and cracks the kids face into his knee and let's him fall back, "Keep their names out of your fucking shit filled mouth and leave them alone!" Frank hisses, "I will kill you if I see you again." 

Jack kneels down in front of Tilley. He reaches out and tips the boy's bloody head up so he can look him in the eyes. His voice is soft yet dark and hard as steel. "Look at me, Tyler Rivera. Did Brock tell you who I am?" 

Frank stands behind Jack with arms crossed. The softer shoulder now pinned back with perfect posture. Like a soldier crouching to take a kill shot. His voice no longer recognizable, the accent stronger and the tone of his voice is a threatening sound to his ears. If Frank were on the receiving end, he would listen with shaking knees.

Spitting out blood, the young man nods. It takes him twice to swallow before he can speak. "His brother."

Jack makes a non-committal sound before back handing the trash. "Let's try that again. Shall we?"

Frank glances to the entrance of the alley, looking mainly for Brock. Focusing back on Jack, curious on the answer he was seeking.

A pitiful whimper escapes Tyler. Fear evident in his voice, he barely whispers loud enough for them to hear, "Rollins. Jack Rollins. The Enforcer." 

_Enforcer? Like mob enforcer?_ Things in Frank's head start clicking in place, _Family Business_. Holy fuck, B. That's a fucking secret, alright.

"Very good," he grabs the broken and bloody face with his hand. "I suggest you and your sugar baby pals stay away from our family. I _will_ find out if you decided to run your mouth off to other people about our little _disagreement_. I _will_ find out if somehow you or your friends decide to get a little payback and target Frank, here, and you will _not_ enjoy the results if I do. Is that understood?" Jack's nearly hissing in the young man's face at this point, radiating rage.

Frank can't help but feel this could also be a slight warning for himself. Tansy's face was a mess, but he felt nothing. The words he spat at Brock made another wave of anger roll through him.

"This is where you answer him..." Frank's voice is flat and dry. He wants to rip the dude's tongue out but he clenches his fists instead.

"Yes, sirs," Tyler stutters, crying with fear and pain. He's a broken man and he knows it. "Please don't kill me."

"Consider this an unofficial restraining order. Break it and I'll break you," said Jack as he stands up. He turns to Frank. "Anything you'd like to add?" 

He thinks for a moment, "No I think that covers it." He smiles briefly then goes back to a frown. He's got nothing more intimidating he can add. 

"Well then. Now that the trash is thrown away, how about some ice cream? I could totally go for either a scone or a scoop of ice cream. Or one of them sopapillas." Jack grins lightly. 

"I'm a coffee guy but ice cream sounds good. But I'm flexible." Frank nods at him, disregarding Tiffany.

He nods and adjusts his glasses once more before turning away and walking down the alley. "We need to find Brock. Thanks for helping me out back there. Been wanting to do that for nearly three years. Ever since Brock brought home that fucker."

"Surprised he is still breathing. But I'm glad to help. I'd like to rip his tongue out." Frank is going to feel the face to his knee later but it was worth it, "How _bad_ is Brock going to be?" 

He turns to Frank, stopping briefly, "That can be arranged. I don't fully trust him not to keep his silence but I also need to keep a low profile. Only reason he's still around. He knew that. Brock told him everything and the asshole waited until he knew Brock was planning to propose and then rabbitted. After eight months of dating. Along with the over two hundred grand he managed to get as 'gifts' during their tryst. He targeted Brock, as a sugar baby who just wanted to fuck the rich, too nice, old man so he can get things bought for him. He's the reason why I keep a close eye on Brock. After the shit hit the fan, Brock went into a bad depression everybody was terrified he wouldn't survive. I won't let him go through that again."

Frank stands quietly listening, his mind playing back what he's heard and now what he's seen. He understands a little more but has questions, "Don't get your hands dirty. I know you can get help with that _task_."

A smirk graces his lips before he replies. "I can and I won't. And I'm sure you'll have words to say about all this. At least Brock will. He wasn't ready to tell you what I'm sure you just figured out. Is that going to be a problem? Because if it is, please just walk away now." He isn't sure if he can deal with his brother going through another pain of loss again. If this kid is as good as Brock says he is, then Jack will fight to keep them a couple. On the same token, he's got no problem making sure Frank stays away if the kid can't handle his brother or the family business.

"I assumed you wanted to keep yourself reasonably clean but hey shove it up his ass while you're at it. It's not a problem. I would still like a full explanation from Brock. But..." Frank hesitates. He wanted to do this with Brock around but now he's not sure, "I heard you earlier. I'm nothing like that thing back there. I love your brother. I don't care about money. I have my own and I don't want his. It annoys me when he tries to buy everything. I'm here as long as _he_ wants me. I have never been the kinda guy who plays around, I like stability. I want a partner, not just a good time. But I have a concern that you said to him but I'm not sure how to put it into words without sounding crass."

A wide hand runs through short curly hair. He sighs, not intending any of this to happen. He just wanted a nice lunch with his older brother. Not start some shit or in this case, take out the trash. And he really doesn't want to have this talk right now without making sure Brock is okay. He nods instead of firing back any sort of response before heading back towards the restaurant. 

Frank stands there for a moment and sighs as Jack walks away from him. _Guess not then._ He follows behind him, giving up and focusing on Brock. He was more important than any dumb shit in his head anyway. He trots to catch up with Jack. 

"We'll talk when we are back to the apartment," Jack murmurs softly to Frank before rounding the corner. Thank God Brock was still there at least, though he didn't seem to be doing all that well. He looked confused but not totally checked out so that was a win in Jack's book.

Frank wasn't sure how Brock was going to respond to this choice he'd made. Maybe he'd be pissed about it. Maybe he wasn't supposed to know about the family. Maybe his suspicious mind _was_ right all along. He chooses to play light and airy with his emotions, "Brock, you ok?" His voice quiet as he approaches him. 

Hazelnut eyes met his and for a second Brock wondered why Frank would ask him that. Then he realizes that something must've shown on his face because even his brother was looking at him with concern. He was, well he hoped he was, ok. Just genuinely lost. "I'm… Fine?" 

He wraps his arms around Brock’s middle and hugs him. He doesn't know the right words to make this better. He does know that he will kill that fucker if anything happens to Brock and he supposes, Jack. "I'm sorry baby." His face is a little smooshed into Brock but enjoying the way he feels and smells.

"Can we go home, please?" Brock just wants to process all of what just happened in a place that's away from the street. With a drink. A strong drink.

"Yeah, I think that might be best," Jack says, coming over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll drive? Or we could walk." 

Brock hugs Frank back like it's the only lifeline he's got right now and maybe it is. He nods. Jack should drive. He's far too distracted right now. "Ok." 

Frank looks up and pulls back slightly to give him room but is still holding on to him. He was unsure if his impulsivity was the right action and he knew that Brock could be upset with him. It doesn't matter, he'd do it again. He wants to kiss him better and keep away everyone. At least now he could ride in the back of the car, like a good little puppy. 

The drive back is quick due to both Jack having a naturally heavy foot on the gas and the fact that Brock's place was only a block away. He stays silent during the drive and the elevator ride up, noting that Frank hasn't stopped clinging to Brock, at the very least touching him in some form. That's a good sign. Brock always has been a bit touchy. Another reason why he drew the wrong type of bed partners. He uses his own hand to unlock the door and let them into the apartment, immediately going to the liquor cabinet he knows has at least a good bottle of Scotch. 

Frank knows he shouldn't be like a damn koala, a clingy and needy little thing on his side but he needs it. He gives Brock a little space to breathe once they enter the apartment but stays _annoyingly_ close. He watches Jack carefully before kissing Brock's arm. He's waiting for the storm clouds quietly brewing to bring the rain.

Jack pours himself and Brock a large shot of the scotch before returning to them both on the couch. He hands one of the glasses to Brock before setting his own down on a side table. “Drink, Frank? Brock’s cabinet is fairly stocked. I can bring you something.”

“Sure as long as you don't mind,” he says pulling his legs up and sitting as close as he can to Brock without smothering him. But he wants to smother. The quiet from Brock makes him stressed and the panicked feeling awakens in his chest. Should he leave? Stay? He's not leaving until he's told to go. 

“Here, you can take mine. I didn’t drink out of it yet,” he says, motioning to the glass on the table. “Unless you want something different than scotch.”

“Scotch is fine with me. Thank you Jack.” Frank looks up with a soft smile. He is happy he's here. His attention is back to Brock as soon as Jack steps away, “B?”

Brock pulls Frankie close and buries his face in his neck. He’s feeling oddly vulnerable about having Tyler touch him. Open and raw. He just wants to make this feeling go away. He is ready to move on. He loves Frankie; he never wants to leave him. He has forgotten the pain that always came associated with mentioning his past partner. It had become easier to come to terms with him and speak about it without feeling terrible. He’s _moved on_. Why now did it bother him so much?

Frank strokes the back of his head with gentle fingers, “It's okay. Everything is fine.” He lowers his voice, “I'm not upset, so you don't have to be, remember.” He kisses the side of Brock's face, more like his ear but whatever. He hates that fucking bastard for making Brock feel this. He wants Jack to kill him, fuck being a good person. “Jack?” Frank speaks quietly like he is trying not to wake a sleeping child.

Going over, Jack hands him a fresh glass of scotch. He sits down next to Brock but far enough away that he gives them both space. 

“What we talked about back there… I think it needs to be action, not words.” Frank’s voice, the coldest he's ever heard, came from his own mouth. He strokes Brock’s back and stares at Jack waiting for the recognition to flip a switch. Jack tips his head forward and raises his glass in response.

“How do we help you, B?” Frank thaws his tone, his fingers push through the hair on the back of his head. He's unsure if it is a _time_ thing or a _talk_ thing. 

Brock doesn’t know what to do. His voice nearly breaks, frantically trying to understand and wanting nothing more than to make the feelings go away. “I moved on. I thought I moved on. Why does this–”

“What are you feeling, Brock? It doesn’t have to be big or wordy, remember? Just like we did after each trigger day.” 

“Raw. Gross. He _touched_ me and I didn’t– I didn’t want. It.” The feeling of being hugged against his will lingered on his skin and he felt like scrubbing it raw. He needs something to get the sense memory to go away. He hugs Frankie closer, like a cuddly teddy bear.

Frank wraps his legs around Brock’s as he hugs him back. He knew the words in his head were not what Brock needed. But he could be there physically. He could replace where that _thing_ touched for his own. He kisses him again, “I know you didn’t baby... I love you and I'm so sorry. " 

“I’m sorry, too, brother,” Jack says softly. “I should have taken care of him much sooner. I knew he was another bad one deep down and I allowed him to get close to you. He played us all. After a few months, even I believed the lie. I won’t let him near you again, you have my word.”

He nods. Brock never wants to see Tyler again. Never wants to hear his voice. See his face. Think about him in his bed. His body lying next to his, his voice telling him how much he was loved. How much they belonged together. The sweet honeyed words only feeding lies as the truth came crashing down later. The seemingly never ending heartache. The following mind numbing state in which he thought he would never break. He built new walls. Found a reason to move on. Healed. Lived his life for the subsequent years never looking for a new partner to share his life with. He had given up all hope. Until Frank walked into his life a week ago. He thought he would never again have to feel this pain. He can’t keep doing this rollercoaster of emotions. He can’t survive another loss again. “I just want this to go away. I wish it didn’t happen. I can’t get him out of my head again and I don’t want him there,” Brock croaks into Frankie’s shoulder. He needs that drink now. Anything to purge the memory of this out of his head.

“Maybe I can take up more space in that head of yours?” Frank eyes the drink across from him, he wants to drown that fire in his belly that is nagging him to act _irresponsibly_. “Have a drink. Take a breath and we can get through this.”

Frank kisses him again and closes his eyes as he hugs him a little tighter. _Kill him, Jack. Rip his fucking throat out._

“You know, I think that sounds like the best course of action, Frank,” Jack stands, having finished his own scotch. “Perhaps it is best I leave you two to do that. I think I’ll go take care of some _business_.”

Frank looks at him to confirm that his suspicion is correct. "Jack will be back though after he's done. We can do whatever you want… I'm all yours sweetheart."

“Only if I am still needed. I think you have this rather under control. Do we still need that talk?”

“Talk?” Brock’s brows furrowed. Frank’s voice telling him he needed to speak with them both about something sensitive hits him. He’s not sure if he wants to do that right now but how much worse can things get? He’s going to go for broke, let it all hang out and then crawl into bed with a bottle and just forget everything for awhile. “Oh.”

“No. I got my answers.”

Brock reaches over and drinks half the scotch in a single gulp. “What was it?”

Frank sighs then smiles, “I overheard the conversation between you and Jack. I heard what was said. I understand a lot more than I did an hour ago. The only thing that I care about is you. You know, I'm here as long as you want me.” He takes a deep breath, “I'm going to prove that to you and Jack I'm not like Twatface Mcgee back there.”

Brock can’t help but kiss Frank, pulling him somehow impossibly closer. He wants, no, needs to feel the right person’s skin against his own. To wash away the disgusting feeling of Tyler. He wants to forget the name. “You never had anything to prove to me, _tesoro_. Still don’t.”

“You did for me,” whispers Jack. “I never wanted anything bad to happen to your relationship. If you were the man Brock said you were, then I’d fully support you two. If you weren’t I’d make sure you scrammed quick. I learned my mistake with Tyler. I won’t do that again. I needed to make sure Brock was going to be okay. He’s my brother and best friend. Someone needed to make sure his heart was protected because he hasn’t done so well in the past. As the younger sibling, it’s practically my duty. I can’t and won’t let him go through that again.”

Frank lowers his hands and slips them under Brock shirt, rubbing his low back with his fingertips, listening to Jack’s words carefully, “He won't.”

Jack nods. He’s more than satisfied at Frank’s displays today. He grins,, “Also Brock, I kind of accidentally gave away what the family business is. Sooooo. My bad.”

Frank chuckles, “Yeah, but it's fine.” 

“What?” What in the world happened behind the alley? Does he really want to know? No. But the topic at hand is enough to push the thoughts of Tyler out of his head for now. He needs the distraction of a problem to solve. “How? What happened? I can explain, I swear.”

“Well, er, Jack and I handled a problem. I don't know a lot. Nothing was explicitly said but I can piece things together.” Frank is unsure how to put that they beat the shit out of _it_ and that his family is some kind of mob adjacent _thing,_ “I'm not pushing, when you wanna talk. I'm all ears.”

Problem? They took care of a problem? When did that–? The image of watching Frank and Jack each take an arm of Tyler’s and drag him away moves to the forefront of his mind. Oh. “You beat the shit outta Tyler? Jack, did you threaten him?” And somehow that revealed they were _mafioso_? What was his brother thinking?!

 _Fuck this is a trainwreck,_ thinks Frank.

“Yes. He needed a reminder of who he was messing with,” Jack’s voice is chilled, not quite reaching the level of dangerous killer just yet. 

“Technically, I think I promised I'd kill him… Jack just uh, took the reins from there,” Frank adds.

Well this was not how Brock wanted things to go down. And certainly not this soon in their newly budding relationship. But Brock was happy that Frank seemed not only okay with the knowledge but seemed to be willing to fight for him. Literally, if he is reading into it right. He _knew_ Frank was special and he loved watching his boy proving it over and over again. “You punched a guy? For me?”

“Yeah. He was an awful piece of shit,” Frank replies matter of factly. “And I warned him twice. Then he had the audacity to not only touch my boyfriend but insult him, fuck that. I wanted to rip his tongue out.” He still _wants_ to.

“I’m going to head out,” Jack heads to the door. “Text me later when you are _available_ and want me to return.”

“Make good choices.” Frank grins at Jack, knowing where he is most likely headed. He also has a strong feeling that he knows where they are headed too. But he _could_ be wrong, “I'll think I got this for a while.”

Nodding with a smirk, Jack leaves the apartment and heads down to take care of business. Brock watches him with a mild hint of amusement. He knows where he is going and at this point, he doesn’t care. Probably should have done it sooner, like his brother said. He’s finding himself more interested in clinging to the one person who he knows deep down in his soul that they were meant to be together. Frankie will never leave him. He can’t help a small smile, seeing his love always did that to him. “You really don’t care if you are dating a mafia prince?”

“Is it going to change anything about you with me knowing about your family?” Frank says touching his face, “Do you care that I’m some mutt kid from Jersey?”

“No,” he says as he places his hand over Frank’s. “But. It’s a big part of my life. As are you. I can’t give up either. Nor do I want to.”

“I haven't asked you to nor do I plan too. Family is important, even if they happen to be the mafia. I fell for you. I'm not going anywhere.” Frank kisses him, “I'd fight anyone to keep you.”

“I’d kill to keep you,” Brock tries for a joke as he kisses back. He finishes off the rest of the scotch, the burn of the alcohol hitting his throat and stomach. He wants several more. He needs to forget. “I need a shower. Or something to erase the last hour from my memory. Like more scotch. Maybe a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“You didn't eat much food…” Frank gently reminds him, “If you need a shower, I'll be here.”

Brock snorts bitterly. “Maybe I want to get drunk so I don’t have the space in my head to think about Tyler anymore. Or feel him on my skin. Or hear his voice.”

“Okay. If that's what you wanna do.” Frank realizes he's fighting an uphill battle on rollerskates, “But, whatcha going to do when you sober up? When you remember that there is someone who adores you and is a very needy greedy boy.”

He shrugs, “Well if being drunk does it’s job, I’m only going to remember my needy greedy baby boy. Beyond that, I’ll deal with it later.”

 _Okay, nice guys done._ _This could backfire but I gotta try it to shut him down._ Frank lets go of Brock, unwrapping himself from him. He takes a moment to see the look on his face and takes a deep breath as he pushes the older man back and sits on his lap. He cups his face with his hands and kisses him hard, hoping that he is going to force Brock into submission. 

A soft moan escapes, the kiss stealing his air in the most delicious of ways. This… was a much better alternative. The moment he thought of it, all of Brock’s desires turned to getting every inch of their skin together. To kiss and be entirely focused on the perfect man in front of him instead of the past. He wraps his hands around Frankie’s waist and pulls him closer.

Frank pushes his fingers into Brock's hair, kissing him deeper. The soft moan gave him a little hope that it was working. He pushes his hips carefully into Brock, a hand dropping to his chest. He curls the neck of his own shirt in his hand before breaking away from his lips and leaning back. He yanks on the shirt and throws it over his shoulder, giving Brock a smile. He rests his hands on Brock’s chest, leans back in and kisses him again, this time a little hungrier. 

He moans again, needing more. He likes this side of Frankie. A little more demanding than what he found so far in the younger man. His hands find themselves pushing up Frankie’s shirt, needing the skin contact. Needing the smell of Tyler’s terrible cologne off of them both. He frantically runs calloused hands all over Frank’s chest, another soft moan escaping.

Frank can feel the need in his stomach getting stronger as he kisses Brock deeper. The touch of Brock's hands on his skin stokes the fire, he wants Brock inside of him. He needs Brock to forget everything about today. He slides his hands down Brock's chest and blindly fumbles with his belt, trying his best not to pull away from Brock. Frank pulls back undoing his belt then button and zipper. 

“Please,” Brock whispers, voice needy. “I need you, Frankie. Please. _Touch me_. Please make him go away.”

Frank grins, “That's the plan babe.” His mouth finds its way to Brock's neck and moves down to his chest, placing small wet kisses in a trail stopping just above his belly button. He glances up at Brock with big eyes before continuing lower. Dropping himself between Brock's knees, careful and eager hands slide his pants down giving him plenty of room to work, placing small soft kisses up his thigh before making his way to Brock’s sizable hard cock awaiting him. He knew what he was getting into and he also knew that his skills are nowhere close to Brock's or any other gay man. Gripping his cock, Frank ran a flat tongue along the underside of him and up over the slit before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking. His tongue moves slowly working with him. Frank takes his time before working more of Brock into his mouth, knowing he isn't going to do much. He stares up at Brock while his free hand gently massages his balls. 

_This cannot be what he wants. It can't feel good, I suck at it. But fuck he's perfect and I wanna make him feel good._

Tilting his head back, Brock buries his hands in Frankie's hair, a needy moan ripped out of his throat. He can't remember the last time someone swallowed him down. He'd forgotten just how intense and hot this was. He pants, whimpering with need. "Holy fuck Frankie, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Frank pushes himself a little further down until he can't, then quickly retreats using his hand while he takes a moment to breathe. Going back down, he pushes against his own limits but the sounds of Brock's needy voice makes him want more. He lets himself choke a little before backing off. He moans around the head of his cock as he works in tandem with his hand. 

"Shit! Oh fuck," he moans softly. He can't help but glance down and groan at the sight of Frankie's hand and mouth on his dick. The feeling of him struggling to take the girth and length made him want to come right away. Instead he focuses on not pistoning in and out of the hot, warm, mouth. He doesn't want to actually choke his boy. Not in a way that hurt him anyway. His fingers grip black and blonde hair tighter. "God, you feel so good baby." 

The tension of Brock's fingers pulling his hair, makes him work a little harder. He moans again before going back down again. His mind takes over for a moment, the idea of Brock roughly forcing him to suck him off behind the wheel of his car. The idea that causes the blood in his body to rush to his own dick and makes him grip Brock a little tighter. He pulls his mouth off and strokes him tighter to allow himself a breather. He pants a little before he places kisses on the unattended thigh. Lifting his cock as he strokes, Frank pulls his balls in and sucks carefully in order to keep teeth from scraping the sensitive skin. He keeps working Brock’s cock and the other ball in his mouth. He pulls back, running his tongue along the side of his cock. He works towards the head. Once he reaches the top, he melts his mouth around Brock's cock with a deep moan. 

Brock cries out, unintentionally bucking his hips up. Frank's eyes widen as he chokes harder than he expected at his thrust, his eyes instantly water as he loosens the grip of his hand.

"Shit! I'm sorry," he sputters his apology even as he hardens from feeling the small throat contract around him. That shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. "Are you okay?" 

Frank nods as he catches his breath with a big smile as he wipes the tears away then dives back in. He's determined to get Brock to cum. He finds the right rhythm between his hand and mouth. At the head of his cock he makes sure to suck a little harder. He relaxes his throat and slides down, taking Brock as deep as he can, feeling the need for air throbbing in the back of his brain before pulling back and stroking him faster. Before gauging his response, he goes back down to the same depth and holds for a little longer before pulling away again.

The flat panes of his stomach flex and cave in with his breathing as he tries to both keep himself from cumming and just grabbing Frankie, holding him all the way down to his base, and fucking him until he either cums or his boy pukes. At the rate Fankie’s going, he wouldn't last long. He can't stop whining and giving little jerks from the perfect amount of speed and tightness. But it isn't where he wants to spill. He wants to hold and be held. Wants the skin contact all over his full body, not just a perfectly hot mouth mouth on his dick. Tyler never did this.

" _Oh god Frank. I need you. Up. Please baby. I need you up here with me,_ " he can't help but ramble in his native tongue. Forgetting in his lust filled brain that the words wouldn't be understood. " _I want to watch you ride me. Forget about the condom. I don't care right now. I just need you. So much. Wanna feel your perfectly tight ass clench around me. I wanna hold you, help you move and bounce. Watch your perfect face as I split you open."_

His words feel like something Frank would hear in a dream, the tone was what he wants to hear but the words make no sense, moaning as he pulls off. "As hot as you are in Italian," he pants a little as he strokes him, "I don't understand a fucking word you said, baby. Anything you want, I'll do it. Just tell me…" Frank continues before stroking him a little more.

He looks at him confused for a near minute. The tiny hand stroking him was very distracting. He tips his head back, groaning, this time mostly in frustration that his dirty talk went completely unnoticed and because he's ready to blow soon. "Ride me," he hoarsely says. "Please. Oh god _please_." 

"Oh fuck babe… yeah of course!" Frank nods, his legs feeling a little wobbly as he stands and hurries to Brock's room for lube. He feels frantic, bottle in hand, like he is diffusing a bomb as he rushes back. Stripping off his jeans and purple underwear as he grins eagerly at a very needy Brock. Before sitting on his lap, he puts a good size of lube in hand, and strokes Brock's cock, coating him thoroughly. Using his own lubed finger to lube himself a little, he raises his hips and prays he's not going to break. 

Watching Frankie was like something from a very erotic fantasy and he felt himself tighten impossibly hard again. He's bordering on the edge of pain now. He's going to fucking _wreck_ this sexy twink; wants to so bad. One hand pulls Frank into a deep kiss, the other grabbing his base to stave off his orgasm. When he feels the edge go away, he applies a little force to push Frankie down while he thrusts up. Feeling the first ring of muscle breach and his tip pass through, is enough to make him groan low and deep. He's sure there's a fire burning with the pure searing heat around his cock. Frankie's tight, like a vice grip and he has to take slow breaths to not blow his load right now. He continues to kiss Frankie, his free hand caressing every inch of skin.

Frank cries out a little against Brock's lips as he pushes down fully on Brock's cock. His insides burn as he contracts around the thick cock inside of him. His hand grips Brock's shoulder as he tries not to pull away. Brock is a delightful distraction from the pain and he slowly relaxes. He loves the feeling of Brock’s hands on his body. The smell of his skin makes his head spin a little, or it could be the cock inside of him. He lets himself relax and kisses Brock harder before a white flash in his head hits him. "I fucked up!" Frank sits up, his voice a little shaky. 

"No.” Brock’s breath is ragged as his hands play with dusty colored nipples, pinching and twisting them. He doesn't know really what Frank is apologizing for and right now he couldn't care less. He wants to wreck this fucker in the best of ways. His eyes travel down to see thin pale legs stretched over his thicker thighs. This is exactly why he loves twinks. They barely can fit over his body; barely can take his cock. Their bodies are so easily bendable, breakable. 

"Condom." Frank groans, "I'm sorry. I forgot to grab it, B."

He growls darkly before kissing Frank harshly, one hand digging bruises in a bony hip. His voice is harsh and demanding, "I told you to forget about it. Good boy. Now _move._ "

Frank hesitates, the words processing slowly in his head. He never actually said anything. Between the pressure on his hips from Brock's fingers and the fullness inside of him, he was going to short circuit his brain. He did what he was told and slowly lifts himself then lowers, making small movements to prepare himself better. The tightness and the faint trace of pain prevent him from working any faster until he relaxes. He rests a hand on Brock's thigh and repeats his rise and fall this time with a little more speed behind it. He finds the pace he wants that isn't too fast and feels perfect.

Moaning loud and cursing softly under his breath, Brock leans forward and wraps his arms around Frankie into a sort of hug, kissing him deep and slow and in such a way that he rocks Frankie into a firm but slow grind against him.

"Oh fuck!" Frank pants out as he pushes back matching the pace. This is exactly what he needed. The weight of his arms around his body. Brock's lips on him. The rocking that was building tension inside of him. He kisses him again. He's needy and this is feeding it. He whispers as he drops his head into Brock's shoulder, "I love you Brock." 

"I love you Frank," he whispers in reply. He scoots forward a little, arms tightening around Frank and tensing his muscles to keep them stable, before standing at a hunch as to not break their perfect position. "Wrap your legs around me, high as you can." 

Frank nods eagerly and wraps his legs around Brock as high and tight as he can. A little trace of fear crosses his face but he says nothing. Just thinking of being dropped makes his body tighten a little. 

He exhales at the feeling of Frank clenching around him. He's certain he could come from that alone, nevermind thrusting. All his boy has to do is clench and undulate his muscles and he'll burst far too fast. He sits back down, as far as he can go without making the feet behind him squished and uncomfortable. The new angle has him thinking that he might even be deeper than before. It makes his eyes flutter.

Frank swallows hard as Brock relaxes back. His legs are already shaking from the fullness but this position will make him come in minutes if Brock isn't careful. He can see a wash of pleasure take over Brock's face that makes his heart skip a beat as he begs softly, "Please?" 

Brock’s voice is hushed when he responds. He’s afraid that if he's too loud, it'll ruin the intimacy of the moment. This is exactly what he needed to purge away all of the bad in his head. He doesn't want to ruin it or end it too soon. "Yes. Whatever you want it will be yours. Yes." 

"I just need you." His voice tender as he carefully rests his hand on Brock's cheek. He kisses him gently. He never imagined this is how he would be making Brock better. This was better than he planned. He can never go back to anyone else. If he remembers, he's telling him that too. His legs stop shaking as he relaxes, clenching around Brock just to watch his face.

His eyes flutter again and he buries his face in Frank's chest, lavishing his tongue over his collarbone, sucking love marks and occasionally grazing his teeth. He never stops their gentle lovemaking despite his new determination to mark, to claim his boy until Frankie's delirious with pleasure.

Frank tries to keep his moans softer but he can't. Brock's mouth on his skin mixing the gentle touch with the sharp of teeth was his new, _new_ favorite thing. His breathing speeds up as the heaviness in his stomach becomes almost too much to handle. Brock can't be lasting this fucking long? He's not a machine. But fuck he’s perfect. "Oh fuck B." He moans a little louder than before. He needs Brock to come. That's all he cares about as he clenches and releases. 

He's trying his damnedest to keep his breathing under control. He's not ready for this perfect moment to end but with the way he's being constricted, it's doing wonders for his libido. He's not sure if he can keep this up as long as he wants. He gutturally moans at a particular flutter of Frankie's taint around his length. The sheer knowledge that he's too big for Frankie to take just flat out does it for him. If he keeps this up, he's going to cum. A whimper escapes.

His moans have retreated into his throat turning them into a soft cry. Frank runs his fingers through Brock's hair, before dropping a hand between his shoulder blades. He closes his eyes and bites his lip trying to remember to breathe. He rocks with Brock and tightens around him. The back of his mind wonders if Brock's done this with one of the shit heads who had hurt him. He tries to stay focused on the moment; present with Brock. This is them. Molding their bodies together, making love? 

Soft gasps and sighs fall from Brock’s lips near continuously with the gentle rocking, his breathing increasing in pace. He's losing the fight to stay in control. Losing the fight to keep this intimate and not frenzied. Low in his groin, a tightly wound ball of pleasure increasingly builds with each grind. Frankie tightens and spasms around him again and his breath hitches, eyes rolling back into his head. The ball gets bigger, getting close to exploding. "Frankie…." 

He's lost in his head, the soft gentle sounds from Brock are the hottest thing he's ever heard. His eyes open at the realization that his name came from Brock. "Baby?" He asks, concerned with a moan at the end of the question. He needs just a little more. His body finally hits the point where he's desperate to come. 

"I love you," Brock holds Frankie's gaze, looking deep into his eyes. A tingle forms in the balls. A signal he's fixing to blow soon. "Gonna cum, soon. Want us to go together. Keep tightening. Please." He never breaks eye contact.

"I love you too!" Frank nods, "Please come inside of me. Please." His voice is soft and breathy as he clenches harder and relaxes around Brock as he's told. He's ready, every nerve in his body aching for relief. His forehead wrinkles as he lets out another soft cry. He wants to watch Brock fall apart. It's been his favorite thing to see. His lips part slightly as he softly whines. The softened expression on Brock's face let's Frank know that he's doing exactly what he needs to do. 

He holds Frankie's gaze with his own. Holds him close. The intensity of their gaze is too much and he has to hang his head and bite his lip. He looks up again after a breath. The intimacy is enough. The hard grip tightening around him like a boa constrictor is enough. His orgasm takes him partially by surprise. A breathy moan falls from open lips as his head tips back. Lashes flutter closed and tears of overwhelming pleasured joy well and leak out, falling down his cheeks. 

Frank moans; a moan that gets cut short at the realization that B's crying. “Baby, what is it?" He leans forward, cups his face and kisses him. He strokes the back of his head. He doesn't know how to make it right, "I love you so much Brock." 

Waves of pleasure still roll through him, crashing over him like the ocean rushing to meet the sand in a lover's embrace. It's a heady feeling. It's perfect. More tears flow, the only way to release such intensity. "I love you Frankie. I love you," he can't seem to stop repeating those words. 

Frank hugs Brock, "I love you Brock." Carefully, a finger brushes the tears from his cheeks, as he gives him a small smile, "I love you more than I thought I could love another person." He kisses his lips and presses his forehead to Brock's. The feeling of Brock still rocking inside of him tried to pull his attention away from Brock but he fights off a groan by turning it to a muted one that stays in his throat 

The continued push and pull of their bodies is starting to feel a little oversensitive to Brock. It's still perfect but edging on the line of 'too much'. A begging gasp escapes his lips, "Come for me, beautiful. Please." 

Frank nods and tries to pull himself back into the right headspace. He kisses Brock a little harder than before as he slightly repositions himself to hit the right spot. He knows that Brock will be hurting if he's not careful and has to hurry. He rises and falls, his muscles tighten in response. The frenzied feeling of needing to cum reappears as he rolls his hips a little harder. His breathing quickens as he holds tighter to Brock. Each push and pull along Brock's cock was creating the charge in his veins that made him feel hungry for more of Brock. He kisses him and lets out a moan. The tension in his muscles and the charge that had been building explode. It sends electricity through his spine that ends in his hips, he lets go for good of all the worry and anxiety. He moans as he drops his head to his boyfriend's shoulder and cums. He places small kisses on Brock's skin as he spills the last drop of himself onto both of them, meanwhile placing small and gentle kisses on his neck and shoulder. 

Brock’s head feels emotionally empty and quiet. It's a weird yet peaceful feeling. It's exactly what he needed. Cuddling and snuggling Frankie after a hot shower probably would have given him the same feeling but this was much better. He feels they've gotten closer on a more intimate level. He loves it. Loves the closeness. They both need a shower and then he's going to cuddle them to sleep. He stands, holding a hand under Frankie's perfect ass to keep him still as the movement separates their lower bodies. He loves carrying him. If it was viable, he would never let his boy touch the ground. He kisses soft lips, thankful his eyes are no longer leaking, as he walks to his bedroom.

Frank grips Brock a little tighter, the same fear of being dropped coming back. His concern for Brock was still nipping at the back of his head, dying to take center stage. The tears, twatface and the comments from Jack make an appearance. He kisses Brock back and gives him a relaxed and bright smile.

"I'm not going to drop you, sweetheart. I've got you and I'm never letting you go. You okay?" Brock could feel his muscles tensing as they walk. He switches to one hand to open the closet to grab towels and cloths, never letting Frankie go.

"Uh, I'm fine..." Frank's voice gives away that he was not fine. His fingers press into Brock a little harder at the feeling of losing a hand underneath him.

"I love carrying you. I'm not going to drop you. Where about do you weigh? One hundred twenty? One hundred forty? If that."

"One Hundred twenty-five to One hundred thirty," he replies with the worst poker face on. "I'm fine..."

"Mmmm, perfect weight for my twinkie," he smiles lazily with what is probably the dopiest look on his face. He tosses the towels onto the counter and slides open the shower door and steps inside. "I can bench press double that, baby. I can do this all day. Might too, just because I love cuddling you and still able to do the things."

"Yes but, uh, your weights don’t uh, like have bones or bleed," he stammers quietly. "Franks have both blood and bones." 

"So you don't trust me," he simply states. He bends to turn on the water, still holding him with one hand.

"I do but I also have a healthy respect of gravity. And I _thought_ I would get heavy after this long." He fights the urge to apologize instead choosing puppy dog eyes instead.

"You want down, say so. But you aren't heavy." 

"It's fine. This is perfectly fine." Frank gives a small nod, he knows it's more for himself than Brock, "I trust you but how's this going to work in a shower though?" He leans forward and presses his lips into Brock's chest. He repeats that he's fine and he's not far from the ground. Refuses to let his stupid head ruin any of the magic that just happened between them. He is in love with this man; Brock wouldn't let anything happen to him. 

He chuckles low in his chest, a rumble. "I will have to set you down for this part. Sadly. Gotta wash you inside and out."

Frank’s face wrinkles with confusion, "Inside?" Is he talking...? There's a lot he's gotta learn about this whole thing.

"What _comes_ in, must come out," Brock says as he gently sets Frank down. It's adorable how cute he is with his little nose wrinkled in confusion. He leans forward and kisses the tip before booping his nose.

"Oh,” he replies as his feet touch the ground, "Still newish to _this._ Sor-"

He cuts off Frankie's adorable apology with a kiss. He's also fairly certain that he might still be in the post-orgasm sex bliss phase because everything is cute to him right now. Makes his heart happy and full.

"You are so cute and adorable, I love teaching you new things, _passerotto_.

"I'm glad you think I'm cute, love." He kisses him and takes a deep breath, "I sometimes feel silly. Like I should know something. But I think you're a pretty fantastic teacher." 

Brock adjusts the water temp to much warmer and steps out to grab the forgotten washcloths. Oops. He returns quickly and lathers up the cloth to bathe Frankie first. His touch is gentle as he swipes the soap across his back and arms as he speaks, almost like a massage. "Thank you. I like teaching you. Makes me feel good. I know there are about a thousand things that you know and I don't. Teaching shouldn't be a competition of knowledge but something to share with others to help and grow the bonds of the relationship. My men never worried about if I would judge them for not knowing something. And they didn't hesitate to correct me either. In a battle you have to have that explicit trust and shared knowledge to survive. I guess I'm just used to that level of human intimacy that it's carried over into my daily life. And used against me. But. It's still worth it."

"I don't think I know a thousand things _but_ I want to show you new things. Maybe make you get out of your comfort zone…" his voice is lighter than he expected as he closes his eyes at Brock's touch, "if you're not careful, I'm never going to want to leave."

"Good," he murmurs. "I don't want you to." 

"You _can't_ say that… you're not helping!" He laughs, "I still have an apartment…"

Frank knows he has heart eyes up at Brock but he doesn't fuckin care. He is in love.

"Not sorry. I officially hate your apartment. I want you in my bed every day and every night." He moves down, kneeling to wash his legs.

"I know you hate it. But I am still in a lease." Frank watches him kneeling in front of him, "Maybe I can get you comfortable, and you can spend the afternoon with me in the apartment."

He hesitates. He doesn't really want to go back, now that he _knows_. It was like a veil was pulled off of him. He couldn't go back to the ease he had when he first stepped in. However this seemed to be an important thing to Frankie so he'll try again. He nods. Maybe they can take some precautions.

"Your face says no baby and it's ok." Frank can feel the shift in Brock, "When the inevitable time comes that I move in here, we will deal with my apartment. I know it makes you uneasy and I don't want to push you, baby."

"How well do you know your upstairs neighbor?" He washes his feet before gently pushing on his thighs to get him to spread his legs.

"It's the Mendozas. It's a husband, wife and two kids. They are quiet and nice. Why?" He widens his stance. Does he need to do this for Brock? He wouldn't mind but he doesn't know the rules for this stuff.

"I was thinking, I will replace your damn door. And we make sure nobody's home above you one day. And I'll come over. Spend the day there with you," he looks up with uncertainty in his eyes. "Is that… okay?" 

"How about _I_ replace my door? I can talk with Lori and see if there is a way we can make it work," he offers.

"As long as it's not wood and high grade, then fine."

"How about you come with me? You can pick it out for me because I would literally pick the first okayest looking one." Frank grins at him. He knows nothing about doors or security. 

"Deal. You get that taken care of and I'll return." 

"I love you. If you aren't comfortable at all, we can leave too. I just want you to feel safe." Frank beams, he's never had a partner who was willing to do anything like this for him. "Do you… want help?" He offers.

Brock raises an eyebrow at the question, unsure what exactly his _passerotto_ was referring to. After washing Frankie's groin area, he carefully reaches back and tenderly cleans the back. "With this, you mean?" 

"Yeah. I don't know what I need to be doing? I'm sorry." Frank flushes as he shuts his lips before he rambles.

"You don't have to do anything. If I need something, I'll ask. You can bear down a little but again, it's not necessary. I'm just doing a little TLC. It'll hopefully help you later. Gravity and body functions will take care of the rest. Relax, sweetheart." 

Frank nods. His cheeks stained red as he repeats that this is fine. Brock's hands between his legs in a non sexual manner was a new sensation that he was not used to. "Is this… normal?" 

"You mean me washing you? Could you clarify, hon?" Finished, he stands and rinses the cloth under the spray.

"This level of aftercare?" 

"It is for me. I enjoy aftercare. I like taking care of my people. Friends, family and boyfriends. It calms me and allows me to express just how much you mean to me. If you mean the cleanup process specifically… no. Not unless you want me to each time. I don't mind it but I also know you have always had the condom experience so I wanted to help you so you don't freak out. I do like bathing you if we shower together regardless if we have sex."

"Oh, okay! "I have limited experience with _this._ I appreciate it." Frank's tone relaxes, "I suppose I have not had partners who were considerate of me and my well being."

"I try to think of myself as a good dominant."

Frank's head filled with more questions. Is he a sub then? What does this mean for him? He is curious what Brock would do if he _needed_ to be "punished"? He hesitates to ask but goes for it, hoping he wasn't being annoying, "Am… am I a sub? Your sub?"

He sets Frankie's cloth before grabbing his own and beginning to wash himself with military speed. "Mine, yes. But not in the traditional sense. And really, every relationship is as different as the people in it. What works for us may not be what works for someone else."

Frank blinks watching him speed wash, "Oh. I don't know anything about that… world." He is perplexed by the way Brock was literally showering him with careful precision but just quickly rinsed himself. The way that he put others first was attractive but he could see how others could exploit that. He decided that like Jack, he wanted to keep that from happening. Even if Brock gets bored of him and ghosts. "That can't be getting you clean enough…"

"Yes it is," he laughs. "This is how I always bathe, love. And standard in the military." He rinses himself equally quickly before shutting off the water and stepping out, grabbing towels and handing Frankie his. "You don't need to know anything other than what we create. Why confuse yourself with labels and terms and what others do when we can just be _us_. I like exploring with you. We create our own relationship. Fuck everybody else's opinion."

"Hmmm... sounds like a pretty good idea to only worry about _us._ And _no one_ else." He enjoys the view of Brock's body for a moment before he steps out of the shower, toweling himself off. He catches a glimpse of the love bite on his collarbone. "I am pretty sure I am going to wind up looking like I fought a store of hoovers." 

Brock shoots him a smirk before running the towel over his head, fluffing his hair. "I like marking you up as mine." 

"It's a good thing, you're cute." He teases as he leans against the sink. He couldn't do anything because Brock outweighs him and could easily overpower him if he wanted. But he wouldn't put up much of a fight.

"You love it," he smirks again as he exits to the bedroom and puts on boxer briefs before sitting on the bed. "Otherwise you'd tell me to stop." 

He takes his time to exit the bathroom after examining the marks on his body. He wraps the towel around his waist and steps towards the door, "I do. I'd let you do whatever you wanted to me." He heads to the living room and gathers their things as well as his own bags. 

"You should probably move your stuff in here with me," Brock calls after him as he lays down and turns on the TV again.

Frankie stands in the doorway and smiles at Brock stretched out on the bed. He looks so inviting. "You read my mind, but where should I put my things?" He pulls his underwear from earlier out. 

"Wherever you'd like. This isn't a hotel, this is home."

Dropping his bag against a wall so as to not take up space, Frankie slips into his underwear and quickly folds his jeans, placing them on top of his duffel bag, "If it was a hotel, the service here is phenomenal." He cautiously sits on the edge of the bed.

He smiles at Frank's comment before wondering why he's giving off 'uncomfortable' vibes. "What's bothering you, sweetheart?" " 

"Nothing. I'm fine." Frank scoots on to the bed. _Trying not to be a clingy little shit._ He was worried that sitting would be a challenge. He relaxes a little, "You looked comfortable and I didn't want to disturb that." 

"I'd be more comfortable with you," he said softly, pulling Frankie closer.

"I don't wanna come off like a clingy little tattooed koala." Frank rests his hand on Brock's chest and presses his lips into the skin.

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that," he turns his head and presses his lips to soft skin.

"That makes you my _eucalyptus_ tree?" He closes his eyes and tries to hide his yawn, replying quietly. The day had been draining in more ways than he had actually planned. He hadn't gotten into a fight like that since he was eighteen. He hasn't come this much well, ever, "I'm glad my ass doesn't hurt as bad as I expected it too."

Brock chuckles softly, his fingers softly tracing random patterns on Frankie's skin wherever he can reach. "There's a reason why I do what I do. I didn't prep you this time so I'm sorry if you are a little sore. It'll get easier over time. Even to the point where you won't need any prep. If you are in too much pain you can take some painkillers and soak in the bath."

"I'm fine, babe. It's nothing. I've had worse." Frank says as he curves his body to meet Brock's touch. "Why are you sorry? It's my fault." 

"Since it's my dick going inside, I'm supposed to make sure you aren't in any pain. Or hurt you. It's the… top's responsibility to ensure safe sex."

"I want to argue with you. I'm gonna save it for something I can win." Frank gives a lazy smile. He's the one who forgot the condom, so they are even. He's curious to know what Brocks not sexy time brain thinks of that.

"I'm not sure why you'd want to argue. It's pretty logical. But okay," he sighs. He's getting sleepy.

Frank lets sleep take him away. He clings to Brock to steal his warmth. His dreams are weird but they always are. Brock follows suit shortly thereafter, the warmth of Frankie soothing him in ways he never thought imaginable. He's found his missing piece. His _soulmate._


	5. The Zoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie. This was one of the hardest to edit. It's 104 pages long and it was around this time that we had decided to change tenses. Taking two weeks and far too many headaches, I finally just gave in and stopped working on it. So forgive me if there are any obvious mistakes because I'm sure there are plenty. As usual, this is a fanfiction and no money is being made. It's long but only because I couldn't find a natural break. I promise that things will pick up in the next few chapters. Dusty and I have over 100k words pre-written and still going. I hope you will stick with the rough beginning. Enjoy.  
> \- Winterscribe

The days flew by with Brock. After the initial _hiccups_ and learning how to be around each other, Frank hasn't felt this comfortable around anyone like this before. He is still _twitterpated_ when it comes to Brock. At one point, he convinced Brock to let him cook dinner even though he still _had_ to help with something because he doesn't know how to _not_ help.

During their walk through Central Park, Frank feels like he is more interested in what Brock has to say than divulging about himself. It is cheesy and cliché but walking and holding his hand feels like a god damned movie. He wants to see the zoo; it has been years since he's been. He just wants to see the damn red pandas and _nothing_ is going to stop this from happening, except maybe his boyfriend, who is visibly unhappy with his clothing choice before leaving his apartment.

"I just need to see pandas, B. And maybe bats…" He can't contain the excitement. It could be embarrassing but he doesn't care.

"We will, _tesoro,_ I promise. That will be the first thing we do. Ok?" Brock feigns annoyance over Frank's jeans. He doesn't mind the ripped fabric so much as he just doesn't get _why_ someone would wear them like that. He supposes that as far as casual goes, they're okay. Important occasions, on the other, hand were a very different thing. 

"I'm sure I am going to be annoying at some point, babe. It is the coffee talking." Frank beams up at Brock as he laces their fingers together.

"Ok, there's no such thing as you being annoying."

He gives him a look full of disbelief then relaxes, "So, fans might approach me. Are you going to be okay with that?" He hates asking but he doesn't want it to take Brock by surprise. He was just worrying. 

"Um…." 

"What?" Frank asks with an insulted look. "We do have fans. And they sometimes leave their homes in the daytime." 

Brock didn't mean to upset him. The idea of crowds milling around them makes him nervous. He could step away and let Frankie deal with it but he also doesn't want to leave him alone either. What if a fan got overzealous? It's not something that will just go away so he'll have to figure out how to deal with it. "That's… fair. People do need sunshine unless they are vampires or the Irish. It'll be fine."

"Both do burn in the sun," Frank snorts. "It probably won't happen but I just wanted to tell you. I don't want you to get overwhelmed." He squeezes Brock's hand a little and smiles.

"Thank you. So, besides the red pandas and bats, what else did you want to see?" he asks as they walk towards the zoo. 

"I don't care. I'm easy to please, love," Frank says, looking around the park. It's another beautiful day. "I'm with you and that's all I wanna do." 

"You just want to do me," Brock smirks. "They frown on people fooling around in the zoo, though. Sorry."

"You dirty old man!" He laughs and playfully bumps into him. "We could give the animals a show." 

"Do it like they do on Animal Planet," he laughs.

"They do have gay penguins. It's really cute. They give each other pebbles." 

"Shut up! They do not!" He's dying with laughter.

"I'm pretty sure it's here they have two male emperor penguins who are mates! Don't laugh, it's cute!" Frank defends the penguins. "I mean even if they aren't here at this zoo, it's still sweet."

"Cute sure, but I still don't believe it. I've never heard this being a thing before. It's so weird." Brock shakes his head in humorous disbelief.

"If they aren't at this park, I will fly us to wherever they are and prove it. I promise it's a thing!" Brock's laughter is making it hard for Frank to keep a serious face. "Also, are you going to let me pay for this adventure?" 

Like a switch is flipped, Brock's laughter stops and he turns serious. He slowly turns and looks at Frank right in the eye, "Only if you beat me to it." 

"Don't make me win this, Rumlow," Frank smirks. He might have a plan for this already loaded in his head.

"Guess we'll see then," he replies casually. A plan forms in his head that will ensure his victory. 

"You paid for dinner and coffee," Frank pouts. 

Brock can't bear to see his baby pouting, so he wraps an arm around him and pulls him close as they walk around the corner to head to the park entrance. He kisses him lightly. "That's because you love me enough to not fight me on paying. I want to spoil you, dammit. Why won't you let me?" He chuckles. Trust that the one person who is meant for him to turn out to not be like the others. Fate has a twisted sense of humor. Bitch. 

"Because I want to _spoil you!_ You deserve to be spoiled. You take very good care of me… and I am very happy. I love you very much." Frank reaches up and pulls him to his level by his chin, "Please let me?" 

"I've been spoiled my whole life, _tesoro_. Prince, remember?" He whispers the words.

"Not by me," he sasses back.

Brock rolls his eyes before pulling back. He's not going to argue. "Fine." 

"B, if it will make you happy, you can pay." Frank doesn't like the eye roll or the withdrawal from Brock. _I'll pay you back in other ways, old man._

Sarcasm drips from his voice and a smirk graces his lips. "Oh no. No. No. No. The cub has spoken. You can pay. People are starving in places and we're arguing over who's turn it's not. By all means, little cub. Go for it." He's bullshitting here. Of course, he's not going to let Frankie know that. He likes seeing his little cub all riled up though. Forget about fifty shades of grey. He prefers fifty shades of red.

"Brock Enzo, I swear to God. If you're playing me to win, I'll… I'll do something..." Frank can feel himself getting flustered, his ears getting warm as the words he wants to say aren't appropriate for the public. "I'm not a _cub._ "

Brock grins predatorily and moves them off to the side of the sidewalk, pressing him up against the zoo wall and bracketing him in with his arms on either side of Frankie's shoulders. He lowers his voice, one that promises dark and sensual things, "Yes you are. A tiny little thing with no fear and enough spitfire in your soul to attack anything with feistiness. Also because I'm fairly certain you called me a bear once. I'm familiar with the term in porn, which would make you my cub. Twinkie cub. Twinkie _kitten_ cub."

"I'm not a _kitten,_ " he hisses back. It might be a bad move but it's worth it. He wants to kiss Brock. This Brock is **so** hot. "And I'm _not_ a cub." 

"Have you _met_ a kitten? You know, the ones that look like they recently tried to eat an electrical cord. And they'll attack anything," Brock pulls back and links their fingers together again. His other hand ticks off the similarities. "They're cute, cuddly, small, they think they're bigger than what they are, they'll pick a fight with just about anything that affronts them, and no matter how beaten down they get, they never cease to lose the little hellfire in their soul. Not to mention your snores sound like purring sometimes, which I love."

"I do not snore." 

"You're asleep. How would _you_ know? And besides, it's more like heavy breathing with a little rumble but it's totally purring. Oh, and you love being scratched and petted. Kitten."

"Fine, I do share similar traits with a _kitten_." 

" _Gattino._ Kitten."

"That's not going to stick, right? Like _tesoro_. I like that. I'll even take sparrow. _Kitten?"_ He says slipping an arm around Brock's waist for two purposes.

"You do realize _passerotto_ means ' _little_ sparrow', right? And that I happen to like cats quite a bit. Why shouldn't it stay? I like it. It totally suits you."

"Kitten is so _soft_. Dainty. I don't feel like I am dainty…" He replies brushing Brock's back pockets to check for a wallet. "And I like cats too." 

They join the line at the ticket booth, which isn't thankfully very long. It's another bright and sunny day so Brock's thankful for the shade from the park's trees. A cool breeze rustles the foliage, sending a few leaves to scatter across the cobblestones. Two squirrels chase each other around a tree trunk so fast it nearly looks as if it's only one very drunk tree rat. Somewhere a baby cries and Brock hopes that it's not in the zoo itself but somewhere on the street. He's hoping it's not very busy today at least. The feeling of something moving in his back pockets tells him that his boyfriend is being a cheat and a sneaky one at that.

Casually, Frank slips his hand in Brock's pocket to cover his plan. _Be cool Iero_. _All else fails, fall back on Plan B_. "What all do you want to see? You never said." _Smooth, casual, and cool… good one._

"I do have a preference for the birds of prey exhibits. I like the hawks; I want to see the snow leopards. Big cats are my second favorite." He feels Frank's hand slide into his back pocket and mentally laughs at himself. He doesn't keep his wallet there where it can easily be lifted by sticky fingers when he's out and about.

"You sure you don't wanna see the _bears_?" Frank tries hard to keep a straight face but can't. He's a front pocket weirdo. Guess it's Plan B time.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Panda bears, maybe. You sure you don't want to stop by the pet store after to look at some _kittens_?"

Frank slips his hand from Brock's pocket as the people in front of them clear, purposely butting in front of him. He’s almost winning, stay in the game. Distract him! "Do you think you could handle _two_ pets at once?" He tries to not show his hand but isn't very good at this. The corners of his mouth twitch as he looks back at Brock.

"I'm capable of handling all sorts of things, sweetheart. Including wayward kittens. I can _wrangle_ anything and anyone," Brock comments as they get closer to the ticket window. He's going to have to alter his plan but that's ok. 

Frank presses against Brock, being sure to slide his hand over the left pocket, crotch for a small quick grope then back out again, "I think you are overconfident on your wrangling skills, I'm quite the needy _kitten_ at times."

He places his hands firmly on Frankie’s hips and pulls him flush against his groin. Bending down, he plants a soft kiss on his neck before whispering in his ear, “I like you needy, _gattino_ , but you underestimate me. Stop looking for my wallet. You aren’t going to win this.”

He feels his face warming. "What?!" This plan is backfiring quicker than expected. He's not supposed to be here yet, this is supposed to happen at the window. He can't lose yet. "I think you might need a nap soon. When you reach a certain age... It just happens."

“Hmm, you are right. Cubs like you do need their nap time. But it’s okay, you don’t have to project your needs onto me. I think it’s cute you need a nap. I’ll even get you a red panda stuffed animal for you to nap with.”

Taking a big deep breath in then exhaling, he pushes his hips back into Brock. "I'm not a cub. And you're not going to win…" he growls quietly, "you have weak spots, B." Less covertly than he wants to be, Frank checks the right pocket and looks up with a smile and his best attempt at bedroom eyes. He leans up and kisses him before trying to pull the wallet out.

Uncaring about Frankie grabbing his wallet, he kisses him back. He makes it slow and very thorough. He’ll need his wallet out anyway. And it is good that his hands are still on his kitten’s hips. It is all part of his plan. 

Alarm bells are ringing in his head but at the moment, he's distracted. He forgets the wallet and leaves it in place. Instead, he chooses to hold Brock's wrist and push back into him again. Plan C. That will work, right? All else fails, at least he might get some kind of action from this.

The sound of someone clearing their throat nearby has Brock pulling back, dragging Frankie’s lip with his teeth just because he can. Glancing over, he sees a middle-aged woman glaring at them, arms crossed, and a disgusted look on her face. With her are two young kids in a stroller.

"If your throats dry, there's a water fountain over there." Frank snaps just a little at her cough, "Maybe the gift shop has hard candies to suck on."

Fuck, he is a damn kitten. He looks up at Brock and smiles softly. Hoping to put out the 'what, she had it coming' vibe. Brock grins back at him and pulls him closer, a hand sliding down to cup his ass cheek.

"Maybe if you weren't sucking face with **him** , you'd move with the line." Her voice is cold as she raised an eyebrow with a glare on her face that rivaled even the meanest mom. 

"You mean the line that has moved," he pauses to look down and measure the distance. "Three inches?"

"This is why you people shouldn't be allowed in public."

Brock arches an eyebrow, "Coming from the person who has a cough? What if you are infected with the flu. You should've stayed home."

"Baby, it's not her fault that her marriage is loveless and the passion died when spawn number two popped out," Frank says with a venomous undertone.

He can't help but laugh, "Spawn. That's awesome." 

"God I hate fags," She mumbles loud enough for just them to hear. "Have some respect for the kids alright?" 

"Excuse me? Cause I swear I just heard something ugly coming from you?" Frank can feel himself getting angry. He tightens his grip on Brock's wrist. "Unless I'm mistaken?"

"No one wants to watch you two suck face in public. It's gross."

"Then go home! Go find your plain country ass husband and leave!" He can't contain his anger.

"Oh no, she's probably not married, _gattino_. Nobody wants to _fanculo_ sloppy seconds."

"Probably fucked her brother to get her spawns." Frank turns to face her, "You're probably just jealous cause he gorgeous and country Tim at home has three teeth and a beer gut."

He places a gentle hand on Frank's arm. "Hang on, _tesoro_. It's not the kid's fault their mother is a homophobic bitch. Let's leave them out of this."

"Sorry." Frank backs down.

The line moves forward again, making them the second behind a gentleman who's trying _really_ hard not to listen in or get involved in the argument.

"Better suck face. You two have been apart for a few minutes." She mutters.

"Oh, darling, if you want to suck on something, I got something for you. Is that why your panties are in a twist? You can't get it, so you targeted us? I bet inside you are just a whore who is desperate for a big strong man to come in and bend her over the table." Brock makes a show of adjusting himself in such a way that isn't visually sexual. He wants to piss her off, not get arrested for indecent behavior in front of kids. 

"Wouldn't want your shit dick anyway! Come on kids, we can't go today. Don't want you to catch whatever evil these queers have." She huffs and turns to leave cursing under her breath.

"You could be me over a table..." Frank whispers.

"I might later," he kisses him quickly so they don't miss the line moving again. "My little hellcat. Feisty." 

"You're damn right," Frank grins up at him. "I hate that her kids will grow up like her." 

"Yeah… I like to hope that at some point they'll get a mind of their own and not follow in her footsteps. I like kids. I really don't want to insult them. Especially at that age when all they see are two guys being mean to their mommy," he sighs. "Normally I try to be the bigger person and set a good example for how people should react."

"I adore you, Brock." Frank couldn't help but look up with big googly eyes, "Just when I think you can't get any better..." 

"I'm sure you'll find something about me that's annoying and you hate." They move forward to the ticket window where a seasoned attendant sits there.

"There is one thing but I don't hate _you,_ " Frank reaches for his wallet, "and it's something we bicker about."

"Well, that's good to hear, I guess. I like being human," Brock casually says right before he picks up Frankie and throws him over his shoulder, an arm wrapping around his legs to keep him from falling. He pulls out his wallet with his other hand and offers his card to the attendant, "Two tickets please." 

"Brock Enzo Rumlow! This is cheating!" Frank shouts and fights back a laugh before swatting his ass. 

He doesn't bother to respond as the attendant hands him a receipt and their tickets. She's trying not to laugh herself as she wishes them a good day. Brock exits the line and heads inside, ignoring the onlookers. 

"I will have my revenge, you big mean bear!" Frank hisses.

"Sure you will, cub. But not today. You gonna behave if I set you down?" He moves near a bench just past the entrance gate.

"Yeah. I'll be good." Frank pouts, "That was a dirty trick."

He sets him down gently onto the bench and sits next to him, keeping an arm around his waist. "Do you really not like that I can lift you? In general, I mean." 

Frank gives him a confused look. "Baby, I like that you can pick me up! Why wouldn't I? Are you being silly?" 

"Probably? I only ask just because you were worried about me dropping you earlier and I _did_ just throw you over my shoulder like a kid. I just want to make sure your protesting is just for fun. It's good to be sure, that's all. Because I'm never going to stop. You can climb your eucalyptus tree anytime."

"I like that you pick me up and pack me around like a koala. I trust that you won't drop me. And if you do, I'm going to give you hell for it." Frank touches his face and kisses him, "I'll tell you if I don't like something. Like _cheating_." 

"I would never cheat on you. I'm a one-man sorta guy."

"I mean that's a relief but I mean picking me up to win something…" He can't keep the dumb puppy-like grin on his face.

"Oh that's what you meant," he says exaggeratingly. Yeah. He knew. "Yeah, that's what you call a Cheap Trick. You ready to go see the animals?"

"I am!" He stands and puts his hand out, "Come along, B!" The excitement returns and replaces the annoying lady that tried to ruin their date.

Laughing, he takes his hand and allows himself to be pulled. They grab a map and make their way to the northeast corner of the park to check out the red pandas first. On the way, Brock stops at a sidewalk vendor to get a bottle of water for them both. 

"Did you want a snack? They always have the same chips and drinks at each station, I swear."

"I'm okay for now. Do _you_ want a snack?" He raises an eyebrow.

As he pays for the waters, Brock's eyes rove over Frankie's body with heat just below the surface. They promise all sorts of things that are going into the _later_ pile. Yeah, he wants a snack alright. One that's small and utterly delicious. He's still mentally reeling at just how angry and sexy Frank got with that bitch. He definitely likes seeing him red with anger. 

Realizing that he made himself sound like the snack, smirks. The way Brock is eyeing him made the butterflies in his guts swarm. He wonders how he can still feel flustered and have butterflies, as his cheeks turn a little pink. "We should uh, go see the animals..." He stutters out. 

Nodding, he gives Frankie the other water and takes his hand again, returning to their path. They pass by the entrance to the sea lions, loud bulls barking under the sun.

"Cute little water dogs," Frank whispers to himself.

"Did you want to go see them? Or are we going directly to the red pandas and everything else is non-existent until then? We are right here but I understand if you want to go straight to jail and do not pass go first."

"We can do whatever you want, babe. I'm not going to combust into glitter if I don't see them right now." Frank makes a face then allows a small smile to peek through.

"Rainbow glitter. And this is your trip. You get to lead us."

"That's too much responsibility for a kitten or cub to handle…" His words drip with sass.

"That's why I'm paying careful attention to make sure you are making safe choices. You are a free kitten to explore however and wherever your curiosity takes you. Go chase butterflies if you want. If you want to run to the red pandas, then go for it."

"You should be more concerned for your safety cause remember cubs and kittens have sharp teeth and claws, mister," Frank replies with a glimmer of trouble in his eyes.

"Tiny teeth and itty bitty sharp claws," he cheekily says. "I'm not worried, _gattino_." They move on, seeing the building for the bats and snakes on their left.

"I'll show you tiny teeth later." He mutters. The sign makes him grin wide, "Do you have any phobias? You never mentioned anything." 

"That's because I don't think I have any when it comes to critters. All of my fears are in my head. Phobia and an intense dislike however are two different things. I'm not a fan of creepy crawly bugs in general. Never a good feeling when you've got insects crawling all over you while you are hunkered down in the jungle or some dark, gross, alleyway." Brock gave a mental shiver. The army didn't tell you that you'd either be really phobic of bugs or so tolerant of them you could live with them and not notice when they put out those recruitment ads.

"Yeah, no thanks to bugs. I figured that you have seen things that make any silly phobia seem like nothing. You're a hell of a lot tougher than me in so many ways." His voice is soft as to not draw too much attention. He squeezes his hand. His concern for Brock leaves at the sight of the pandas.

Frank grins but stays quiet while they walk through the exhibit, afraid to bother the animals even though the small children and parents were far noisier than he could be. He lets Brock subconsciously lead the way through the zoo, both of them snapping several pictures of both the animals and each other. Brock's thankful it's not a super busy day where it's too jammed packed like a sardine can. At least now he can see the snow leopard that is patrolling its enclosure as compared to trips in the past where the animals would hide from the crowds and loud noises. He empathizes with them on a deeper level where his anxiety resides. He knows what the caged feeling feels like. He snaps a few photos, making sure the flash was turned off as to not spook the animal before moving on. It's getting hotter outside so they head towards the penguins, knowing it would be at least air-conditioned. Brock smirks a look at Frankie and makes it a point to check out the grizzly bears first.

"Oh look. A cub like you," Brock sasses while pointing out the five-month-old cub running around while its mother watched carefully.

"Does that make you the momma bear?" He fires back, not looking at him but grinning wide, "You've got the… _instinct_." 

"Pfft. I'm a Daddy and we both know it." A thought enters his head and it makes a sour taste on his tongue. He wants to spit it out. "Sugar Daddy, remember." 

"No. Neither. Cause you know…" Frank loops his arm around Brock's to be closer to him, "Besides, that's a weird statement."

"No, what?" He asks, still staring at the baby bear romp and play.

"What's that?" He doesn't care about the cute bears but his _own._

He laughs softly. "No, not _no_ but, I was asking you to finish your thought. 'Cause you know…' know, _what_?" Damn sound-alike words. It was funny when something like this happened though.

"Cause I don't want a sugar daddy. I just want a partner. Boyfriend. My big scary bear." Frank hates this conversation and purposely cuts himself off. He watches the bears again then looks at Brock's face.

He tilts his head to look down at him with a lazy, teasing grin. "You think I'm scary? Does this mean you are a scaredy-cat?"

"Oh, that's cute… you're very cute." He chuckles and sticks his tongue out, he walked into that one, "I think you have the potential to be scary. Am I scared of you? Nah. You're a teddy bear."

"You just like using me for your cuddles," he says as they move on towards the penguins. "Not that I'm complaining. And, yes. I can be _very_ scary. I hope to never be like that with you."

"I hope I never have to see that side of you too." Frank pauses, "Though I do like to poke the _bear_ to see how he reacts." Frank winks and bites the tip of his tongue.

"I'll _bear_ that in mind."

"I think if the pretzel stand runs out of cheese, we can supply them with an unlimited flow of it." He shakes his head with a little chuckle, "You have me making bad puns and jokes… what's happening to the cool punk kid!"

"Well, at least you admit you are a kid."

He takes Brock's hand and pulls him to the penguins, cause he has to show him the gay penguins. "Better to be a kid than a kitten." 

"I think they are both the same…" He follows after, thankful that they get to go inside out of the heat. He'd finished his bottle of water a long time ago and he needs another. Once he steps into the building, he lifts his shirt and wipes away the sweat pouring into his eyes. "Alright show me the gay penguins." 

"Honey, if you wanna take a break and cool down in the A/C, that's fine. It's not like the penguins are gonna fly away." Frank's voice sounds a little more concerned that he wants it to be.

"I'd like that, but please don't insult the penguins. They don't like being reminded they are flightless birds. That's just rude," he laughs, taking Frank's hand. "Be nice to the tuxedo waddles." 

"It's not my fault their bones are too heavy to let them fly. They do look quite dapper in their tuxes." He sits on a bench, "I bet you look fantastic in a tux."

"I could say the same about you. I wouldn't mind seeing you all dressed up." Brock sits next to him with his elbows on his knees and watches the birds swim through the glass. "We ain't got nothing on these guys though. They're the originally trademarked tuxedos."

"Yeah, they are pretty cute. Even the weird Predator looking penguins are pretty handsome." 

"They just had some mishap with their false eyelashes, that's all. I hear the polar winds get really bad that it just blows everything crazy." Brock uses his hands to mimic his face and hair being blown away in strong winds for an added effect. 

"You better kiss me before I get up and find a new boyfriend, you giant dork." Frank's cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling.

He's grateful that the room is cool and low-lit, allowing for some sense of ambiance. Even the penguins seem to hoot and cheer him going in for a sensual kiss. This has been by far the best date he's ever been on. Nothing could ruin this. Not even the snobby bitch from earlier left a stain on this day. A hand reaches up to cup Frankie's cheek and pulls him in, pressing soft lips to his own. A small tingle sparks inside from the contact and it draws a soft noise from him. Kissing Frankie is intoxicating. He needed more.

The feeling of Brock's hand made him want to melt into him. He rests his hand on Brock's chest. He can't think, he just wants to hold on to him and never let go. He turns his body to face him making the kiss easier, giving a soft sigh in return.

Brock deepens the kiss, opening their mouths and slipping tongues inside. He loves the taste of Frankie. He enjoys mapping out his mouth as if it is any other body part. He wants to be able to memorize every inch of this man like he knew his own body. He wants to learn every touch that made him give one of the hundreds of different responses. He wants them all. The hand at Frankie's cheek caresses upwards, cupping the back of his head and pushes him closer.

The noise that surrounds them fades away as the kiss deepens. Frank's fingers curl around Brock's shirt like if he let go that he would disappear. He has never imagined he would ever feel like he is being _worshipped_ with just a kiss? Is that the right word? He knows he is in love with Brock but never believed that someone would love him back. He wants to crawl across his lap and wrap his arms and legs around him.

A Gentoo penguin squawked loudly, it's vocalization echoing in the small space as if it was tired of watching their PDA. Brock laughs into the kiss, the magic bubble popping. He pulls away and turns to the penguin who decided to interrupt them, "Don't be jealous; go get your own boyfriend!" 

Frank rests his cheek against Brock's shoulder as he laughs, "Are you picking fights with penguins?" His whole body is warm and tingly feeling as he takes a deep breath to bring himself back down to Earth. 

"Let's go find the gay penguins." His voice sounds how he feels. 

"I think it might be the one that bitched at us," Brock mutters grumpily but still in good fun. He stands and doesn't feel like crap from the sun so score one for the A/C. He needs more water. An Italian who is having trouble in the sun is like a fish drowning in water. 

"Do you feel better? Or did I make it worse?" Frank stands and adjusts his jeans and shirt. He puts his hand out, his body feels oddly conflicted; relaxed but excited.

"Bit of both," he says, taking his hand and walking over to the exhibit glass. "Better in some ways and a little... conflicted in others." He turns to the penguins and looks at them all carefully. "You can't tell which ones are male and female. Therefore I hereby declare all of you birds gay."

"If these birds could fly, they would haunt you for your presumption there, baby." He snickers. He wants to ask him about the conflict he's feeling but doesn't want to push it. "I bet there is something here that tells us who each of these little weirdos are." 

Brock shrugs, "Probably but I think I'm just going to stick with my decision and name them all numbers. Except for Mister Rude one over there. That one is named Honky. Or maybe it was that one…. Uh… dammit, all these birds look alike."

"Well, it's a good thing they don't understand English. Come on, crabby pants. I think I may need to feed you." Frank nudges him and tilts his head to the exit. He's thankful for the AC but thinks it might be time to go home.

"I am not crabby," he protests. "If I am, it's only because that bird decided to ruin our kiss. But we should head out. We still have the bats to check out."

"Love, I think you're crabby but it's cute. We see the bats and get you a snack then head home. Maybe I'll figure something out for dinner so you can relax, does that work for you?"

Brock gives him a look before heading out, flipping the bird at the birds for ruining his kiss. Honestly, he really doesn't care too much that they interrupted but it is funny to him that they did and he enjoyed pretending to be affronted. Fuzz for brains wouldn't understand the middle finger anyway. 

Frank holds Brock's hand as he strolls with him across the park. They pass the sea lions and towards the bats. The exhibit was noisy and smelled like warm water in the sun. His head fills with worry as they enjoy the climate-controlled environment before leading him outside.

"Anywhere else?" Frank asks softly. 

"The bathroom. Are you okay?" He asks as an arm slips around his boyfriend. Ever since they shared the kiss back at the penguin exhibit, he'd been thinking about a few things. Calculating. He is a little hungry but the bats were just too cute not to check out first. "You seem on edge, baby." 

"I am good. Great actually. Overthinking, I suppose." 

"Oh? Wanna talk about it or is this something you have to figure out for yourself?"

"I am overthinking something innocuous you said earlier. It's me. My head will sort itself out." Frank leans into him a little, "I'll wait here." He nods to the light pole and gives him a reassuring smile.

"Hmmmmm. No," Brock grins and drags Frankie into the bathroom with him. He goes for the 'family room' which just so happens to be a single room with a locked door.

"Babe." Frank feels his heart thumping in his chest and hisses, "We are gonna get in trouble!" Part of him is that teenage boy who is ready and willing to do this.

He gently shoves Frankie into the bathroom and locks the door quickly before turning to him with a wicked grin and pushing him to the sink. "Then I guess we need to be quick. And _you_ need to be quiet. I told you I was conflicted."

"I wasn't thinking this!" He whispers, "But ok I'm in!" 

Brock pulls him in for a hard, searing kiss, his hand yanking up Frankie's shirt just enough to run nails and the pads of his fingers up his sides before tweaking his nipples. He's been wanting this since Honky rudely stopped them. He figured they could do a quickie in less than ten minutes with both of them being so responsive to the other. He quietly moans into the kiss.

His head swims a little at the touch of Brock's hand on his skin, the sensation of nails on his side and nipples causes his skin to rise with goosebumps. He kisses him back with the same intensity, his hands immediately push through his hair. He always wants Brock. He needs him. He ditches the idea of Brock's hair for his chest and stomach; he needs skin. His fingers fumble with the hem of his shirt as he gets lost in the kiss. 

As much as he wants to be spending all the time in the world taking apart Frankie and putting him back together, they don't have the luxury this time. Breaking the kiss, he turns him around to face the mirror. He attacks the scorpion, it really is his favorite, with his lips while his hands unbutton Frankie's pants, shoving them and his underwear down just past the curve of his ass. He does the same with his next.

"Touch yourself if you need to but I want you to come in the sink. That's your only job. And watch me fuck you." His voice is rough and ragged. He'd been thinking about this for the last thirty minutes, ever so thankful his jeans are tight enough to keep him in check. Now that he's freed from the confines of his clothing, his cock swells even more. He shoves two of his fingers in his mouth, getting them as wet as possible before slowly inserting them.

Frank doesn't have time to think or speak before Brock's fingers were inside of him and forcing out a soft moan.

"God, baby, you are so damn irresistible. Been wanting to do this since the damn penguins. You drive me fucking crazy, _tesoro_." He rapidly pumps his fingers in and out, making sure to hit his prostate. He'd rather use more than spit as lube but he's not shoving soap up in a place where it does not belong.

"Fuck. It's all I could think about too. Just want you to fuck me." Frank moans out as his fingers grip the sink. He's trying to keep his knees from buckling under him. His head drops to his chest as he lets another moan out. He swallows hard and looks into the mirror. He likes the idea of coming untouched but this isn't the time. He needs to come quickly and like he's told. He keeps one hand on the sink using it as an anchor against the push and pull of Brock's fingers inside of him, he finds himself starting to fall into his head. 

Instead, he focuses his attention on his cock and the words Brock said, come in the sink and watch. He's unsure if he wants to see his face when he comes; he would rather focus on Brock's. It is the hottest thing to watch, as he falls apart inside of him. He spits in his hand as a soft moan turns into a growl, "Fuck Brock. I need you to fuck me."

He drops his head and inhales before looking back up at the feeling of Brock pulling away. Frank could hear his hand snaking inside of his pants pocket and pulling out a condom. The crinkle of foil and the smooth tearing sound of the wrapper were music to his ears; he gripped his cock in anticipation. 

It's a good thing that Brock took to keeping at least two condoms in his pants pocket since their first day together. With both of them having powerful reactions to each other and hair-trigger libidos, needless to say, they were having sex quite a bit. He rapidly digs around his pants pocket for the stupid foil, tearing it open with his teeth and pocketing the trash. He's not leaving any evidence behind. He quickly rolls the wrapper on and pushes forward, sinking into the tight perfect heat he's come to love so much.

Frank folds over the sink slightly at the push from Brock inside of him. He knows he needs to be quiet but he can't help whine a little louder. His hand grips his cock harder before starting a slow stroke. He clenches around Brock's thick cock.

He pulls all of the way out, leaving only the tip in before slamming back in, starting a hard and rapid pace. One hand keeps a firm grip on Frankie's hip while the other makes its way up to rest around his throat. Not doing anything but just resting, the sight in the mirror makes him thrust harder. He doesn't keep it there, however, moving up again to cover Frankie's mouth to muffle his beautiful sounds.

"Love those noises you make, baby. Especially when you moan around my cock," he pants in Frankie's ear. His hips never stopping their assault, waves of pleasure build in his groin. "This way you don't have to worry about being too loud. And I can still hear you."

Frank speeds his strokes to match Brock's unforgiving pace. His heart hammers hard in his chest and forces his body to rush to the ending faster than he wanted. Feeling Brock's hand at his throat fills his head with all kinds of ideas but the hand over his mouth makes his knees buckle just a little. The forced silence is something he's never done before and it's fucking hot. He tightens his grip around his own cock, wishing it wasn't his hand as he tries to push back. The hand on his hip stops him instead and he growls into Brock's hand. His eyes watch Brock work behind him and cause a clenching feeling in his stomach that only tightens. He's closer to coming than he expected. 

Brock buries his face in Frankie's neck to let out a restrained moan, eyes staying on their image in the mirror. He's close. The public setting, Frankie's face from behind his hand, the tightness of Frankie's ass around his dick, and those soft moans are bringing him closer and closer.

He wants to say a hundred things. He's not good at dirty talk but he just needs to speak. The feeling of Brock fucking him, filling his ass with that thick cock, he wishes he could feel Brock come inside of him. He grips and twists his cock at the thought. He's going to come. He tightens hard around Brock and whines into his hand.

"Fuck baby, I love you. Cum for me." 

His hips jerk off rhythm as he holds his breath and cums. He's moaning loud but the sounds drowned make him thrust forward.

Brock whispers a string of curses against his neck as his hips falter before stilling and groaning quietly as he explodes into the condom. He _re_ ally needs to get them tested. He's panting hard as he slowly pulls out and lets Frankie go.

"I love you," he kisses every inch of Frankie's skin he can reach.

Frank is panting as he leans against the sink. His legs are too wobbly to hold him just yet.

"Holy hell, B." His voice shaking before taking a deep breath, "I love you too!" His head pulls him back to the fact they are in a bathroom. His cheeks go from a pinkish glow to a brighter red. He pulls his underwear and jeans up. "We need to leave..."

As he ties off the condom and tosses it into the toilet, he glances at Frankie. "Wash up a bit to get the sweat off and hide the fact that we probably reek of sex. Then you'll slip out first after making sure the coast is clear then I will follow a few seconds after."

"Fuck you're right…" He didn't even think about that. He pulls paper towels, wiping the sweat from his body. He watches Brock out of the corner of his eye. His confidence is magnetic and one of the things he loved about Brock. He turns to the mirror and fixes his hair, flattens his shirt, and exhales. 

As he stands at the toilet, Brock takes the few moments while relieving himself, to catch his breath and slow it down back to normal. When he's done, he cleans and flushes then waits for Frankie to finish at the mirror.

"You look perfect. Now move so I can wash my hands." 

"Yeah, _okay_." He steps aside and shakes his head. He's anything other than perfect. Taking a step back towards the door, he waits until Brock is done. He's nervous about the next part but trying to keep his cool. 

"Did you want me to go first? You look guilty, sweetheart," he says as he dries his hands.

"I don't look guilty!" The tone in his voice speaks the truth, "I'll be fine. I pretend to be fine all the time." He takes a deep breath and exhales before taking a step forward to stand in front of Brock, "Love you, you dirty old man." He leans up and kisses him softly. 

"I love you too, sweetheart. Hurry up, time is of the essence here." He gently nudges him towards the door. 

"Yes sir." He smiles as he opens the door and checks to see if he can escape. Once the coast is clear he slips out, closing the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and realizes they never decided where to meet. Guess he'll have to find his short ass. He moves towards the gift shop area. 

Brock waits thirty seconds before slipping out of the bathroom himself. He gets a few questionable looks, people probably wondering why he was in the family bathroom without a small child but he paid them no mind. He searches around but he can't find Frankie. The crowd isn't very thick which is good but there's still no sign of Frank. A knot of anxiety builds in the pit of his stomach. Searching for people in a crowd is tough even with military toys to help. Searching for Frankie, who can probably fit into a _box_ is worse than a needle in a haystack. His hands subconsciously flex, scenarios running through his head and none of them with a positive outcome. He turns and spots the gift shop. He wanted to go in there but he couldn't remember if he mentioned it to Frankie or if it was just something in his head so he could surprise him. It's a chance. Otherwise, he's going to go to the front of the zoo and force them to make an announcement or something. Hopefully, Frankie's around, maybe smoking somewhere? He'll check the shop first and then the designated areas for the cancer sticks.

Frank's leaning against a light post just to the left of the gift shop between the shop and the ticket booth. He is watching people passing as he waits for Brock. He's probably worrying. He watches three girls across the way eyeing him; fans, hopefully. It might be a good time to find Brock. The last thing he needs is his boyfriend to go all Costner to his Houston and pack him out. Or worse, but he might not be carrying today.

Brock's eyes dart back and forth as he crosses the sidewalk path to the gift shop and relief bursts through his chest at spotting his boyfriend leaning against a light post. Nerves get the best of him and he goes over, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hey!" Frank says as he hugs him back, "I couldn't find you!" He strokes his back already knowing he was panicking just from how Brock hugged him.

"Why didn't you wait for me," he asks softly. "It was just thirty seconds." 

"I thought I looked suspicious if I stood outside of the bathroom." He looks up then kisses his chest, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry." 

Pulling back he takes a deep breath before smiling. "It's okay, I just can't find you in a crowd and my stupid twisted brain jumped to conclusions. Now that I think about it, the probability of you being kidnapped or killed is slim.

"Yeah. They'd return to sender me, C.O.D. me back to you." Frank blinks, "Who's going to kill me?"

"I never said it was rational thinking. It's… an army thing. If you can't find your teammate then there are only two outcomes generally speaking. Even the kidnapping thing usually ends in torture and death. It's a default thought pattern, sorry. It's something I'm working on."

"Don't be sorry. If I was taller I would kiss your beautiful head and face." Frank sighs, "I'm ok. You're ok, right?"

"Yes. We're ok. I should have called you or something. Oh well. Live and learn I guess. Wanna go into the gift shop? See if there's a red panda plush for you?" He's smiling again.

"I would love to." He doesn't argue, it's not important. He forces his hand in Brock's. "Maybe there's a _bear_ for you." He grins up at him like he's up to no good.

Brock snorts before walking them into the store, "If anything I'll get something more badass. Like the hawk. Falcons are pretty awesome too."

"That is true," he says scanning the clean shelves with shirts and other apparel. He knows he needs to stick close to Brock. He notices the same three girls wander into the shop and it puts him on alert.

Brock finds a few trinkets that interest him. "Don't leave the store without telling me, okay? Just for now. But I'm not going to hover while you shop. I see a few shiny things in the form of keychains that I'm going to check out. Okay?"

"Okay, babe. I'll wander but stay in the shop. Don't go crazy." Frank chuckles, "You're not a _bear_ , you're a crow!"

"I'm a hawk with laser eyes and will hunt you down, kid," he laughs and heads towards the spinner display.

Frank snickers as he moves to the back of the store. He is aware that he is being watched. He picks up a coffee cup and sets it down then moves on. Noticing the girls pick up anything he touches, he smirks. His eyes land on a little polished bear that he has to have. He picks it up and keeps it in his hand. It's small and a little heavy, but not obtrusive. Something he could leave for Brock to find later. He makes his way to the register. 

"Can't pay for it if I am sneaky enough." He says quietly to himself.

The three girls are now four. 

After searching half the spinner rack, Brock finally finds a little keychain with a red panda on it. It's tiny and adorable, just perfect for Frankie. He steps away to check out the plush. He likes the idea that Frankie would sleep with something that reminded him of Brock when he was alone. If he had his way Frankie would never sleep alone without him but that's just not a viable option yet. He quickly grabs a large bear plush and wants to buy it but he just can't. Too big. Probably wouldn't fit in one of the duffles his boyfriend carries around. He doesn't like the rest of the things, mentally making a note to shop online later, and heads to the check-out line where Frankie is standing. He holds up the keychain, letting it sparkle under the fluorescent lights. "Got something for you. It's cute, just like you." 

Frank turns to see that adorable grin on Brock's face, "It's pretty!" He steps away and heads towards the door, his eyes dart around the shop for his followers as he tucks the small blue bag in his pocket. He lost them, shit. He looks back at Brock to tell him he was stepping outside, who is distracted at the register as he pulls his wallet out to pay for his things.

As he's being handed his card back, Brock sees his boyfriend step away and start to head out or at least wait for him by the door. "Hang on, Frankie," he calls as he gets a receipt to sign. "I'm almost done." 

Frank hesitates and turns to Brock. He can feel how nervous he looks. He can't find the girls. They just don't disappear. He smiles warmly at Brock as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, "I'm not going far B." Frank puts his hand on the door and smiles at his boyfriend as Brock approaches, "Are you ready?"

"For you, always," he says winking. "What did you want to do next? Go home or get a proper lunch and not a quick 'snack'? Not that we did much eating."

"Home, drop that off and lunch? _Actual_ food sounds fantastic to me!" He grins up at him. He is worried as he pushes the door open and steps outside making sure Brock was behind him.

"Are you Frank? Like Frank Iero?" A young girl asks from the left side of the path. Frank jumps slightly not expecting it.

"Yeah..." He's been found.

The bag in Brock's hand crinkles from the fact that this kid just spooked Frankie, and that's not a safe thing, and because she is a fan if she knows his boyfriend's name. He resists the urge to go on offense. Frankie said this might happen. "Frankie…." he breathes his name under his breath. He places a hand on his lower back but otherwise just stands there, reading and assessing the situation.

"Can I have your autograph?" She asks with a big smile."I saw you last year at Warped Tour; when you and Gerard _kissed._ " Her voice gets smaller at the end.

"Yeah! Of course!" Frank smiles at her and signs the little book she has, "Thanks for coming to our shows!" 

Two more girls have joined her now. He smiles at them and then looks up at Brock. 

The first girl steps away and says loudly, "It's him! He's even got a bodyguard!" 

Five more teenage girls round the corner with three in tow. 

"Oh my god!" One of the herd shrieks as a camera flashes causing Frank to flinch.

The girls push towards him, shoving items in front of him. All of them chatter loudly with high pitched voices.

"Is Gerard here?" A girl asks as she pushes forward and touches Frank's arm.

"I… I don't know." He can feel himself panicking a little.

The sound of the crowd grows louder and makes him feel like they are going to overrun him. He is tense and wants to go. If he is stressed, then Brock is. 

Brock can't do this. Simple as that. He's not sure what he can do right now to diffuse the situation. He's not trained for this, doesn't know if it's even okay for him to step in, nor does he think him doing so would solve the problem. The crowd makes him feel trapped and each unwelcome touch on Frankie just sets his blood ablaze. Conflicting emotions of fight or flight run through him. He doesn't want to leave Frankie alone to deal with this. He should help him, right? He's the "bodyguard". He can do this. Unless it's going to somehow embarrass Frankie in front of his fans. He was never good at public relations. This is why he has a gun and not a badge. Killing people is so much easier than this. He can't breathe. And he knows he's shaking. He needs to _do_ something.

"Ladies! I have to go." Frank says, raising his voice. He can hear the stress in it, "We gotta go! I'm very sorry." Frank looks at Brock and nods. A random girl hugs him and he can't help but cringe as she begs him to stay. Their voices turn into pathetic pleas for him to stay. His hand goes back to find Brock's. 

Brock growls loudly, the bag squeezed to death in his clenched fist. This is his tipping point. A few light touches here and there were one thing but this bitch is going to lose a limb if she doesn't back off. "Move. Away. Now." 

Frank's eyes go wide. That voice is not happy. He grips Brock's hand, trying to keep him cool. He isn't okay. "You gotta move!" he says before moving forward and taking Brock with him. His heart feels like it dropped out of his body. What if this is too much for Brock? He wades through the girls and prays they don't follow.

Sending a few girls a _very_ pissed off look, Brock moves and wraps his arm around Frankie's shoulder. The move is more than just possessive; it's strategic. Any of the girls who decided they wanted to rush them would have to meet the brick wall of him first. The added benefit that he was mistaken for being a bodyguard, only further proved his right to be there and touching him like this. He steers them to the exit at a rather brisk pace. The faster they get out and disappear the better. He can't exactly resort to violence here so he's not sure what he'll do if they are stupid enough to follow.

"I'm so sorry," is all Frank can say over and over again. It's in a soft voice just barely louder than a whisper long after they exit the zoo. He doesn't remember getting as far away as they were. Nor does he remember if he was speaking his apologies out loud. It wasn't the horrible woman or a bird that ruined the date. It was him.

He's never been so thankful that he lives less than two blocks away from the zoo. He needs to be home and cuddling Frankie as soon as possible. His poor sweet boyfriend hasn't stopped apologizing since they left and he hasn't bothered to stop or correct him. He in no way thought it was Frankie's fault but there were some times where you just let it go and process before addressing things. Brock stops in the middle of the sidewalk about halfway to his apartment and turns. He needs to… he's not sure but he knows what he wants. He wants to carry him.

"Frankie. C'mere," he says softly. He turns around and kneels, offering his back for a ride. It's a little less weird to be walking down the street like this versus like a child. Plus he's able to see properly and not trip. Not to mention Frankie's got to be drained with exhaustion. "Hop on." 

Frank doesn't think, he just does what he's asked. He hasn't gotten on someone's back like this since he was small, well even smaller. He thinks he's stopped talking as he wraps his arms around Brock. He just wants to go home. His other home. Not Jersey. He just wants Brock.

Having such a now-familiar weight in his arms somehow actually makes him breathe easier. Taking care of another, especially Frankie, eases a lot of the tension in him over what happened. It allows him to process what transpired without too many emotional reactions. He thought about what he could've done better. Should he have left him to deal by himself or should he have intervened? He wonders why he didn't act quicker. Why didn't Frankie just lie to the girls? As soon as he thought that, he berated himself. Of course, Frankie wouldn't lie. These are his fans. And he's a good, pure, soul that loves each one of those girls for supporting him. He's not after fame and fortune. He loves what he does and the people who support his music. It's one of the things Brock loves about him so much.

Frank rests his head on Brock. Is he going to ask him to leave? Why didn't he just say something sooner… 'cause he is an idiot. He didn't want to ruin this. But he did anyway. He closes his eyes and tries not to let himself get too emotional. He wants to cry but that might be weird. It might make Brock ditch him faster. Maybe this is why he isn't meant to be happy? He feels his eyes betray him and a few tears slip out and down his cheeks.

Brock's rounding a corner and waiting for the dumb crosswalk when an idea occurs to him. It might not be the best idea right at the moment but it's worth a shot. He turns down E 64th St and walks several blocks towards his destination. Frankie's been so quiet on his back, he wonders if his love fell asleep. Which would be adorable. Just before they arrive he shakes Frankie to get his attention.

" _Tesoro_." 

"Yeah." His voice is small and thin. He opens his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, he was listening to Brock breathing and the sounds of the city trying to calm himself down and get back to center.

"Am I okay to put you down?" They were within sight of his destination and it is a beautiful sight. His mouth watered.

"Yeah of course you can." He replies with uncertainty, "Sorry if I got heavy. I just got lost in my head."

"Not at all. We're just here," he says kneeling so Frankie can slide off. The restaurant sign is calling him. Yeah, it's a little upscale for their current state but he honestly doesn't give a shit. They're both hungry and too exhausted to cook. This is near his place and the fact that it's Italian makes it comfort food.

Frank slides off and adjusts his clothing. It probably looked weird to passers-by but whatever. He looks around, not exactly sure what they were doing. The restaurant, maybe? Because neither of them wore women's clothing and Brock doesn't seem like a Chase bank customer.

"Food?" 

"Yeah. Will you be my date?" Brock smiles and offers his hand. Forget about holing up in his bedroom, he was going to finish their date dammit. He's not going to let a short and mild panic attack ruin this for them. He's going to cuddle his love in some booth and eat pasta and get fat.

"I will always be your date," he says, taking his hand and giving him a tired smile. He is making it a goal to let it be in the past. Brock hasn't put him in a cab and shipped him home yet. _Don't jinx it, Iero_. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. I've decided that we should finish our date instead of letting what happened bring us down. I love you. And I know you aren't okay right now and that's ok. We'll be okay. I'm sorry, " he pulls Frankie into a tight hug.

"You… didn't do anything wrong. But I am happy to finish our date anywhere with you," Frank says into his chest. "I'm fine. I'll be ok. I'm worried about you."

"I think we need to talk about it, but first we are going to get fat on pasta and cuddle. And drink and relax and then go home. Okay." He cups both of Frankie's cheeks and wipes his tear streaks before kissing him softly. 

He carefully places his hand on Brock's wrists and kisses him back. He isn't sure if Brock could even _get_ fat on anything. Trying not to let the worst-case scenario get the best of him, he replies softly, "Okay." 

"I love you." He hugs Frankie again before walking them to the restaurant and getting a booth in the back. Yeah, they're both underdressed. Anyone who dares to complain can go fuck themselves.

He follows Brock into the restaurant and immediately feels nervous. He looks like a punk kid but Brock doesn't. He clings to his arm a little as they are seated in the booth. Frank can feel the waitress giving him a look, the same look that twatface gave him. He scoots into the booth and waits for Brock to sit before being needy again.

Brock sits and pulls Frankie into the curve of his body so they are touching as close as possible with his arm around the lithe body. He smiles at the waitress who hands them their menus before leaving.

"What are you in the mood for," he says into Frankie's hair.

"I don't even know. I'll eat anything." His eyes scan the menu. He lets his body relax a little and rests a hand on Brock's thigh. "Have you eaten here before?" 

"No. I passed by it a few times but never found a reason to come in by myself. This is more of a place for dates and groups of two or more." He looks over the menu. 

"That surprises me for some reason. But I'm glad I get to be your reason for coming here." His reply is soft and sweet while in his head he grumbles. The menu is half English and half Italian; he already knows he is going to butcher words. 

Frank picks his food at random. He's unsure if he is going to like it but at this point, he would eat anything. "I know nothing about wine. I drink what's given to me and don't question it. Will you pick?" He asks without looking up but blushing. As the waitress takes Brock's order, Frank takes a breath. He is okay with embarrassing himself as he orders his food. His fluent and very Italian boyfriend makes him look like he might not speak English but at least he loves him, still. He sits quietly next to Brock for a moment, "She is trying very hard not to judge us. It's kinda cute." 

"Not as cute as you are," Brock's voice is muffled from nuzzling Frankie's hair.

"My hair can't smell that good." He whispers as he shifts his body to touch more of Brocks. If he could, he would curl into his lap, like a damn kitten.

"You always smell good to me. And honestly I just like touching you. And your hair is soft."

He feels the same. His heart flutters a little as he rests his hand on Brock's chest, "I don't wanna leave you.. like at all." The words were supposed to stay in his head but slip out. 

Brock's free hand comes up to tilt Frankie's chin up so he can plant a soft kiss before whispering, "I feel the same. I don't want you to leave either."

"I know that you probably have your own life and Jack. And I don't want to interrupt that," He can't seem to raise his voice any louder than a whisper, "and I know that my _life_ makes _yours_ more complicated. But I'm willing to do anything I can to make it work " 

Brock frowns as he listens. Why would he think that his life is more complicated because of Frankie? He thinks for a second before determining that he must be referring to earlier. "Sweetest, I worked at a job because I was bored. My brother and sister have their own lives with the family business that I'm not sure I want to be a part of. Hell Jack's the only family member here in the States anyway. You aren't interrupting anything. As for earlier, well. That was simply because I didn't know what to do. I panicked and I froze and I'm sorry. I didn't know how to handle the situation and I didn't want to do something to embarrass you or upset the fans. I'm sorry, _Tesoro."_

"Why are you apologizing to me? It's not your fault that they seemed to be roaming the streets like a wild pack. I worry about you before I worry about myself, please don't apologize. I'm not used to being 'famous'. You handled it just fine. I'm sorry they assumed you were my bodyguard." He touches his chin and kisses him again, "You couldn't embarrass me even if you tried. _And_ they were not being respectful of my bubble, so they can't complain."

"Well… I didn't pull a gun this time, right? Score one for me," Brock laughs softly. "I think I would have been a little less panicky if I knew what I could and couldn't do."

"It's progress!" Frank grins with a playful gleam in his eyes, "I trust you and your judgment. Maybe don't punch a fourteen-year-old in the face… unless she deserves it." He feels a wave of relief. Brock isn't upset with him. He hated that he felt so needy. Nothing had changed between them except maybe Brock understood what a life with him would be like. 

A light flickers alive in Frank's head, should he try it and see what Brock's response is?

Brock laughs with the mental image of himself punching that one girl who dared to hug _his_ boyfriend. He doesn't think he would. He's not a fan of hurting kids and he's generally respectful of the ladies. His mother taught him right. "I would never hit a kid. At least, not when I'm in my right mind. And even then I probably wouldn't. I'm fairly certain if I did, my mother would magically appear out of nowhere and kick my butt."

"She is just waiting around every street corner waiting for you to act out of line… then boom and she's gone." Frank snickers at the idea of what he imagines Brock's mother to look like smacking the back of his head. "Feel like I would love your mother. More than I'm probably allowed to."

Brock pulls away with an arched eyebrow and a quirk of the lips. "Allowed to? What? What do you mean?" 

"I mean I'm just your _boyfriend_ at this point but everything you've shared with me, I love your Mom. Like maybe more cause she made you." Frank has a small smile as he draws small circles into Brock's arm, "It could be seen as too soon. Overeager?" 

He shrugs. Before he can respond however the waitress returns with their drinks and some appetizers. 

The smell of the pesto and artichoke hearts is mouthwatering to Frank and he knew that Brock _had_ to feel the same way. Frank sits quietly next to Brock as they eat. He wants to babble about nothing important, he wants to tell Brock about his mom lying to him to get him to eat weird vegetables. Or how he was scared to try new food because of his stomach issues but remembers he never mentioned it to Brock before. No time like the present, plus it might look odd for not mentioning it. 

"When I was a kid, I refused to eat vegetables," He offers as an ice breaker, "like I would have to sit at the table after dinner was done then get sent to bed and grounded. I hated them."

Brock swallows his bite and wipes his mouth with a napkin. These were fantastic. "Really? You're doing pretty good with these so I assume it's something you grew out of. Why didn't you like them?"

"These are delicious." He replies, covering his mouth, "Two reasons, one I was a kid and vegetables were gross but I also found out that I have a stomach thing and food was the enemy. "

"What? Really?" he asks, concern in his voice.

"Yeah. Certain foods make me sick. Very sick." He smirks, "It's kinda funny cause my brother used to call me a ghoul in all my kid photos I was pale and skinny. I hated that nickname." 

"What foods do you need to avoid and now you have to tell me about your brother."

"His name is James. He's three years older than me. He is a cop. Got a wife and a baby on the way. He used to torture me as a kid." Frank takes another bite.

"Your… Brother… is a _cop_ ," he replies carefully. 

"Yeah? Is that _ok_?" Frank questioned, "Just a beat cop."

Brock can't help the incredulous look. Any cop is enough of a lawman to put him and his _family business_ out of business. Granted it isn't something that is well known and it's not like his last name had any ties to his Family name. But still, it is dangerous. He isn't going to give up Frankie for that. However, he needs to take more precautions if he wants to continue dating the brother of his enemy.

"I'm not close to him…" he offers.

Brock looks around to ensure there were no people close by enough to hear him before he leans over and whispers, "Any kind of cop finds out my relations to the mob and not only will I go to prison but they'll probably put us all on death row. _If_ I survive my family finding out that it was through you that they get the law on them. When you meet my parents, please _refrain_ from mentioning it."

"I won't… I don't want," he sputters not thinking about Brock's family. He doesn't know much but enough about his past. He nods just keeping his mouth shut. He's an idiot.

"I know. It's something we'll talk about when we get home, okay? Thank you for telling me."

 _I regret saying a fucking word._ "Ok," he replies quietly with a nod. 

"Good boy," Brock mutters without thinking. 

He doesn't react the way he wants too. Instead, he sits quietly. Thankful he ordered the cheapest thing on the damn menu because he may not be able to eat so it won't be a waste. He could drink, maybe. 

"You've got brain gremlins again," he mutters, eating another artichoke heart. "What's wrong, _passerotto_?" 

"I'm good. Just enjoying the quiet and cool air." He fibs a little, it's a partial truth. It's not a lie. It's _not_ a lie… he is just protecting himself. Maybe Brock. Well, so much for my plans.

Brock gives him a questioning look. That was a non-answer if he ever heard one but he lets it go. Maybe Frankie wasn't ready to tell him yet. And even if he didn't, that was ok. He needed to remember he can't force people to give up their secrets. Nor can he demand information. He's thankful when their main course arrives. 

"Red meat, nightshades, and Gouda. They make me sick." He says quietly. 

"Aww, I love Gouda cheese and red meat. Don't care about nightshades."

" _You_ don't have to give them up, baby. You mean you don't love eggplants or potatoes?" Frank teases, "It won't kill me if I eat them." He pauses before adding quietly, "My sister's a teacher. She's two years younger than me." 

"Potatoes are nightshades?!" 

"Yeah, same with sweet potatoes. Tomatoes and peppers too." 

Brock flushes as he eats his gnocchi. He doesn't know what nightshades are. He figured it was some sort of herb or spice. Did that mean Frankie would be sick eating tomato sauce?

"Not a lot of people don't know what I'm talking about when I tell them that." He says between bites of his salad. He notices that his boyfriend is a little pinker than before, "Most people think Nightmare Before Christmas."

"Not gonna lie. I did too. And now I'm laughing that the mad doctor was sick over something healthy."

"Right?" He smiles warmly at Brock, "Tomato soup is deadly nightshade… watch out!" 

The rest of the meal is quiet, the waitress returning several times to check on them. Frank spends more time trying to fill the silence with quiet chatter. He makes sure to stay close to Brock, wanting to reassure himself that he was going to be ok. At the end of the meal, and without a word about having Brock pay, he couldn't help but be curious at the cost of the meal. He keeps himself in check by making plans to repay Brock if he lets him.

The two men walk quietly enjoying the beautiful sunset, hearing the sound of traffic and people surrounding them. Brock stops to offer a lift, which Frank happily agrees even if he worries in his head that he weighs too much. He holds on tight and lets Brock carry him home. To Brock's home. Maybe his home? 

Entering his apartment is a lot harder than Brock thought with his koala of a boyfriend on his back but he manages to get his handprint on the biometric scanner and still keep a hold on Frankie so he doesn't slide off. He's laughing hard because at this point he really should have just let him down. He does however as soon as he steps inside; right onto the couch.

Frank sits quietly on the couch and feels his body fill with anxiety. He crosses his legs and waits for Brock to fill the dead air in the apartment. The feeling of the trinket stabbing him in the thigh reminds him of the good and bad day.

Brock flops on the couch next to him, pulling out the keychain in his pocket and offering it to Frankie. "What do you wanna do now? TV? Movie? Play the guitar?"

He takes the keychain with a smile, "I love this." He digs in his pants and pulls out the little bear and offers it to Brock in a closed hand, "I dunno. A movie could be fun? Do you want me to play?" 

"I'm happy with whatever you want to do," he takes the small object and laughs at the bear. "You goof. I love you." 

"A little thing to make you think about me, if or when I'm not here..." He grins, "Maybe even make it feel less like a hotel and more like a home?" 

Brock grins lopsidedly before laying his head down in Frankie's lap. "I like the sound of that. Did you know I didn't buy most of this furniture?"

Frank runs his fingers through Brock's hair, "Why do you keep it, baby? Wait, where did it come from?" 

"Okay, technically I _bought_ it but it was the staging furniture that realtors put in to sell it. And I keep it because up until I met you, I was barely here. Now the bed itself is my personal one that I bought a while back."

"I like your bed. Is the furniture even your _style_?" His fingertips carefully massaging his scalp, "Did you just sleep here?" 

"I don't think I have a style? I mean, I like the bathroom? And yeah, I crashed here when I was in between jobs." Brock closes his eyes at the feeling of his head being massaged.

"You have a style. I guess the only way to put it, is how would you furnish a house if you bought one? The furniture is nice though." 

"Honestly I don't care. Not about colors or shape. As long as it's good quality and meets my needs. It's gotta be comfy. Things like this can be replaced, you know? Especially if something happens. I would really be upset if I somehow accidentally shot my _bed_ but not about the rest of this stuff. It's just… stuff."

"That's fair. Most of my things are from Ikea. So, I suppose I can't say anything." He leans forward and kisses his forehead, "This might be the only time I can kiss your forehead." 

Brock tips his head up and smiles at him. He's really comfy like this. Especially as long as Frankie keeps running his nails through his hair. He sighs, content. "You can kiss me anywhere and anytime." 

"I like the sound of that." He moves his fingers to the sides of Brock's head, rubbing his temples and raking his nails softly over his skin. "As far as a movie? I will watch anything, I don't care. Like an old man, I _may_ or may not rest my eyes." He wonders if the conversation from lunch has been forgotten which would make him happy. "Also, do you have people who live below you? I've never thought about that until just now?"

"Hmmm… yeah but I don't care about them. I think the insulation between the apartments is thick anyway. Nobody's ever complained." Brock turns his head and reaches for the remote on the coffee table. He offers it to Frankie. "Put it on whatever. At the very least it's good background noise. I've got all the cable. Not entirely by choice, you can thank Jack for that. I do watch a few things when I get bored though."

"I only watch, and I use the term watch loosely, tv here. What shows do you watch?" He reluctantly takes the remote and finds the first movie channel and picks it, an action movie that has just started. Frank places the remote on the back of the couch for easy reach, "I haven't actually watched a movie in a long time." 

"You and me both. I usually just throw on something like 'Cops' or 'Criminal Minds' on."

"I think I've seen Criminal Minds before. Cute nerdy doctor guy?" Frank asks, trying to remember.

"Mmhmm. Smart twinkie. Not as nice as you because I'm fairly certain Reed would outbrain everybody and yeah no thanks. But I like watching it because it's close to home."

"You lived in DC? You don't seem the type…" he hesitates, wondering if he understands what he means.

"I was meaning that the military and the FBI are kind of close on the spectrum. It's a familiar sort of thing. However, I _was_ in D.C while in the military for several years before moving to New York. But the FBI is in Langley, Virginia by the way." He grins like a doof.

"I knew that…" Frank smiles, "Why New York?"

"Family business and the job at Monarch." 

"Oh, yeah. Makes sense." Frank kicks himself for even asking. 

"Speaking of which…. Now that we aren't where people can overhear me speaking about the mafia," he laughs softly. "We can finish our talk."

"Yeah. We can." He replies, taking a deep breath. _Shoulda kept your mouth shut, Iero._ "Where _were_ we?" 

"We were talking about your brother being a cop and how he could land me in prison." Brock stretches a little before getting comfy in his lap.

"Ah yeah, that's right. The idea that not only scares me but fills me with questions and other _things_." He replies, the most honest he's been about the topic.

His voice drops, getting more lazier the longer he's laying on Frankie. He really likes his head being scratched. "Hmm? Like what?" 

"Babe, I had three statements there… but if you're tired. We can wait." Frank's voice shows a hint of stress 

He snorts softly. "If you don't want to talk about it then just say so. You said you had questions and _things_. I want to help."

"It's an important conversation that we need to have. What did you do for your family? I know small things but you don't talk about them unless it's Jack or your mom," Frank speaks quietly.

Brock grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, brushing his lips across his hand. "I don't talk about it because you don't ask, _tesoro_. I don't mind it and I'm happy to answer. It's not taboo or anything, other than keeping it out of the public's ears. Well. It's kind of taboo, I mean I'm not exactly spouting off about it every chance I get. You'd be the second person outside of my family to know. But yeah." He pauses to let Frankie process that and respond.

"I don't ask cause it's not like asking what prep school you went too. And I don't know _how_ to ask questions without feeling like a dick." Frank thinks about the "second person" comment and frowns at the idea of that asshole knowing and being a danger to Brock. "It's the ugly things that are important. That dirty laundry that no one wants to air out." 

"I like your dick," Brock quips with a terrible eyebrow waggle and a grin.

"Feeling's mutual. One might even say it crosses into love."

"Ditto. But yeah. You can ask. If it's not something I think you should know, like details, I won't tell you. Honesty is important but there are some things that I think you are better off not knowing. Are you okay with that? I mean, if you really push it, I'll tell. But I don't want to traumatize you or something."

"I trust your judgment. I'm not a fragile flower. Though today makes me reassess that statement. But I know what Jack does, roughly. Don't need to know more there. What was or is your job?" 

"You know how I said I was the Prince?" he asks. "That's not just a moniker. It might as well be my title. My father is _the_ Don. The Godfather. The Head of the Family. And I'm next in line to take over when he dies."

"Is that something you want?" Frank asks, more worried about Brock's safety than his curiosity.

"It's a lot of political bullshit. I was raised in the life so it's second nature and I'm good at it. I hate politics though. I won't be alone thankfully. My brother and sister will be my right and left hands. Brooke is already in charge of the family finances. She handles all of the legal and non-legal affairs and is my father's second in command. Jack is basically the one who makes sure dad's orders are carried out. Like a commanding officer, he's the liaison between dad and the rest of the family. He's also the boogeyman. If someone isn't doing their job, a visit to Jack will fix that."

"So does that mean your hands are clean so to speak?" He's not sure how to ask without saying it directly. It won't change his mind but he is curious.

"No. They are not," he says simply. He's not sure Frankie wants to know anything more than that.

"Does your family know your preferences?" He finds a little humor at how light Brock's attitude is.

"Are you asking about my preference for being in the business or me being gay?" The corners of his mouth lift in humor. It never ceases to amaze and tickle him how others were never comfortable outright asking about his sexuality. Even the ones who were into other men, either from being gay or bi themselves, had trouble. Which is funny to him because he figured they were the ones who should be the most comfortable.

"Both now that you mention it." Frank replies quickly, "I have a couple of uncles who have all kinds of colorful things to say about me to my face. I assume they aren't flying the pride flag when you come home."

"They know and don't care, to answer both your questions. My successor doesn't have to be of my blood. Most of the time families are never or rarely blood-related. It's whoever the Head chooses."

"Oh. That's good then. I assume." He hesitates, "When it comes to me if you were to take over that role… how would that work?"

Brock takes a deep breath and exhales. He hadn't put much thought into that. "Well. First, I'd have to swear you to secrecy, regardless of what happens. And second, you'd hopefully be by my side. Either as an active participant or someone who willingly turns a blind eye."

"Ok. That's fine. Not sure what entails being an active participant but it doesn't sound overall _that_ bad unless I'm just really dumb." 

"Uh, one you aren't dumb. But I may have been too vague. Active means you'd be an active member of the mob. As both my partner in bed and partner in crime. You'd help me rule the crime syndicate and probably see more than your fair share of bloodshed and death. My mother is somewhere in between active and blind. Some things she doesn't care to witness or engage in. Others she'll watch with a cold expression."

"Oh. Would, if you." He stops to think of a better way to ask, "If you, _we_ are together when this happens, would you want me to be with you as your partner in all of this good and the ugly? Anything's possible I know but how's your father's health these days?" Frank asks with a little concern then a light flips on and his eyes go wide, "Also a side question that I absolutely forgot to ask, Jack said something to you on the first day I was staying about your health declining, are you sick? You're not allowed to die…" 

There are so many things in that statement, he wants to address but doesn't know which ones first. He decides to work his way back. "My health is fine _now_. He was questioning the fact that at some point I'm going to be sixty, seventy, eighty and you are going to still be half my age. There's a lot of medical issues that come with getting older. What if I get dementia? Or I can't walk? My eyesight will go. My hearing. My health will decline as I get older. Who knows in twenty years if I can still bend you over and fuck you against a sink in the bathroom," he grins but it's only half in humor. Nobody likes speaking about their inevitable future that comes with aging. He doesn't want to think about his death and leaving behind Frankie. It is a stark reality that felt like he was punched in the gut. A kid his age shouldn't have to be taking care of a man that's old enough to be his father. Jack was right; he _was_ taking Frank's best years from him. Kids his age should be partying and drinking and doing dumb shit before settling down with someone they have an _actual_ chance to spend the rest of their life with him. Not maybe ten or fifteen years before age will naturally start to affect him. 

Frank waits for the natural break in the conversation before opening his mouth. "They make medical advances every year so putting that out there. If you do lose your sight, hearing, or cognitive brain, it won't change how I feel about you. It's not enough to make me want to run. I don't cringe or want to run at the idea of having to help you. I understand your concern but I want a future with you. Come hell or high water."

There are so many things he wants to argue about but if he was being honest with himself, it would have been a half-assed attempt anyway. God, how he loves Frankie. His soulmate. It is cruel to have such a gap in their ages and all of the social, physical, and mental challenges that came with such a gap, but maybe it is more of a test. A diamond has to go through fire before strengthening to be the strongest and the brightest jewel. Their challenges now would only make them stronger later and knowing that gave Brock hope. A reckless thought enters his head and he realizes it's exactly what he wants in life. He saves it for later. It's too soon right now.

"My father's eighty-seven. For his age, yeah he's doing pretty good. Not showing any signs of kicking the bucket, yet."

Frank nods, "Good for multiple reasons I suppose." He pauses and grips Brock's fingers, "I'm going to say this and I'll keep saying this, I am not like your past... _partners_. I would have been gone days ago if that's the case. Jack is scary when he needs to be, not gonna lie. This conversation is not comfortable but nothing made me want to go. It might make me worry about you a little more. But my point is, I didn't have one but, I love you and I'm here." 

He doesn't deserve this kid. In reality, he's a young man and Brock needs to remember that. This young man has chosen him even with an informed decision. He always knew Frankie had a great head about him. He's smart and a little stubborn when he makes up his mind. It's one of the many things he loves about him. He smiles and just accepts that he's never leaving him. It's the only thing he's ever wanted in life.

"I love you more. But...," Brock grins wide with teasing goofiness. 

"No buts. No ifs, mister. You're stuck with me." Frank leans forward and kisses him, "I'm like a stray. You feed me once and show me affection and I'm coming back and moving in. Maybe curling up in your lap."

"Did you want to move in?" Brock wants nothing more than that but he doesn't want to push Frankie out of his independence. 

"Do you _want_ me to?" He wants to shout yes but needs to be cool about this.

"Yes. When you are ready. If you ever get to that point. I don't want to smother you or take away your independence. It's important not to move too fast but honestly, I want nothing more than to have you in my bed every night and to make this _our_ home. I've already been thinking as this is ours." 

"Me too. I think we are both thinking the same thing. I don't want to push you but I don't want to leave you."

"Then don't. I've said it before that I don't want you to leave either. Though, now I am wondering about your job. How's that going to work?" He idly plays with Frankie's fingers.

"I mean you don't have a job." Frank smiles, "You can come with me, not the whole time cause it's an awful life but I'll demand time off to come home." 

"I could be the resident groupie. Fanboy," his nose wrinkles at the term slipping from his lips. But somehow fan _man_ just didn't have the same ring to it. "Maybe I _should_ be your bodyguard. Since you are famous enough to get swarmed."

"Or the boyfriend of the guitarist?" Frank beamed a little at the idea, "I mean, would it be a bad thing if I had a bodyguard? Fanboy…" he snickers at the idea.

"Don't make me put on my woman's voice. I can totally be a high pitched teenage boy who may or may not have a huge crush on the guitarist," he laughs for a bit. "Does this mean you get to boss me around? Do I need to go through a formal job interview?"

"Hmmm… I mean you already have proven that you can pick me up… you're the professional here." He grins as he leans over again before kissing him, "Is it sexual harassment if I kiss you?"

"Only if it's unwanted. And it's _very_ much wanted," he grins as he meets Frankie's lips the rest of the way.

"I think you're hired, sir." He pulls back slightly before kissing him again. 

"So, what about my family… in all of this?" Frank asks the question he dreads a little.

"You can tell them whatever you want so long as they don't find out about my family ties. Maybe allude to the fact that I'm just the son of a wealthy father if the subject of money comes up. I don't need to work. I did get a pretty compensation when I left the service so if they ask, we can expand on that. What else would they be worried about?"

"I already planned to leave it that you were in the military and have retired. They don't need to know more than that. I just want to keep you on the same page." Frank's voice loses a little warmth but he smiles softly and touches Brock's forehead before running fingers through his hair again, "This conversation isn't going how I expected it to go." 

"In a good way, I hope. When will I get to meet your family? Or is that not something you want just yet? My family is going to have to wait a bit before meeting you if you want." He practically arches his for more scalp scratches, eyes closing in a half-lid.

"I mean, you can meet them anytime you want. I was thinking like Christmas. Buys me more time to be greedy and keep you to myself." 

"If you want. When do you have to go back to the tour again? It would be nice to fly you to Italy and spend some time there around your job." Brock's not sure how the tour thing works but he figures they probably don't have a whole lot of time to take a mini-vacation for a few days.

"We are kinda in limbo right now." He sighs, "We could go out on the road and play the same two albums but we really want to make new music. So our agent is negotiating either for us. I am free until I hear from them. But I promise I still have a job." 

"So you have more than five days with me? Or is that just in case you got bored with me and wanted to see your friends." He sticks his tongue out playfully.

"Or you realized I'm a mess and kick me out?" He taps his shoulders and motions for Brock to sit up by waving his hands, "You can have me as long as you'd like. I maybe have to get more clothes but I'm sure Mikey is loving having his own space."

Brock reluctantly sits up and moves so he's sitting next to Frankie instead of on him. Frank turns and stretches his legs out on the couch, leaning forward to pull him back down, intending for Brock's chest to rest between his legs, "My legs are falling asleep and it's easier to kiss you like this."

"Or I could just not lay down on you and squish you with my body weight. But I do like this much better."

"Hush you." 

"Make me."

Frank pulls him into his body and kisses him hard as he shoves his fingers in Brock's hair. Not particularly concerned with being gentle.

A small, appreciative groan rumbles in his throat as he kisses him back, equally as hard. He loves how responsive they both are. Especially Frankie. No one has been able to incite such a passionate fire in him as he has. He loves it. He's drawn to it like a moth to a flame; wanting to be consumed. His hand clutches Frankie's shirt tightly, needing something to hold on to.

The devil on Frank's shoulder is telling him to be a tease but the other side says to be good. He responds to the dilemma with a small moan as he lets himself slide a little lower to accommodate Brock's body. He likes being covered by Brock. It is comforting and still arousing. He digs his nails into Brock's scalp before pulling back and taking his lip between his teeth before grinning wide. 

"Have I ever told you how much I love your insatiableness?" Brock kisses him quickly. Just to tease.

"No, but you bring it out in me. I only want you, like, all the time." 

"Mmm same. Probably shouldn't let that be the focal point of our relationship though. No matter how much I want to tie you to the bed and never let you leave. Just have my way with you until you are shaking with need, a dripping and cum soaked _mess_. Utterly debauched." A teasing smile appears with a hint of something darker. He's hoping his words will affect him in a good way, just enough to tease and keep him on edge.

Frank bites his lip, feeling each word from Brock hit in his groin. "Yes please..." His voice is a little more desperate than he ever imagined he could sound.

Kissing him hard and quick, Brock gets up and heads into the kitchen. "Maybe tomorrow." 

Frank sits up and pulls his knees to his chest and watches him walk away. Should he follow him? Is he coming back? They really need to get checked because condoms were just becoming a hassle. He sits forward choosing to watch from his knees. "B?" He asks softly.

"Yes," he asks. He's smirking to himself for being such a cocktease. He wants to drive his love crazy with desire and want. He wants to see just how far it'll go before Frankie loses it and demands to be properly fucked. 

"Are you… are you coming back?" He trips over the words. He is serious about turning him into the hungry cockslut Brock has turned him into. But he's walking away. He can not be serious? He is supposed to be here. With him; on top of him. 

"Hmm yeah but also no," he says, answering his question with a devious grin. "Needy baby has to _wait."_

"No. He doesn't!" Frank hisses as he springs off the couch. "Where are you going?"

"Just to get me a drink and maybe pop some popcorn for the movie. Would you like one?" He decides to not address the fact that he's going to make Frankie edge for at least a few hours. Maybe a day. His baby can't last a week but he might try that too. This is going to be so fun.

"Really?" He can't keep the annoyance from his voice… This fucker. He can't be like this.

"What's the matter? Got a little problem?" Brock can't help the shit-eating grin. "That's too bad. From this moment on, you are not allowed to touch yourself, other than to pee, or cum without my permission."

"What?" He feels like he missed something. He must have heard him wrong.

"You are allowed to get hard, though I certainly don't recommend it, for now. If you break my rule then I'll be forced to put you in a cockcage. Surely you can last a week without sex. After all, you said it yourself you had a several month dry spell." He's a shit head and he knows it. But it'll be fun.

"Yeah, I did. Then I got a fucking boyfriend. Why? Why are you doing this?" His confused tone is now all attitude with a scowl on his face.

"Because I like you all desperate and needy and begging me to fuck you. I want to drive you crazy with the knowledge that you can't cum. I find that edging is fun and I know you couldn't last a week." He pours himself a drink of water before getting out popcorn.

"Now, I must be losing my hearing. I heard fun and edging together." 

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And self-denial only makes things that much more exhilarating. And it's fun for me… It's going to be very _hard_ for you," He softly snickers at his pun as he opens the jar of popcorn and puts them in a pot on the stove. "Are you sure you don't want some? You know what, I'm just gonna make extra. You might need something in your mouth later."

"So, like. No. I know that you and I have been physical faster than we planned but like. I'm just. I." He blinks. Frank is lost for words. 

He tilts his head. "No? You really aren't interested?" 

He _is_ but he's also confused. Did he do something wrong? "I mean. It is not a NO, no. I just don't know where this came from?"

"Edging? I dunno, something like the 1800s?"

"Oh, you're very cute. I know where that came from. Your brain decides now is the time to try this?" 

He shrugs. "It was just an idea that popped up around the same time as my dick when we were laying on the couch. You'll find that I have very random ideas, okay."

"You don't think I can last a day? Let alone a week…" Frank rolls the idea around. He could do this. 

"Sweetheart I don't think you'll last a few hours much less a week. Tell you what. I'll make an appointment with the doctor. After that, then we can have sex again. Just to see how long you'll last before you are begging me." 

"Hours, he says, hours. Fine. I can do this; easy. A week is nothing," He shrugs with a little smile. He can. He isn't that bad that he can't go hours. "And I won't beg." 

"Yes, you will. I'll make sure of it." 

"No, I won't. Even if you, try," Frank replies like a petulant child. A smile rolls across his lips with a playfully fun idea, "You can't be with me twenty-four seven…"

"Like hell, I can't. And if you lie to me, you'll be wearing the chastity cage in your own apartment."

Frank walks into the kitchen and stands in front of him, resting his hands on his hips and narrowed eyes. He tries to puff up to seem bigger. "You wouldn't dare." He adds, in a smaller less challenging voice, "But don't send me home." 

Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and pulls him into a hug. "I would dare. But I won't send you home. I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you aren't cheating. The game only works if we both play fair."

"I'll play fair. I don't cheat, I game the system. Thank you." He grins up at Brock before he rests his chin on his chest to look up at him. He can do this. He's gonna make it a week. Even with B messing with him, he's calm like the surface of a pond.

Laughing, Brock kisses the end of Frankie's nose before grabbing two handfuls of ass. He swats him hard before turning back to the popcorn which had begun to pop in the pot. He gives it a shake, one hand on the lid.

"You are _really_ not going to make this easy." He says with a straight face. _Focus Frank, you can do this_ ; repeats in his head.

"Oh no. This will be very _hard_ for you. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."

"I'll be in the living room. Big jerk," he mutters with a straight face.

"Love you, baby," he responds in a singsong voice

He doesn't respond instead, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. Muttering to himself he mocks Brock, "I'm gonna make it _hard_ for you. I'm a big tease. Look how cute I am."

Laughing softly to himself, Brock finishes cooking the popcorn and pours melted butter into it and gives it a hard shake before dumping the mixture into a large bowl. He sits next to Frankie on the couch, bowl right over his crotch.

Whatever he does, he can't eat the popcorn. Frank's body is stiff as he sits there. How can someone so handsome be so evil? He's glaring and doesn't mean to, but he doesn't stop either. "There are several classic action movies I haven't seen and I haven't seen the Godfather."

"It's overrated but sure. I'm sure we can on-demand it."

"I don't want to see it, like at all. I was just saying, there are classic movies that I haven't seen." He pauses and softens his tone, "I was making conversation with you, you gross popcorn eater." 

"Want some?" He pops a kernel in his mouth.

"I'll pass." He shakes his head no. It's too close to his crotch and him. "Not hungry."

"Mmm more for me then. What movie are you going to watch?" He puts a handful in his mouth. "This needs salt. More salt. Or kettle powder but I don't have any. Anyway. Movie. How classic are we going?"

"Don't eat too much salt. It's bad for you." Frank gave him a side look but softens at just how damn adorable he is, "What's your favorite movie?"

"Gotta say, Rocky. All of them." 

"I've never seen it. Or them." He replies, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest. 

"Let's watch that then? It may not be your thing. It's a boxing movie series."

"I'll watch it. Who knows maybe I'll like it," He shrugs before getting up and heading to the kitchen. He pulls down a glass and gets some water. He hates water, it's gross. But he needs it to keep himself centered. He takes a moment then returns to the couch next to Brock. He places the glass on the coffee table and curls to Brock.

Opening his arm, Brock pulls him into the curve of his body. He isn't going to completely tease him every second or withhold basic cuddles. With his other hand, he pops another handful of popcorn in his mouth. He grabs the remote and brings up the menu, finds the first Rocky movie, and starts it.

He relaxes against Brock. "Why is this one of your favorite movies?"

"It's about my favorite sport. Boxing. Rocky's gotta fight this heavyweight champion."

"Oh ok!" He knows very little about boxing but Brock likes it so he'll give it a chance. Who knows maybe it will be good. He rests his head on Brock. This is nice. This will be an easy week. An easy two hours. 

Brock ran out of popcorn just before the credits rolled and then regretted eating that much, to begin with. He needs a drink. Something to wash the salt away. He smacks his lips and stands to get a refill of his water and to put the bowl in the sink, leaving Frankie on the couch. 

"Well? What did you think?" 

"I liked it. It was more than just a sports movie, babe." Frank says turning to look at Brock just a little, "I mean, way to undersell it." 

"I mean, yeah the plot is pretty awesome. But I really only watch it for boxing. Kidding. Sylvester Stallone is badass for an old guy like me. There's a whole series of movies. Four Rocky's, I think. Then there were some prequels or something involving the bad guy, Creed. Haven't seen those."

"I don't think there are many boxing movies out there, I don't think." He takes a moment to think, "But I think you are _way_ better than Stallone could ever dream of being." 

Sitting back down and pulling Frankie close again he drinks his water. Smiling at him, he replies, "You've never seen me box, but I appreciate it." 

"Do you actually box?" 

"Yeah. I go to the gym three or four times a week. I'm not a professional or anything but I'm pretty damn good if I say so myself. The military and my boxing skills make me a damn good fighter in and out of a ring. How else do you think I got sexy abs?" He's teasing again. He knows how much Frankie likes his cut body and muscles and he knows his boy is now thinking about them. Glistening with sweat.

"Super soldier serum." Frank deadpans trying to think about his grandmother. Or anything, cuts of meat… not meat. He is too easy to read. Butterflies. Not caged ones… fuck.

"Sorry, that was just some dude wearing the American flag as tights, who got that. You should come with me to the gym tomorrow. Watch me fight some schmuck who thinks he's all that and a bag of chips. You can stand there and towel me off when I get all sweaty. And hand me water."

"First of all, I'm divorcing you for the 'all that and a bag of chips'. Second, I'd love to go to the gym with you. And third, you're an ass. I'm on to you." Frank points at him with the corners of his mouth trying not to pull up and ruin his serious face. 

"What? You don't like my hip lingo? Or whatever it is kids these days say." He chuckles softly.

"I didn't know you were into comic books," he replies, leaning forward for his glass and taking a sip. "Your 'hip lingo' is cute. You friggin' dork!" 

"And yet you love me. Want to watch the second one?" 

"Sure." Frank leans into Brock, "Is it an Empire Strikes Back sequel or a Return to Oz kinda sequel?" 

"I've only seen one of those movies. You get one chance to guess which one." He starts the next movie.

"I'm really hoping it is Empire," He looks up at Brock curiously.

"Score one for you. And yes, Rocky II is a direct sequel to the first movie. He's gotta fight Creed again. In a rematch."

"Doesn't he fight a scary Russian dude?" Frank shifts a little to find the right position, "Or am I making it up?" 

"Yeah, he does. But that's in Four."

"Thought so." He leans up and kisses his cheek then quickly retreats.

Frank rests quietly next to Brock and watches the movie. This is nice. He could do this. He grins, not paying attention to the movie for a bit. He's planning out his exit strategy if he gets turned on. He watches the clock as it hits the four-hour mark as the movie comes to an end and snorts. 

"Something the matter, _gattino_?" 

" _I don't think you can last for two hours."_ He says in his best Brock voice, "Four. And counting. I got this." 

"Oh really? Is that what you think? You are only lasting this long because of the movies and because I'm not _actively_ teasing you. I'm being _nice_. But that can change on a dime, _gattino_." His words dropped lower, voice hinting at sensual things. Kitten thought he could preen his victory? Well, time to show him just how wrong he is.

"I got this." Frank smiled, unconcerned.

"Let's prove that shall we," he mutters just before pulling Frankie into a kiss.

Frank kisses him back. Think of hot coffee. Think of Grandma. Disney songs. Stay focused. Fuck he's gonna lose. 

Brock deepens the kiss, one hand coming up to tug on Frankie's short locks. His nails scrape his scalp. His teeth nip and graze lips so perfect. A soft noise escapes as he enjoys this.

He just couldn't shut up…but fuck this would be perfect. He kisses Brock and gives a small moan at the feeling of teeth. Get some air, man! And water. But in a moment. His hand cups Brock's face as he relaxes into him. 

Frankie's soft and small moan goes straight to his dick and he needs to feel him. One hand travels down to slip under his kitten's shirt to caress over his chest and stomach. He's going to save his favorite part, Frankie's nipples, for later. 

Brock's hand on his skin sends his mind into places it shouldn't be. He's in the clear so far. He loves the feeling of being touched but if he can keep the Disney tunes in his head he can keep from getting too hard. As long as it stays first base, he can do this. Think of it like making out with Gerard. It's harmless fun. His dick just needs to cooperate.

Brock's hand inches up higher, lightly running nails over skin until he reaches pert little nubs. Frank's nipples were one of Brock's favorites and he loved to get them hard and red. He runs his thumb over one first, flicking it.

His stomach clenches at the touch as it goes straight to his dick and a moan punches out. Forgetting the plans he's made in his head for situations like this, he gives in. Kissing back a little more needily, he runs fingers in Brock's hair. He shifts his body to be more upright, wanting to crawl in his lap but resists that urge. 

Needing air, he breaks the kiss only to attack Frankie's neck, peppering kisses all along the curve of his throat and shoulder line. When he reaches the end he makes his way back up again, this time adding a little bit of suction and teeth. His hand is now pinching and twisting a very hard nipple in between his fingers.

His brain is screaming for him to either stop or fuck. Everything he's doing is what he likes and if Brock would stop fucking around they could do more. He wants to feel Brock. All of him, inside of him, no condom. Brock pinning him to the floor, or couch. Brock mercilessly pounding into him until he comes. "Water!" Franks blurts as eyes open wide at the thoughts in his head. He's in too deep. He doesn't got this, "I need water." 

"Is this some sort of safeword?" Brock mutters as he gently nips up Frankie's throat and along his jawline. He wants nothing more than to pull him into his lap and get them naked. Maybe have him ride him properly this time, hard and fast until they're both spent. Instead, he's teaching his kitten a lesson.

"No. I just, uh." Frank pauses, contains the moan, then continues. "I just need a drink of water. And to fuck you. Right here on your couch. Or be fucked by you on this couch." His inside thoughts slip to an outside one without realizing it.

"Mmm, that makes two of us. You should get that water though. Don't want you dying of thirst." Brock pulls away, removing his hand and lips from the lithe body that is driving him just as insane as he knew Frankie was feeling. The only difference between the two of them is he had much better control over his desires.

Frank growls as his eyes narrow at Brock. _Rotten old man_ , _exploiting my soft spots and those are the mild ones_. He pulls away, feeling just how hard he's gotten as he lifts his glass of water. He is not going to beg. "Glad you're concerned for my health." His words are a little more venomous than he expected them to be.

"Of course I am. I love you. What do you want for dinner? Besides being fucked into my couch." He can't keep the smug tone out of his voice and doesn't bother even trying.

"Fucking tease." Frank hisses as he scoots away from him and grabs his glass of water. He is kicking his own ass for letting himself slip. "My diet's limited but I can eat almost anything. Are we staying in or going out?" 

"Depends on what I've got in the kitchen and what we are in the mood for. There's also delivery. You never said what happens to you when you eat something that makes you sick. Is it an allergy or food intolerance? Why those foods?"

"It wasn't the place to mention that red meat makes me throw up. Nightshades upset my stomach and I have medicine. I can't process red meat." Frank replies, "Not sure why those things. Some fruits make my stomach hurt but no one likes cantaloupe."

"Hmm. Okay. So basically anything healthy is bad for you," he snorts. "I have to keep a store of healthy foods just to keep me in optimal health. Red meat is more of a luxury for me, being in higher fat than lean meats like chicken and turkey. I tend to only eat that when I'm going out at restaurants. Or when my iron is low. What are you taking or doing to combat iron deficiency?"

"I can have most anything except red meat, babe." Frank replies softly, "Well, I should take a supplement. I also have nausea medication and antihistamines" 

Brock nods before getting up and going into the kitchen and begins to poke around the pantry and freezer. "Do you have a preference for dinner then? Are you hungry?"

"I can eat. I can always eat."

"Want a hot dog then?" Brock smirks.

"Do you want to deal with puke?" 

"I do like watching you gag," Brock comments from looking into the freezer. He can't see Frankie and can only imagine his boy's expression.

Frank rolls his eyes, "What do you want for dinner? Something easy." 

"I could go for a tossed salad. Haven't eaten that in years." Brock is proud of his puns.

Frank bites his cheeks, "Oh I had one over the summer. _Gerard's_ tossed salads are phenomenal." He smirks.

He slams the freezer door and tries not to storm over there and do…. Something to Frankie. How dare he stoop that low? How dare he bring that motherfucker into this game they are playing? He decides to focus his interest in a box of pasta noodles.

Frank flinches at the sound. Oh, he hit a nerve. He slowly rises and saunters into the kitchen and leans against the counter. "Whatcha thinkin' babe?" Frank asks with a playful tone. 

He glares at the little shit head that is his boyfriend and decides to not say anything. Instead, he mentally kills the box of noodles. Maybe he could fix some grilled chicken.

"So no on the salad?" Frank grins wide at Brock. That can be a tool, sparingly used of course.

"I'll pass," his voice is hard. He doesn't like the idea of Frank _ **–**_ _his_ Frankie with anyone else. Especially not some goth kid who has decided Frankie was his property. Well, bull-fucking- _shit_. 

"Ok, I am happy with anything." His voice was cheerful, pleased with himself, "You seem, tense babe, you good?" 

"Just a little irritated but nothing you need to worry your little head over." _Yet_.

"I'm all ears when _you need to get it out."_ Frank strolls over and wraps his arms around Brock's waist. He did not want to piss him off too much or ruin the evening for them. 

"Grilled chicken over pasta sounds okay?" He doesn't look at Frankie or pull away from his embrace. He's still trying to figure out how to respond to the bringing up of Gerard. Does he respond in kind or ignore it? He can play dirty too. Or maybe he turns it back on him. Options.

Frank kisses his side and pulls away. He walks to the other side of the counter to be face to face with Brock, gauging his reactions. He's salted about the Gee comment, that is apparent.

Fuck it. Brock's just going to throw random shit together and call it a night. Maybe the cooking will help him calm down about his sudden spike in jealousy. He really has no right to be upset over what happened in the past. He was fine with it a few days ago. He tosses the somehow crushed box of noodles onto the counter before grabbing spices and olive oil.

"I do need to call him." Frank babbles quietly, noticing the poor state of the pasta box. It was hot but too dangerous to push more. "And the boys about updates." 

"Fine. Go ahead while I cook," he says tensely.

"Did you want help?" He offers with a genuine interest in helping. "I am a good helper." 

"No," he says a little more harshly than he intends. He takes a breath before softening his tone. "I'm good for now. Go call your friends, have fun. Let them know you haven't been kidnapped or murdered."

"Ok." He steps around the counter and leans up to Brock to kiss him, "Love you." He disappears into the bedroom and makes his call.

Brock plans. He plans and tries to find an appropriate response to Frankie's little stunt. He can't just outright show his hand. No, that would ruin the fun. A part of him wants to end their game simply because he has hurt feelings, which is stupid as hell. Since when did he care about his own feelings? Usually, Brock would just ignore if something was bothering him and deal with it later but the more he thinks about Gerard's face shoved in between Frankie's asscheeks, the more pissed off he gets.

A bottle of oregano drops into the sink from his unfocused brain and spills the herb all over the counter and sink. And apparently, he's overcut the fresh basil from his internal rage-fueled chopping. Son of a bitch. He starts to clean up. At least he can take out his spike of insecurity on something. He'll use the fire at the gym tomorrow. Pretend he's bashing in Gerard's fucking head instead of a heavy bag.

Frank pokes his head out of the door at the sound from the kitchen, "Yeah Gee. Thanks for the update. Just let me know if you hear anything." He says very softly, "I gotta go." 

He softly moves out of the bedroom and to the end of the counter. "Please let me help." 

Yeah, he's going to break the game himself. Not because of anything other than straight-up jealousy. He's not sure if Frankie did that on purpose but he seriously doubts it. Hell, it even surprises him. He turns to see his boyfriend looking really concerned, and it's both cute and infuriating for some reason.

"Game's over." He should probably lead with that first.

Frank can't help his mouth falling open. He regroups himself before he speaks, "I'm sorry." 

"It's one thing to tease and play but at least I didn't drop Tyler's name into the mix. And as surprising as it is, I can't get thought of you and fucking Gerard out of my head and I fucking hate it. I've never been a jealous man before so this is new for me, but I never want to know your sexual activities in detail. It's just–" he cuts himself off and runs his hands over his face and hair. He's so frustrated with himself and how he's feeling. He's trying so damn hard to keep his voice and tone even and calm because he's not mad at Frankie, other than the fact that he said those words. It's not his fault that his brain got stuck on the images and jealousy burns through him strong enough that he's glad he hasn't started cooking yet, because he's going to _claim_.

Frank stands there in shock. He knew it was a rude thing to say but did not expect Brock to be this upset. "I didn't." 

"I'm sorry," Brock says quietly and miserable, muffled behind his hands. 

Frank moves carefully around the counter closer to Brock. He puts a hand on his lower back, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry." 

Brock quickly pulls him into a hug, burying his face in Frankie's neck. "Not anybody's fault. Just my stupid brain got stuck. I didn't expect this."

"I love you." He hugs him back as his hands rub Brock's back, "I only want you." 

It's a damn good thing he's not actually got anything on the stove yet; the chicken's still too frozen. Those words click something in Brock's head and the next thing he knows he's picking Frankie up and onto the countertop, kissing him hard like he's a drowning man.

His brain can't process the speed of being lifted onto the counter and kissed like he had been missing. He places his hand on Brock's shoulder and kisses him back. He didn't expect this. Maybe an ass whooping but not kisses. One hand runs through the hair on the back of his head.

He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath before he's attacking his favorite little scorpion. He's more determined than ever to leave a mark that will last for _days_ or weeks. His hands grip Frankie's shirt and tug once as if to say: _Off or I rip it off_.

The message is received loud and clear as Frank pulls the shirt over his head. The poor tattoo is going to just be permanently bruised. 

"You are fucking _mine,_ " he growls deeply. "And I'm going to make sure everyone fucking knows it." He attacks Frankie's collarbone next, sucking and biting more marks.

Frank lets a moan out. His hand curls around Brock's head and his legs wrapped around his waist. The urgency in Brock makes the butterflies in his belly swarm. He never wants to hurt Brock but maybe if he is going to react like this, he would have brought up him and Gee sooner. "I'm only yours."

"Fucking right you are," He utters as he moves to attack his nipples, licking his tongue over each time he sucks and bites them. He even decides to turn Frankie's 'Hope' tattoo a pretty shade of pink. Nails scrape none too lightly down his sides and back, needing to mark and make his kitten _mewl_.

Frank tries to keep the moan in his body but the two sensations mix turn to straight arousal and land between his legs and force the sound out. He knows that Brock wants to worship every inch of his skin but his dedication to his nipple is orgasmic. His back arches into Brock as he lets out a porn worthy sigh. "I need you." He whimpers into Brock's ear. The words had barely left his lips when hands cup his ass and lift him from the countertop. Frank wraps arms around Brock's neck and tightens his legs around his waist. As his eyes meet Brock's before kissing him again, he can see a fire in Brock's eyes that hadn't been there before. Insidious thoughts try to creep up and take over. The tender kiss turns hungrier as he is carried to the bedroom.

Brock drops him onto the bed for only a second to take off his own shirt before collapsing in between Frankie's legs, suckling a deep bruise on his left hip over the dove tattoo while he works at getting jeans undone.

Frank's hand runs across his stomach before running his hand into Brock's hair. His hips shift a little under the attention. "B, you sure?" His voice breathy and really not wanting this to stop.

Hazelnut eyes dart up to meet Frankie's before returning to painting pale skin a lovely shade of purple and black. This bruise he wants to last the longest. Every time they have sex, he wants to see his claiming mark. Finally, he gets the button and zipper open and pulls away to tug down the offending fabric.

"Take these off. And roll over on your stomach. Face in the pillows," he orders. He moves to remove his own remaining clothing.

"Yes...sir." Frank can feel his legs a little shaky as he lifts his hips and pulls his clothing off and drops them to the floor. He moves up to the pillows and lays on his stomach. He's not sure what is going to happen. How much trouble is he in? 

Brock tosses lube onto the bed but no condom. At this point, there is really no reason to continue using the condoms, considering they'd already had unprotected sex. They still need to get tested but the danger is already either there or isn't. Kneeling on the bed behind Frankie, he moves his legs in a spread before thumbing at his love's hole.

Frank jumps a little at the touch then relaxes. He looks back at Brock and opens his mouth to speak but keeps quiet instead. He curls his toes a little in anticipation of what's about to come.

"Don't hold back. I want you to let everything out. And cum when you want," Brock says, biting one of Frankie's ass cheeks, his thumb slipping inside him and teasing the rim.

"Fuck." His head drops to the pillow. He's unsure if he can let go. Can he be noisy?

Keeping his thumb inside, Brock kisses his way to Frankie's rim. He wants this to be more than just 'phenomenal'. Removing his thumb, he tongues Frankie's balls before slowly working his way up. He licks a quick stripe from the perineum to his hole.

Frank moans louder than he expected and buries his face into the pillow. He grips the comforter as his back arches and his leg muscles tighten. He dips his head to his chest to breathe but groans instead, "oh god, B." 

The hair in his mouth is a little much but it is totally worth it to hear Frankie moan his name. He wants more. He's going to make his boy cum from this alone. He latches onto his fluttering hole and sucks hard, teeth scraping at the ring of flesh.

Frank's thighs shake as Brock works his mouth against sensitive flesh. He moans and struggles to keep himself in the same position. His cock is hard and throbbing. He snakes an arm underneath him to grab the comforter, his own body stopping him from gripping his dick.

"Are you comfortable? Or do you want to get on your knees?" He asks, taking a moment to breathe and blow on Frank's freshly-spit slicked hole.

"I'm fantastic baby! You're fucking perfect." He curls to the side a little and looks back at Brock, "You don't have to do this." 

Brock growls against his skin as a response and challenges Frankie with his eyes. He isn't going to stop. Instead, he shoves his tongue inside Frankie's flower and licks a few times. He's going to be nice and let Frankie catch his breath 

"Fuckin' hell!" Frank blurts as his leg jerks. He inhales deep and tries to calm himself. His fingers curl the blanket tight, "I love you!" 

He chuckles softly to himself and gets a little thrill over the fact that Frankie's probably feeling it right at his entrance. Brock shoves his tongue in and out hard and as fast as he can.

Frank hips jerk and shake before he forces his chest to the mattress. He lets a whine out as he pushes himself back carefully, to not injure his boyfriend. He grips his own cock and strokes himself. 

Hearing his boyfriend whine so needily and push back on his tongue, makes arousal shoot down to Brock's cock and a moan to escape. It's already weeping precum beneath him but he pays it no mind right now. His hands spread Frankie's cheeks wider, fingers digging into thighs so he can pull him closer and shove his tongue in deeper. Then he pushes him away a little before pulling him back again in a silent command of " _ride me"_.

Frank whines a little as Brock works his tongue inside of him. his hips roll back into the hands spreading him wide and the tongue working every inch of him. The tension in his gut tells him he can't last. His strokes are frantic and sloppy. His heart races in his chest and loud moans escape from his mouth, "Oh god, baby!"

Brock pulls away to gather more spit and to give him a break for air. "You're going to cum for me. Then I'm going to fuck you until you cum again."

He spits on Frankie's red hole before diving back in like a starving man. He moans. He's loving the effect this is having on his boy.

"Please Brock, I can't!" He whines. He's struggling to keep himself together. His thighs clench as he groans into the pillow as the tension in his body crumbles, coming below him on to the bed.

Brock slows his assault in poor Frankie's hole. He lavishes slow and long licks, drawing out the pleasure as long as he can. He removes his tongue to gently lick over his rim soothingly before planting soft kisses where his hands held him open. He rests his cheek on Frankie's and takes a few deep breaths. He enjoyed this but it is hard on his lungs.

Frank let his hips drop slowly unconcerned with the wet spot he'd made. With his arm still slightly shaking he reaches back for his Brock, letting his fingers run through his hair and forehead. He is speechless, he tries for words but just a small sigh comes out.

He won't admit it but he totally arches up towards the fingers in his hair. The small touch is like a balm on his nerves and it's exactly what he needs more of. But not right now. He'll take care of himself after he finishes with Frank. Well. Frank and his own very angry cock. "When you can move, please turn over." 

"Lift your head." His voice is quiet. His body protests once Brock lifts his head and lies on his back. 

"How exhausted are you," he questions. If Frankie can't go again, he'll just take care of himself.

"I'm good. Are you ok?" Frank sits forward on his elbows. His legs are buzzing a little but he doesn't mind the feeling. He knows that it is Brock's turn. He wants to make sure that he does whatever Brock wants. He ignores the mocking voice in the back of his head calling himself a lapdog. He is willing to please for this man. 

"I'm fine," he says, a little hesitant. "Um… Should I… Are you…?" Why is he so insecure all of a sudden?

"Maybe take a breath?" Frank sat up fully, with a soft concern across his face. He strokes his hair. Vulnerable Brock brought the need to care for him stronger in Frank's head, "do you need some water?" 

He shakes his head, but he had several questions running through his mind. He's not sure if he needs to wait longer for Frankie to be ready for round two or if there even will be a round two. Should he brush his teeth? Frankie did say it wasn't a big deal but still. He takes a deep breath. "Are you… Do I need to…" He feels awkward for some reason. Instead of finishing his sentence, he makes a motion with his hand.

"Would you just fuck me already?" Frank asks, "I don't care unless you feel the need to _wash_ your mouth?"

"Should I? I mean I know you said you don't care about the taste," he says. And he really can't help but wonder if he did rinse his mouth if it would be disrespectful. What is wrong with him? He's never been this insecure. Ever.

"I love you. That was amazing. Go brush your teeth if you need to." Frank tries to hold his smile in, "Relax baby. It's just me..." He leans forward to kiss him testing his reaction.

If Frankie doesn't mind then there's no reason why he needs to worry. He kisses him, soft at first but a frantic need arises. He climbs up Frankie's body, needing to feel him. He'll brush the taste out later. Frankie smiles against Brock's lips. He is awkward and adorable.

Situating himself between Frankie's legs, Brock covers the smaller body with his own. Now that he's been reassured that he can kiss Frankie, it's all he wants to do, except bury himself deep inside. His hands come up to cup the back of his head with fingers tripping hair gently. Deepening the kiss, he slowly rocks his near-painfully hard dick against Frankie desperate for some relief. 

Frank loves being covered by Brock's body. His hand rests against his chest as he tries to hook his legs around Brock's thighs. As he kisses him with the same intensity, he sighs a little. The feeling of Brock grinding against him is going to wind him up faster than he expected as long as Brock got off, that's all he cared about.

Brock breaks the kiss for air and to make sure he's not rubbing Frankie too much. He doesn't want to hurt him. At least not in the unfun ways. "What do you want," he mutters in between kisses on his jawline.

"I want you." Frank's voice is soft as he strokes the back of Brock's hair, "I want to make you cum" 

"At the risk of sounding like a cheesy Cheap Trick… I want you to want me."

Frank laughs and pulls him back to his lips to kiss him. "I will marry you if you keep being this corny." He kisses him again with a smile.

"I'm always this horny," he grins, teasingly playful regardless of his very persistent throbbing length. He can't help it. He's love-drunk and stupid.

In the back of his mind, he knows that Brock's erection has to hurt. He kisses him again a little harder before breaking away, "What do you want to do to me?" His tone is flirty as he runs his hand down Brock's chest.

He meant to tease and respond with some other cheesy line about a little slap and tickle in the more literal sense but instead, his lack of filter brain responded with, "Tie you up and fuck you until we both cum and you scream so much you lose your voice."

"Okay!" He's grinning and feeling all of his blood draining to his dick at the images in his head. His heart skips a beat at the idea of a hand on his throat with Brock's big cock buried deep inside of him. 

Wait really? Frankie was serious? Oh, holy shit. He hadn't been able to do something like this since he was a punk kid in the military and trying to experiment with his bunkmates. It didn't last very long as they got caught but only for the first time. He kisses Frank hard and quick before he's literally backtracking off the bed to his dresser.

Frank sits up and watches Brock with a wide wicked smile on his lips. He loves the giddy excitement from Brock as he rummages through his dresser. "Do your worst, B." 

"You can't handle me at my worst, baby. But I appreciate the sentiment." He digs through his dresser drawer before pulling out two ties. He turns and points to the center of the bed. "On your back. Arms out." 

He scoots to the center of the bed and stretches his arms out. His curiosity gets the better of him. "What _is_ your worst?" He can feel the excitement growing in his body and tries to contain himself.

"Something involving a lot more pain and blood. None of which you should ever experience," he says as he climbs into the bed and gently takes both of Frankie's arms and ties each one to the headboard before scooting back down and kissing him. 

"Oh." He replies, not feeling like he got the answer he wanted but forgets quickly as soon as Brock kisses him. He's not sure what he needs to do.

"Must say, you do look rather _ravishing_ all tied up like this. Like a pretty present for me." Brock nibbles at Frankie's left earlobe. One hand trails down to take him in hand, softly stroking him. "I can do almost anything with you like this." 

Frank grins eagerly, "I'm all yours." He can't keep the energy that is buzzing in him contained. He wants whatever is about to happen.

"Hmm, this is true. I like it," he grins the words. Devious. He wants to wreck Frankie but first, he needs to rile him up. He wants him to feel the same frantic need he has. This is going to be just like their first day together. He takes care of Frankie and then waits for hours before he goes far too soon. He really needs to work on that… 

"I think," he begins, his hand tightening around Frankie's still soft dick, his strokes picking up their pace. "I think I need to make that phone call. It could be for fifteen minutes. You know how doctor's offices are." He strokes him harder. He wants him to demand and beg to be fucked.

"I mean, you can wait to call them until tomorrow..." He inhales sharply and tilts his head to the side, "We are busy… I don't. I don't want to stop… please don't." He can't stay focused on the words.

A small spike of arousal hits him in the guts at his last words. He loves it when they beg. Loves knowing he's wanted and needed. Loves knowing just how turned on Frankie is. It's not enough. He wants him wrecked with need. He _needs_ him to be just as desperate for this as he is himself.

"I think I will. It's important and you aren't going anywhere. Might just leave you like this for a long time." His hand twists Frankie's cockhead as he strokes him.

"No, please don't B…" Frank bites his lip at the twist. He tries to suppress his whine but it slips out, "I don't want you to leave. Please!" 

"Please! Don't leave me here." He begs softly. This isn't how he wants this to go. He is a mix of frustrated and aroused. He expected anything other than this. He glares for a moment but pulls himself back from being irritated.

"Ohhh there's my feisty kitten. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He's still stroking him but instead of it being firm it's barely anything other than a light touching tease.

"You are supposed to be fucking me." His voice is dry. He is not happy. He wants feisty, he's getting it. "I _need_ you to get off. Unless you can't." 

"Well that can be arranged," he says as he withdrawals his hand from Frankie's dick and puts it on his own, stroking softly to ease the pain and pressure of being hard for so long. "I can just do this and make you watch." 

Frank bites his cheek and refrains from being rude. "It's not what I meant," He growls, "and you fucking know it." 

He shifts a little in the bed but doesn't stop watching Brock. A little fire burns brighter in his belly, a potent blend of need and anger. He knew the restraints would be secure but wondered if they would tighten if he tried to slip them. 

God, he likes the way Frankie's voice sounds when he's getting riled up with anger. He can't help but push the boundaries. He's going to keep pushing until Frankie snaps. He keeps his face carefully natural and tone even. "Did I? You seemed pretty clear. You need me to get off. It's what I'm doing. Maybe you should explain better."

"You fucking know exactly what I mean, you wanted to fuck me until I lose my voice," He hisses back with his eyes narrowed, "you're supposed to fuck me stupid. Maybe we..." 

He backs himself up before he steps over the line into asshole city. Sass is one thing but he doesn't know how Brock would react to him being a dick on purpose. 

"Maybe _what_ ," he challenges lightly, still touching himself. He told his boy to not hold _anything_ back.

"Maybe instead of wasting your beautiful fucking cock with your big dumb hands, you could use… I don't know your boyfriend." He growls as he twists his wrist trying to get free. "Or did you forget how to use your dick?" 

A little moan escapes. He wants begging but at this point, he'll take demanding. Anything to feel that desperate need from Frankie. He wants to be needed. Needs to be needed, at least during sex.

"No! Stop that!" Frank twists his other side. The restraints not budging much. The moan hit him in the chest. That is supposed to be _his_ moan. "That is my fucking moan. You are _supposed_ to have your cock buried inside of me. Either hole; doesn't fucking matter. Just stop that," he tries to use his foot to push his hand away from his cock but just barely being out of reach, "get over here." 

"Holy shit Frankie, don't stop talking," he whisper-groans, eyes fluttering. His hand stripes his cock faster. He's just now taking the edge off and can finally breathe a little.

"No, don't use my words to get off! The fuck?!" He grumbles, "All I fucking want is for you to pin me down and fuck me and instead you're jerking it? If you don't fuck me, now. I'm sleeping on the couch. I swear to God you _better_ fuck me, Brock Enzo!" Frank snaps.

"Shit, Frankie," he gasps. His hips stutter from the overwhelming spike of arousal. Who knew aggressive begging like only his hellcat can do got him going? He falls forward and forcefully kisses Frank. One hand grips his throat, his hips moving and rolling while his other hand fumbles for the lube. If he can't find it in the next few seconds, he's fucking him dry.

Frank grins at him. He doesn't fully understand what happened. He's frustrated and turned on. He lifts his hip for Brock to find the lube. This is what he wants. "You gonna fuck me or what?" 

Another louder, moan rips through him. Just to be a little bitch himself, his hands dance down his sides before hitting the spot near his lower back he's officially named the Magic Spot in his head. Hearing the aggressive begging and having his kitten writhe beneath him is his perfect combination. His hand finally locates the lube and without looking he flips it open. He has to break the kiss to lube up, locking eyes with Frank. "Don't stop. Love it when you beg. I'm gonna– I–oh fuck!" He needs to be in him **now**. It doesn't take much effort to line himself up, throw prep out the proverbial window, and slam himself home.

"Fuck yes!" He pulls against the ties as instinct tells him to grab him. All the frustration leaves him with the force from Brock's hips. He needs this. He doesn't want nice, he wants rough and ugly, "Don't hold back old man."

"Keep talking you fucking goddamned _twink_ ," he snarls. His hips find a rhythm and he's slamming into Frankie as hard and as fast as he can. One hand goes up to grab at Frank's throat, just squeezing a little. "You fucking like this?! Is this what you want? You better scream how bad you want this. Such a fucking cockslut. Needy little bitch. I love you. Now tell me!"

"I'm not gonna break. Fuck me like you hate me." He can't think straight. He rocks his head back a little into the bed and moans loudly. "Love you. Fuck, I just want you to break your favorite toy." 

"You want me to break you? Fine goddammit," he snaps. Sitting up he shifts his weight so that he's weight-bearing mostly on his knees. His other hand joins his first around Frankie's throat. A shift forward and he's back to putting his weight on his hands, choking Frankie. "I could fucking snap your neck like this. Would you like that? Huh? The fucking danger of me literally fucking breaking you turns you on doesn't it? Could choke you out too. Make it so you'll fucking _**move**_ your goddamn body struggling for air." His hips drill faster at his words.

Frank grins up at Brock. The roughness of his hand on his throat is what he was talking about. Is he a little nervous about pushing him further? Oh yeah. "Don't lose your temper." He tries to keep his sass but the raspy voice destroys it, "Maybe don't kill me. Please?" 

He growls and adds more weight on Frankie's throat. He's going to fuck that grin off his perfect face. He resists the urge to slap him, the sudden desire terrifying him and making his hips stutter in their rhythm. He's close though and he's not about to stop no matter what. He's not even sure if Frank is or not and he's too far gone to care. He wanted to be broken. He's going to break _something_. At least the bed with the way it's hitting the wall again. He can barely hear it over the roaring sound of blood in his ears. There's a strain in his arms to keep holding like this and so he lets go of Frankie's throat to essentially collapse on top of him, hands on either side of his head. His right fist buries itself in short hair while his left fist more or less strokes Frankie's neglected dick while his face nuzzles into the scorpion. 

Frank speaks quietly into Brock's ear. "I love you. I need you to cum inside me." He pulls his head to the side to not blow his eardrum with the loud moan that had to escape before returning, "I love your cock inside of me. You're fucking perfect." He groans before kissing Brock's head awkwardly. 

"Oh god," he chants softly. He's so close. He whines with the need to cum. "Cum with me, _please_." His eyes well with the overwhelming feelings and he's reaching way beyond the point of his limits. He can't stop yet and he's starting to hurt worse. It might be too much. 

"Please just come inside of me. I don't care about me… I need you to come." Frank moans into his ear softly. If he could he could be holding onto him tightly, "I love you so much. Don't wait. Go." 

The coil _finally_ snaps and pleasure erupts in every fiber of his being. He gasps in a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he cums hard enough that his head spins and he sees black spots dance in his eyes. He cries out, weakly and he thinks it's Frankie's name. For a moment he forgets everything, the world blanking out minus the feelings of euphoria.

Watching Brock literally come apart is like watching fireworks. He repeats "I love you so much." He can't tell if Brock is with him or in his head. He misses his hands. He misses touching Brock. Frank tells himself that he doesn't deserve him. He pushed it to a limit. He provoked him. Now there is something off about Brock. It's a look in his eyes.

Brock has just enough self-awareness to know he's going to lose his shit in some form and very soon. Sweeping a hand under the pillows, he blindly searches for something. Fingers brush warm metal and grasp the hilt of a large switchblade. Pulling it out and opening it, he rears back a little to see where he tied Frankie's hands up and cuts the ties. Muscle memory has him folding the blade closed with one hand and returning it under his pillow.

Frank feels his entire body tighten until the knife is gone. New instinct tells him to touch Brock. He's not sure if it's the right thing to do but he wraps his arms around his chest. He kisses his skin but keeps quiet. He's gotta fix this. He's gotta replace those ties. Maybe he'll go out later and buy him something. His brain fills with all the things he should have done. He should have just been good. 

The tears that had welled up and threatened to spill over, finally do. His head hurts. He's still a little dizzy feeling but at the least, the spots are gone now. He buries his face more into the crook of Frankie's neck. The light hurts. Even his sobbing, which barely touches the intense emotional pain in his chest, hurts his head. He's exhausted from waiting far too long to finish. From the sheer intensity of the scene they did. From being pushed far beyond his limits. And for the emotional dam that is slowly cracking and near to bursting. He can't think or speak. He should clean them up. Instead, the powerful migraine and the equally painful emotional balloon keep him immobile. He can't stop crying even though he knows it's only hurting his head more.

Frank stays quiet. He feels helpless. He wants to make it better. But he doesn't know what it _is_. He's unsure if he needs to speak, instead, he opts to hold on to Brock. Placing a kiss on his shoulder, as his love breaks down in his arms. He begins to let the wheel in his head turn. 

"B, can I help?" Frank's voice is quiet and full of concern. 

Everything is _too much_ and _not right now_ but he can't find it in him to communicate that to Frankie right now. His body is heavy and when he shifts to force himself to not squish his lover, Brock's head swims again. He's going to pass out, he can feel it pulling at him. He has to move off of Frank. It takes every ounce of strength he has to do so, rolling to the side with a painful groan before darkness swarms his vision and the world goes silent.

Frank lies quietly and listens to Brock's breathing for a while. He is wide awake. His head fills with lies that make him anxious. He turns towards Brock and kisses his shoulder. He slips out of the bed and heads for the bathroom. His brain telling him he needs to fix this. He needs to take care of Brock. 

After cleaning himself up, realizing that he might actually be sore this time. He pulls his clothing back on. Frank picks up Brock's shirt and checks the size. His little wheels are turning. He approaches the bed and kisses Brock's forehead. He leans over him and grabs the ruined ties before slowly leaving the bedroom. He makes a list of things he needs to do before he comes back. He cleans up the mess Brock made in the kitchen. He adds the oregano to his list of things he needs to replace. He grabs his phone and wallet. He'll be back before Brock is awake, he doesn't need to leave a note. 

Once he's out in the street, he can feel the clouds in his head clearing a little. He's so worried about making a mistake and that Brock will change his mind that he's forgetting that love is not about being perfect. Brock will love him no matter what.

He isn't loving how taking a step off curbs feels. His ass is sore. His body just aches and he looks like he might have been jumped. He ducks into the first men's clothing shop. He already knows he is going to be followed around the store, which he is. He finds almost perfect replicas of the ties and two more things before deciding he needs to leave. He walks blocks before he slips into a record store. This next stop is going to take longer and he can't get distracted by records. He walks out with four items. He stops at a grocery store for food and flowers. He feels a little better even if it's just emotional. 

As he reaches the apartment and slips inside. He feels like the doorman is watching him with suspicion as he waits for the elevator. He's got a song in his head that makes him tap his toes as he quietly hums about walking on sunshine. Once he's inside the elevator and the door closes, he shout-sings the chorus to himself. As the doors open on Brock's floor he pulls himself together and heads for the door. Stopping outside it as he realizes that he _can_ 't get in. 

"Fuck." He grumbles as he sets his bags down. He quietly knocks on the door but he knows it's pointless. He sits beside the door and sighs. He pulls his phone out and spins it between his fingers. 

"Jack!" He says out loud to the wall. He scrolls until he finds his number and dials. He practices what he wants to say as the phone rings.

"Who the fuck is this and how do you have this number?" Jack barks into the phone.

"Uh um, your brother _gave it to me_?" The statement becomes a question, "It's Frank." Before he has time to reply, "Brock's fine!" 

Jack smiles into the phone. He didn't realize the kid had his number but that's okay. He approves. "Hey! How are you, kid? What's up?" 

Frank exhales, "Hi, I'm great! How are you? I kinda locked myself out of Brock's apartment." He's making a whoopsie face.

"Much better now that I know this secured line is still secured," he laughs. "Had me worried there for a minute. I didn't know Brock gave you my number and I'm like _Ahhh who's this_. Sorry about that. Where's Brock? I'm assuming he's not there. Since he clearly can't let you inside?"

"He's home. I think he's passed out. Sleeping like the dead." Frank sighs, "He gave me the number for emergency purposes but I have perishables and uh, yeah. While it's not an actual emergency, I need help. If you're not busy, that is."

"Not a problem, my dude. I'll be over in a jiffy. I'll get you set up to be coded while I'm at it. Your perishables gonna last like five minutes?"

"Oh yeah. They can last for a while but I am not sure how long B is gonna be out. Thank you so much, Jack." Frank smiles into the phone, "Does Brock want me _code_ d into the door?"

He wonders what Jack's going to say when he sees flowers because usually, flowers mean he fucked up.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. It's, uh, standard for him once he's picked a love." Jack tries to be tactful about the past boyfriends. His brother had a tendency to bond with others faster than most he's ever seen. His open trust in people was both a blessing in the world and a hazard for his heart. It was one of the things he felt he needed to protect and encourage while he can because one day Brock was going to need to harden himself with walls if he had any hope of taking over the family business.

"Oh. That's… very him but-" he pauses choosing careful words, "not very safe? He's got a questionable taste when it comes to former partners."

"Yeah see that's the problem. He tends to trust them fully once they've clicked. And for Brock, it's usually within a few minutes. He's all about security and safety but at the same time, he's so desperate for love that he just throws open the barn doors and says 'Here. Take it all. Just love me.' Which is why I assumed what I did when we met. After three or four times of the same rodeo, you get a little jaded."

"Yeah, I know. The big dummy just wants to be loved and give love. I'm just happy he has a brother who gives a shit about him." Frank replies, "After meeting just one of his questionable choices, I can understand the reason you're jaded."

"Thanks. You're definitely winning the best boyfriend trophy so far. You wanna know what it looks like? It's a gold plated dildo." Jack snickers. "But not like real gold. One of them plastic painted trophies."

"Surprised it's not a spray-painted butt plug." Frank snorts, if he married Brock, is this going to be their relationship, "Are you talking like a soccer trophy with a nameplate even?"

Jack cracks up on the phone and tries hard not to notice the weird looks he's being given. "Nah cause that's making it personal. See, all them boy toys didn't deserve a nameplate. And soooo you just gotta deal, man. We'll get some sharpies and write your name on the base if it makes you feel better."

 _I'll just take his last name, eventually. That can be my trophy_. Frank thinks as he is listening. "Don't forget to put a piece of Scotch tape down to not ruin it." 

"Yes!" Jack shouts and laughs. "That's totally perfect. But seriously though, first off you deserve more than a piece of trash plastic. And second, I like you. I'm happy you are number five and hopefully the last. I'm happy to help you in any way I can. I think we'd be good friends."

"I have a good feeling we will be good friends." Frank smiles as he rolls the expensive bottle of wine between his knees, "It's really early but I'd like to be his last one. I feel like I made the right choice. I love him. So, I appreciate being liked." He pauses, "Sorry I got a little rambly there."

"It's okay. And yeah, it's early but it's a good thing to be thinking of your future. Brock will treat you like royalty. And you totally made a good choice. He did too. I support this. I'm sure the rest of the family will too." The elevator dings and Jack steps out, still on the phone. He sees Frank on the floor, sitting cross-legged and surrounded by bags, and laughs.

Frank looks up and grins before hanging up, "Hey! That _was_ fast. Did you fly here?" He realizes he wasn't prepared to be rescued so soon. He stands up and straightens himself out chuckling to himself. "I thought I had a little longer to not look like a mess. As far as Brock treating me like royalty, he's gotta let me at least buy dinner once in a while." He smirks before shrugging, "Or flowers. Without a tantrum."

"You're better off buying him chocolates. But the flowers are cute. You don't look like a mess but then again my standards are a little skewed considering my line of work and Brock's sexual appetite. So I've seen worse." Jack places his hand on the scanner and unlocks the door, opening it and letting Frank enter. "I don't fly by the way but I do live nearby. I'm in the same building but on the other side. I literally walked here."

"Thank you for letting me in," Frank speaks softly as he blushes, forgetting for a second that he's covered in bites and hickeys. "It's nice that you're close. The flowers are to make it feel less hotel and more home-y. Homelike?" He actually thinks it's cute as hell they live so close. He puts the chicken and fresh pasta in the fridge before replacing the oregano. "How does putting me in the door scanner thing work?"

"Oh, you noticed that, huh?" he says grinning as Frankie fluttered about in the kitchen. "I just got to tap a few buttons on the pad and it'll scan your hand. Simple."

"I have ideas on how to make it cozy. But I don't wanna _overstep_. It's not my house." Frank turns and faces Jack with a smile, "Oh nice! I'm glad it's not complicated. I feel bad bothering you for this. I'd hate to keep you too long from whatever you were doing." 

Jack shrugs. "I was doing stupid annoying paperwork. So I'm happy to not be doing that right now. Thank you."

"What's your 'day job'?"

"Same as my night job I suppose..." 

"I didn't think that _job_ required paperwork… " he gives him a side glance with a small smile, hinting at the darkish joke.

"You'd be surprised." 

"Really? Huh. Learn something new every day." Frank is surprised, "you're welcome to hang around here if you want. I don't know how long he's going to be sleeping."

"Must've been some mind-blowing sex if he's conked out like this." 

"It was something." Not wanting to mention any detail, "he's just taking an old man nap." 

"I don't think I've ever seen him take a nap in our entire adult lives before. Old age must be really kicking his butt. Are you sure he's not dead from a bust nut?" Jack teases lightly. "Or a heart attack?"

"Did you wanna check a pulse? He was alive and breathing when I left…" Frank shakes his head as he smiles, "and I highly doubt you can die from _busting_ a nut, perv." Maybe he should go check on Brock, worry enters his head. "I'll go check on him if you don't wanna."

"Actually you can, but not in the same circumstances as what we are talking about here. And if he was breathing before, he's fine. Didn't mean to worry." Jack watches him carefully with a tilted head. 

"Yeah, you're right. And though he is your brother, you probably don't wanna see him stark naked and sprawled." Frank looks up at him with a small smile, "I'm a natural worrier, it's gonna happen." 

"Brock and I have shared spaces and circumstances that are equally intimate as a lover. So as weird as it may be, I've seen it all before. And it wouldn't bother me. In some cases, we are closer as if it were he and I who shared the womb instead of our sister. The twins have a different sort of bond though." Jack perches himself on the couch armrest. "Something that the adopted son really can't replace. Though I'm at least the same gender so Brooke is happy to defer questions of the male sex my way."

"What's Brooke like? He's told me a little about her." He is interested in Jack's description of his sister in comparison to Brock's.

"Stubborn, like the rest of them. But more gracefully. She's like our mom. Strong-willed and a force to be reckoned with but will storm the Earth to protect her family. Have you ever seen a photo of her?" He pulls out his phone and opens his camera.

Frank shakes his head. "I haven't seen her picture. Brock has said pretty close to that but adds that she got the looks between the two of them. I can tell you both adore her." 

"Brooke is much like you would expect a queen would be. She's going to be a great ruler by Brock's side. Ever hear the phrase, 'behind every successful man is a woman'? Or something like that. That's Brooke. Super smart. Badass. Kind of like a femme Brock but with more class," replies Jack as he shows Frank a photo of Brooke on the verandah back home.

"She is gorgeous." Frank smiles then looks up at Jack, "She did get the looks between the two." He winks, "I mean Brock is okay looking but she is perfection."

Jack looks at him with a very confused and lost expression. He does a slow blink, unsure he heard the implications right. This is new. What?

Frank tilts his head unsure of the look on Jack's face. "What?"

"Are you Bisexual? Like I got the vibe that you were checking out my sister and it's weird because Brock has never brought home anyone other than a gay. And it totally threw me off just now. I am so sorry," Jack laughs. 

Frank grins, "I am bisexual. It's fine and I was _totally_ checking her out. He's really dated anyone other than gay men, huh I feel special."

"Yeah, and if you hit on Brooke she'll hit you with her fist. So I suggest you don't. At least, not at first. And I'm sure Brock might have words about that," he laughs again.

"I am sure that Brock would have more than words about it." He raises an eyebrow, "Besides, if she has you two as siblings, she could probably break my fingers without much effort. I'll stick with my preferred Rumlow."

"A wise choice. It'd be great to have you meet the parents though. Brock's never brought anyone home before, thank God for that. Let's get you set up to be able to use the door? I forgot about that."

Frank nods, "yeah we should do that." The idea of actually meeting his parents is exciting. He wants to meet them. 

"I assume there is no Mrs. Rollins, yes?" 

Jack opens the door and presses a button on the side of the biometric scanner to bring up the digital menu. "No, there isn't. And before you ask, no there isn't a mister either. I'm single and straight. That is of course if you are referring to my relationship status and not my birth parents."

Frank laughs, "Hey I don't judge! If you ask a few of my relatives, the gay rubs off on others so ya never know. Is this going to be affected if I were to get another hand tattoo?" 

"Not unless you get your fingerprints removed as well," Jack says rather absently as he adds Frankie's name to the list. "You feel a little pinch by the way. It's biometric for a reason so it actually takes a sample of blood. Like less than those with diabetes would need. Then it matches your blood sample to your fingerprints on file. Each time you unlock the door it'll scan and match what it is in the database. If your fingerprints don't match for whatever reason, it'll prick you again and use your blood to verify you are who you are."

Frank nods. Jack could pretty much make anything up and he would believe him. "Let me know when you need my hand." He likes that Jack doesn't talk down to him because he could. Frank grabs a glass and fills it with water before he pushes the bedroom door open and places it on the nightstand next to Brock. He pulls the covers over him and steps out quickly to rejoin Jack. 

"It's ready for you, my man." Jack steps aside to let Frank stand in front of the door lock. "Just place your hand that you use the most on the center and leave it there while it does its thing."

Frank places his right hand on the scanner and waits. Still hearing the song in his head, he taps his toes on the floor. "I did a thing. And I don't know how your brother is going to react to said thing…" he looks Jack in the face before he realizes it sounds bad. "It's nothing bad!" 

He arches an eyebrow. "What's the thing?" 

"I bought concert tickets." Frank grits his teeth at the pinch, "it's this weekend, but not like floor seats… I kinda _used_ my band to get us box seats…" 

"Concert tickets?" Jack leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Where to?"

"Cheap Trick, Foreigner, and CCR. Classic bands." Frank regrets his spur of the moment decision, "the Garden." 

"Hell if he doesn't want to go, I'll be your date. That's awesome. I didn't know any of them were still playing."

Frank feels relief and grins wider, "You can come even if he does want to go. I basically got us a private 'room' that has a minibar and food but still allows us to see the show. I think I can have up to six people." Jack's got good taste. 

"I don't want to ruin your date," he says as the light turns green on the scanner with a trilling chirp of completion. "There you go. All done. All you gotta do is just place your hand just like this and it'll unlock the door."

"I wouldn't have offered if I thought you would ruin it. You are more than welcome to join us Friday night." He looks up at Jack, "Thank you for doing that. I think Brock forgot accidentally on purpose." 

"Must be the old age again. Or his way of wanting you to never leave his sight. He's a bit clingy."

"It's the 'not leave his sight'. He has told me more than once he never wants me to leave. Part of me agrees but _not_ yet."

"Well, I'm sure he'd be cool with you needing a little space still. You just gotta say something. Feel free to call or text me anytime. Text is preferred because sometimes I'm indisposed and it's easier. I'll always respond when I can."

"Does this mean we are friends now?" Frank teases. He doesn't want to leave but space is good for any relationship.

"Sure if you wanna go that far," Jack teases back. 

"Oh, I'm like a bad penny, Jack." He smirks, "or glitter. You can't get rid of me." 

Brock stirs and immediately regrets it. Hands grip the comforter from the throbbing pain of his still there migraine. An unbidden whine escapes. Everything is too bright. He needs to get up and take a leak and drink something but he can't. Everything hurts. 

"Did you wanna stay? I can get you a drink? Make you a sandwich…" Frank offers.

"Only if it'll keep me out of doing paperwork." 

"This happens to be a paperwork free house. Called the exterminator and everything." 

Brock rolls over and nausea swims in his stomach. The throbbing in his head only intensifies now that he's sitting up. He tries to grab for the water but knocks it over, shattering on the floor. He's certain the glass just pierced his eardrums. The sound and light combo, with his already pounding migraine, makes bile rise in his throat.

Frank spins on his heels as the sound of shattering glass and heads into the bedroom, Jack hot on his heels. "Baby, you ok?" Frank keeps his voice low and calm as he steps into the room.

His hands immediately go to cover his ears. Everything is too much. A whimper escapes. "Migraine," he whispers.

Frank looks at Jack then back to Brock. He turns once more to Jack and nods. He walks into the bathroom and quietly searches for medicine. Anything that could be useful. He pulls Excedrin and goes back to the kitchen. He knows there is a water bottle in there. With meds and water in hand, he returns quietly. 

Jack moves to grab some paper towels and a trash can to clean up the shattered water glass. Brock tries not to flinch at the grating noise.

Frank sits softly beside Brock and offers the pills in hand to him. He waits patiently for Brock to take the pills then opens the water and hands it to him. He doesn't know if he can touch him or not. Headaches are the worst. And migraines are the devil. He wants it to go away and for him to feel better. Frank leans forward and touches Jack's shoulder, mouthing thank you.

Jack nods and finishes up cleaning as quickly and quietly as he can. When he's finished, he goes into the kitchen to dispose of the glass. He returns with an ice pack from the freezer and offers that as well to Brock, who takes it gratefully. After he pops the pills and downs the water, Brock sits with the ice over his forehead and eyes. He feels like shit. 

Frank kisses him gently on the cheek. He knows he needs silence and touches his hand. He pulls the comforter over his legs and covers him. He steps away and heads for the door following Jack. 

"Call or text if you need me," Jack whispers even though he knows he doesn't need to. He opens the door and steps into the hallway, "Let me know how things go, okay?" 

"I'll see you Friday. And thank you again! I'll text you later and keep you updated." Frank replies feeling a little sad he's leaving because he is going to be lonely. Jack has his own life and job to do. He shuts the door after Jack leaves. 

He heads back into the house and decides to figure out dinner for himself. If he has peanut butter and saltines, he would just eat that. He sighs and leans against the counter. It's a good thing Brock's got cable. He turns and decides to check on B. He slips in the bedroom and sits beside him. He touches Brock's hand. 

He's keeping the ice pack over his eyes so he doesn't see Frankie enter but the bed dipping next to him and the soft touch of a hand on his own has him giving a tired smile. 

"Do you need anything else?" His voice is just below a whisper but louder than a sigh. 

"You," his voice matches Frankie as best as he can but it still bothers him because every muscle in his jaw makes his head hurt more. "And maybe make the sun go away." 

Frank couldn't help but smile. "I'm here." He then stands up and shimmies out of his jeans and carefully crawls into bed. He drapes his arm and leg over him. He's not sure what he needs but he can be it. He knows that Brock will need to eat later. He can throw things together for him even if it's just a sandwich.

Signing softly he puts the ice pack down and eases himself down next to Frank, rolling onto his side and more or less being the little spoon, his head on Frankie's shoulder, and a hand on his chest.

Frank gently rubs Brock's back and lets himself relax into the pillows. He's excited for Brock to feel better. He wants to show him the things he brought home and the concert. He wants to spoil his poor sick baby. But he's gotta stay focused on caring for him. He does his best to pull Brock as close as he can. He kisses the top of his head gently.

Brock wants the daylight to go away. And for the ice pack back over his head. And for it to be colder. He's just uncomfortable in his own skin. He closes his eyes, grabs the mostly cold ice pack, and puts it on his temple awkwardly. It's not where he wants it the most but he doesn't want to freeze Frank. He sighs.

Frank tries to help him but isn't sure how to help. He tries to cover more of Brock's eyes. He's unconcerned about being cold. He can get warm. He kisses the top of his head. He goes back to stroking his back. 

He can feel the pain relievers start to kick in. He needs more water but he's actually comfy and his head has stopped pounding. He shifts slightly with a soft groan. With an even softer voice, he whispers, "Thank you." 

Frank kisses the top of his head. He strokes his back and neck. "I didn't do anything." He whispers back. His eyes are closed as he listens to the sounds of the room and Brock's breathing. He would take care of him in any way he could. This is the least he could do for a man who would give him everything if he asked.

"For the water. And pills. They're helping." Short words. Short sentences. Nice and easy and less pain. "I need to move. Need to pee. Still. Don't want to. Head still hurts."

"I love you." Frank smiles and traces a line down Brock's back that followed along with his spine. "Rest baby." If he still hurts he needs to stay down, stubborn shithead. He just has to buzz around. 

"I need to pee." 

"Then go, silly." 

"Means getting up. Moving hurts." 

Frank wants to laugh. He can only imagine Brock sick, he's probably a big baby. Needs to be cared for. Fed soup and given meds while he lays on the couch. He is whiny and needy. Maybe it wouldn't be the _worst_ thing if he was sick. "I know. But you'll hurt worse if you don't. You need to eat something soon too" 

"I'll pee the bed?" he smiles weakly. Even his voice was flat and tired. Still. He tried for funny.

"I don't think so, baby. If I could go for you I would." Frank smiles, " I'm going to be right here when you get back. And we can lay in bed for a while."

He groans and forces himself to slowly sit up. He swears his brain throbs to the beat of his heart. He should have just held it but yeah he really needs to go after waiting thirty minutes. Taking a few deep breaths he makes his way into the bathroom. 

Frank stretches out and pulls the covers over his legs then shimmies down the bed just a little and pulls his shirt off. Lazily tossing it to the side but only makes it to the end of the bed. He is a fan of napping. Especially with Brock keeping him warm.

He returns as quick as he can move right now without his head feeling like he's on the whirly whirl. Grabbing the bottle and drinking most of it, he slowly eases himself back into the bed. The edges of his mouth tilt up at the sight of Frankie being all cute and comfy in his bed and he happily, though brain sore, slides in next to him. He loves cuddles.

"Better?" He kisses his forehead. He pulled Brock closer to him. "How is your head?" 

"Work in progress," he whispers, wrapping his arms and legs around Frankie like an octopus. He's feeling clingy and not caring. 

"Good. I'm sorry you're hurting." Soaking up all the attention he can get. He runs the pads of his fingers through Brock's hair and rests his hand on his shoulder. He knows he needs to be quiet but his brain is buzzing and awake. "I have I'm walking on sunshine in my head." He whispers as he draws figure eights in his skin.

He goes to grab the ice pack but is sad it's not cold enough anymore. He closes his eyes and snuggles close, the light touches of Frankie soothing him. "Why?" 

"Cause I'm happy." His voice is light as he adds another finger to drawing on Brock's back. He opens his eyes and stares at the darkened ceiling. He needs to find a way to bring up the concert when B was feeling better. 

"Mmm, I'm glad you are happy. All I want for you. I love you."

"Love you more."

Frank stays quiet and lets Brock rest for a while. He had a feeling in his gut that there was something wrong. He doesn't know if it was his head telling him lies or something is wrong. Everything felt fine. He'd made friends with Jack. He can spoil Brock. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep the noise in his head down. Maybe the silence was driving him crazy.

"That's impossible you know," Brock's soft voice cuts through the silence.

"What?" Frank replies sounding surprised, can he read his mind. He'd been thinking about ways to keep him happy and interested in him. _If you can read my mind, tell me my favorite color._

"I love _you_ more. Not the other way around." He yawns a little and it hurts but not unbearable.

"Oh! No, I don't think so." He leans his head down and kisses Brock's head, "thought you were reading my mind." 

He shifts his head up to look at him better. And maybe earn kisses. "Penny for your thoughts?" 

"Meh. Nothing but crazy up here. I've got more important things to care for." He strokes his hair. He is not about to give Brock his burden right now.

"You aren't crazy the way you think you are. But I love you regardless. Perhaps because of it. I wanna know." His eyes close to the petting.

"I bought you things today and I am worried you won't like it. Then it spirals to ways to keep your interest in me. It's a ladder of useless anxiety." Frank carefully massages his scalp as he speaks quietly.

"Not useless," he mumbles. He keeps his eyes closed and is thoroughly enjoying the feeling of Frank's fingers in his hair. "All feelings are valid. But they lie too. Anxiety means fear. Lack of trust. It makes sense because of your history. Not useless cause it points out something that needs to be addressed. Plus fear is a survival thing. Is important. What you buy me?"

"Things you need eyes to appreciate." He hates that Brock will suffer to care for others. "It's how I got locked out." 

"Okay," he sighs. Then the fact that Frankie got locked out of his apartment filters through the brain fog. "Haha. Sorry." 

"It's fine. Jack let me in." He yawns and stretches his legs, "He and I talked. Finally got to see your sister...13/10"

"That's nice." His feet shift under the sheet in random patterns. He's nearing the twilight phase of sleep. He's extremely comfortable and it's making him feel like a sort of boneless putty. The nausea has finally subsided. 

Frank can tell he's not totally there and wants to test it, "I may have picked the _wrong_ twin." His voice is soft and silky as he continues to massage his head. He is still not out of the crazy forest but he's at least found the dirt path. 

The hand on Frankie's chest shifts to flick a nipple. It's weak though because he's too boneless to do much else but he wants him to know he got that. Even if it did take a bit to register. "Mine." 

"Yeah. I'm yours and you're mine." Frank waits for a moment, "we have a date with your brother Friday too." 

"Kay. Where?" He is certain he will fall asleep soon. Again. At least this time it'll be better sleep.

"The garden." He speaks in a soothing tone. He isn't sure exactly what time it is but he knows it's early. If he falls asleep, he'll be up at four in the morning.

"Okay." Sleep pulls at him and he's not sure if it's because of the comfiness or because sleep was always a go-to for him when he had a really bad headache. He tries to fight it. "I'm sorry. Bout before." 

"We'll talk about it if you want when you wake up." Frank kisses his head, "I love you more than you know." 

"Not possible I'm not..." He trails off, a tiny soft snore finishing his sentence. 

Frank tries not to laugh but snorts a little. He waits a little bit for Brock to actually fall asleep before he tries to sneak out of bed. He tries to move Brock's arm slowly but it doesn't budge. Maybe if he worms? He's just going to go watch TV in the living room and eat peanut butter like a child, in his underwear.

It seems like the more he moves the tighter Brock holds him. He doesn't want to bother his sleep but he's not tired. It's the night owl in him. Frank turns to his side and is pulled in again. He sighs and closes his eyes. Maybe he can bore himself to sleep. 

Frank's dreams are a mix of good weird and nightmares. He dreams that he's been chased by Josephine after she finds him. He is left to jump a large gap to the safety of Brock's arms or her. He jumps and it startles him out of sleep. Brock is still wrapped around him but not as tight. It is a good thing because he has to pee. He's able to escape and find relief. He debates if he should stay awake but instead opts for the bed with Brock. His beautiful, smart, wonderful, and fantastic man. Frank slips in bed and snuggles close to Brock, lifting an arm and draping himself with it. "I love you more than you think and I want to make you happy." He whispers to the sleeping man next to him before kissing his arm. He lets himself fall asleep in the comfort that he's becoming very accustomed to and it's just another reason for him to stay. 

After about five hours, Brock wakes up naturally and feels a hundred times better. And also hungry. He smiles at Frank's sleeping form next to him. It's been a long time since anyone has ever joined his bed. He marvels at just how amazing it is that Frankie fits perfectly into everything that is his. Like it was meant to be. No one has ever come close to fitting with his life so perfectly before. Nature was calling so he reluctantly slides out of the bed and slips into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as to not wake Frankie. When he's done, he realizes it's in the middle of the night and he's not tired at all to return to bed so he heads into the kitchen to find something edible.

He's surprised to see the kitchen cleaned up from his poor attempts to cook earlier. At least the place doesn't stink of oregano. He likes the herb but not _that_ much. There are bags on the counter and he's wildly curious to know what's in it. This must've been what Frankie was doing when he was out running around. 

He's not going to poke around things that aren't his. Instead, his thirst is calling him again so he gets himself some water and decides to fix himself something light to eat. Maybe he'll watch TV without the volume or read a book while he waits until Frankie wakes up. He definitely wants to hit the gym this morning. He hasn't gone to the gym in nearly a week and he could feel it in the sluggishness of his stomach and in his mood. With that goal in mind, he decides to possibly do peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches with some milk. He doesn't have an already opened jar in the fridge so he grabs the one in his pantry and pops the lid open before spreading it on some soft white bread. Sandwiches made, he makes his way to the couch and turns on the TV. It's at full volume however and he quickly grabs the remote and mutes it. Oh shit… His head turns towards the bedroom to see if Frankie woke up.

The sudden blast of sound pulls him from strange dreams. He lies in bed for a few minutes, trying to remember if he was at home or not. His head feels like it's underwater. This bed is far more comfortable than his own and it smells like linen and Brock. He sits up slowly and looks at the bed to find said human missing. He grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and pulls it on before sliding out. He kneels down beside his duffle bag and pulls out a pair of socks to cover his cold toes then walks slowly into the kitchen. The tv flickers brightly in the darkened room. "Please don't impulse buy from infomercials." His voice is scratchy from sleep as he pulls down a glass of water. 

"Hi, baby. Didn't mean to wake you," he says over the back of the couch. "You ok?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bad dreams. Glad you're feeling better." Frank puts his glass down and moves slowly to the couch. Taking a moment to snicker to himself at the sight of Brock, naked at 2 am eating a sandwich like a drunk toddler, before sitting down next to him, "You are like a boa constrictor when you sleep." 

"I'm sorry," he tries to say around a mouthful of PBJ. He offers his other sandwich as a peace offering. He finishes his bite and takes a drink of milk.

"It's yours, baby." He replies softly, "Though I was going to do pretty close to this a few hours ago but with saltines and peanut butter while you slept."

"I can make another. If you want one. Or this one. Do you like strawberry jelly or is that going to upset your cute tummy?" He takes another smaller bite of his partially eaten sandwich. His other arm reaching out to pull Frankie closer.

"Strawberry jelly is delicious. I'll forage once my head stops feeling like I'm underwater." He scoots himself closer to Brock and rests his head on his shoulder, "Do you feel better?"

He nods as he eats. "No more migraine. Sorry for passing out on you."

"Do you remember anything that we kinda talked about?"

"Um. Concert. And," he frowns. "Something about Brooke. Jack was here." He finishes his first sandwich and starts on his second. 

"Yeah. I bought you some things. And got locked out and Jack saved me. Then I think he and I bonded a little." Frank pauses, "I really like your brother. You're biased so your opinion doesn't count but he's a good dude. Also, your sister is very pretty. She got the looks in the family." 

Brock grins at him as best as he can with mild chipmunk cheeks stuffed with PBJ. He's happy that Jack and Frankie are getting along. 

"Finish eating, you weirdo." He laughs, he presses his lips into Brock's shoulder then returns his head to his shoulder.

Brock watches a little of the infomercial on QVC, a spot promoting a new line of women's jewelry. Maybe his mom or sister would like a rose gold bracelet with diamonds. He absently offers a bite of his sandwich to Frankie without really looking. Oh, there's a matching necklace. That's cute.

Frank had closed his eyes for a moment only to open them and see a sandwich in his face. It's the Italian in him that just wants to feed and nurture, it's adorable but also a little annoying. It's a losing battle because Brock is more stubborn than he is. He makes a grump face then takes a bite hoping it will satisfy him.

He feels the tug on the sandwich that tells him Frankie took a bite. But he's not really paying much attention and he winds up finishing off the sandwich, all the while his eyes are glued to the TV screen. He's never watched this channel before. It's like a train wreck. A shiny, pretty colored, diamond-encrusted train wreck. He wonders if it's real and good quality earrings or if it's all fake. It's a shame he doesn't know anything about precious metals! He's certain these people are losing money with the way they are price dropping. There's just no way the entire set is only $400. That's a steal!

"You know it's all good plated and camera tricks right?" Frank asks, "All of it is Kmart quality."

"But it's so pretty. Brooke would totally look cute in the set. Especially with this dress she has."

"Do not buy your beautiful creature of a sister Qvc jewelry."

"Fine," Brock pouts. He needs more milk. He's fairly certain he has peanut butter stuck on the roof of his mouth. He tries to lick it off but only manages to do a rather decent impersonation of a dog with peanut butter.

"We can go to a jewelry store." Frank smirks, "maybe… drink some milk?"

Nodding, Brock gets up and takes his plate and empty cup into the kitchen. Throwing away his trash and getting a milk refill, he finishes that before rejoining Frankie on the couch.

"For a grown man, you are pretty damn adorable." He says leaning into him again. Frank takes the remote and finds a random movie to play, so Brock doesn't buy cheap things from late night tv. 

"For whatever reason, late-night dinner craving is always PBJ and milk. Gotta be something residual from my childhood." Brock curls into Frankie again, unbothered by his own nudity. 

"It's usually peanut butter and crackers," Frank replies as he runs his hand along Brock's side. He knows they need to have a conversation but he's not sure what is going to be said. Does he bring it up? Fuck it, worst that can happen is he gets shut down, "So… about earlier. Sorry." He doesn't mean to wince but it happens anyway.

"Hmm? For what?" His nose finds its way in Frankie's hair. God, he loves cuddling this man.

"I feel like I may have pushed you into a place that I shouldn't by being a dick" Frank realizes how much he stumbles over the words, "I watched you shift into someone different. And I'm sorry for that."

Brock feels as if an egg cracked down his back. He knew they would need to speak about what happened but he didn't know how to bring it up without ruining their moment. Fear runs down him at the memory of what they did. What he did. "Did I hurt you?" 

"No, you didn't. No more than regular rough sex." Frank's voice is soft and gentle. He doesn't want to say it was hot because that's not the point of this conversation. But it was hot in a scary way, "you did threaten to snap my neck which was… _different."_

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He means it. He's never putting his hands on Frankie's throat ever again. "I promise. I'll never choke you again. I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry."

"I like being choked. That's not a problem." He states, "I just feel like I did something wrong. After we were done, you broke down and I felt like a monster. Am I meeting your needs? Did I push you too far?" 

He thinks about his hands around Frankie's throat and how much he liked it. And how much it terrifies him. It takes a bit before he's able to respond, voice soft and shaky. "Please don't…" He doesn't know how to say what he wants to say. Thoughts empty and feelings without names swirl in his mind. "I can't. Again. I don't know. I want to but I– I can't let you die."

"Die? What are you talking about?" Frank pauses, "We don't have to ever do that again if you don't want too. If it makes it easier, you don't have to be wordy. Just talk to me."

"When I was in the military, I had an assignment to interrogate someone. He kept pushing me and pressing my buttons, mocking me. He kept challenging me like every punch wasn't good enough. Strong enough. 'is that all you got?' he'd ask. Over and over I'd rain blows and try to one-up my level of pain just so he'd give me the location of a target. Eventually, my hands found their way around his throat and I started choking him. I liked it. It was the first time I had ever done that and it wasn't the place or the time to get a boner but I did. I didn't mean…. It was an accident. I was just supposed to get the information." His voice cracks a little and he subconsciously holds Frankie closer. 

"Baby, I didn't know. I would have never said that or done any of it." Frank clings back to him, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's not the act… I like it. And I didn't stop. I was angry with you."

"Did you...want to hurt me?" 

"I wanted it to be this big thing and live up to your expectations. And it was like I wasn't pleasing you enough," he hesitates before just spilling whatever he can. He's not thinking of what he says makes sense anymore. Just lets it ramble and flow, "You do realize that the more you keep pushing me the more I'm going to keep pushing myself and trying to give you more and more until you die? And I'm terrified you will. I can't lose you. I don't know what happened. I wanted you to beg for me and I wanted you to be so needy like I was and wanted to feel that and be wanted. And then you started demanding and it was hot. It's kinda the same feeling. But at one point I just snapped and thought I wasn't doing good enough and if I did it more and more and more you'd scream for me and then it scared me and I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

"Woah! Hey! It's not your fault. You didn't hurt me!" Frank cups his face, "I didn't know any of this. I never want you to feel this way." 

He kisses his lips, "I'm not very good with my feelings. I don't want you to think I'm too needy. And I know that I am probably too quiet in bed and I'm trying to work on that. But Brock, I am so happy with you. Like I don't think I have been this happy, ever. I am in love with you and I am scared to lose you. " 

"I love you more than my life itself, _tesoro_. I'd do anything for you. And I'm probably not that great at explaining feelings and such either. Maybe we can come to a compromise? I don't want to change you or force you to be something you aren't in bed especially. I need the feedback to make sure we're okay and to know I'm doing you right and _safe_. I _need_ you safe… even if it's from me. Especially from me." He trails off softly. "I never want to be that other person again to you. I don't want to want to hurt you. I don't want to be a monster."

"I can do that! I will do anything to make you happy. I need to stop worrying that you will not want me if I do something you don't like." Frank kisses him, "I don't have to worry about being safe when I'm with you. I worry more about you than myself, silly." 

Brock smiles and kisses his forehead. "What a pair we make. So. What can we do to compromise? What are you comfortable with?"

"What do you need from me? Cut and dry. You won't hurt my feelings. For myself, I am not exactly sure what need isn't being met for me." Frank takes a long moment to rethink, "I suppose don't treat me like I'm going to break? But you take care of me, B. I've not been with someone who loves me and cares for me. So yeah…"

Brock smiles. Then blushes a little. Okay, a lot. For some reason, he felt weird saying it directly and out loud. He preferred to show his enjoyment and encourage it again instead of just outright stating it. "Well. I think you know a few of my kinks. I _really_ like it when you squirm beneath me. So glad I found the Magic Spot." 

Frank smiles, "Yeah, I know about that. I know you are a fan of me being well small, compact? I also kinda think you and I agree on… not sure how to put it but you like, pin me down or 'trap me'... But what else? I can't meet your needs if I don't know them, right? "

Brock nods. It's not so weird when Frank is kinda leading him and it's more a partnership than him just listing random things. He's not even sure if _kinks_ and _needs_ are synonymous here. But, oh, "I really like it when you're vocal. I don't know if I _need_ it per se, but it's something I find highly arousing. Um. I suppose the driving force behind the vocals would be the need itself because I also got off on you demanding more from me. I love my little spitfire hellcat."

"What do you mean vocal? Are we talking words or sounds?" Frank tilted his head to the side, "Hellcat?"

"I like both. But if you found it hard to, uh, verbally encourage me… I could get off on the noises you make alone. I have, in fact. I guess in the case of last night, you know we were kind of doing this extreme aggressiveness scene and I felt like the delay/denial aspect of it needed more… words. And, um, in case you haven't noticed I like the feisty sass you tend to do when you're all riled up. Hellcat because _gattino_. My goal was to keep denying until you got so riled up you were either going to beg me or demand. It kind of worked…. " He trails off, realizing he'd been on a tangent this whole time. A thought enters his mind. Time for a confession. "I want you to need me. Not just want me, but need me so badly you can't help it. I want to know that the things I do make you feel good and I want to drive you crazy good. _I want to feel needed_."

Frank is grinning, it's nice to hear him say what he needs, "I can do that. I'm just not used to being with someone who wants me to be _vocal_. So I'm sorry for not being responsive enough. And you want me to sass you? I can _definitely_ do that." 

"You really don't see it, do you?" He asks after processing his next thought, scanning Brock's face. It made his heart hurt a little. 

"What? What'd I do wrong?" The words just slipped out. Oh shit.

"Nothing! That's just it. You _still_ think you aren't good enough or that I am not happy with you…" Frank can't help but wear concern on his face, "Why do you think I don't want to leave? I want to be around you. If we never had sex again, I'd be very sad because I've never had someone make me feel like I am something to be worshipped but it wouldn't matter. I just want to be with you. I'm in the same house as you and you are the first thing I think about. I'm sorry you don't feel like I need or want you but like I do. And I don't want to lose you..." 

"All I want to do is worship you. And I'm not just talking physically. You deserve the world. And I have the means to give it to you. I want you to do all the things that make you happy and live your best life. I want to lift you up both physically and emotionally, mentally. Literally and figuratively. You are my little star because you are small and bright and sometimes my light in the dark. I'm never letting you go. Wherever you go, I'll follow too. I need you."

"I may gripe about the nicknames but I love it. I think it's the sweetest thing. Even fuckin cub. I just want to make _**you**_ happy. I am the happiest I have ever been. So I think we are dancing around each other trying to accomplish the same thing and not seeing it." Frank gave a soft sigh before sitting up slightly and sitting across his lap, "You are the best partner. The best man I have ever met. And I am willing to do whatever I can to make _you_ , **you** happy, Brock. I know you aren't used to it because you are the one who spoils but you need to let me spoil you. I won't fight as much about it if it makes you happy. " 

"It feels weird to be the top, dominate, whatever you want to label me as, and have you spoil me. I'm supposed to take care of you. It's all I want to do. Every cell in my body calls me to do that. It's who I am. But, I'll try to let some things go. You saw me with my migraine, so you know I'm not _incapable_ of relinquishing the reins."

"I'm not asking for you to do anything that makes you feel bad. Just maybe once in a while letting me pay for coffee or something small." Frank strokes his cheek, "I wanna do nice things for you too. Like replace the ties you ruined.. or bring home something I think you would like." 

"Okay. Don't really care about the ties being ruined but thank you for getting new ones I can cut up again. And… Did I say sorry yet for passing out? I tried to fight it. I don't know what happened. I just saw spots and barely got the knife out…"

"You saw spots?" Frank looks more concerned, "It's fine you passed out… I'm worried that you saw spots and passed out, baby. Wait?! New ones to ruin?" He grins. There's my dirty old man.

"I got really dizzy after I came. And that's when the migraine hit. And the spots. I remember fighting the blackout just to not squish you or leave you still tied up. I don't remember anything after I rolled off you. I came to sometime after and you were gone but I assumed you were in the kitchen before I went to sleep. Then I woke up again and broke the glass. I figure it was because I didn't drink a whole lot of water at the park or when we got home. And I waited far too long to cum. It hurt. Which didn't help? But I'm okay now."

"Ok. You'd tell me if something is wrong right? Even if it's just a feeling?" Frank questions him, "What sparked everything? We were fine and then a switch flipped."

"I honestly don't know. It's something I'll have to think about and get back to you on."

"Ok. I love you and worry about you," He says as he pinches his chin before kissing him, "Can you do one thing for me?" 

"Of course love." 

"If you feel like I am not giving you what you need, or I do something that upsets you. Whatever, will you please tell me?" Frank asks as he runs fingers through Brock's hair, "Remember, I'm here until you don't want me anymore." 

Thinking that Frank is still referring to the end result of their sex, Brock nods, "You're really great in bed. I don't think you have to worry about anything."

"Baby, I appreciate the compliment but I mean the 'if I upset you' as a general statement. Not just during sex." He places his arms on Brock's shoulders. 

"Oh. I'm–," he thinks for a moment, "I really didn't like you talking about Gerard and tossed salads"

"I'm sorry. I did that to be a shit, that wasn't cool and I won't do that again." Frank is sincere in his apology.

"I'm normally not a jealous man, so the spike of jealousy is really surprising to me. I think it's just because I know Gerard is already claiming you; he sees you as property. I also know he's very jealous too."

"But _I'm yours_ , silly. I have never, ever been his." Frank says with his brain taking him back to some questionable moments between him and Gee. "I mean, I think you've claimed me and I do not mind either." 

"Good, because I like marking you up and claiming you as mine." Brock purrs with a hint of possessiveness.

"I'm surprised you've shown restraint and not marked me up more." He kisses Brock's nose.

"I'm still testing our limits. I don't want to _actually_ hurt you. Like. Seriously." His hand holding Frankie's thigh begins to trace random patterns.

He tilts his head to the side in confusion, "Hurt me, how? I'm not trying to push it. I'm genuinely curious and you don't have to explain."

"I really do have the power to snap your neck. I know how to do that. I have done that. I can also bite down too hard and make you bleed. I don't want to bring knives into the mix but that could mark you up for sure. I _could_. But I won't. I can bruise you too much and it could be serious. If I'm not careful in restraining you I could cut off blood flow or cause some sort of strain on your muscles and tendons and break them. If I'm not careful I could do some serious damage. And I never want to do that."

"Oh." Frank took a moment to think about it, "Thank you for being gentle with me." 

"Another reason why feedback is important. I need to be sure, based on your reactions during sex and really not just sex but every moment, that I'm biting no further than your pain tolerance. Each noise you make is telling me more than just 'this feels good'. It's also 'this is too hard it hurts' or 'this is just the right amount of pressure'. At least half of my brain is keeping constant awareness of what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, and what is your safety status. I'm watching and listening to make sure I'm hitting your perfect spots in the right order to make you cum for me. It's probably the same for you but on a more subconscious level. As the Top, I have to be more aware to ensure we have fun and practice safe sex. Because I love you." Brock nuzzles Frankie's neck and gives him butterfly kisses. 

"Makes sense. And to me, it sounds like so much to worry about." 

_You need a vacation, baby._

He kisses Frankie's cheek. "As I said, it's what everyone already does subconsciously, I just have a little more awareness with it. It comes naturally to me. It's not a big deal to me."

Frank nods as his fingers run through the hair on the back of Brock's head, "I love you." 

"I love you more," he kisses his cheek again.

"You gonna put pants on today?" He teases with a big silly grin, "Or is it no pants Tuesday?" 

Brock chuckles and pretends to consider it, "Sadly yes. I'm going to hit the gym when it opens in a few hours. I haven't been going every other day like I'm used to and I can feel it taking a toll. It's kind of a need. You are welcome to come with."

"Do you _want_ me to come with you to the gym?" Frank asks, "Would you want to go with me to a band meeting? And a couple other errands?"

"Yes! To all of it, yeah! You know, 'cause you're my "boss" now so I suppose I better learn the band things," he laughs and hugs Frankie.

"That's right!" He laughs, "You're my bodyguard!" 

"Mmmhmm. Both a bodyguard and a _bodyguard_. And I'm very good at both," Brock purrs and nibbles on Frankie's earlobe.

"Mmm, my first assignment as your boss is to take me to bed?" Frank rakes his nails gently against Brock's scalp.

He shivers from the touch. "As you wish," he says while standing, carrying Frank into the bedroom. Fuck the TV.


	6. The Gym

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a short reprieve from the mental disaster from the last chapter. Again, all mistakes are made by me and no money is being made from this. Enjoy.  
> \- Winerscribe

Frank rolls onto his belly before glancing at the clock and groaning; it's too early. How is Brock up and moving? He covers his head with a pillow and pretends to be dead. It's what you're supposed to do when a bear attacks.

Brock slides on his underwear and smiles at his cub making a fuss in the sheets. Their sheets. Instead of putting on pants next, he goes to him and pokes his head under the pillow, "Hey, sleepy baby. You don't have to get up until I'm ready. That's at least another thirty minutes. Want me to turn off the light?" He turns off his bedside lamp anyway. He doesn't need the light to get dressed in the only outfit he uses for the gym anyway.

Frank groans under the pillow and shifts his hips so his butt is facing Brock.

"I'll take that as a yes," Brock keeps his voice low and goes back to getting ready. 

They fell asleep three hours ago and he's up and bright. He's a sadist for sure. Frank isn't sure if his eyes can open at 6 am. He pokes his head out from the pillow and curls into a ball. "Aren't you tired?" He doesn't hold back the judgment from his voice.

"I'm used to sleeping for one hour and running straight for twenty hours. So, no. I'm usually good after four or five hours of sleep, six at most. Unless I'm sick," he quietly responds as he pulls on gym shorts.

"You're a better man than I. I'd want a car to run me over if I got an hour of sleep and was expected to be a person," He grumbles before disappearing under the pillow again. He's dating the Energizer Bunny. 

"It was better than being screamed at by the Sargent and made to run drills. Relax and go back to sleep. The quieter we both are the more sleep you'll get."

Frank grumbles under the pillow, he's not a morning person.

After getting dressed, Brock flutters around the house. He gets his bag and packs it for his post-workout before moving into the kitchen to start some coffee and put on his boots. When he's poured two thermoses out of fresh hot coffee, he moves back into his bedroom to wake Frankie. 

Yeah… he might be dozing off but able to hear the sounds in the room. He assumes Brock is fluttering. He stretches out again and turns his back to his boyfriend. 

"Made coffee. Got it ready for you in the kitchen. It's time to go, baby. You gotta get dressed," he moves to Frankie's side and gives him a little shake. "Come on sweetheart." 

He loves him very much and he is very sweet. But he is sluggish and slowly reacts. "Ok." Frank yawns, "I'm up." He doesn't move more than his head from under the pillow.

"Come on, _tesoro_ ," Brock shakes him again. "Don't make me drag you out, _gattino._ " 

"You wouldn't. Not by my tail…" his voice is full of sleep. His words don't make sense to him but he hopes they do to Brock.

Chuckling he moves to the end of the bed, trailing a hand down the lump that is Frankie's body under the sheets. "No, not by your… _tail_ ," he softly snickers to himself over that. Sleepy Frankie was extra adorable. His hand snakes under the blanket to grab one of Frankie's ankles and pull him down the bed. "But I said get up or I'll drag you out!" 

The pulling sensation forces his eyes open and his body sits up. He blinks a couple of times then his eyes focus. "'m up." He kicks his legs to touch the floor and stands, a little wobbly but he's up. "I don't work out. I don't think I have legs. But I'm gonna get dressed." He mutters. 

"You are so cute," he kisses him lightly. "Want some help?"

He nods. He doesn't even know how he can help him but he'll take it. If he doesn't have to think, he's happy. Coffee was mentioned. He focuses on Brock. "I'm sorry. I'm not a morning kitten." 

Awwww. He's sure his heart just pulled a Grinch and tripled in size at those adorable words. God, he loves Frank. Sleepy Frank was even better. Grinning like a loon, he grabs him clean clothes and moves to help him get dressed. "It's okay, baby. Arms up." 

Frank raises his arms, unsure why but he trusts Brock. "I should put socks on. Maybe pants. Yeah, pants are required in public." A part of his brain clicks on and really hopes he wasn't saying any of that out loud. "Was I just talking?" 

"A little, yeah," he slides Frankie's shirt on and grabs his undies. "Yes, you need pants on for the public. Or shorts. It's supposed to be hot today."

"Well, that's embarrassing." He says with a sigh, "My brain basket betrayed me. I love you very much… so much. Not very. That's not English."

"Yes, it is. Sit so I can put your undies on you. You are going to wear red for me today." Brock kneels down to slide on the fabric.

Frank nods and sits. "Why red?" 

"You look good in red. One of my favorite colors for you," he slides the underwear up to his knees before grabbing Frank's pants and sliding those on as well. "Stand up, _gattino_. You know this is a very interesting turn of events. I'm usually stripping you naked not dressing you. I kind of like it. You all sleepy and cute and not enough to function. You needing me to help you. Me like."

Frank stands and looks down at Brock. He smirks, "Yeah it's not how we do this." The fog slowly lifts as he watches Brock stand and pull up his underwear and pants. "I can sock myself. Feet are gross." 

He gives him a weird and confused look. Feet aren't that bad if someone took care of them properly. And Frankie's toes are cute. Okay, he thinks every inch of Frankie is cute and sexy. So he's biased. Who cares. But still, he didn't think it was a big deal. He wasn't a foot person like some kinksters were. No judgment to those who were but it wasn't a thing for him.

"What?" He yawns before resting his head in Brock's chest. 

"Feet are feet and a natural part of you. And rather important considering, you know, walking. Very important jobs feet have. I don't see why you think they are gross if someone took care of them like any other body part. I can put socks on you if you'd like."

"Okay. Just feel bad you are excited to go to the gym." Frank nods, he is rather compliant when he's tired. He sits down and lets Brock put socks on his cold feet before standing again. "Do you have a guy you do the thing with at the gym?" 

"Yeah. Just a buddy of mine to train with. So don't you worry. All you have to do is stand there and look sexy." And fuck me in the showers afterward, but Brock didn't say that. He's not sure if being at the gym will get Frankie in the right place to fool around. 

"I can do that. Promise I'll turn into a real boy soon." He nods and follows Brock out of the bedroom. His brain is calling out for coffee but he needs to put shoes on. He slips into Converse and pulls his jacket on. He makes sure he has his phone and wallet. 

"I'm ready. I think." He said opening his eyes wide enough to see Brock's pretty face. The journey to the gym is a blur. He remembers the elevator with Brock and coffee with the dinging sound. He remembers sitting in his car while the first sip of coffee touches a place deeper than his soul; Brock's coffee is perfection. He can't tell you the name of the gym or how to get home. But he knows he's there and following Brock into the place.

Stepping into the gym feels a little like returning home. Just knowing he was going to the gym boosted his mood and made him a little excited. The smell of antiseptic and sweat, the sound of grunts and yells mixed with the _chink_ of weights, and the sight of the boxing ring and heavyweight bags all made him feel like a young boy getting a treat. After heading to the locker room and showers to drop off his bag, he makes his way over to the machines and starts on arm curls.

Frank tries his best to not be noticeable. Places like this, in the past for him, can get ugly. He doesn't want to be the weird guy who is following Brock around. He finds a chair near the front desk and quietly sits, waiting until B is in the boxing ring. He pulls his phone out and goes through emails.

He's a little bummed that Frankie is so far away by the desk and not right next to him but he also realizes that he could get hurt while he's using the machines or weights so he focuses on his tasks, allowing himself to get lost into the bliss of the workout. He's doing a total body workout today and will probably run the circuit. His buddy doesn't seem to be in, so that's another bummer. Especially since he wants to use the bench press and he prefers to have a spotter. 

He spots a young guy who looks like he could help lift the bar should he need it. He wants to increase his lifting strength to be able to keep carrying Frankie. In one arm. Because of relationship goals. Casually he walks over and stands a little off to the side to let the guy finish his reps before approaching.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Do you mind if I asked you to spot me? My usual guy ain't here and it looks like all the trainers are either on a break or banging in the lockers again," he says with a joking grin.

The younger man turns to face Brock and smiles. This older dude has the body of a god and it's something he could totally get into. Or climb on top of. Maybe he could share some of his secrets to getting that smoking hot body. He extends his hand, "Sure. I'd be happy to help. Name's Nick. Which bench are you on?"

Brock shakes his hand and points out which one he's claimed, "Brock. And thanks. I'm trying to push myself to at least 315lbs. You good with that?"

Okay, Nick really can't help but check out the man's physique. The guy was clearly over forty and yet looked a hundred times better than most of the people in this ragtag gym. Nick watches him walk to try and figure out which way he swung and to admire the size of his calves. He could kill people with those things. Oh, right. Brock asked him a question, "315? That's okay with me but I gotta say, I'm impressed you can lift that much. You don't have a lot of bulk and yet I got a feeling you can lift that much with a foot or something."

Brock laughs and it echoes a little in the mostly quiet gym. He straddles the bench before laying down under the already prepped bar, looking up at Nick, "I'm not looking to get like Arnold. I can have the power without the mass."

Frank hears Brock's laugh and looks up. He scans the gym and sees him with another man. Oh, must be a friend… right. Frank watches closely, something in his gut tells him something is off. He swore he caught a glimpse of homeboy checking Brock out. Maybe it's a meathead bodybuilder dude thing? He can feel himself getting prickly. He moves chairs. A little closer and a better view of the other guy. He's cute but Frank is not above getting his ass kicked to keep his man. _You've become that guy huh?_

"Power is a great tool," Nick comments as he looks down at Brock lifting the bar. He keeps his hands out, ready to assist should he be needed. "I prefer speed over power. I do like mass though. I'm usually on the treadmill more than lifting weights. And I totally agree with you on Arnold though. That guy was using 'roids. Not like you though. I can tell. You have that all-natural and hard work vibes going. It's pretty awesome at your age." He hopes he didn't just insult the man, so he gives a bright smile to take any sting Brock might feel out of his words.

Frank scans the room, he wants to find a reason to get closer. He swears he sees a change in spotter guy but he could be tired and making it up. There is a chair near the weight bench thing he can sit in. It's within touching distance to Brock and perfect to make sure his _friend_ understands he's not a free agent. It's probably not meant for him but he casually moves, passing quietly between machines but making sure he is in Brock's eye line. He doesn't announce himself but he isn't silent.

"Yeah," Brock grunts a little as he moves into doing his reps. "I've worked hard and long for everything I have. Not into drugs. Not like my usual guy who helps me out. Guy's a brick house worse than me from drugs."

"Now that's just a shame. Ruining the body like that. Glad you haven't let yours go to waste," Nick smirks. "So. Do you come here often?" 

Frank can't help but snort then clear his throat. He is trying to look like he is on his phone but he's watching.

"I do. Or try to anyway. Been lazy as of late." 

"More like busy."

Nick turns to find the owner of the voice and is surprised to see this skinny guy with tats sitting on a bench. The guy looks like he belongs in some rager or lurking in a club smoking shit, not here in a gym. "You know this guy, Brock?" 

"He better know me." Frank's face is pulled tight with his lips set in a line.

"Yeah. I do," he grits out. He's starting to feel the strain in his muscles from the lactic acid build-up. This is the point where he really can't focus on chatting anymore. Sweat begins to form on his brow and in his hair. 

Frank gives the meathead a little smile then goes back to his phone. His knee bouncing with irritation. His eyes dart up a few seconds later at the two men. "I think I was creeping the girl at the front desk out. So I had to move." _And mark my territory._

Nick wonders if this guy is like Brock's kid brother or something. He refuses to think _son_ because there's just no way his gay vibes are inaccurate here. He goes back to keeping one eye on Brock's breathing to make sure he's not overexerting himself and the other on the expanse of his stomach and abs. And lower. 

"So what are you doing after this, Brock?" He didn't mean the next set of workouts either and hoped the man knew that.

"Stopping at my apartment and we have a band meeting." Frank's voice is unenthusiastic to be speaking to this human. He doesn't want to out Brock just in case.

"Ring," Brock grunts out. He's nearing his end and is more focused on his breathing than the conversation. His arms shake a little.

 _Not what he means B, he wants to put your dick in his mouth._ Frank gives the guy an icy glare.

"I think you've reached your end, my man. Stick a fork in you cause you're done," Nick laughs. He grabs the bar and helps Brock set it back on its rack. Bending down, he grabs what he hopes is Brock's towel, only to find it's his shirt. He offers it anyway. 

Doing an ab curl to sit up, he grabs the offered compression shirt. It's not ideal to wipe away the sweat that is running down his temples but it'll work to keep it out of his eyes. He grins at both men and tries to catch his breath. 

Frank gives him a devious smile with a glimmer in his eyes as he pulls his lip ring in his mouth. "I am a _lucky_ son of a bitch." He says quietly.

The light is slowly coming online in Nick's head. He's not sure enough to stop pushing his limits, however. He can't help but want to keep assisting this man. And maybe find a private shower stall to fuck him in. "You need a _partner_ for the ring, big guy? I'll be your man in the ring if you need it."

"You'll need to find a ride to the hospital," Frank mumbles as he turns his lip ring. He's at the point where he can be a good boy and sit quietly or react.

"What?" Nick turns and snaps at the tattooed guy. What is this guy's problem? 

Brock is very confused. He didn't hear what Frankie had said, instead he grabs his bottle of water from under the bench and drinks the whole thing. Why was Frankie mad? 

"I see you and know what you are up to." Frank doesn't change his tone nor does he look up. Instead, he pulls that lip ring back in and slowly turns it. 

He should be trying to figure out why Frankie was upset but instead, he was sorely focused on his mouth and the lip ring. He's never seen him play with it and it's giving him ideas. He wants to explore that later but for now, he needs to get a refill of water and move into the ring. Mmmmm. Ring. Lip ring. Baby Twinkie can suck on something else. No Brock. Bad. 

"You got a problem, man?" Nick challenges. "Either say it or leave."

"Stop subtly hitting on my boyfriend please." Frank's still not giving him emotion even though he wants too badly.

" _Boyfriend_?!" Nick sputters out. How the fuck? What the hell? How the hell could Brock be dating this punk kid? Surely he's lying his ass off because there's no way in hell this gorgeous hunk of a man is into some skinny punk ass tweaker who probably does drugs and shit. "Look I don't know what fucking game you're playing, but it's rude to lie. Why don't you mind your business and run along so you can go play your Pokemon or shoot up in some back alley or something and leave us, _men_ , alone?"

Frank stands no longer able to contain himself and takes a step closer to the buff guy, "Are you calling me a fuckin' junkie?" His neck is hot as he clenches his fists. He's trying to keep his composure but failing.

Brock is absolutely stunned. When did this guy _hit_ on him? Like he was being polite and helping Brock out with the bench press not _hitting_ on him…. Right? Ew. That's so gross. 

"Well, if the shoe fits…" 

"What makes me a junkie, you fuckin meathead? Tattoos? Being pale? Maybe it's being skinny?" He hisses back, "Why wouldn't I be his partner? Hmmm… please tell me 'cause this is going to be _fascinating."_

"Wait, you were _hitting on me?_ " asks Brock, totally and utterly dumbfounded and confused. This does not compute. Stuff like this just doesn't come up on his radar, probably because he's only interested in those who check all the boxes of his type and everyone else is just friend-zoned indefinitely. Nick's nice enough to help him but… ew. 

"Yeah, until he decided to intervene. How did you not know? Is it the age thing?" Nick is pissed he's not going to get any now and regrets helping this old fucker with the bench press. Asshole. How dare he taunt him with an ass like that and not reciprocate.

"Well, I'm sorry if I misled you. It wasn't in any way intentional," he gives a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He's going to let the "age thing" go. Clearly, the guy's embarrassed about hitting on a taken man so naturally, he's pissed off. "But I would appreciate it if you didn't insult my boyfriend. He hits you and I won't hold _him_ back but you."

"So you actually _like_ this punk ass tweaker? Are you blind as well as stupid, old man? I'm way better looking than him. At least I look like I belong in a gym and not in jail tripping out on drugs. Bet you got track marks hiding under all that ink."

Frank's had enough and throws a hard right hook into the idiot's face. It hurts him but he doesn't care. He throws another punch and doesn't land where he intends but it's hard. "I'm not a fucking junkie, you piece of shit." Frank snaps. 

Brock is immediately behind Nick, grabbing his arms and locking them behind his back. When Nick tries to struggle, he kicks out and hooks his ankle around Nick's and sweeps his foot out from underneath causing them to go down to the ground. Brock shifts his weight and plants a knee right on Nick's spine in between his shoulder blades. "Struggle or say something stupid and I could paralyze you." 

"What the hell?! I should sue you for this! This is assault!"

"Try me. My lawyers would sweep you under a rug. Maybe do a little digging around in your history. See what they can find. I gotta feeling you won't like that. So how 'bout a compromise? You stay the fuck away from me and my boyfriend and I won't break every bone in your body?" Brock's voice is dangerously low, nearly whisper soft.

"B, he isn't worth it." 

"I know. But you are." He presses down a little on Nick's spine, causing the man to cry out a little. "How 'bout it, chump? We in an agreement? You stay away and keep your silence and I play _nice_."

Nick doesn't hesitate in agreeing. This fucker was crazy! He's clearly way in over his head and all he wants to do is leave and go home. Let the two weirdos have each other. He nods rapidly, silently praying that the tingling feeling down his arms isn't because of the pressure in his spine. 

"Atta boy. I really hate to do this, Nicky. I just wanted a little bit of assistance from a good Samaritan. But you crossed far too many lines," he moves his knee off of his spine. Getting his feet under him, he hauls Nick to his feet. "Now take your shit and get the fuck out." 

Red-faced and seething, Nick marches over to his own duffle bag that he has strewn about and packs it up. He doesn't say a word as he strides out of there as quickly as he can. 

"I'm sorry, B." Frank feels himself cooling down. He is watching Nick like a hawk. 

The moment Nick is out of their "danger" zone, Brock steps forward with blown eyes and yanks Frankie into a hard kiss, shoving his tongue down his boy's throat. It should **not** have been as sexy hot to see Frankie get pissed off and throw a punch as it was but holy shit it was.

He was not expecting this. His fingers curl around Brock's arms as he kisses him back with the same intensity. His hands are screaming from poor form but he will deal with that later. Brock was more important. 

Pulling away far sooner than what he wanted, Brock steps back to check Frankie's hand to make sure his feisty kitten didn't break something. He carefully moves each finger before kissing each one softly afterward. "Doesn't feel broken. Bruised and sore at most. Feisty little hellcat. I'm sorry you hurt but that was hot to watch. It seems we both like getting the other one a little jealous and riled up. Except I didn't know he was hitting on me."

"He was subtle at first but when I came over he got a little more obvious. How did-- you really didn't notice? The tone of voice?" Frank smiles up at Brock. How could he not notice?

Brock has the grace to look more than a little sheepish. He really didn't pick up on it. "Not a bit. I, uh, I probably would have only if he was… well like _you_. It's not what I look for so I guess it just doesn't click on my radar? I tend to forget that other people could see me and think… like… him." He's fairly certain he's the dumbest lightbulb in the box right now. Because of course now that he's "woke"-- he overheard some young person saying that once and he's fairly certain he's got the lingo right-- he realizes and sees what Nick was doing.

"I love you so much, baby." Frank kisses his bare chest; he was the hottest but thickest man he'd ever met, "Sorry to make a scene at your gym." 

"Do I _look_ like I give a damn? Baby. That was hot, awkward as hell at first but hot. I only care about your hand. And that damn lip ring." He's not even sure if Frankie was aware he was sucking on it in what he assumed was nervousness. 

"My hand hurts but my lip ring?" He questions with his tongue involuntarily turning it. The corner of his mouth raises slightly. It was the small things that Brock likes the best.

"It's… distracting," he licks his lips. His voice lowers to barely above a whisper. "Makes me want that mouth of yours someplace _else_. Every. Damn. Time."

"Like a sucker?" He bites his lip and pulls the ring in. 

Leaning forward, he presses his lips to the shell of his ear, "I got something hard you can suck on." He pulls back and kisses Frankie's cheek before smirking at him and grabbing his empty water bottle. He needs to refill it and then go find someone to challenge in the boxing ring. It's what he came here for, after all. 

Frank lets a little groan out as the words hit him between his legs. He follows behind Brock but stays a little behind him so he doesn't look like a puppy. Even though he is a little damn puppy, he finds a place to sit and wait that is out of the way. He decides as he watches his handsome man moving around the gym, Brock's getting his dick sucked in the car. There is nothing he can say or do about it. 

"Okay got my water bottle, towel, gloves, Steve's getting ready, and Frankie," he mutters to himself as he goes over with a pair of gloves in his hand. He's got his checklist. "You gonna watch, right?" 

"Yes, baby," Frank replies with a smile, curious to see him actually fight. 

"Good," he pecks his lips lightly before climbing into the ring. A blonde Dorito shaped man steps in as well, with red gloves on. Brock grins at his friend and trainer. "Steve. Took ya long enough to get your ass out of bed. I had to borrow some schmuck to help me with the press. College got you down, kid?"

They fist bump gloves before Steve replies, "Nah, I was up late banging your wife. Thought you died old man. I haven't seen you in more than a few days. I was about to send EMS to your house."

Brock laughs. They have a weird insulting relationship and it's perfect. It was how they pushed each other when they trained. After a nod and silent communication, they both move into a fighting stance and begin.

Frank watches as Brock gets himself into the right headspace. His shoulders pull back and put his arms up in a protective stance. His face hardens as he strikes out and lands into his partner. Frank flinches a little at the sound of the blows. 

He watches the two men dance around before he focuses on Brock. He shifts in his seat a little as the intensity and focus on Brock's face activates the butterflies in his stomach. He's seen this look on Brock's face; it sends a tingle down his spine. 

His mind wanders to a place it probably should not. Is this what he looks like when he's killed someone? What would it take for Brock to kill? Maybe not him, he thinks breathing looks nice on him. His eyes follow Brock as he ducks and strikes out at his friend. He pulls his head back to where it should be, the dark thoughts creep around the intentional light he's trying to keep up. 

Blows trade faster than the stock market and Brock has practically danced on his toes to stay away from the flying fists. He loves this. Having someone to be his human punch bag felt amazing. It was a sort of a zen feeling to not need to think anything and just let him fall into the rhythm of the motions. Letting his instincts take over and the moves flow. Slowly he shifts into a faster tempo, pushing and pushing himself.

Frank can't help but stare at Brock. He shouldn't be turned on by watching him fight, but he is. Each move is calculated. He's like a predator. He wants to be his prey. Frank shifts in his seat again. This isn't the place to be turned on. 

The fight ends when Steve stumbles and with a well-placed undercut, Steve falls to the mat and decides to not get back up. He grins up at Brock and waves his gloves in surrender. Brock stands there, chest heaving and sweat dripping onto the mat. He grins before using his teeth to undo one glove then the other and help Steve up, patting him on the back.

"Proved me wrong old man," Steve pants. He wipes his face where a strong right hook busted his lip. "Your week-long retirement did not make you sloppy as I thought. I'm sorry."

"It would take a helluva lot more 'n that to knock me out of commission, Rogers. And I don't go down without a fight." 

_You sure went down for me pretty quickly._ He smirks at himself as he watches Brock and his friend talk in the middle of the ring. He scans his friend over, he's pretty but lacks a certain something that Brock has. Maybe it's that no one will ever be as good as Brock because he ruined Frank when it comes to finding anyone else attractive. He stands up and lets himself adjust; the last thing he needs is a visible boner in the goddamned gym his boyfriend works out in. He's already caused enough problems.

Brock finishes his talk with Steve, promising that he'd return in a few days. After shaking hands, they part, and Brock heads over to Frankie. His heart rate still hasn't slowed down and neither has his blood. It feels as if he's got a runner's high. Still buzzing from all the activity in his veins, he slips through the ropes and hops down, grinning. He drops the gloves. He'll take care of them later.

"Well? What did you think?" Brock pulls him into his arms. God, he looks absolutely ravishing. Frank pushes himself taller and kisses Brock rougher than he intended. His hand holds the back of his neck to keep him tall. His other hand grabs the front of his shorts at the waistband. A fire was lit with the last punch and it was beginning to burn out of control.

Brock moans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Frankie's waist. Holy crap this was hot. He did _not_ expect Frankie to pull something like this. It was perfect because he was in the mood to fuck just like he fights. Hard, fast, and frantic. Erratic. He needs him now. 

"I need you to fuck me now." He growls low before kissing him again like he had not kissed anyone before. It was needy and rough. His fingers press into Brock's skin before pulling away once more, pulling his lip with his teeth, "I mean it. Now!"

A deliciously dark look washes over Brock's face before he grippings his elbow tight and moves him toward the back of the gym. He doesn't make a sound as they enter the locker room. The room is empty and quiet for now as Brock drags him towards the last shower stall and shoves him against the wall trapping him and igniting another fire that begins to burn Franks insides hotter. One of Brock's hands fumbles for the water faucet. Water floods the sprayer and soaks them, the temperature cool but it doesn't matter.

Frank puts a hand on Brock's chest and one on his side. The thrill of being caught mixes with how turned on Brock made him during his fight. He doesn't have clothes to change into. But it's fine, he doesn't care if he's soaked to the bone. He lowers his hands to fumble with his own jeans as he pushes against Brock.

Brock can't seem to get enough of him. Far too impatient to wait, his fingers fist in Frankie's shirt, shredding the fabric and tossing it to the corner of the shower. He barely steps away to drop his gym shorts before he's eagerly kissing up and down Frankie's neck and helping him peel off wet jeans. Slick hands fumble frantically, needing to feel every inch of his skin in the shortest amount of time possible. The thrill of doing this in a public place where anyone could come in was pushed to the back of Brock's mind. He was mostly focused on the fact that they had a limited amount of time to play and the notion only fueled him more. He grabs Frankie's ass cheeks with one hand and messily kisses him with teeth clashing and tongues tasting. His other hand roams over Frankie’s chest and toys with his nipples, but only briefly before he can’t take it much longer and decides to just take two handfuls of his ass cheeks and lift.

Frank moans into his mouth as hands wander his skin. With help from strong hands, he wraps leg legs around Brock's waist. He holds on tight to his neck and tries to grip onto his wet shoulders. He reminds himself that he needs to be responsive, maybe not audibly at the moment but in general. 

He groans at the feeling of Frank’s body against his and he kisses him hard again. He pushes his hips forward only to remember that he left the lube he usually has, in his duffle. Which just so happens to be in a locker and nowhere near the shower. Son of a bitch. He might just well get one of those mini bottles and attach them to a bracelet at the rate they were going, especially if they wanted shower or water-themed sex. Water is just not good lube and he doesn't want to ruin Frankie’s ass like that. Fuck. He breaks the kiss to tell him that he’s going to have to do a stupid fucking lube run when his eyes fall on the built-in dispenser most public showers have and the mostly full conditioner. Well. That’ll do. 

“Gonna make you extra soft inside, baby,” he says as he pins Frank to the wall with his hips and left arm. Once he’s stable, he reaches over with his right and pumps some conditioner into his palm, using it to coat himself before using the remainder to shove two fingers inside, scissoring quickly.

Frank inhales as the fingers quickly work inside of him. His head pushes back into the wall of the shower as he holds on tight to Brock's neck and shoulder. He wonders how long the conditioner is going to last inside of him but he really _truly_ doesn't care at this point. He drops his head forward a little and kisses Brock again. His eyes glance behind B, to make sure they were still alone. 

Adding a little more conditioner to his cock, he grips his length and lines up, pushing forward just to get the tip in first. He braces Frankie and locks his legs before slamming forward and bottoming out. “Fuck,” he groans before he frantically kisses Frankie.

Frank moans quietly at first but quickly realizes he needs to not let out the sound that needs to escape as Brock rams himself in with no hesitation. He is thankful that Brock kisses him, giving him a chance to moan and whine into his mouth as he holds on for dear life. 

Holy shit he loves the sounds Frankie makes. They go straight down to his dick, making him harder. A small part of him wishes they weren’t in public just so he could hear them louder. He groans into the kiss and slows down his hips so he can add more power behind each thrust. He wants to wrap a hand around his throat again, maybe not choking him but just add pressure to enhance the feeling. 

Frank pulls away from his lips and lets his head fall back. A soft moan falls from his lips as each push from Brock rocks him a little closer and faster to coming. He brings himself back to earth as he sees movement in the locker room but the movement disappears before he could sound the alarm. He kisses Brock again with a little whine following it, as he tries to hug himself a little closer as he clenches around Brock.

“Fuck, baby you feel so good wrapped around my cock, so fucking perfect,” he pants hard before moaning softly at the feeling of the tightening of Frankie’s ass. His nails dig in as he feels his impending orgasm build. “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

"Yes!" He gasps as he tightens again. He wants to shush himself but resists. "I fucking love you!" He kisses him again and grips on to his back. He can feel the tension in his body reaching the breaking point. He bites his lip and moans. The slight pinch of Brock's nails into his skin is the trigger that he needed. "Oh shit! Fuck!" Frank's hand slaps over his mouth as a loud moan is quickly followed by him coming. His muscles tense as he follows the waves until he can breathe again feeling the frantic pushes under him means he's done something right. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he pants softly in Frankie’s neck, hips erratically slamming forward. “Oh god yeah, shit baby I- oh _fuuuuck_ YES!” Teeth find Frankie’s shoulder and bite down hard to silence his own shouts as the coil snaps inside and pleasure explodes throughout his body. He fucks through his orgasm until he can’t possibly move anymore. When he lets go of skin and sees the near-perfect indentation of his teeth, his jaw drops, and a wince escapes. Gently he sets Frankie down. 

Frank leans against the wall and lets himself take a breath. His heart beating hard in his chest as he looks up at Brock. He looks up at his face with concern. He reaches up and feels the sharp pinch and immediate ache in his shoulder. "I'm fine babe." He says softly touching Brock's arm to pull him close again.

"I'm still sorry, _tesoro_ ," he hugs Frank tightly but only for a moment. They still need to actually shower and continue on with their errands for the day. He smiles and winks, "Let's get cleaned up and I'll make it up to you, okay?" 

"Okay, babe." Frank replies as he quietly trails off, "I don't have _dry_ clothes..." Brock doesn't have to make it up to him but he doesn't argue.

"Yes you do," he winks before pumping shampoo into his hand and washing his hair. 

It takes a moment for it to sink in that Brock had planned this all along. He smirks and shakes his head. He quickly washes his body and rinses off to enjoy that beautiful man's body. He's curious to know the reaction of the boys when Brock shows up with him. Or his new _decorations_. He planned what he needed to grab at his apartment. Mostly clothes but he also needed to grab his contracts for the band from his freezer. 

Shower finished, he walks out soaking wet and unbothered by the other two dudes there noticing his nudity, leaving Frank in the shower to wait. He grabs his duffle out of his locker and brings it back to their stall with a towel for them to share. He offers the towel to Frankie first.

"You have more surface area… you sure?" He asks with a cheeky smile before taking the towel and quickly during his body before handing it back to him. 

"You know, I considered that especially since I think you wet is a _very_ good look on you. But you need to squeeze your ass into these jeans," he pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans and hands them to Frankie. "And I think I wanna watch you bouncing around to shimmy into them. I can't do that so well while I'm getting dressed but I can while toweling off. And if that explanation doesn't work, I was just being nice."

He picked the tightest ones too because they are brand fucking new, "I know it's 'cause you're nice but I _like_ to think it's 'cause you're a dirty man." Frank grins wide as he takes the jeans and slowly works them on until it gets to the knees then the struggle begins. 

"Why not both?" Brock asks, quickly toweling off himself, keeping his eyes glued to his boyfriend. He didn't really care about a little wetness so he kind of haphazardly towels and slips on boxer briefs. He pauses and stares when Frankie starts to struggle to get the jeans over his thighs.

"Both are good." He says as he dances a little to get the jeans up to his butt before realizing he was going commando. He pauses and glances back at Brock. It was intentional. "Enjoying the show?" 

"Very much. This should not be as hot as it is for me. Watching you squirm… dance. Gimme another ten minutes and I'm good to go again. Keep this up and I think I can get that down to five." Best idea ever. Though if he has any hope of walking out of there with a hard-on, he'd best put on his own jeans. 

"You're not careful, I'm going to need a wheelchair," Frank snorts as he finally gets them up and tucks himself carefully in them. He waits patiently for his shirt as Brock dresses. He wonders what shirt was picked for him. 

Brock pulls out the next fabric in his duffle bag; his camo pants from his army days. Plenty of pockets for hiding weapons. He slides them on before tossing Frankie his shirt. "You know last night was pretty hot, right? Maybe not "phenomenal" but certainly epic. Yeah?"

"Were you not there? Epic is small compared to last night," he replies pulling on the shirt, not expecting it to be plain white. He makes a mental note about shirts along with the list of things he's got planned.

"Yeah, but the ending was a little to be desired all things considered. Not my point though." Brock bends down and grabs his own shirt- a solid black tank that seems to have shrunk a little in the wash. Unless he grabbed one of his older tanks with the smaller sizes? It's good enough. Next to go on is his holster and 9mm Beretta on his right hip. "I had a favor to ask." 

"And what's that?" Frank thinks he knows where this plane is going to be landing, but wants to see if the pilot can do it right. He picks up his ruined shirt and gives B a look that asks _'really?'_

"Well," he begins, as he goes over and takes the sopping wet clothing and wrings them out before just dropping them into his duffle. "I really wanted to see about doing it again. But maybe without a bit of rug to distract me." Ouch, that sucked terribly worse than a forty-year-old prostitute. Maybe he could change it to something better?!?

Not the smoothest landing but there were no casualties. Frank tried to not make a face but it happened. He's going to fuck with him just a little. He can play dumb quite well. "You don't have rugs in your apartment though? You don't even have carpet." 

Brock wants to slap himself for being stupid. Why did he have to ask?

"If you are asking me to wax my ass, I've already set an appointment up for tomorrow. Does that work for you?" Frank smirks and holds his laugh in. 

He was trying to be a little subtle but apparently, he likes to eat his shoe. Brock could feel his face warming up from the absurdity of his analogy and how bad his train of thought crashed. Huffing a laugh he nods at Frankie, "Yeah, that's, that's exactly what I meant. But. I was thinking all of it."

"Even my leg hair?" He teases, "Do you kinda trust me? I got this, baby." Seeing him embarrassed was cute. He is almost always so confident and cool that moments like these are hidden gems for his memory. 

"I do trust you. But I don't care about leg hair. Nicknames aside, I don't want an actual kid in my bed. Dork," Brock begins to pack up their stuff. "Where are we headed next?"

"My apartment. I just want to grab a couple of things and clothes, if you want me to stay _over...longer?_ " His tone of voice shakes a little but he quickly recovers, "I didn't know if you wanted to come inside cause you've done that _**a lot**_ already."

A sly look crosses Brock's face as he bends down to grab the duffle and look back at Frank. He laughs before heading out to the locker where they've got their shoes. Frank follows behind him. He was looking for an actual answer but whatever. He can always let Lori know that she doesn't need to be quiet. They put on shoes and do a final sweep to make sure nothing is forgotten before heading outside and to the car. Brock puts his duffle into the trunk and then they make the trip over to Frankie's apartment. The drive is nice as they chat comfortably. Soon enough Brock's pulling into the apartment building and parking.

"Be right back," He says as he unbuckles then hurries into the apartment. He pulls clothing together and puts them in an MCR bag before opening his freezer and pulling the contracts and other documents out. He leaves a quick note for Mike who is passed out in his bed then rushes downstairs. He hands the Ziploc bag of cold documents to Brock as he puts his little bag behind him and sits down. 

"Why are these cold?" Brock tries to peer into the frosted zip lock bag, curious before putting them in the glove box.

"I keep them in my freezer." He replies like Brock is weird. He sees the gun and doesn't react more than a small side grin.

"A safe would probably be better but ok. Where to now, cub?" he asks as they get back onto the road.

"Will you promise to behave? Because the meeting is at Gerard's. Did you need food?"

"Yeah, we should grab something to eat on the way. Unless you have a better idea. And yes, I will behave," he grins at Frankie. "I am capable of separating work from pleasure. But fair warning. I take my job very seriously."

"I mean, should I be concerned by that statement?" He asks as he steals his hand and laces his fingers with Brock's, "And yes, you should eat. You are a teddy bear when you have food in you." 

"I was gonna say I need food after a hard workout but I guess that's true too." He grins before stopping at a red light. He takes the opportunity to lean over and kiss Frankie lightly before continuing towards the tunnel. "I don't know if concerned is the right word but I just mean that if I'm going to do a job, I actually _do_ the job. Which means me addressing and fixing security issues. Like your damn door. If I see something your band is doing wrong, I'm going to call it out."

"Ok. That's fair." Frank smiles, "Thought you were my bodyguard?" 

"Uh, yeah. But I can't protect you if the others aren't helping by keeping you safe too. I don't know. I'm just generalizing and high balling it here. Where are we going for breakfast?"

"I got you, babe," Frank strokes his hand with his thumb. "It's just a coffee shop with small food. We have a little time to enjoy the food." 

Frank directs Brock to the small cafe where the warm wood colors complimented the deep rich coffee smells. He didn't want more than coffee but has a strong feeling he'd get protests from Brock. The back of his head gnaws at the idea of Gerard being a twat and what Brock's reaction will be; because Gee will go low without hesitation. Brock knows about the past between them but he doesn't need details. He pulls his smile out and tries to keep himself calm. 

He follows Brock to a small table and sits across from him to enjoy their breakfast. The sandwich on Brock's plate actually looks appetizing despite the knot in his own stomach. He should have gotten a cold brew like Brock but he just wanted to warm his hands up. He keeps the conversation light and easy. With breakfast done, they head out and make the drive to Gerard's place, Frankie giving Brock directions.


	7. The Band Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of band dynamics here and some more smut. We apologize for any and all mistakes. Just a friendly reminder that there is no money to be made and this is a work of fiction. For those who have made it this far, we thank you for your dedication. Just hold on a few more chapters, I promise the plot will thicken. We have a rollercoaster of emotions planned that we think will be loved. Enjoy!

The drive took them just outside of the city to a suburb with cookie-cutter houses and perfectly manicured lawns. Frank grips Brock's fingers a little tighter as they get closer. He tries to keep a straight face as they pull up outside of the dark grey house. Brock pulls in behind another car and parks. 

"Are you okay? You seem nervous," asks Brock, his thumb caressing over Frankie's hand.

"I'm good. Not really sure what this meeting entails," Frank fibs a little. "Besides, I have a pretty hot bodyguard to keep me safe." He slips out of the car and waits on the curbs for Brock to emerge from the car. He can hear Ray's big voice already and feels a little better. 

Brock goes around and takes Frankie's hand and gives him a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, _tesoro_. It'll be okay. Promise." 

Frank grins at him and nods. Together they walk up the path and knock on the door, Brock mentally noting the doors and windows. He looks around while they wait for someone to answer the door.

Ray pulls the door open shouting something about sandwiches on rye. He grins wide and throws arms around Frank. "Frankie! Glad you are here! Mike is the only one who is late." Ray's voice is so happy that you can feel it, "Hi Brock! I am glad to see you!" He pulls Brock into a hug and squeezes him a little. He lets him go and steps aside to let them in, to which Frank takes the invite and pulls Brock in with him. 

The hug threw Brock for a loop but he recovers quickly enough as they step inside. His eyes naturally note the location of more windows and doors. How the furniture is set up. How the house is laid out. Where the people are.

Frank nods to Bob as he walks into the kitchen holding Brock's hand before stopping in front of the pantry. He glances up at Brock and can see the wheels turning in his head.

"Hey, guys!" Bob greets them as he puts his cup down on the counter, "Glad you're alive Iero."

"Yeah, he makes sure I haven't been carried off by wolves." Frank squeezes Brock's hand and looks up at him. The bite on his neck stings slightly. The pressure in the room changes as the back sliding door opens and Gerard walks in wearing a black and white Batman shirt and black plaid pants. He smiles at Frank but the smile fades as he sees Brock. 

"Gentlemen." 

"Mr. Way," Brock tips his head in greeting. Gerard wants to be cool and aloof, so can he.

A pale long-legged woman steps in shortly after him, long dark hair tied back into a ponytail. Her dark shirt covers tattoos that peek out from under the hems, as she extends her arm towards Brock, "I'm Lindsey! Gerard's wife. Are you Frank's new beau? Partner? Boyfriend?" Her voice is soft and chipper as she smiles at him.

Wife? Alrighty then. He shakes her hand, "Brock Rumlow. And either of those terms works, ma'am." 

"We aren't married yet." Gerard's voice softens as he hugs her side, "But we might as well be. Some people like to take things slow." 

"You're just getting used to using the term, that's all," Brock smiles at Lindsey, teasing lightly.

"That's exactly what I'm doing! Would you like something to drink?" She offers as she bumps Gerard with her skinny hip.

"Water would be great, thank you, ma'am." 

"Please call me Lindsey, Brock. And is bottled ok? They are working on our plumbing right now." She moves to the fridge gracefully and pulls the door open to retrieve water for him. She hands it over.

"That's perfect, thank you, ma'am," he said, taking the bottle and cracking it open to drink half in one go. He's still a bit dehydrated from the gym. 

"He needs to come for dinner, he'll actually enjoy eating the food and wine, unlike some people," She teases Gerard.

"You had me at wine." Brock finishes the water bottle. He briefly wonders if they recycle.

Frank exhales as Lindsey makes light of Gerard's sour puss face. The front door opens with a soft chime from the security system. 

"I'm here sorry! Overslept!" Mike shouts as he rushes into the kitchen and stands beside Brock who makes him look even smaller and more bird-like. 

"Alright boys, help yourselves. I am going to be downstairs hovering over the plumber and his assistant," She grins before kissing Gerard on the cheek. "Play nice," she whispers in his ear before disappearing again.

"Alan can't be bothered to show up for this so I guess I am playing the boss," Gerard says with a frown.

"Alan?" Brock asks.

"Our manager," Frank says quietly. 

Bob grumbles something inaudible. Gerard gives him a look. 

"We got thrown on a small tour." Gerard sighs. "We are going to be on a small bus so no more vans. We are getting 2% of ticket sales. No frills. Nothing extra." 

"When?" Ray asks as his voice hardens.

"In two weeks we are starting our first show in Hoboken." Gerard looks dead center at Frank, "I suggest you play while you can." 

Brock is silent, just listening and taking in the information. None of this sounded good. What kind of band only gets 2% in profits? He didn't know anything about the music business but he knows business. He'll have to do some research on this later before he addresses his concerns. 

Frank grips Brock's hand. 

"So how are we supposed to eat? That is over two months on the road?" Mike asks as he pushes the glasses up his nose.

"Who are we touring with?" Bob asks, "I hope it is someone better off than us."

"Yeah, we got lucky with the Used and Thursday last time" Ray pipes up again.

"I'm not sure once I learn who it is, I'll tell you guys." Gerard scans a piece of paper on the counter, "We have been greenlit to do another album. They have offered to rent a place for us to write and record once we are off the road." 

"That's generous of them." Bob grunts with an eye roll.

"Other band business… What equipment do we need? We can use some of the recording money to replace the small things before they get taken out of the royalties." Gerard scans over Frank's body, his lips tighten as he notices the big darkening bruise on Frank's neck as well as the deep purple-red hickey that lies over the scorpion tattoo.

"I can always use more picks and strings." Ray pops off quickly. 

"Same here. And I need to replace the output cord for my distortion pedal." Frank speaks with a soft voice. Glancing up he can see the pensive look on Brock's face that could edge on the line of irritation, he squeezes his hand to maybe bring him back to the kitchen.

"I'm sure we do that for you guys," Gerard says as he is writing things down. "Just a reminder, partners can't come with us. We can't afford them." His voice is ice cold as he looks at Brock with a glare.

"I'm his bodyguard," Brock says tersely. This whole conversation was stressing him out. "And I pay for myself, thanks. You don't need to worry about spending money on me."

"His bodyguard?" Gerard chuffs and shakes his head, "I'm sure that you are doing more than guarding his body…" 

"And with all due respect, that's none of your business, Mr. Way." Brock keeps his voice level and calm, regardless of his stress levels. He doesn't need to escalate things. Just put his foot down.

Frank feels the flood of relief at the calm way that Brock reacts to Gerard. He is thankful that he is the mature one in the room. 

"I mean, it looks like it should be _my_ business," He snaps back before muttering more but only the last words are clear, "Never left bruises." 

"Gee," Frank's voice warns him.

"Isn't the statistics that military wives are more likely to be abused?" He glares at Brock.

"Look, I understand you two had a brief arrangement so I'll respect that. But it's in the past now. As someone who is clearly moving on himself, perhaps you should be focusing more on your wife and what's best for your best friend. And not let jealousy consume you," Brock takes a step forward before continuing, voice low and rather angry, "And if you are so concerned about abuse, maybe you should have done something about that bitch before I came in."

Frank pulls Brock's hand back. "Guys." 

"Yes. Put 'em away." Ray says as he puts his hand on Gerard's chest, "Brock is good people. Stop it." 

Gerard says nothing but raises his eyebrows. His face is flushed with tight lips. "Anything else that needs to be brought to the table?"

Frank shakes his head no and wants to apologize over and over again to Brock for this. He can feel the heat in his face and chest. The two of them can't be like this. He had Lindsey who is fantastic and the nicest person. He has Brock. He couldn't sing his praises higher.

"We should start rehearsing the end of the week in order to get the setlist solid and making sure all our kinks are worked out," Ray says, sounding official with a hint of his usual sunshine in his voice.

"That works for me," Frank replies then looks at Brock.

"My schedule revolves around you so you know I'm good," he smiles warmly at Frankie. 

He beams up at him as his heart lightens, "We can figure things out later too." 

"My needs are simple and I'm sure we can work around most." Brock can't help but wonder about the buses.

Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, it's a natural reaction at this point. "And I can answer questions that arise too." 

"Are you going to come to practice with us?" Bob asks with a small smile as he rises and places his cup in the sink.

"I'd love to observe if that's okay with you. I've never heard your music before so this will certainly be a new experience." This will certainly be interesting. He liked listening to Frankie play the guitar but he's fairly certain he'll hate their music overall. 

"We would love for you to come! Gee's wife usually bakes for us," Mike replies as he moves to the fridge and pulls a can of coke, "We try to make it fun."

"Promise to keep my energy level at like a 4," Frank smirks at Bob who shoots a look back.

"Yeah let's not dive into my kit."

Frank shrugs with a devilish grin. 

"Dive?" Surely that doesn't mean what Brock thinks it means… 

"Yes. Dive. Into my kit. Into me." Bob gives Frank a look. 

Frank avoids looking at Brock. He knows he is about to get a lecture on the ride home. "Dive is a strong word. I would say accidentally on purpose fall." 

"He doesn't know about you on stage?" Ray asks with a large smile as he pushes his hair back.

"We hadn't got around to speaking about the band and band life," Brock says with a wry smile and a tone that suggests they will be now.

"It's not _that_ bad." He bites his lip and pulls the ring in before spinning it. _Cool dudes._

"You broke bones, Frank," Mike speaks low.

Brock slowly blinks and turns to look at Frankie. He speaks slowly and very carefully, "You did _what, tesoro_?" 

_"_ It's--" Frank tries to explain but gets cut off by Gerard.

"He broke his wrist over the last summer on stage. Played the whole set and didn't say anything until we got to the next city." Gerard's voice is unhappy as he gives Frank a look of irritation. 

"Well. That _will not_ be happening again," Brock growls at Frankie. "Correct?"

"Probably not?" He smiles wide.

Brock glares at him, not happy with his word choices. They will most definitely be speaking about this later when they are not in front of his bandmates.

Frank can feel the glare but tries not to show it. 

"You should have Mike show you photos from the last tour. He did a lot of _fun_ things," Gerard says grinning.

"I have a feeling I won't like it so perhaps it's best I don't know," Brock says carefully. There's no reason to stress over what happened in the past. He needs to focus on keeping Frankie alive and well, now and forever. He sighs softly, ready to move on from this topic.

"So, I think that is all we have to talk about? Lindsey and I are making food, everyone is welcome to stay and eat," Gerard offers. 

"What kind of food?" Ray asks.

Frank turns to Brock, "I'm not hungry, did you wanna stay?" He asks softly as he puts his hand on his stomach. 

Brock frowns. Frankie didn't eat at the coffee shop and hasn't since last night. Nerves? Constipated? Or perhaps he just didn't feel comfortable staying or eating their cooking. He was going to stay to let Frankie socialize and allow him to get to know the men he'll be staying for weeks with. But he also doesn't want to keep Frankie where he doesn't want to be. He leans over and whispers to him, "You haven't eaten since yesterday. What's wrong with you staying and eating here?"

"Nothing is wrong. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. They are my friends, of course, I want to stay, silly." He glossed over the food issue, he kinda realized that he hasn't eaten much but meh. 

He nods, happy with that. "I need to make friends if I'm going to be traveling with you guys for several weeks. Best to start now, yes?"

"Exactly!" He raises himself on his toes and hugs him, "Besides you have to try Lindsey's food."

"I will, _gattino_ ," he hugs Frankie back. His boy is such a dork and he loves him for it. He pulls away to let the boys have their fun in a less formal meeting. "Gerard, may I use your bathroom? I know you said your plumbing was having an issue…."

"Oh yeah, it's the kitchen sink that is having issues. The bathroom is up the stairs and first door to the right." He says with a trace of friendliness. 

"Please, excuse me. Thank you." Brock nods and steps away, heading upstairs.

"We are going to be on the deck, just outside the door here. If you want anything, help yourself," Lindsey's voice echoes up the stairs. "Frankie, did you want water or a beer?" 

"I'll have water." He responds watching Brock walk away and feeling a peck on his cheek.

"I like him." She smiles and squeezes his arm, "He seems like a good egg." 

"I do, too. More than like him." He gives her a trace of a smile. 

"You know who is going to be touchy about that," She strokes his cheek, "but I think I can keep him from being a dick to _Brock_?" 

"Yeah, it's Brock. And I would be more than in your debt. I am worried he will help push him away."

"If my little idiot can bully him out of your relationship, then he doesn't deserve you. But I don't think that is the case." She chuckles. "He's as starry eyed at you as much as you are for him."

"We got you veggie burgers too," Gerard's voice fills the room as he interrupts the two of them. Frank steps back from her like he is guilty. "Sure you don't want a beer?"

"I have not eaten much today." Frank replies as he rubs his neck, "I have been trying to make better choices." 

Ray leans against the counter, "Looks like you got attacked by vacuums."

"I know! It's all in good fun." Frank tries not to gush, "I am happy."

"You deserve it." Lindsey gives him another hug and disappears into the basement. 

"I like him," Ray says with a smile as he grabs a beer before disappearing outside with Mike and Bob. 

"So you're happy?" Gee says with a sly smile as he rounds the counter and moves in closer to Frank. 

"Yeah. He's an amazing man." 

Gee invades his space and presses him against the counter, "I never left you this battered..." He leans in and speaks softly in Frank's ear, "I only made you come and left you pretty and pale." 

"Brock doesn't do anything that I don't want!" Frank snaps back and tries to move.

"I bet I can get you off faster than he can." 

"It's not about speed. He loves me."

"No, he fucking doesn't. He loves your tight ass." Gerard grins, "I love that tight ass too, so I get it."

"Fuck off!" Frank hisses.

"I just wanna bend you over this counter and finger fuck you until you're a mess here in my kitchen." His voice is smooth like velvet.

"I have a boyfriend." Frank snaps again, "I do not want this or you." 

"He won't know," Gee growls and he pushes into Frank.

"Just stop, please." Frank's voice sounds small. He's cornered and it looks bad to either partner. 

"I promise he won't know. Just a little touch?" Gee replies with a noticeable indifference to Frank's rejection.

"He knows," Brock growls from the doorway, dark and livid. Every line in his body is tensed and coiled for a fight. Should Gerard fucking _breathe_ wrong he's going to break his neck. "Move. Now." 

Frank tenses at the sound of Brock's voice. 

Gerard turns around, "It's all in good fun, _Brock_." He's wearing a smug smile as he steps to the side, "Right, Frankie?" 

Frank says nothing, instead, he just gives pleading eyes to Brock. 

"He already said no. You do anything more and it's assault. I won't tell you again. Move. Away. Now." He knows he's radiating anger and promises of death. He doesn't care. 

Gee puts his hands up and steps to the side further, "No need for all the anger, _Brock._ Frankie knows he's a good time."

Frank is cherry red and looking at the floor. He can hear Lindsey coming up the stairs and his stomach drops, he doesn't want her pissed too.

"Let me be perfectly fucking clear," Brock seethes. One of his hands twitches with the need to pull his gun if only to scare the motherfucker. "You touch him like that again and I will break every single fucking finger on both of your hands, do you understand me?"

"I understand." He's still grinning as he replies, "Frank, call your pitbull off." 

"He is _not_ a 'good time' like some two-dollar whore. And if you think he is, then perhaps he needs to leave the band. Because you aren't worth shit as a friend." He's starting to shake from pure rage. He wants nothing more than to beat the shit out of Gerard for this. How dare this man call himself Frankie's **friend** if he's going to treat him like a piece of meat?

Frank moves to his side and strokes his lower back with his fingers.

"What did you say, Gerard?" Lindsey snaps from the doorway, she looks past him and at Brock.

"Nothing. We were playing around. It's fine, Brock here is being sensitive." Gerard plays it off.

His hands ball into fists and he takes a step forward, ready to kill this kid. He growls, "Liar." 

Gerard steps back with hands up. "Woah!"

"Baby," Frank pulls him back a little, "don't."

"Frank, I need you to speak up and tell the truth. I can't help you otherwise," Brock pleads. His anger only appeared to be unfounded jealousy unless Frank said what happened.

"He hit on me. I rejected him but he didn't like the answer. He pushed it further." Frank says without hesitation.

"And you call yourself his friend," Brock says lowly, voice still full of rage. "Your behavior today tells me you are no worse than that bitch Janella. Treating him like a piece of meat. You disgust me."

"Gerard Arthur!" Lindsey shouts as she smacks the back of his head.

"Captain Commando and his desert eagle here is just being sensitive," He rolls his eyes, "I took it too far. I'm sorry Frank."

Frank knows the tone of his voice and his face are the opposite of the words he is saying. He chooses to cling to Brock and try to keep him from shooting or punching his _friend_. "Do not do it again. I said no."

"Is this how you act on the road?" She hisses her tone of voice that was just like the angry calm that a mother gets, "I am so sorry, Frank. And Brock. This is not how you should be treated in MY home."

"Yeah, sorry," Gerard says as he steps away from Brock putting the counter between the two of them.

"I forgive you this time," Brock says coolly. He only warns once when it comes to something like this. Besides, Frankie is still his friend and it's important they get along. "Just remember Gerard, that I can back my threats." 

"Won't happen again." He looks Brock dead in the face. The corners of his mouth twitch.

Frank presses his lips into Brock's side, "I'm sorry."

"Brock, I understand if you and Frank want to leave but I and the other guys would like you guys to stay," Lindsey says as she makes eye contact with him.

"May we have a few moments alone, please?" he asks her. "Actually, since this is your house, you can stay."

Frank looks up at Brock and feels a pit forming in his stomach. 

Brock pulls Frankie close and nuzzles his hair, letting the smell of his _tesoro_ calm and center him. He whispers softly, "It's nothing bad, I promise. You are so good, my angel." 

"Angel?" He smirks but it's a mask, "That's generous." His anxiety bubbles over as he grips the black tank top. He just wanted to have a beer with his friends and let his boyfriend get to know them. Not this.

" _You are my perfect angel, and I'd die for you. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."_ He whispers in his native tongue. He's calming down from his rage high and feeling rather clingy. It wasn't in a possessive way, but more reassuring.

He presses his forehead into Brock and hugs him a little tighter. He doesn't understand a word that came from his mouth but it doesn't matter, it sounds beautiful. "Do you want to go sit outside?" Frank offers. It should be quieter and more private than the kitchen, "We can always leave if you want." 

Gerard rolls his eyes. He is visibly done with all of this nonsense, "I'll go check on your brothers and see how the two are doing…"

Frank glances to the side and watches Gee disappear into the basement. He feels himself relax. He listens to Lindsey quietly move to the fridge and begins pulling food out and placing it on the counter. 

Now that Gerard is gone, he can take care of some things. The first order of business. "Ma'am, I'd like to apologize for my behavior. It was disrespectful for me as a guest in your home. I handled that poorly and I am sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Brock. You were defending Frank. I would do the same. But thank you for apologizing." She stops and turns to face Brock. Her face is soft with big eyes.

"I do. I threatened Gerard and while I stand by what I said, I did take it too far. The well being of those I care about comes first in my life. And I do not take any form of abuse or assault lightly. I…" He hates what he is certain has to be done now. It burns in his soul but he did take it too far. He knows he has an anger problem when it comes to injustices and those he cares about. But it never excused his actions "I… will apologize to him as well. For overreacting."

"That's… wow." She looks genuine in her loss for words, "You are welcome in our house any time." 

Frank blushes a little before he reaches up and pulls his chin down and kisses him. His ability to be humble and admit when he's made a mistake makes him fall in love with Brock a little deeper. "I need to send your mom flowers and candy for raising a wonderful man." 

"I just want to do the right thing, by you and by your friends, _tesoro_. Do you want to stay and will you be okay if you do so?"

"I am fine baby but will _you_ be ok? Do you think you can relax and have a little fun?" He is still clinging to him but doesn't foresee himself stopping anytime soon.

"I will walk through fire and to the end of the Earth for you, _tesoro_. I'm okay to handle a few of your friends. As I said before, I need to learn to get along with them at the least. I want to be friends with them. Even Gerard. Though that will take more time. I like Ray." He nuzzles Frankie's hair again.

"You'd have to be a monster to not like Ray," Frank replies with rosy cheeks. He loves it when Brock gets squishy like this, "Let's go sit outside with the guys and get out of her kitchen before she beats us."

"I could help," he offers. "I'm a decent cook. _Gattino_ , you could go sit with your friends. I'll join you in a bit? If you want some alone time with them that is." He is good with whatever Frankie needs.

"How are your grilling skills?" She asks with a soft smile, "Unless you wanna knead dough?" 

"That works for me, babe. Promise you're ok?" Frank leans up and kisses him again, "You should drink some water too. I'll be just outside if she gets too mean." 

"I'll come join you once I finish beating dough. And drink more water. Promise." He leans over and kisses him. He loves him so much. But he needs to do some sort of activity to help him refocus.

Frank nods and let's go of Brock. He feels weird about leaving him inside but knows he can't be a koala all the time. He glances back as Lindsey slides over a metal bowl and the flour container. He joins the guys at the outdoor table, sitting next to Mike and Ray. 

Lindsey waits until he's gone before she turns to Brock. "He's a pretty special guy." She has questions but is working her way into asking them. She pulls a knife and begins cutting veggies.

"He is. More than he realizes, I think," Brock says. "Are we making bread or something different?"

"You're making bread. I'm making salads." She grins, "I've never seen him that glowy and smiley. What are you calling him? Tesero? Gatinio?"

He smiles as he begins making the dough. "It's _tesoro_. Which means 'treasure'. And _gattino_ , which means 'kitten'."

"That's Italian, yes? Where did you grow up? I assume New York. Maybe little Italy? Queens?" She asks as she pushes the veggie into a bowl.

"Actually I was born in Rome. Then we moved to Capri, which is an island, when I was seven. I moved to the States when I was twenty-seven."

"Oh. Wait. I have family who live in Capri. Moved from Scotland to be out of the rain." She said with a smile, "My uncle's wife was born there." 

"Really? That's cool." His thoughts spiral a little. He's wondering how close she was to her aunt and uncle. Wondering if she would recognize his last name. He decides to play it cool.

"I know that I hate it when people ask me about home and assume I know everyone back home." She laughs, "I think I have been here too long." 

"I think everybody gets that. Like people forget how big a country is. Or a state. Just because I live in Manhattan doesn't mean I know everyone in New York," He laughs.

"You mean you don't know Jack? He's like this tall and has green eyes?!" Lindsey leans against the counter, "I am taking Gee home this Christmas. I think it might be a shit show but I am excited too." She is trying to find a tactful way to play 21 questions with him but doesn't know how he'll react. 

"You nearly described my brother," he chuckles. "I would love to take Frankie home to meet my parents and sister. Maybe I could treat the band to a vacation after the tour. You'd be invited as well."

She gives him a skeptical look. Can I be a bit rude?" 

"The fact that you asked tells me it's probably not in your blood to be 'rude'. So I promise I won't get offended by anything you ask me. But I could hazard a guess as to what's on your mind. The guys asked the same."

She leans in closer, "Ok, what am I going to ask you?" Her smile borders on flirty in an innocent way.

"I'm fifty. And yes, I'm aware of Frank's age. And yes we've had this talk regarding our future and the time limit. We've both agreed that we've found love and we want to spend whatever time is granted to us, together." He smiles at her, as he finishes mixing the dough and beginning to knead it.

She melts a little into the counter, "That was one of my questions but oh my god, you guys are so fucking adorable!" She takes a moment to gain composure, "I was going to ask you what you do or did for a living or if you are just rich?"

"Is it that obvious?" He laughs. He swears nobody ever looked at him twice before meeting these super nice and awkward group of people.

"Yes and no," she replies, turning back to the veggies. "Your sidearm is very nice but could have been work issued and the camo pants that are not fashionable but practical. But then there's the car you pulled up in and the offer to come visit in Italy. You're very hard to read."

"I used to work in private security. Before that, as you know, I was in the US military. And…" he hesitates briefly. "And I am from a very wealthy family. They live back home. I don't need to work in financial terms. I enjoy it. It gives me something to focus on. Keeps me centered." His hands knead the bread. It reminds him of home with his mother and making pizza. He always needed to work with his hands as a way to dissipate anger. Kept him from punching things.

"Is that why you are working as Frank's guard?" 

"A little. We went to the Central Park Zoo for one of our dates and in the end, as we were leaving, he got mobbed by a large group of teenage girls. It wasn't safe. Not for him physically because any one of them can potentially be an obsessed fan who could hurt him or they could accidentally mob him into an unsafe situation. Not to mention the stress and panic that comes from that. A girl hugged him and he about had a panic attack. I promised I would never let that happen again. Also, I quit my job so we could be together and I'm not ready to give him over to a tour. Nor do I think I ever will. So this way I can be with them and keep them safe as best as I can."

"Alan is not gonna like you." She grins, "Poor Frankie! And he is just so small so those girls would overpower him. Also, you quit your job for Frank, that is true love."

Frank listens to Ray talk about going to a grocery store and being followed by teenagers who recognize him. He gets a flashback from the zoo. "Brock and I went to the zoo and I was cornered by them," Frank adds as he pulls his legs up. 

Gerard steps out from a basement door and joins the group. Frank gets quiet as Gerard sits across from him at the table, "Boytoy left?" 

"He's inside." 

"Oh. Joy." Gerard rolls his eyes, "I think if you wanna start the grill Ray, you can. Lindsey is working on the salads." 

Ray nods and jumps to his feet and heads into the house.

"I think you have built that gluten up, I have a tin for it." She smiles, turning away then back to him with a bread pan, "Thank you for doing that." 

"Trust me, ma'am, it was my pleasure. I _kneaded_ this. Working with my hands helps me calm when I'm angry. And this is familiar." Brock turns to see Ray enter the kitchen and smiles at him.

"I appreciate the dad joke." Lindsey snickers.

Ray opens the door and slips in. He moves behind Lindsey and pulls the meat from the fridge.

"May I have another water?" Brock asks her. "Unless you have wine. Then maybe both. I'm still a little dehydrated at the moment." 

"Sweetheart, you don't have to ask. Please help yourself." She nods, "I have both but your boy was adamant about water." 

"I agree with him. I need at least a gallon of water before I actually have some wine. We went to the gym this morning and I haven't replenished enough yet. I will, if you don't mind, take wine with lunch, however." Brock feels weird about opening her fridge and taking another cold bottle of water but he does it anyway. He drinks nearly half again in one drink. 

"You got Frank in a gym?" Ray stops in his tracks. 

"At seven a.m. no less. After I literally dragged him out of bed and gave him coffee, yes. But he was there to keep me company. And watch me fight." He finishes the water.

"Seven a.m.? And he did it for free?" Ray was incredulous.

"Does coffee count? I mean. Yeah. We were up late. On and off sleeping most of yesterday afternoon. I wasn't feeling well. So he's running on about three hours of sleep and promises. Probably needs a nap."

"He's gonna crash hard in a few hours." Ray smiles, "He's not the gym type. So it makes sense it was to support you. He also mentioned he quit smoking… you?"

Lindsey looks up at Brock with a raised eyebrow, "Did you get him to quit?" 

Brock throws the bottle away before getting another and mentally making a note to replace them somehow. He opens and drinks the whole thing before he answers. "So I can't really take credit for that, but I expressed a rather intense dislike for smoking and drugs. I told him if he wished to continue doing it, I wasn't going to make him stop, but I didn't want it in my car or house."

"I would put money on that his stress has decreased and he's actually happy, so he doesn't need them," Lindsey says as she works on another side dish. "I'm trying to get Gee to quit." 

"Well, he did dump a rather heavy load of a bitch. Sorry; June." 

"Don't be. She and I got into a fistfight a couple summers back. She refused to come around when I was with the band." She grins over her shoulder at Brock. "Thank you again for working your anger out on my bread."

"It was far more healthy than what I wanted to do. Thanks for letting me help. And drinking most of your water, I swear I'll replace that."

Ray takes the meat and bows out, headed for the hot grill waiting for him.

"No! I won't accept it. You have been fantastic company! I'm almost done here if you wanna join the boys, you can." She turns and smiles at him as she sets a timer.

He leans on the counter, watching her. "Are you sure you won't miss me?" 

"What woman doesn't need a big strong man in her kitchen to help out? But unless you wanna watch the bread rise or this cake bake, I got nothing for ya." She smiles wide causing her eyes to squint.

Brock cracks up before throwing another bottle of water away. "Now that's not true, we were having fun playing twenty questions and you being secretly jealous I'm gay."

"Is it that obvious?" She grins as she sets a kitchen towel on the counter, "I mean you're not allowed to leave Frank…

"Also you got grilled but didn't grill in return, sir… so I think you're stuck for a while." Lindsey leans against the counter, he is pretty damn adorable for her friend's boyfriend. All the good ones are gay. Or bi.

"Fire away. Or alternatively, please continue. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you or Frank any time soon, _Bellina._ "

"Why Frank?" She asks, enjoying the term of endearment, "Frank hates everything so I am sure it was not love at first sight." 

"Why _not_ Frank? And we hit it off right away. Totally love at first sight. And possibly a concussion. Maybe that's what it is. A concussion," Brock bursts into laughter at the thought. He explains at the confused look on her face, "I literally ran into him and knocked him down in a clothing store. That's how we met."

"You ran him over?" She chuckles, "And it's been history ever since?"

"I practically body slammed into him by simply turning around and not seeing the small, tiny, cute, adorable, little, hobo with ripped jeans. To which I replaced by way of apologizing." He grins like a doof at the memory.

"See that's a story you can tell parents. I opened a beer for Gerard with my armpit. Not cute, I have to make it up." She frowns but shrugs, "That boy and ripped jeans drives me crazy."

"Okay but armpit beer is damn impressive. You rock that, girl friend. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"How does an Italian immigrant become an American soldier?" She has a light turn on, "random, sorry. It just popped in my head." 

"Short answer is dual citizenship. The longer answer is too long for today but I got recruited and I liked what they were selling. Rose through the ranks really quickly." He rests his head in one hand, comfortable. "Spent twenty years before retiring." 

"What is retirement like?" She sighs, "I don't think musicians get to retire."

"Sure they do. When they are too old to sing and perform. At some point, the vocal cords are going to decrease. Retirement's boring in my opinion. But that's because I'm an active person generally speaking. I imagine another would enjoy the peace and quiet."

"Have you heard of Mindless Self Indulgence?" She asks with a crooked smile.

"I feel like maybe, but pretend I'm an idiot and explain it anyway," he chuckles.

"I am keeping you forever. It's my band, I play the bass." She might have fallen in love, "It's not your music. If it is, I will join a convent because you don't seem like the type." 

"Huh," he says, thoughtfully. He's lost. What does a band have to do with-? Ohhhh. "Wait. You're in a band? And it's _called_ Mindless Self Indulgence? Cause in that case, nope. Never heard of you. Not at all. Sorry. But please don't take offense cause I've never heard of the boys either before all this. I still haven't heard their music."

"Oh! Yeah, I promise neither bands are your thing."

"Oh, I know. I told Frankie I wasn't into emo death metal music." Brock snickers. He loves to watch the musicians cringe every time he says it. 

"What are your thoughts on rap?" 

"Angry poetry on drugs."

"You are the cutest!" She cackled and arched her back, "It's taking my all not to pop your cherry."

He scrunches up his nose in confusion. He tilts his head, "I'm not a virgin and while we are totally friends, I'm not into girls like that, _Bellina_."

"Oh Brock, now I have to pop that cherry for your response." She grins and offers her hand, "come on."

He raises an eyebrow. He's not sure where this is going but the only outcome in his head is not something he wants to do. But his gut tells him she's cool. He thinks.

"You can bring Frank if you want." She can see the struggle in his eyes, "I don't bite." 

This isn't helping ease his worry about what she's talking about. But it still makes him laugh. He takes her hand and wonders if he just got offered to do a threesome. "Only if I want you to, right?" 

"You're the type to bite back, and obviously you bite hard." She laughs and pulls him out of the kitchen and into a room just off to the left.

Lindsey hands him a stack of plates with silverware on top with instructions to only deliver, then come back. She lines up the different salads and sides in bowls along the counter. Before picking up a tray of fruit and condiments, she instructs him to bring the rest of the bowls out. Ray places the smorgasbord of barbecued meat down but passes the veggie burgers to Frankie. The smells of the sunshine and the food blend together to create a summer backyard party but with a ragtag group of weirdos and Brock. 

"Help yourselves, there is wine in the kitchen. Beer in the cooler," Lindsey says with a big smile. "Welcome to the family Brock." 

"You had me at wine," Brock grins. He turns and heads back inside to get him some, winking at Frankie.

"He's a keeper Frank." Lindsey grins at him as she sits beside Gerard, "I'm adopting him."

"Well, it's a good thing he's got no interest in women." Frank nods, "Can we share custody of him at least?"

"Yeah, I suppose…" Lindsey winks as she picks up her beer and takes a sip.

Brock pours himself a half glass of the red wine to be polite and returns to the group. He's actually excited about this. The talk with Lindsey really made a difference. Listening to her music, not so much.

"He's quite picky though," Frank grins at Brock. 

"On what?" he asks, taking his seat next to Frankie. 

"Joint custody between her and I for you." He touches his arm with his fingertips.

"Oh, I see. I’m cool with that. Except. You're the puppy here. Not me." Brock grins, eyes full of teasing laughter. 

"Puppy?" She grins, "that's too cute!" 

"Don't give too much protest or the name sticks." Ray teases before taking a bite.

"I've never been much for nicknames but we have our own." Gee smiles at Lindsey with a similar look that Frank gives to Brock, "Puppy is pretty cute and accurate for Frank." 

"It is. Especially with his overly excitable high energy. And smallness." Brock sips the wine and gives a small sigh of happiness. He loves wine.

"I hate to admit it but you're not wrong." Frank dips his head for a moment but shrugs, "been called worse." 

"You like _gattino_." Brock pretends to be insulted. "And _passerotto._ Not so much on the _topolino._ " 

Ray pauses and looks up, catching the gato, and smirks, "Are you calling him a cat?" 

"I'm not a little mouse," Frank grumbles.

"He is like a cat!" Mike's eyes widen as the realization hits him.

" _Gattino_ means kitten. My small, feisty little hellcat." Brock leans over and kisses Frankie on the cheek before eating.

" _Passerotto_?" Lindsey asks.

"Literally means 'little sparrow'. Used when someone is learning something new. Like learning to fly. All of my nicknames for him mean some form of a small animal, except one."

Frank grins at him, "It's the original one and my favorite. I love it." 

Brock can't help but take his hand and kiss it. He wants to do more but refrains. He has some morals when it comes to public displays of affection. He smiles at his boyfriend.

"It's how I knew I was going to fall in love with you."

Fuck social etiquette and the rules of PDA. Brock leans forward and pulls Frankie into a soft kiss, trying to keep it chaste for the sake of their audience. It's hard though and he wants to do _so much more._ He has to keep it quick for his own sake and pulls away far too soon for his liking. 

"So is the band playing the wedding then?" Bob teases.

Snickering slightly, Brock turns to them and says lightly, "With all due respect, hell no. I just don't like emo punk death metal and it's just not wedding music."

Frank covers his face before the sentence is out of Brock's mouth as the whole table erupts in laughter. He shakes his head, he pauses. "You haven't heard our music..." 

"That was me. I popped his cherry." Lindsey grins before taking another bite of food. The devilish grin only highlighted by her cherry red lips.

"I am so sad I missed the look on your face!" Frank's voice is more disappointed than he expected. He reaches under the table and squeezes Brock's leg.

"Oh don't worry, I still hate it. I refused to listen to yours. Except now I can say I have heard Mindless Self Indulgence and it made my ears bleed and my social status cry. But I still love you though," Brock teases sarcastically. He hates it but he loves Frankie more. 

"Social status would require you to leave _our_ uh, _your_ apartment." Frank backtracks slightly. Did he get the right to call it his too?

"Yes, well, it's a good thing I love you enough that I don't have to leave our apartment."

Frank loved the words of 'our apartment' coming from Brock's mouth. "Our music isn't that bad." 

"Right now there is a campaign against us? Calling us a suicide cult and dangerous," Mike adds. As he serves himself more salad. He pops a cherry tomato in his mouth then smiles.

"Too bad you're all a bunch of D&D nerds with instruments." Lindsey snorts. "Only dangerous one might be Frank and that's only on stage."

"I am not that bad! I just get into it." He protests, "You move a lot too Linds."

"I don't dive into the drum kit."

Frank sat back in his chair. While they weren't wrong, he didn't feel dangerous. He chose to listen to the conversation between the group and Brock. He was starving and didn't realize it. He sat quietly once his food was gone and sipped from his beer. This felt natural, Brock was comfortable and chatting with everyone, including Gerard who had eased up a little and was even cracking jokes with Brock. He scoots a little closer to Brock and gently traces the line down his back while he listens as the meal ends and everyone relaxes back.

"This was great, ma'am. Ray," Brock salutes them both with his nearly empty wine glass. "I'm usually not a fan of barbeque but this was excellent. The company was pretty damn good as well. Thank you for having me over."

"You call me ma'am one more time and I am punching you." Lindsey replies with a wide smile, "But thank you."

"Did you want more wine, babe?" Frank asks as he rests his chin on Brock's shoulder.

That's a dumb question because he's Italian and therefore always wants more wine, but Brock was also trained in social etiquette and knows it's not polite to drink more than one glass of wine at a meal. He should drink more water anyway.

"No, I'm good," he says to Frankie before addressing Lindsey with a wide grin. "I don't know how great your punching skills are but I doubt you'll make a dent. I've only been defeated once by a girl and it was my sister."

"Did you actually let her win or did she really _defeat_ you?" Ray questions as he shifts in his seat. 

Frank stands up and kisses the top of his head and heads inside quickly. He pulls a glass and two bottles of water, fills the glass, and grabs a soda for himself. 

"No, Brooke kicked my ass. But to be fair we were ten, maybe eleven. And fighting over a boy. She had hit puberty before I did and was taller. We got into this rough and tumble fight and it wasn't anything really violent until at one point Brooke just rears back and punches me, over and over. It escalated from there and it wasn't until mom pulled us apart that we stopped. To add insult to my injuries, we both got our asses whipped for fighting. I had a black eye and a split lip. All she had was a scratch." Brock laughs at the memory. Mother was so angry at them that day, he thought he was going to die. 

"I like your sister already." Lindsey snickers. 

Frank slips back outside with the glass and his own drink in hand, listening from the door to Brock's story and not wanting to interrupt. He places the glass in front of Brock, kisses the top of his head. "Drink." He wants to sit in his lap but isn't sure if he should. He sits down closer to Brock, trying to be good.

"Thanks, _tesoro_ ," Brock drinks half the water. Finally, he's starting to feel less dehydrated.

"How much older is she than you?" Gerard asks.

"We're twins but she's older by five minutes and won't let me forget it."

"She was just the opening act for the headliner." Lindsey offers as she leans into Gerard. 

"My mom likes to say that I was so impatient to get out, I pushed Brooke's big butt. But yes, I'm the better twin. According to Frankie."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell her the mean things her baby brother says." Frank teases, "But I did pick the right twin, though, she is hotter."

Brock playfully glares at him. "She won't do anything to me now, so you can hush that brain of yours up." He's not even going to address the "hotter" comment. At least, not here. No, he's going to save that for after they get back home. His phone rings and he grabs it to check the name and silence the damn thing. His playful smile fades at the name. He stands and moves away a little. "Excuse me, I need to take this." 

"So you finally landed a twin," Bob teases Frank. 

"Yeah, I totally did. And both twins are hot as fuck!" Frank spills his guys with a dumb smile. He has to get it out, "Guys, he's pretty fucking wonderful. We actually have a lot in common, more than I expected, and even things we don't, it's ok. Coming from past experience, it's nice to be wanted." He pauses a moment, "I have met his brother, he is a really good dude."

Brock moves a few feet away. He's not bothering to lower his voice since he's now positive none of them can understand his conversation with his father. Rapid Italian flies out of his mouth, both from the urgency of the conversation and from his agitation. 

"How did you meet his brother?" Ray questions as he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans. 

"We went to lunch and then yesterday, I accidentally locked myself out of the apartment with bags of groceries and stuff. So I had to call him for help."

"Is he as hot as Brock?" Lindsey grins as she asks. 

"He's adopted. He is German and attractive but not as hot as B." Frank grins back.

Jack comes to the phone and he switches seamlessly into German, his brother joining in via a three-way call. He's thankful he's fluent in both languages enough that he flows between them both easily without having to think about it. He's positive his father and brother are overreacting. There haven't been any reports about the Covini family making waves. He doesn't believe there will be an uprising in the lower fields either. Their economy is far too strong even if the fisheries are having fewer catches. 

Lindsey has a bell chime her head, "What's Brock's last name?" Her voice is deadly quiet. Concern washes over the happy face she had on. 

"Rumlow."

She raises her eyebrows, that name is familiar. She gives a look to Frank that is full of concern. Does he know? "Sounds familiar." 

"Oh?" Frank felt a pit in his stomach. Did he fuck up? He glances to where Brock disappeared to. "It might be a common name..." 

After hanging up with his father and brother, Brock returns to the group. "Sorry about that," he smiles. "My dad needed some advice. He's a bit of a worrywart sometimes. Thinks the fish dying is some sort of curse."

"Well, fish curses are not something to be messed with." Ray teases with the corners of his mouth twitching.

Lindsey looks at him with concern on her face. She hopes that it's a coincidence. Her eyes drop to the table before turning to Gerard. 

"Are you sure you're ready to spend life on the road?" Gerard asks with a hint of concern to his voice.

"I spent twenty years in the military. I know how to live the mobile life. It'll be okay." Brock said as he sat back down with Frank, putting an arm around him.

Frank pulls his legs up and under himself to get a little closer to him. "Plus it's not like he is with a bunch of strangers." 

"Your last name is Rumlow?" Lindsey blurts out unable to keep it inside. 

"Yes," he says casually.

"Huh." Her face tightens up with frustration, "How funny. My uncle was telling my father the last time he visited, about a friend of his back home who may have been late on a rent payment and had been visited by some local enforcers who put pressure on him to make sure he made his payment." 

"Well, business owners need to pay their landlords. Just like tenants pay theirs. I'm sure they worked it out," Brock drinks the rest of his water. 

"Yeah. I suppose." Lindsey replies with the word mafia buzzing in her head. Is she sweating? "It sounded a little more serious but you're probably right."

"It's like the police. You hear a lot of bad stuff in the news but that's just a handful of bad eggs. Not all police are corrupt. And some actually want to make a difference." Brock's hand around Frankie subconsciously begins to rub his shoulder soothingly. "There's a reason why Capri is thriving." 

"That is true." Ray adds, "I think that comes with the territory for anyone who is the boss. Good ones and bad ones are everywhere." 

"You're right." Lindsey gives Brock a hard look, "just sounded a little _Godfather-y_ to me. That's all."

Frank is drawing slow small circles along Brock's thigh. In his head he is panicking, he doesn't want anyone to know about Brock's family without being explicitly told by him. 

"That movie is overrated," he replies, still carefully rubbing Frankie's shoulder. He wants to ask her if this will be a problem but refrains. "Al Pacino was pretty awesome though." 

"I am glad that someone else agrees with me!" Ray chimes in.

"Still have no interest in mob movies." Frank shrugs. _Might be interested in a mafia prince._

"Drunk old men also talk and make things bigger too." She shrugs back but the question is still swirling in her head.

"I finally just saw Rocky with this one mouthing along the lines of the movie," Frank adds, trying to change the subject.

"Best movie ever," Brock boasts. "My favorite series." 

"Worst movie you have ever seen?" Lindsey asks as a way to distract her brain. "This question is for everyone?"

The group falls quiet. 

"Sorry Brock but Rocky 3," Bob winces. "Don't hate me."

"The day that time ended," Mikey replies.

"St Elmo's Fire." Ray throws out.

"Roadhouse." Frank offers.

"Die Hard 3." Gerard shrugs.

"Ghost," Lindsey says with a smile.

"Black Hawk Down," Brock says somberly.

This starts a round-robin of questions that provoke thoughtful answers. Frank struggles with himself to not want to crawl into Brock's lap. He rests his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes and listens to his friends talking. The lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. He leans up and whispers, "I wanna sit in your lap." 

"Thought you'd never ask," he whispers back. "Come here, baby." 

Frank stands up and carefully sits in his lap. He rests his head on his shoulder again and presses his lips into Brock's neck. "Love you." 

God, he loves holding Frankie. Loves the contact. Sometimes the need to touch him is so strong he wonders if he's going crazy. Brock wraps his arms around his boyfriend and pulls him closer, cradling him.

"I love you more," he whispers back, uncaring about the others watching.

Ray stretches and yawns and rubs belly. "I should probably head back home." 

"I think we are all getting into a food coma," he says lowly, nuzzling Frankie's hair. "Should probably head home as well. Gotta be able to drive and not fall asleep."

"Yes please." Frank's voice is raspy as he runs along the hem of Brock's shirt. He never thought he would enjoy feeling small like this but it was perfect, "You okay to drive, B?" 

"Yes. Twenty hours, remember. Sleep, _bambino_. I've got you." Brock holds him tighter.

Frank leans up and kisses his neck, "Ok. Just checking. I worry."

Lindsey needs to get it out but she doesn't want to be this person and cause problems, "Before you two leave, Brock can I talk to you in my office?" 

He's certain he knows what this is about. And he really doesn't want to put Frankie down just to hear a lecture or threat. Frankie comes first. He stands, never letting Frankie go, "Compromise. You can help me to the car." 

"That works for me." She says feeling her heart get a little heavy from the question she has to ask. She hugs Ray and nods at Gee. Then she gets up to follow Brock. 

Brock and Frankie say their goodbyes and head outside, Brock still carrying Frankie in a cradle hold. "You don't have to carry me, baby." Frank murmurs as he runs a finger over Brock's skin. 

Lindsey opens the door and lets Brock and a half-conscious Frank exit the house. He crashed hard and looks pretty damn adorable. "I can get your car door if you like?" 

Brock shifts his hold a little to dig his keys out of his front pocket. He can hold him with one arm but not for very long. They get stuck and instead he manages to hit the unlock button. Close enough. His hand quickly returns to holding Frankie.

"Door's unlocked. If you wouldn't mind grabbing the door?" Brock moves to the passenger side and waits.

She pulls the door carefully open on this beautiful car. She steps aside to let him deposit Frank. Watching how gentle he is with Frankie. Compared to Brock, he is small and kitten-like, finally understanding exactly why he got the nicknames. 

Brock tries to set him down as best as he can, which fails. Frankie is just not a child no matter how small he is. Laughing, Brock makes him stand on your own two feet, "Stand up before I drop you." 

"Yeah, Sorry." His eyes open and are bright as he stretches his legs. "I'm up." He is in fact, not up and once he sits in the seat, he leans to the side and quietly drifts away.

"You are so cute," Brock says.

"Sometimes." He smiles.

"Always," he smiles. Then he turns to Lindsey. "Say your peace."

"Are you apart of the twins and the Nazi who strong-armed my uncle's friend for payment?" She asks in a harsh whisper with narrow eyes.

"My brother is _**not**_ a fucking Nazi," Brock spats, low.

"That's what they called him. Don't know him but I'm glad he's not." She puts her hand on her hip, "Silence. That's your final answer?" 

"Why does it matter?" 

"Because someone I love very much may be putting themself in a _sticky_ situation and not know it." She looks at him then to Frank.

"Is that **all** you are worried about?" He asks carefully. He needs to know if she's planning on turning him in. He'd hate it, but he'd have to run. Leave Frankie and probably the country. He hopes he never has to choose between his family, something he was born into and didn't have a choice with, and the love of his life.

"Yes!" She raises her voice, "I wouldn't care otherwise! You do you!" 

"Seriously? You mean that?" His eyes search hers, trying to read her. Trying to discern if she's lying. He wants to trust them all so much. He needs Frankie. He'd do anything for him.

" _Should I not mean it?"_ She asks him now fully confused, "Frank is the baby of the group and we all protect him." 

"If you turn me in…" Brock is cut off by the door opening.

Frank opens the car door and closes it a little harder than planned. He comes around to Brock's side. "You two are obnoxious. I know about the family. I'm not a child, I made a choice, I'm staying until he doesn't want me."

"Frankie is the love of my life and I'd die for him. But I don't ever want to be in the position where I have to _choose_ between my family or him. Please do not turn me in. I don't want to put him in danger from the police or my family," he says softly.

"My lips are sealed." Her ears pick up at the ‘put him in danger’ and that seals her decision.

"Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me. My father is a good man. And we try to do right by the people. But even he wouldn't forgive me for making the mistake of trusting someone who told the authorities who I am. Who we are. They take secrecy very seriously. It's essential."

"Frank's made his choice and I'm happy that he's made a good choice." She pauses thoughtful, "I'm not saying shit. I know that you'll protect him. That is all I wanted to know." She touches his arm then throws her arms around both of them, squeezing them together tighter. 

"If it helps, I'll ask my father about your uncle's friend. I don't remember the incident but it'll be on the record. Jack might even have it. It's rare the three of us get called out when someone can't pay the dues but we try to work with them." Mother would have killed then if they made a mistake. 

"I appreciate the sentiment but he passed away a year ago." She smiles softly with sad eyes as she steps back.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I promise you, we're not the worst mafia family in the world. I like to think we make a positive impact." He smiles briefly. Thoughts of the others enter his mind. "The others. They need to know? I don't know if I can trust that many people with my family business."

"No." Frank's voice is hard. "Too many loose ends." 

"I am not saying a word. Sounds like Frank might fit in after all..." Lindsey smirks 

"He'll make a helluva prince one day. Should he choose to do so," Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and kisses his temple before kissing his lips lightly. "If he doesn't, then that's okay too. He can continue screaming into a microphone and call it music for as long as he wants."

"I'll get even with you old man." Frank grins up at him and bumps his hip into Brock. He already knows his choice when it comes the time and he frankly doesn't care about anyone else besides Brock. 

Lindsey has a million and one questions but chooses to stay quiet. Instead smiles at them, "I am so glad that I was able to meet you, Brock."

"And I, you. I had so much fun with you in the kitchen today. I never want to hear you play but I'll happily come over for girl time and wine. We can go shopping while the boys play with their toys." 

"I would absolutely love that!" She beams at him and hugs him again, "My home is yours. Please you are welcome anytime. And I guess you, too Frank."

"Gee… thanks, Linds." Frank playfully rolls his eyes. "Did you have anything you needed to do today, baby?" 

Brock shrugs. He really only wanted to do one thing this morning. The rest of the day was up in the air. "Whatever you want. I'm free. Let's get a nap into you though sleepyhead."

Frank frowns. He should hang out with his brother. He feels bad taking up all his time, even if he says he likes it. "We'll figure it out." He says goodbye once more and hugs Lindsey then returns to the car. Maybe this excitement will make him forget about the things talked about at the meeting. 

Brock hugs Lindsey tight with promises to return and more thank yous. He asks her to pass along his apologies to her husband.

"Take care of each other." She says softly. 

"Thank you. Hopefully, we'll see each other again before the tour starts," He says while getting into the car. "Take care." 

"You can always come for Sunday dinner. The boys all have open invites for it." She replies with a trace of sadness. "Nice car by the way." 

"Thank you," he starts the car. "I'll be happy to join you on Sunday for dinner. Take care, hon." He pulls away and onto the road.

Frank relaxes in the seat next to Brock. "Thank you for coming with me." He reaches over and touches his arm.

"I enjoyed myself. I'm happy to be in joint custody with you and her. Your friends are great. I love you."

"Love you more." Frank sighs happily, "I don't just scream into a microphone. I can play bass and drums too." 

"Love you most. And I'm not saying you aren't talented. You know I love teasing you and your band, _tesoro_." They head back towards New York causally, not really in any hurry. At a red light, Brock texts his doctor and asks him if he could stop by his place later that evening or tomorrow. 

Frank sits beside him with his eyes closed. He listens to the music playing softly, the sound of Brock's fingers drumming against the wheel or his phone and his own breathing. 

"You want to lay the seat back, baby?" Brock whispers to him. Frank looks half asleep as it is and is struggling. They've got an easy thirty to forty-five minutes drive without heavy traffic and with the time of day, it was sure to be longer. 

"No, it's okay. I don't mind this. I'm just happy to be with you." He can feel himself being sappier, was he really that tired? "I get full custody. She gets supervised visitation. Cause I'm greedy." 

He chuckles softly. "Good. Because I'm greedy too. And a little needy…. Okay, more than a little." Brock reaches over and places his hand on Frankie's.

"She's lucky I'm sharing at all." Frank turns his head with sleepy eyes. "I have a question?" 

"I have an answer, my love. What's on your pretty mind?"

"Do you hang out with Jack? Like, go do things as brothers?" 

"Sure. On occasion, we'll go out and have a beer. Or lunch together like we did a few days ago. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious mostly." He replies trying to hide his yawn, "Suppose I'm trying to piece things together." 

He's not sure what Frankie's talking about but he does see that he's essentially asleep with his eyes wide open. Squeezing Frankie's hand, he gives him a little tug, "Lie down. Get some rest. You are going to conk out anyway. Might as well sleep the ride home. Come on, please?"

"Just resting my eyes." His voice is soft as he slinks down in his seat just a little. He is trying to fight it but he's comfortable and warm. He drifts off to the sounds of the car and begins having weird dreams.

Brock keeps his hand on Frank's thigh the drive, gently caressing the fabric in an attempt to keep him asleep. That is until his phone buzzes with a new text. Waiting until he's at another red light, Brock checks it and discovers it's from Doctor Choi agreeing to stop by that evening. Eventually, though, he's pulling into his neighborhood and parking.

Frank is pulled from his nap but doesn't open his eyes as the car stops moving. He can only tell by the vibration under his feet, they have stopped. He's spent enough time sleeping in vans that he knows the feeling well. He wonders how Brock is going to _wake_ him. He waits for a moment before coaxing his eyes open and looking around, "Sorry." 

"For what sweetest? Napping?" He asks. "That's cute but nonsense. Come on. Let's get you into bed. We're home." Brock gets out of the car and goes around to help Frankie. He's itching to hold him again.

"I shoulda kept you company on the drive." He pulls the door open and steps out to greet Brock with a lazy smile, "I'm supposed to be the young vibrant one!"

"Well to be fair you slept weirdly last night. And then you stayed up with me only to get up early this morning. It's a weird change from your normal."

"Yeah, I suppose." He adds, "If I nap, you don't have to nap with me. I understand if you have things to do… I'd like it if you did but your life can't stop for little, tired, me." He gives a small nod satisfied that he said his piece but still left the invite to snuggle open while also not making it seem like a chore.

" _When_ you nap. And don't worry. I'm not leaving your side." 

Frank grabs his hand and follows him into the building. It still feels like he is not supposed to be here but with Brock leading the way it doesn't matter. He smiles wide at the doorman as he enters the elevator. "So it's when not if?" 

"Love, you are practically dead on your feet. You can't tell me you are awake all of a sudden," Brock pulls him into a hug.

He clings to Brock. He's not wrong. He is tired. He's the kind of tired that you feel it in your bones. He inhales the smell of Brock and relaxes, "I'm tired." 

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. We ran hard today. You don't have to come with me to the gym anymore. You didn't have to in the first place but you know what I mean. Hopefully, tonight will be a normal sleep night for us both." Brock kisses the top of Frankie's head.

"I wanted to go, I didn't realize the gym meant being awake _that_ early. I like seeing you do things you enjoy." Frank looks up at him with big puppy dog eyes, "I feel like I'm a tornado and uprooted your life, sometimes. I'm supposed to add to your life not take over it." 

The elevator door opens and they step into the hall, Brock unlocking the door and letting them inside. Instead of responding right away, he takes Frankie into the bathroom and has him stand in front of the mirror.

"Look. What do you see?" he asks softly.

"Me, the tired version, 2.0."

He wraps his arms around his waist and kisses his neck softly. "You said you liked seeing the things I enjoy. I enjoy _**you**_. The only thing I had in my life that's changed since your arrival was a job. It was fun but also mediocre. I'd rather devote my time to you. Otherwise, my life was easily boxed up into beating up people and focusing on my family. You bring me joy."

"Man, we gotta get you a hobby." He teases, "I enjoy spending my time here with you. Shit, it doesn't matter. I am happy being around you. I liked seeing you…in a zone." His hand reaches up and pushes his fingers in Brock's hair, "I look like a scurvy patient next to you."

"And yet I find it so sexy. My hobby is beating people up. Either on the street, in the ring, and apparently in the bed. My hobby is also taking care of you," Brock nudges him out of the bathroom and towards the bed. "And one I enjoy every minute of." 

He walks out of the bathroom and towards the bed, feeling its gravitational pull but he turns, walking backward to see Brock's face. "I'm sorry that you were treated like that. He's a dick." 

Brock shrugs and strips off his tank and pants. "I expected it from him. I didn't expect him to treat you the way he did. He's a dick but also your friend. And right now I'm not seeing why you like him. But that's not important right now. Right now, it's nap time. I have my doctor coming by later this evening but other than that, I don't have any other plans other than cuddling you happy."

"A nap sounds good but cuddling sounds fantastic." He grins and looks at his jeans, "I'm not getting out of these without a fight. Also why no underwear?"

"I had a plan but you were too tired for it. Next time," Brock gently pushes Frankie to lay down on the bed so he can help strip off the extra tight jeans.

He sits back and grins, "Very soon because I have a head full of ideas as to your plans." He unbuttons the jeans and pushes them down off his butt, "Your doc makes house calls?" 

"He works for me and the family, so yes." Brock tugs and pulls the fabric down and off, adding them to his pile of clothes before getting into the bed and sitting up.

Frank turns and crawls up the bed to be next to Brock. He leans up and kisses him on the cheek, "Thanks for the help, babe." He pauses as he snuggles under the covers and presses himself to B. "Did you pick the tightest jeans I own on purpose?" 

"Yeah kinda. I do love watching you squirm, no matter the reason."

"This I know and have plans to exploit later." Frank sighs before kissing Brock's skin. The wheels in his head were spinning as he clings to him. "What about knitting? You seem like a knitting kinda guy." 

"In what world does it make sense that I would enjoy _knitting,_ you goofball?" he laughs and shakes his head, fingers carding through Frankie's hair.

"You're not the crochet kinda guy. Plus you could knit a nice hat for Jack." Frank snickers. He loves the sound of Brock's laugh and makes it a goal to hear it more.

"The only reason I would ever use knitting needles is to stab someone in a fight. Jack can buy his own damn hats." He's dying with the thought of himself knitting.

He grins and bites his lip, "I think the idea of taking you to a craft store is the fuckin cutest thing ever. Then again I do just think you are the cutest ever." 

"You wanna go to a craft store, we can. Maybe I'll find something to annoy you with for trying to get me to _knit_ like some old grandma."

"Is it bad that I just wanna see the women's reaction to you in a craft store? That makes me a bad person right? It's teasing the less fortunate." He scoots closer almost to the point where he's on Brock's lap and kisses his lips.

Brock laughs and pulls Frankie into his lap, holding him as he did earlier at the Way's. He kisses him lightly, "I'm happy to let you show me off. It's not a bad thing in my book. You need to sleep though."

"Yeah, I guess." He frowns, "You're right. I'm on the verge of crabby or whiny. Neither of which I would like you to experience." 

"For better or for worse, I'm here," Brock kisses him again before holding him tighter and pulling the blankets up around them. "I'm going to hold you until you wake up."

"This is why I love you." He rests his head on Brock's chest. His eyes close giving in to the heaviness that had been encouraging them to close. "Thank you." 

It doesn't take long for Frank to fall asleep in Brock's arms. His dreams are weird and vivid as he is rocked awake by the sensation of falling. He lifts his head and looks around, trying to wake up fully, still in Brock's arms. He really hopes he didn't snore or drool, neither are attractive. 

"Hi there," Brock whispers, brow furrowing with concern. "You okay, _tesoro_?" 

"Hi. Bad dreams, sorry. 'm fine." His voice is a little more hoarse than he planned. He rests his head back on Brock's chest. 

"You wanna talk about it, baby?" Brock holds him tighter as if by doing so he can erase Frankie's bad dreams and make him feel better.

"It's the same as always, I'm being chased by something and I get to the end of the line and I have to jump or face it. I usually jump." He says as he draws small circles in Brock's chest. "Not sure what it means and I don't know what's chasing me. This time I was running on a catwalk in a red-tinted building and it was hot." 

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." Brock peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. "Does this happen every night?" 

"Most. I can usually get myself back to sleep. And as far as I know, I don't wake you up, which is good." Frank lets out a happy sigh, this man has turned him into a touch monster. A needy little thing.

"I'm sorry I can't fix this. Maybe we can try calming teas or something. I want you to sleep well. How do you feel now?" 

"Happy. Content." He replies without thinking. "I think it's stress catching up with me. Or that I'm waking up? I dunno. Don't most sleepy time teas taste like dandelions and sadness?"

"Stress sounds about right. Though I would like to think that I'm making you less stressed. I don't know about sleep teas but I'm sure we can come up with something to help."

" _You_ aren't stressing me out. _I'm_ stressing me out." Frank looks up and strokes his face, "I'm sure that it will get better. I haven't had them be intense since I've been here. So that is something. A good something too."

"Okay," he kisses him again before giving him a sly look. "Guess that just means I need to fuck you into exhaustion so much you don't dream then."

"I am willing to participate in this experiment. Hell, I could suggest a few additions to enhance results" he grins up. He's happy that he found someone who matches his own libido and needs.

Brock raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell. I am happy to oblige."

"I mean, shower sex is another test we could run. Still wanna blow you in that gorgeous car of yours. Maybe fuck you in an actual public place. " Frank pauses to pull from his own memory bank and observe and enjoy Brock's face. 

"Maybe we should do a few practice runs. To make sure we do the right combinations. May take a few tries. You up for that?" Brock grins. He's on board with all of those ideas and much more.

"We can even make additions like getting you off on a tour bus?" _Just to piss Gee off a little more._ He has the devilish gleam in his eyes, "And you know I am always up for you." 

"Same. And I'm always up for anything. Anytime. Anywhere."

"Yeah, I like the 'anytime'." He pushes himself forward and kisses him. 

Brock sighs into the kiss, the hand at Frankie's back, sliding into his hair and pulling him closer. His other hand tugs a thigh so that he's being straddled. It's a shame he was still wearing his boxer briefs.

Frank leans into him. Letting Brock's body consume him. He deepens his kiss and slowly pushes his bare skin against the soft material of Brock's underwear. He's on a mission. 

Brock moans softly as he feels himself getting hard. Calloused hands caress and pull Frankie close and harder into his steadily growing length. He can't ever get enough of him. Each touch drives him wanting more.

Frank moans into the kiss, wrapping his arm around his neck and one hand resting on his pec as he's slowly working his hips against Brock. He wants him nice and hard from just the gentle touch. He presses the pads of his fingers into Brock's skin. 

Breaking the kiss, he nips and kisses up Frankie's jawline to his earlobe. His hands go to the waistband of his underwear. "Love, move for a second.

He stays put, kissing his neck. Adding a little moan as he pushes harder against Brock. The hand that had been resting on his chest shoos Brock's hand from the waistband. 

He chuckles low and deep. His hand moves to Frankie's waist instead of back to his boxers. He nips Frankie's earlobe. "You trying to get me to cream my boxers, baby?" 

"Nope." He grins against Brock's skin before kissing back up his neck to his lips. He is such a control freak. He puts the free hand back to his chest. 

He lets out a soft sigh at Frankie's kisses and tilts his head to give him better access. "You sure about that, baby? That can be arranged if it is." 

"Not today." He murmurs against his skin as he grinds against him a little harder this time. He kisses along Brock's jaw and then down this throat. "Control freak." He pauses his kissing to look up and smile before he resumes. 

"You love it." Brock forces himself to relax. Every part of him is wanting nothing more than to dominate and control. Instead, he'll let Frankie take the lead. He could easily flip them and the script but he can't deny his curiosity about what his little hellcat is planning.

He slips his legs over and between Brock's and moves himself a little lower. Lightly grazing teeth over his nipple before moving on. He kisses the narrow valley that leads to his belly button and pauses, grinning up and him. _Have you gotten the picture? At least half of it._ His fingers curling inside the waistband and slowly pulling them down as he continues to kiss and occasionally nip. 

Brock licks his lips and grins down at him, biting his lip. Both his hands go to his hair, left hand gripping locks while his right rests at his throat. He raises his hips to help him remove his boxers. Salacious thoughts swim in his head. He is very much on board with this plan.

Frank kisses just below the belly button. He's debating his next move but going for it. He grabs the base of Brock's cock, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking before swallowing him down a little further. He hates giving head but he loves Brock's response. He pulls back up and runs his tongue along the underside of his head then going back down even further. 

"Jesus Christ, Frankie," Brock exhales, head tipping back. His hands tighten in Frankie's hair. 

Frank relaxes his throat and let's go of the base of his cock before letting himself take him further down. He tries his hardest to not gag but pulls back. He begins a slow lazy stroke on his cock as he works the head with his tongue. He enjoys the reaction but that's not what this is about, this is him being a little shit. He forces Brock down his throat as far as he can until the need for air forces him back up. The little devil on his shoulder knows Brock's putty, for now at least. He pulls back his hand as he places small soft and wet kisses along Brock's inner thigh working his way towards his knees. The little devil in his head cheers him on. 

"Good God, Frankie. Baby, I need you. Need to fuck you," Brock moans.

"Nope," He says between kisses, enjoying the feeling of Brock's fingers in his hair. He moves himself back up Brock's body before running his tongue along the shaft of his cock and over the tip. He takes his cock in and bobs a few times before pulling away, kissing his low belly.

"No?" He's so confused. He whines, needing to be buried deep inside him. "Fuck. Why?" 

"Cause I said so." His voice's playful before he places more kisses and nips along Brock's hips. He refocuses his attention back to Brock's very hard and probably angry cock, giving him a few lazy pulls and looking up at his face. He works his mouth down and follows the same stroke as his hand. He is enjoying this probably more than he should.

"Shit! Ah, fuck Frankie baby," He shouts as his hips buck involuntarily. "Off. Wanna lay down." And because if he doesn't, he might cum like this and he's not ready for that. Yet.

The sudden thrust catches him by surprise but he tries not to let Brock know. Frank takes his time pulling his mouth off and letting his cock go. He slowly pulls back and sits on his heels. He will give him a moment or two to get comfortable. He keeps an impatient look on his face as he watches Brock. 

Brock quickly scoots down the bed so he's lying flat on his back, one leg straight out and the other a little tucked up. One hand fluffs his pillow before both his hands eagerly push Frankie back down towards his very hard cock. "Come on baby, need you." 

He resists the encouragement from him instead, skipping over his cock and kissing his thighs again. "You do?" He stops to question him with a mischievous grin on his face as he looks up. 

"Fuck yeah," he moans. "Wanna fuck you so good. Have you ride me. Or maybe bend you over and spank you before fucking you, you little cocktease."

He grips his cock and strokes. "Yeah? I dunno… I am after all a little tease." He leans forward and swallows him down far enough to just tease his gag reflex. One hand carefully caresses his balls but only when his mouth is on him. He pulls back and strokes a few more times. 

"Baby, _please_ ," Brock whines. It's pathetic but he's not sure if Frankie is looking for that or not. He can be what he wants if only _he just knew_. His toes curl in frustration, one hand going to the bedsheets and fisting the fabric, and a groan escapes. While being highly arousing, it was also driving him crazy and he hated it. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax again and ignore the panic feeling. To give up control. 

He had a choice to make, he could suck him off and let him cum in his mouth or fuck around a little longer and risk one of two reactions. One reaction was that Brock gets annoyed and takes over or he gets angry and that's not fully what he wants. 

Both options are going to elicit some kind of anger. 

He makes his choice, stilling his hand around the very angry cock, and swallows him back down. He works himself down a little too far and quickly retracts to safety instead, letting a moan from deep in his throat do a little work. He picks up the speed of his stroke as he tries to keep rhythm with his mouth. He wanted a little anger but wasn't sure if it would be what he would get. He chooses to play it safe. He just wants to get Brock off. That all he really wanted. And toy with him a little bit. 

The feeling of Frankie working his cock was driving him faster and faster to the edge. A loud, guttural moan escapes when his throat tightens around him, causing his head to tip back and fingers to tighten their grip. He's close, the speed and his own need doing wonders. He wants to force Frankie down further; to make him take it more and to choke. To mouth fuck him. Instead, he focuses on his breathing and restrains his desires. A litany of praises and curses flow from his mouth as his orgasm hits like a freight train, making him arch his back and go deeper down Frankie's perfect throat.

As Brock comes, he pushes himself further down, creating the choking sensation there he knew Brock was dying for. He could feel the tears rolling down his cheek as he eases himself back still stroking him until he is done. Frank pulls his mouth from his cock and gives Brock a crooked smile before wiping his chin and sits back. He is surprised that the words from Brock were in English. He needs to work on his dick sucking skills.

Frank takes a deep break and smiles, somewhat satisfied with himself. 

It takes several moments before Brock comes back online. He's panting hard and trying to get his breathing under control. Several different thoughts enter his head. A plan forms and while he really can't breathe right, the look on Frankie's face will be worth pushing himself. He surges forward, pulling Frankie into a hot and hard kiss, before shoving his face down onto the bed. Brock moves out from under him and off the mattress, getting into a standing position before bringing his hand down hard on Frankie's ass.

Frank can't even enjoy the kiss before he is pressed into the mattress. The sharp blow on his ass made him jump forward just a little as he gasps. His head snaps to the side and looks back at Brock with a grin. "Control freak." 

"You fucking love it," Brock punctuates each word with a slap. "This what you wanted? Being a little cocktease just to get me riled up? Is this what you needed, you greedy little slut?"

Frank lets out a moan with each strike. He grabs at the sheets and presses his forehead into the bed before turning, "Yes!"

He grabs both handfuls of Frankie's ass cheeks, roughly rubbing the red skin before spanking him more, slowly increasing the pain. Brock wished he had a mirror just to see the look on Frankie's face as he rained blows on his gorgeous ass. "You love this, don't you? Gets you fucking hard when I spank this ass. Like a little pain slut. Are you a pain slut, boy?"

"Oh fuck! Yes!" Frank moaned out, he didn't know it was a thing but yes. His hands gripping the sheets. He pushes back towards Brock. Let's be honest, if it was Brock related he was for it. "I'm just your slut!" 

"I love the sound of that. You want it harder, slut? Should I get my belt? Whip you so hard you cum?" Brock hits him harder, making sure to paint his skin a bright red. "Or maybe the belt isn't enough and I need to use a real whip on you."

Frank moans after the strike that sends a sting down his legs and takes a breath in. "Yes! Please! Harder. I wanna cum, please!" he begs, not realizing that he could sound as desperate for something like this and be more than ok with it. Each strike makes its way to his dick. 

Brock curses under his breath before stepping away and striding over to his closet and grabbing a black leather belt. He returns to Frankie, giving it a harsh snap before cracking it against reddened and tender flesh. "Scream for me, baby." 

The hit of the belt forces a cry from his mouth. A swell of pain and pleasure invades his body. This was too much. The feeling of the angry skin makes his legs shake a little, he swallows hard. "Holy fuck." He moans into the bed as he gains a little composure. The devil on his shoulder tells him to push for more.

Brock pauses and rubs his ass cheeks carefully. He needs to check in with his good and perfect little sub before continuing. "Too much? Or would you prefer I stick with my hand? Be honest, I don't want to seriously hurt you. It's okay if you only want my hands, baby. You'll still be my perfect slut."

"Hand, please." He speaks softly, he wants to apologize but keeps it in. He wants more but doesn't want to push it. 

"Good boy, I'm so proud of you," Brock tosses away the belt. His hands soothe and massage where he hit with the belt. "Such a perfect angel. You tell me when you're ready and I'm going to make you cum. Okay?"

Frank nods as he takes a breath and lets his body relax. He loves the feeling of Brock's hands on his skin but even more now. The feeling of angered buzzing subsides, being replaced with a sensation that turns into pleasure and is building pressure in his stomach. He can feel the throbbing of his cock, reminding him that he needs to come as he turns his head to the side and looks back, "I'm ready."

"I love you. Gonna make you feel so good, baby." Before the last word is even out of his mouth, he's spanking him again. Not as hard as before because he knows the pain will flare up like a layered cake, each strike only enhancing and building up the last. 

Frank's back arches as he lets out a loud moan. He can feel the new tension building in his body. It's nothing like he's felt before. The feeling of the heat on his skin rises and builds the sting each time his hand makes contact, and it makes his body race faster to the end. "Fuck B. I love you. Please!" 

"Don't hold back, baby. Cum for me," Brock lands four hard and quick blows as fast as he can. "Cum for me, Frank." 

Something in the way he said his name flipped a switch and sent a wave through his body. His stomach tightens as the building reaches its peak. The last strike caused his hips to falter and jerk away then down slightly. A whine pulls from his chest as he comes.

Brock moans softly at the sight of Frankie jerking as he comes all over himself. The thought makes his already-hard cock twitch with arousal. Spanking Frankie worked him up just as much as it did him. He gently rubs and caresses the abused and bright red flesh. It's hot under his skin and he wondered if he should get an ice pack. It's a brief idea and one that gets discarded in favor of grabbing the lube. Flicking open the cap, he pours a generous amount in his palm and strokes himself. 

"Fuck, you are so perfect. So beautiful. Amazing. Did so good for me baby."

Frank wasn't sure if he was shaking or if he was just his skin buzzing. The sensation of gentle touch on his sensitive skin sent a shiver up his spine. This was something he never imagined liking. "I love you." 

"I love you more," Brock gently spreads him open before pressing against him and slowly sliding in, without prep. He's more than liberally coated and he wants it to be extra tight. When he's at the end, he forces himself to wait and let his beautiful love adjust.

"Shit!" Frank's body awakens and forces him to rise a little off the mattress. He tightens around the intrusion without thinking about it. His body wants to pull away but he keeps himself still. His legs shake, every inch of his skin still awake. He makes a little whine as his body relaxes. One hand grips the sheet as he steals a glance at Brock who was clearly enjoying this. 

Laying down so he blankets Frankie's body with his own, he moans softly in his ear at the feeling of being buried so tight and so deep into the searing heat that was Frankie. Just his breathing alone was enough to make him clench and tighten around him. His hands come up and caress Frankie's sides and arms in a light and soothing manner. He whispers in his ear, "I love you so much. Wanna make you feel so good."

He wishes that he could kiss him. That moan was porn worthy and would be staying in his brain for a while. The feeling of Brock's body on top of his had become something that was comforting. His ass was still burning and he was still almost too sensitive, but he was pushing through the overwhelming feelings. The soft-touch of Brock's hands calmed him a little. He could feel the neediness deep inside his bones. "I love you too. Need you to come inside of me. I want to make you feel good too." 

That brings a smile to his lips and he can't help but nose Frankie's neck, rubbing and nuzzling the soft skin there. Gently and slowly he rolls his hips a little, testing the waters. His hands make their way to grasp Frankie's wrists. He purrs soft words in his ear, "I'm not going to stop until you are hard again and begging for me to fuck you. Then we are going to come together." He plants a hard kiss on his cheek.

The words cause Frank to shiver as they travel down his side before the sensation is replaced by something stronger. The carefully measured push and pull from Brock forces out a moan and a responding clench around the thick cock buried deep inside of him. "Ok baby!" He's got the need to please Brock in his head. He knows what he wants from him and knows that he can be what Brock wants and needs.

"Fuck you feel so good." Brock moans again, ragged and breathless. He slowly increases the speed of his thrusts.

"Oh god," Frank groans in response to Brock. He dips his lower back to push his ass back into Brock a little more. His body still shaking slightly, unable to recover from the first orgasm. A couple pushes from Brock's hips and he can feel his body responding the right way. He pushes his shoulders back into B and lets out a small moan that sticks in his throat. As Brock picks up the speed behind his hips, the uncomfortable sensitivity in Frank's groin turns to pleasured excitement. The hands around his wrists get a little tighter making it harder for him to grip on to the sheets.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good inside of me!" He whines into the sheets. The sensitive skin of his ass no longer aches but a warm buzz travels down his legs. His head is swimming with the sounds of Brock's ragged and heavy moans, making his cock harder.

Groaning, Brock can't help but snap his forward at the encouragement from Frankie. He needs to move so bad but he's unable to tell if Frankie is ready for him. He pants, "You want it, baby?" 

"Oh fuck, please!" Frank whines out, "Please fuck me!" 

Brock snaps his hips once more before standing up, his right hand sliding to Frankie's throat and pulling him back. His left digs into Frankie's hip. He lightly smacks Frankie's ass check before brutally fucking hard into him.

"Oh god B!" Frank groans, the feeling of Brock's hand around his throat makes his insides twist. He releases the sheets and grabs Brock's wrist with his other before grabbing his own chest. Anticipation was quickly met with another slap that sends a ripple of pleasurable pain across his skin as Brock rails into him. 

The fast and rough pace forces his body to catch up quickly. His hand that was on his chest drops to his cock and begins stroking himself to the pace Brock had set for them. "Oh holy fu-- B, don't stop!" His thoughts get caught in his head and struggle to make sense. He turns his head slightly to look back at him, wanting to see his face and kiss him. He tightens his hold on Brock's wrist as he moans loudly.

Frank grins back at Brock as the hand around his throat tightens and causes him to whine louder. For a moment he forgets that he's stroking his own cock, lost in the feeling of Brock fucking into him harder. The fingers keeping him in position dig deeper into his skin, the pressure behind it will leave a mark. Frank inhales deep as Brock pulls back feeling like he was going to pull out, hitting his prostate and making his knees go weak before slamming back into him deep, forcing a string loud of curses out of Frank.

"Please make me cum!" Frank whines as the pressure on his hips increases with the speed of hips ramming into him. The grunts and groans from behind him paired with the feeling of his body hitting against Brock's skin pushes the tension in his body to the edge. "Baby, I'm close! Please!" Frank begs as he tightens down around Brock to get a reaction. 

“Fuck I love it when you beg, baby,” Brock gasps and moans. He moves his left hand off Frankie’s hip, rearing back and slapping down hard on Frankie’s left ass cheek. He does it again and again, frantically ramming into his prostate. He’s so close but determined to feel Frankie cum for him first. “Cum for me, you fucking slut.”

"Oh god!" Frank cries out as the mixed sensations. His thighs begin to shake a little harder with each thrust harder into him. His hand falls free from his own cock, lost in the moment. Loving the feeling of Brock buried deep inside of him. The hand tightens a little more around his throat and causes a shift inside his body, and as much as he tries to stop it, he clenches down tighter and lets out a hard cry. He holds his breath for a second as he cums, letting out a cry as he relaxes his muscles. 

Jesus, he loves it when Frankie cums. He’s already tight, to begin with, but the vice-like grip he gets when his love cums drives Brock crazy. It’s enough to make him see stars. His head tips back and a loud cry escapes as the pressure behind his cock erupts and he cums deep inside Frankie. “Oh fuck, yes! Fra- ah! Frankie!”

Frank turns his head to Brock. He can't help but grin as he tries to keep himself from crumbling to the bed by clenching his thighs. He can't enough of this man, every fucking part of him. "I love you so much, Brock." He feels silly for a moment for letting the words spill from his lips like a schoolgirl.

Letting him go, Brock collapses on top of Frankie, forcing them both to the mattress and pulling him in as close as he possibly can. Rolling off and to his back, he pulls him in close, kissing him quickly. He’s panting hard but still manages to get out, “I love you more. So much.” 

Frank kisses him again and shifts his hips a little worried about putting pressure on his ass. "You are perfect, Brock." He places his head on Brock's chest and exhales, feeling his own heart slowing down. His body is buzzing with excitement. He can't believe he could be this fucking lucky to found him.

“Nothing compares to you, baby. _La mia vita, il mio amore, il mio tesoro._ ”

"Mmm… I love that." He kisses Brock's chest. His head wants to spiral and ruin the happiness that is flooding his body but he fights it, "I've never been this happy." 

“Neither have I,” he pulls him into a light but deep kiss. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

"I'm perfect. Content. At the moment, no." Frank glances back to see the damage, "Warm and a little buzzy. But fine. Sitting up might be a different story." 

Sitting up, he stands and moves into the bathroom. He grabs a few bottles from the cupboard under the sink before starting up the tub. The contents of the bottles get dumped into the quickly filling basin and make the whole room fill with the scent of lavender. Sea salt granules float around in the tub, mostly dissolving, while bubbles float on its surface. Brock returns to Frankie while the tub fills and picks him up, carrying him into the bathroom and easing them both into the tub.

He shifts a little to the side just barely. He lets himself relax back into Brock. "Did you buy this place for the bathroom or was it just a perk?" He lets himself sit properly in order to be the most comfortable.

“I will admit, the bathroom is the top room next to the bedroom. I’m a big believer in over-the-top aftercare. Epsom salts, hot water, and stress-reducing lavender to help you relax and soothe those muscles. And that’s not all,” he says, pulling Frankie into a tight hug. He loves holding him. It makes his skin feel so good. He needs it all the time and wishes there was a way to constantly keep in contact with him.

Frank wraps his arms around Brock. He turns his body to face him, "What else?" He would much rather see his face than a bathroom wall. He leans forward and kisses him. He carefully straddles Brock's lap before giving him a smile. 

“It’s a surprise, one I know you’ll enjoy. Nothing vigorous, just relaxing. Promise.” He leans forward and pulls him so they were chest to chest, kissing him softly. When will he _not_ need to touch or kiss Frankie? Never, he hopes but surely at some point, his neediness becomes tiring and too controlling. At some point, his touch starvation goes from being fresh and cute and perfect for a new relationship to needy and demanding and something that is a turn off in a relationship. He silently prays Frankie will never find out just how bad it really is.

"As long as you're there. I'm in." Frank strokes his skin with his fingers. He opens his mouth to speak but retracts the thought. He's letting his past dictate how he feels now. He's not going to let the little demon ruin this. "Can I ask something?" 

“Always, my love.” Brock nuzzles him, burying his nose in his hair. He smells so good.

"You… after." He pauses to gather his thoughts, "I don't know what I did to deserve the praise?" His forehead scrunches. He didn't ask it the way he wanted too but it's out.

Brock grins wide as his heart fills with adoration and pride. The memory returns and he just wants to lavish Frankie with praise, _again_ for all the progress his love has made. “You told me no. You gave me a limit, a boundary. And I am so proud of you for being able to do that in a clear way, for not being afraid that you would get into trouble. For trusting me that I would not hurt you even if you called it quits. For being honest. For admitting to me that I was hurting you. I love you and I am so proud of you so much. Because I know how hard that was for you. And I’m sure your brain gremlins are still making it hard for you. I’m proud of you _now_ because you brought it up instead of letting it bother you and--” He can’t help the buzz of the feelings swirling in his body and he just surges forward and kisses Frankie hard. He’s so happy right now he can’t even put it into words.

Frank's face flushes and it spreads to his ears. He kisses Brock back and cups his face. Thinking back, he was terrified to admit it but also didn't want to actually be hurt. "I still want to apologize for everything." He admits softly before resting his head on Brock's shoulder, "But I like making _you_ happy so, I wanted to know _what I did right."_

"Sweetheart, you do _everything_ right. You are so perfect for me. A godsend. My angel. My soulmate. I've never been happier in my life. And I don't care how long it takes but I will say it a million times a day for the rest of our lives until you finally believe me. And even then I'll continue to say it until my final breath." 

Frank thinks back to the conversation at Lindsey's about him on stage and gives Brock a little grin, "I just wanna _keep_ you happy. I love and adore you. The more I am with you, the more I realize that you are the one."

"I feel the same," he replies, matching Frankie's grin with one of his own.

Brock cuddles Frankie until the water starts to cool and the bubbles have all disappeared. Once they get out, he dries them both off, ignoring Frankie's protests about being capable of doing it himself. As much as he knows Frankie _can,_ it's not about that. It's about him needing to care for Frank's every need. Tending to him is all part of the aftercare process and not much different than his everyday habits. When they are dried off, Brock picks him up and gently carries him into the bedroom and places him in the center of the bed, face down. Brock gets a bottle of oil from the bathroom and straddles Frankie's upper thighs. The fragrant scent of frankincense and myrrh mingles with the lavender that's on their skin from the soak.

Frank protests and grumbles at the attention but deep down he loves it. He loves Brock's need to touch him. He has to fight back the 'gremlin' that gnaws at his brain. The part that warns him that Brock doesn't love him. That he will lose interest if Frankie gets comfortable. He hates the moments of quiet; that is how the bad ideas slip into his head. The what-ifs. What if he gave his whole self over to him and he doesn't want him? What if he can't accept his life on the road? What if his family hates him and Brock has to leave him? He can feel his shoulders tightening. His heart sinks into his stomach as he listens to the darkness. At the first gentle touch of Brock's oiled hands on his skin, he lets out a little sigh. All of the thoughts and fears dissipate. His brain begins working out a way to 'repay' this generous man back, in a non-sexual way. Brock's warm and softened hands work their way up his skin, being extra gentle around his ass. The closer he got to Frank's head, the more he melted. He murmurs how much he loves Brock. He knows it's way too early and he knows it's not how life is supposed to be but he wants to jump in with both feet. He is sure he wants this to be home. 

Once the massage has drained him of all tension and the oil has soaked in, Frank clings to Brock as he lays on the bed. He traces the lines on Brock's body, enjoying the actual quiet in his favorite person's arms. His boyfriend. Nah, he can say it; his _soulmate's_ arms.


	8. The Start Of The Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama and smut. All mistakes are our own and we still don't make money from this. Hope you all enjoy.  
> -Winterscribe.

Frank spends most of the nights restless. He’s gone over the list of things needs during the months they'll be on the road. He listens to Brock quietly snore next to him. He's filled with worry. He's worried mostly about Brock. He's lived a worse life than one on the road but Brock hasn't.

He carefully crawls out of bed and quietly as he can, goes to the bathroom. He slips into the kitchen. He is still a _little_ anxious about being naked in their apartment, mostly because of the windows. He gets a drink of water and checks their bags and his equipment that is stowed neatly by the door. He paces the floor a little before crawling back into bed. Frank slides up and kisses Brock's cheek, who murmurs something that sounds like 'go to sleep'. This also activates what he likes to think of as 'octopus mode' where Brock wraps him tight and holds him. 

Sure enough, limbs extend out and grab Frankie's waist and leg, pulling him close and wrapping around him. Brock is still asleep, with maybe one percent of his brain awake and registering his boyfriend moving. He ends up mostly on top of Frankie rather than sleeping next to him as if even in Brock's sleep state he knew the only way to keep Frankie in the bed was to pin him down. A moment later, soft snores refill the room.

Frank lets out a deep breath and tries to let himself sleep. His eyes are heavy and the room is blurry. He closes his eyes for a minute and opens them to an empty bed. He sits up and looks around the room. Light spills from behind the curtain as he stretches. "Babe?" He asks as he slides to the end of the bed and feels the ball of nerves hit again.

"In the bathroom," Brock calls from behind the closed door. "I'll be out in a minute." 

He glances at the clock. One of the stage crew should be calling soon about picking up the guitars and equipment. He doesn't respond to Brock instead, he gets up and pulls yesterday's jeans on and one of the shirts from the floor, which happens to not be his own, before he leaves the room to fret a little more. 

When he's done, Brock makes his way to the kitchen to start coffee and breakfast before he jumps into the shower. Finding Frankie nervously prattling around, he grins and wraps his arms around him. "Morning, _tesoro_." 

"Morning," Frank replies letting himself relax. "I have five texts from the boys and they are all checking that we're coming. Well, that, you are still coming."

"Mmm, I'm happy to come," he grins and peppers kisses all over Frankie's neck. He has to pay special attention to his scorpion though. It's no longer Frankie's. It's his now. 

Frank tilts his head to give Brock more space and smiles. "Are you going to find another tattoo to 'claim' or stick with that one?" His fingers go for Brock's hair and push through it. He should check the weather for Pittsburgh. His anxiety creeps up and forces his stomach to tense.

"Maybe," he murmurs, grazing his teeth over the scorpion's tail. "I love all your tattoos. I love your neck. Scorpio just so happens to fit both and it is cute to boot."

"Scorpio?" He asks with a widened smile. "It's supposed to make me look tough. I'm already pocket-sized and cute."

"I named it." He sounds very proud of himself. Hugging Frankie closer for a moment and kissing his cheek, he steps away to start coffee and food. Maybe bacon and eggs or something lighter like oatmeal. He needs more eggs. He gets the coffee maker going before grabbing his egg carton. "What do you want to eat?" 

"Coffee's fine." Frank's reply is absent-minded as he turns to follow but stops. "I'll be right back, the guitar tech is here to get my ladies. You should probably eat something that sounds fantastic because you might not get it for a while, baby." He picks up a guitar and straps it to himself then repeats until his gear has him loaded down. He heads towards the door.

Brock has to do a double-take at Frankie's words. What did he mean he wouldn't get anything fantastic for a while? What's wrong with bacon and eggs? And why can't he have them on tour? He turns to ask but Frank's already out the door. And there's no way in hell that twinkie is only going to be having coffee in the morning. Throwing an egg into some water he decides to at least make Frankie eat something. 

Bacon fried and eggs scrambled, Brock takes his coffee and sits at the table. There's a plate with a single hard-boiled egg and a strip of bacon next to a mug of coffee- dark roast with a dash of creamer next to him for Frankie. 

Frank comes back in feeling annoyed by the tech for being a little rough but he has to remember they are just guitars. He steps in and his stomach immediately growls. The smell of coffee and breakfast makes his mouth water, not to mention the gorgeous man who made it. "Sorry, that took so long. New guy." Frank joins him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, "Thank you. And thank you for putting up with my anxiety this morning."

"I get it. Eat before it gets cold, love. I'm going to get into the shower after this. Get some actual clothes on." Brock eats his large plate of eggs.

Frank nods and quietly eats. He likes it when Brock makes coffee, it's exactly how he likes it. But a nagging part of him is worried. He can feel his shoulders tightening the more he thinks. _What if B is upset with him? Is he mad he's wearing his shirt? Should he have made breakfast?_ They have an hour or so before they need to be loading the bus. That is enough time to shower and get dressed. And give Brock some extra attention. Then if there's time, stress. 

"I can see your brain spinning circles, _tesoro_. What's going through that beautiful brain of yours?" A hand reaches out and runs through his hair before resting on his shoulder. He hates that he can't help his boyfriend. He just wants to help; to erase the worry from his mind and ease the pain in his heart.

"The coffee is perfect by the way." Frank smiles at him, "I could have used my _energy_ to make breakfast for us, sorry I didn't." He turns his head and kisses Brock's fingers. 

"You were busy. And I'm happy to cook, don't worry about that sweetheart. I just got to be careful frying bacon in the nude. It's microwaved today. Sorry. Didn't want fried sausage," He chuckles before finishing off his coffee.

He snorts and looks over at him to see his smile. "I'd prefer your sausage to remain unharmed, please. Also sorry not sorry for stealing your shirt," He takes another sip from his coffee and turns to face him. "I love you and appreciate you."

Brock gives him a very pleased look. Eyes take in every inch of Frankie wearing his shirt and his possessive streak rears its head. Frankie looked good in anything. He liked him in his own clothes because then it highlighted the perfection that was his twink body. But to see his shirt on Frank was something he never thought he'd get to see and enjoy. The size difference was only further highlighted by just how loose the fabric was on such a thin frame. Maybe he needed to buy up a size the next time he went shirt shopping.

"You look delectable in my shirt." 

"It looks better on you. But I love that it smells like you." He stands up and kisses Brock. His eyes scan his body. "I do prefer you like this though." He needs to keep his mind out of the gutter because they have to shower and get ready to go soon. But god he wanted to crawl into his lap and not stop kissing him until Brock was hard. Maybe just suck him off in the kitchen. _Focus Iero. He needs to stay focused_.

"Enjoy while you can. At least until we get into the hotels anyway." Brock stands and kisses his cheek before taking their empty dishes into the kitchen and washing them. Time for a quick shower. 

Fuck, that's _why_ he got up. "The label offered to send a car if you don't want to drive your car or have Jack drive." Frank offers as he grabs a towel to dry the dishes. He frowns at the idea that he wouldn't be able to enjoy naked Brock at any given time. Or spontaneous sex. Not even cuddle time.

Brock turns and gives him a confused look. "They offered to pick us up? Why does this feel like it's a rare occurrence and something I shouldn't trust?"

"Because this _hasn't_ happened before. So I don't trust it." Frank replies with a frown, "If we have an actual tour bus, I'll be surprised."

"I've already made arrangements with Jack to meet us at the tour buses to take the car. I'd rather drive while I still can. Are you _sure_ I can't tow it to each city?" He grins at the words, having already lamented at great lengths over the past week about how much he's going to miss his freedom of driving wherever. 

"Oh good cause I told them no. I just have a bad feeling about it." Frank snickers, "You are going to be fine without her, it's just a few months. Distance makes the heart grow fonder." 

Rolling his eyes, Brock turns and goes towards the shower. Frankie was right. None of that whole scenario felt right. Not from the bits and pieces that he overheard from the band meeting last week. He's going to need to be on alert.

Frank stands in the kitchen to text Gerard that he turned down the car offer, but instead watches Brock walk away. His cute little butt is absolutely worth putting work on hold until he disappears into their room. Once the message is sent, he finishes putting the dishes away and goes to change into clean clothing, peeking into the bathroom to sneak a peek on his boyfriend in the shower. He's a little surprised Brock didn't pick him up and make him shower. He strips his day-old jeans off, rolls them, and stuffs them into his backpack at the end of the bed. He pulls open the drawer and pulls out red buffalo plaid boxer briefs and slips into black skinny jeans. He wants to keep Brock's shirt on but he options for a tighter white tee shirt with red trim.

He texts Gerard and Ray about the oddity of being offered a town car to the bus. Everyone is on edge about this. What is Alan up to? The car was probably loaded with girls and drugs. He shakes it off and pushes it to the back of his head.

After Brock's showered and dressed, Frank pulls him to the couch to get in a little more cuddle time with the television on to fill the silence. It starts innocent with a head and neck rub but slowly turns into a small make-out session. The closer it gets to time to leave the more anxious he gets. He's thankful for Brock's weight on top of him to keep him from spiraling. He kisses Brock a little deeper hoping it would make the worry go away. He sees a smirk spread on Brock's face as he pulls him up. They gather their bags and make a final sweep of the apartment before heading to the car. It was a little early but maybe he was worried about traffic out of the city. He sits in the passenger seat and watches Brock get in with that charmingly dangerous smile on his perfect lips.

"I'm ready when you are, love!" Frank puts sunglasses on as he scoots just a little closer. He places a hand on Brock's leg, relaxed.

Brock starts the car and heads out, enjoying his last moments with his favorite vehicle. The convertible stays up this time, the weather far too hot for that. The drive out is relaxing, soft music playing low. His phone is being annoying with its near-constant chirps of driving directions to some bus depot in the heart of Newark. Not even ten minutes into the drive, Brock reaches over and turns the damn thing off. He has an idea of where he's going and honestly, he's already memorized the directions anyway.

"Yeah? It's not the GPS's fault," Frank teases. His fingers stroke his inner thigh as he listens to Brock's music choice. "Don't get lost." 

"I'm not. I know where we are headed. Damn thing was pissing me off. I know I need to turn left. I don't need a reminder every two seconds to turn left. Besides, it's ruining my music." 

"But you might miss the turn and then it will have to recalculate." Frank grins before leaning up and kissing his cheek.

"Yes. It will," he comments before making that exact 'mistake'.

Frank watches as the city slowly fades away. His hand moves up his thigh as Brock steers onto the highway. His wheels are turning, planning his next two moves. He watches the clock. 45 minutes should be plenty of time. He kisses Brock's neck and moves his hand to the target. His fingers caress over the jeans between his legs. 

"Frankie, what?" Brock murmurs, trying to keep his eyes focused on the road and not on his boyfriend's movements.

"Just drive." He speaks softer than a whisper before kissing down his neck. His free hand frees the seatbelt, giving him a little more movement as he moves even closer. He shifts a little anxiously in the seat. 

A small noise of alarm escapes. This was dangerous! He tries to focus on the road. "Frankie put your seat belt back on. Please. I don't want you to get hurt if we get into an accident. Please."

Frank groans and rolls his eyes, buckling again. Using his palm and fingers to grope him a little firmer than before as they pass a semi-truck. Frank checks the rearview before he pops the button on Brock's jeans, pulls the zipper, and slides his hand inside them between the two fabrics and gropes him. Letting his fingers carefully trace the lines of his cock.

"Jesus," Brock breathes. His knuckles whiten from the grip around the steering wheel. He should tell him to stop but the surprise of Frankie doing this _now_ has him struggling to find the words to do so.

He pulls his hand from his crotch and pushes Brock's jeans down a little before working his underwear with them. He squirms a little to get his body to stretch across the console as he grabs the base of his cock with one hand. He dives right in, not taking himself down far but pulling back and sucking on his head until he hears the appropriate response of a groan or a moan. He pulls off him with a little extra suction as he goes, "It's not safe..." He smirks up at Brock, acting like he is going to stop.

His right-hand drops from the steering wheel and moves to Frankie's back. Caressing him briefly before pressing his head back down. He's glad he's at a red light at the moment. He can relax a second and groan at the feelings coursing through him. He pants, "It's also rude to not finish what you fucking started, you little minx. Jesus baby. Love your fucking mouth."

Frank pushes himself a little further down as his free hand unbuckles the belt allowing himself to move closer to Brock. He almost wishes he had a bigger car and is thankful he is small as he pulls back and bobs a little before pulling off his cock for air. His hand strokes Brock before he takes him back down his throat. 

Brock's head tips back at the feeling of Frankie deep throating him. It doesn't last long because he catches the car starting to swerve. He needs to pull over. Before he gets pulled over. Fingers grip and tighten on Frankie's hair before slowly traveling down his back to palm his ass. He's able to keep his eyes on the road and search for a place off the side to pull over safely thankfully.

He groans around Brock at the sensation of his hair being pulled. He is working Brock's cock with his mouth only using his hand to keep him in control. He keeps it light and easy but taking him deeper to get a reaction from above. As he eases off his cock, he's listening to the car and B's breathing. He doesn't want to die with Brock in his mouth and he's not afraid to use teeth to pull him back to Earth.

"Shit," Brock huffs. "I'm good." There was just no place to pull over yet. A wicked idea occurs to him and his hand shifts to work itself down the back of Frank's pants and underwear. Fingers inch their way down flesh globes and into his crack, teasing his hole. Two can play at this game.

Frank loses focus for a moment at the unexpected intrusion in his pants. He shifts and moves even closer to Brock. He wants to rise to his knees but refrains. He finds his rhythm again, this time deploying his hand to help him. He moans at Brock's fingers teasing against his sensitive skin. _He's going to ruin another pair of underwear._ He gags himself to get a little more slickness for his hand as he picks up speed and pressure.

"Holy fuck," he moans. He's not going to last if Frankie keeps this up. And he wants to make him cum at the same time. Removing his hand quickly, he shoves his fingers in his mouth to wet them as best as possible before working two of them into Frankie's tight hole. At the same time, he's trying to keep his foot level on the pedal and stay in his lane.

Frank focuses his mouth on the head of Brock's cock while his hand strokes him for a moment before diving back down. He moans as he stops, for just a moment bucking back into Brock's hand, then he takes Brock deeper in his throat. _He'd better work fast._

Moaning again and louder, Brock finally finds a road that goes down a dirt path with a heavy expanse of trees. He turns down it quickly, needing to pull over so he can properly get them both off. His fingers pump in and out as fast as he can, aiming for his boy's prostate. The idea that he can make him soak his pants sends a thrill through him and right down to his cock and suddenly it's the only thing he wants, besides coming down Frankie's throat. He parks and cuts the engine, angling them so that he can easily drive away. Another moan rips out of him.

Frank groans and tries to stay focused. He realizes that the car has stopped. Frank goes back to work sucking and stroking him while trying not to moan but failing. He moans around Brock, feeling his hips jerk. He keeps his hand working as he moans again. "Oh fuck, Brock. You're… fuck." 

His groans and arches his hips up. Seeking that pretty mouth that he swore was so perfect for sucking his dick. His hand in Frankie's pants presses closer to him as hard as he can. Fingers twist and shove into him as hard and fast as possible. He needs Frankie to moan around his cock.

Frank feels the heavy weight in his gut that is building fast. He lets out a little whine and forces his hips back into Brock's hand. He goes back to work and starts sucking harder, letting a moan go against Brock's skin with each twist of his fingers. He tries to push back the rush that hits his groin but can't and rocks his hip. Frank can feel the frantic need to get Brock off, set in. He pushes the gorgeous cock even further down until the need for air turns into panic.

His left hand buries itself in Frank's hair while his right finger fucks him as hard and as fast as he can within the confines of the jeans. Eyes flutter closed and jaw falls slack the more Frankie works him with his mouth. He's close. Hips fight not to buck up into the tight heat even as his nails scrape scalp. A cry forces its way out from trying to hold back and his perfect control snaps. His entire body arches like a stiff board as his feet find purchase into the floorboard and he shoves Frankie down as far as he can and fucks up into his throat quickly. His hand matches the brutal pace, needing to see Frankie come on his fingers.

"Fuck Frankie. Suck it. Suck my fucking dick," Brock moans, hips snapping up. "Little cock slut. My fucking whore. 'm gonna come. Gonna make you choke. Gag on my cock."

He was ready for a push but not this. His hand drops from his cock and grabs his leg, curling fingers into his skin. He can feel the same need for air in his head roaring as his thighs shake. He doesn't want to come this fast but he can't stop himself as Brock's fingers are unrelenting against his prostate. The dirty words cause him to break a little and clench around the fingers inside of him. He tries to moan but it's more of a hum as Brock thrusts into him. His body stays tight as he feels himself break. The pace and pressure are the perfect combinations to make him come quickly, his body jerking and shaking as he becomes a mess in the front seat of Brock's car.

"Fuck!" Brock shouts, feeling the ass clench around his fingers and watching Frankie's body jerk as he just _knows_ his boyfriend is coming in his pants. It's the hottest thing in the world and it's enough to tip him over the edge with a loud moan. His hips rise off the seat and bury himself as deep as he can, spilling down Frankie's throat.

Grabbing on to his leg and shirt, Frank chokes around him as his brain screams for air. The stutter in his hips is a signal that Brock is done. He swallows everything down as he pushes back against the hand on his head. If this isn't a fucking exercise to build his ability to hold his breath, he doesn't know what is.

With a gasp, Brock pulls his hands away from Frank's head and rear, instead he pulls him up and into a searing hot kiss. He can't help but palm the front of Frankie's pants to see if he can feel just how wet he is. He wants to lick it all up. Rip off his underwear with his teeth. Drag Frankie into his lap proper and fuck him. Absolutely _ruin_ his car seats. Instead, they now have less than half the time they need to arrive at the depot. 

Frank can feel the tears running down his cheeks as Brock kisses him hard. A hand grabs the front of his shirt as he fights the urge to crawl in his lap. He's glad he went with black jeans, the last thing he needs is to have cum stained jeans the first day on the road. As he pulls back he smiles, "Thanks for not killing us." He kisses him again and strokes his cheek. 

"My pleasure," Brock kisses him gently. His hands move to the front of his jeans. "I love it when you come in your pants. It's so fucking hot. Wanna taste you. Need to see you soaked." 

"I love you." His voice was quiet like he was trying to not disturb Brock. Frank's cheeks are a little pink, still not used to being praised for coming in his jeans or just in general. He gives control over to Brock but helps unbutton so he doesn't just rip. 

Leaning over in the small space is no easy feat for Brock but he manages. The need to see the sticky mess that was Frank's underwear fueled him. It's an odd position and the console is digging into him but he doesn't care as he wraps his mouth around the cum soaked fabric of Frankie's underwear and sucks hard. A low groan escapes at the taste. Tongue lapping at the cotton fabric. It's not enough however and he pulls the panties down and uses his tongue and mouth to clean all of his boyfriend's groin and cock. Even gently sucking on his head. He looks up at him and smiles.

He moans at the gentle touch and warm mouth. He pushes his fingers through his hair with his other hand resting on B's back. His mouth is softly open as he meets Brock's eyes. He is still not used to this. He runs a finger along the side of his and smiles back. 

"Fuck that's amazing." He exhales, "You are the hottest man I have ever met and I get to call you mine." 

Sitting up and licking his lips, Brock smiles at him before tucking himself away and getting refixed. He turns the car back on and waits for Frankie. "Funny. I think the same about you, every day."

"I think we are pretty lucky," Frank gushes as he tries to get comfortable in his current state. He lifts his hips after tucking himself in to pull his jeans up. He buckles in then shifts himself to the center of the car. 

"We are," Brock smiles and lowers the convertible top. After the steamy fun they had, they needed to cool down and relax a bit. Maybe he should start keeping something like baby wipes in places so they could wipe down and not reek of cum. Personally, he didn't care what people thought but he did care about his and his lover's comfort. They've only got a short amount of time to get to the depot but he can make it. Totally. He's a _professional_.

He sits back trusting Brock to keep the wheels on the road but feeling a little anxious at the speed. He rests his forearm on the side of his head and strokes his hair. He begins to feel anxious at the realization that Alan might not be cool with their relationship. He taps his foot a little nervous but stops to not let Brock in on it. He doesn't want to taint their meeting with his worry. He closes his eyes behind his sunglasses and enjoys the ride. 

Surprisingly enough they arrive with two minutes to spare and it's barely enough time to park and grab their things. Brock calls Jack and touches base with him on where he parked and how to pick up the car.

Frank hands his duffle to the bus driver and waits as Brock hands his over. Frank goes for his hand but pauses, "Can I hold your hand?" He teases a little but also a little serious. "I mean you are my bodyguard." 

"Right now, I'm your boyfriend," he replies, taking his hand. He's still on the phone with Jack, "Jack says hi by the way." 

"Hi, Jack! Thank you!" Frank lowers his voice as he waits with Brock. He can hear Alan's unpleasant voice on the inside of the bus. He hopes that Alan is riding with the crew and not the band. 

"He says you're welcome," Brock laughs as they walk to the bus. He speaks to Jack, "Hey, I gotta go. We're boarding the tin can on wheels. I'm fairly certain I'm bigger than the width of the bus itself. It's like a streamlined bullet. Probably going to break down in bumfucknowhere. Anyway. Love you. Text you later. Don't crash my car. Bye."

"Brock!" Frank laughs quietly and playfully hits him. 

He hangs up just as they reach the steps, motioning Frankie to go in first. "What? It's totally true… Sardines." 

Frank laughs as he boards the bus and steps in. He is immediately unimpressed by the _simplicity_ of the bus. He knew immediately that Brock would hate it and not be quiet about it. He can hear Alan talking about something at the back of the bus. He takes a deep breath and moves to let Brock in. 

The joy he had about chatting with his brother and being with Frankie disappears the moment Brock takes in the barely livable small space. It was worse than a tin can of sardines. It was a metal death trap on wheels. Everywhere he looked, he could see something that was either dangerous or could be dangerous given the circumstances. They would die if they got into an accident. Crushed under the rickety furniture; or what amounted to furniture. There was barely enough room to breathe and you could forget about walking. The bus was nothing more than a giant trigger for his PTSD. Brock swallows hard, his right hand subconsciously going to his sidearm. This… this was going to take some time getting used to. 

A man, a little shorter than Brock, moves from the back of the bus. He's older with thinning, long brown hair. "God damn Frank. The fuck took your ass so long?" His voice is gruff as he approaches. Frank watches as Alan takes a look at Brock and straightens up, "Who's this?" 

The man's voice addressing him snaps his mind back to the present and he too straightens a little. He extends his left hand automatically, "Brock Rumlow." 

Alan eyes the gun and he offers his hand, " Alan Turner; tour manager."

His posture gets a little tight as he watches Brock's hand, "What can I do for you, Mr. Rumlow?"

Frank watches the interaction and catches Brock's tension, then the hand on his gun. He quietly touches his right forearm to maybe relax him.

Ray emerges from the back with a big smile on his face, "Brock! Frankie! Glad you made it!" His joy is infectious. He moves past Alan and hugs Frank. He hesitates, seeing the visible stress in Brock's body. "You good, B?" 

Brock blinks quickly. Startling himself back to the present. He didn't realize he had slipped again. His hand stays where it's at though perhaps a little less tense. Though something about Alan did set him on edge. His voice is a little tense but not from the present company. He tries for a smile, "I'm okay, Ray. Just a little surprised at the tin can. It's not what I expected. How are you?"

"I am pretty great! Hopefully, this place grows on all of us." His smile dims slightly, "You're not leaving her here right?" He nods to his car.

"This tin can is what the band can afford. You guys should be appreciative of what you have," Alan says as he sits on the bench that is supposed to be the dining area but looks more like a public transit seat. His face and tone, unhappy but trying to mask it.

"Jack is coming by to pick my baby up," Brock answers Ray. "Hopefully he won't scratch it. I'd rather not replace her as I'm not much of a fan with the newer models." He notes Alan's comment but decides to keep his thoughts on the matter quiet.

"We haven't picked bunks but I feel like you guys might be more comfortable on the back couch," Ray offers. "I'm sure Jack will treat her like a gem." 

"Didn't realize you were playing the other team, Frank." Alan's voice lowers, "You done with that trashcan you call a girlfriend?"

Brock can't help the snicker that escapes. He ignores the slight jab in favor of enjoying making fun of the bitch that hurt his boy, "Trashcan. I like that. I'm saving that for later. Just gonna add that to the list of shit I'm going to say or do to her if I ever meet her again."

"Be nice," Frank says as he loops his arm around Brock's. The bus sways slightly signaling that Alan was staying there for now. Brock instantly grabs onto him with his other hand, not expecting the sudden movement.

"Make yourselves at home." Alan raises an eyebrow at the touch between them, "Frank, I need to speak with you. In private." 

"Did you want to put your bag down in a bunk Brock?" Ray offers. He nods towards the back of the bus. 

Frank knows exactly what Alan is going to say and frowns. He recovers quickly and smiles up at Brock. He's trying his damnedest to stay positive. "You can if you want babe." 

"Sure. Sounds like a good idea." Brock gives him a reassuring smile, his earlier stress over the deathtrap fading as he gets used to it. He squeezes his hand before following Ray to the back, carefully noting everything.

Frank hears the boys in the back of the bus greet Brock warmly as he sits across from Alan.

"We said no partners. That should encompass your relationship with him, I assume." Alan said with narrowed eyes, "It will have to come out of your pocket."

"That's fine but–" 

"I honestly. I don't want to hear all that gay shit all night. So save it for motels or anywhere but here." Alan cuts him off with a harder tone, "It's fine if you do the cutesy homo shit but no butt fuckin'." 

"We aren't–" 

"I expected more of you, Frank." Alan changes his tone, "I thought you weren't like _those_ people." 

"I don't even know what that is supposed to mean?" Frank wrinkles his forehead and frowns, "Brock is a great guy." 

"You feed him and water him. Or it comes out of your cut." 

Frank nods and gets up, "We done?"

Alan nods, his face brightens at the sound of Gerard moving forward. "See kid, it will be fine!" His voice is honeyed as he gives Frank a look to play along. 

"Sure." Frank steps towards the back to meet Gerard who wraps his arms around him.

"Glad you're here! Lindsey was sad she missed you and Brock!" Gerard steps back and smiles, he scans Frank with his eyes, checking him out, then looks at his face. 

"Damn. I'm sad I missed her," Frank says looking past Gee for Brock. "Is he, ok?" 

"Yeah, he is fine. Go find him." Gee smiles and shakes his head.

Frank smiles and looks for wherever Brock wandered to. He finds him in the bunk area trying to find the most preferable bed to sleep that won't end up with someone being injured. It doesn't appear to be going well. 

"I've lived in smaller and worse off conditions than a metal death trap on wheels and yet somehow this is nearly incomparable. When we were holding up behind enemy lines, we picked the best place and made it safe. There's nothing that can be made safe about this rolling coffin," Brock says without looking over his shoulder. He heard the distinct sound that he's coming to identify as Frank's footsteps and knew.

"Rolling coffin…" Frank snorts as Brock's words process fully, "Name of the next album right there. It's not that bad, baby." Frank wraps his arms around his waist, "Did you want to sleep in the back of the bus?"

"None of us care if you guys sleep back there," Bob replies as he emerges from the back of the bus.

"What's back there?" Brock asks carefully. Thoughts of motors and machinery fill his head.

"An L-shaped couch, mini-fridge and a TV. The only shitty thing is the mirrored walls." Bob replies sitting in a lower bunk, "I assume you won't choose this low of a bunk."

"We can go back there and look." Frank offers as he rests his head on Brock's back.

"There's no booby traps back there." Alan's voice echoes in the narrow space, "For a big man, you're quite a _sensitive sally._ Guess all the dick sucking turns you soft _._ "

"No, that would be the twenty years in the military getting shot at." Brock turns and looks at Alan, face hard, and voice sharp. "I have PTSD. I'm not afraid of admitting that. So trust me; you'll want me to be careful unless you like getting a gun shoved in your face in the middle of the night. But I'm not one to judge other people's sexual kinks."

"By all means, take your time." Alan's voice edging on sarcastic, "Picked a fixer-upper, didn't ya Franklin." 

"Well. Nobody's perfect. At least not in this world. And his name is Frank," Brock retorts.

"I'm aware of his name, I've been _his boss_ for a while now. Maybe you should keep that in mind as _his guest_ , Brian," Alan's voice raises just slightly.

"I'm his bodyguard when on the job. And his boyfriend when I'm not. I think that makes me a little more than a guest, Mr. Turner." Brock says lightly.

"He does not have the money to have a bodyguard." 

"Frank's finances are between himself and me, Mr. Turner. Unless you have suddenly expanded your career from tour manager to personal accountant? We have a business agreement. It will not affect your books."

Frank internally snickers at their "business agreement". He strokes Brock's stomach. Ray and Gerard stand behind Alan with wide eyes. They exchange a glance and turn their heads back to Brock, unable to read his expression. Bob taps Frank's leg and nods to say something. Frank mouths no.

"Why does it matter anyway even if Brock wasn't working as Frank's guard?" Mike steps out of the bathroom. He had heard the entire thing and sounds annoyed, "Frank is okay with having to cover any of the expenses. So, it doesn't matter."

Frank pokes his head out from behind Brock and gives Alan a look, "Is this whole _thing_ because you're threatened by him?" Frank glances up at Brock and steps out a little. He wants to call him out for more but refrains.

"Probably. I'm a _bigger_ alpha male stepping into his territory. Even if I'm a 'sensitive sally' like he suggested," Brock shrugs dismissing Alan and the topic. He turns to the guys, "I'd like to check out the couch, thanks." 

Alan rolls his eyes and motions for Mike to move from the bathroom door. 

"We have some decent channels too." Bob replies to Brock, "Take a look." 

"I appreciate it. Thank you. I could take a bunk but I really don't want to over impose on you guys." Brock makes his way towards the back of the bus.

"You are not imposing," Ray pipes up from behind them.

"Check it out at least, then decide." Gerard adds as he leans into the side as the bus sways, "If not then you can sleep in a bunk. Together or apart."

"I'll try the couch tonight and see how it goes." He inches into the space that amounts to a living area. "Frankie, pick one of the lower bunks as yours in case the couch doesn't work out. Rather have someone above me than below, so I can roll out faster." 

"I can do that babe." Frank nods. He wants to crack a joke about being on top but keeps his mouth shut as he drops his bag into a low bunk across from Bob. "Sorry, if your sleep is disturbed. In advance of course." 

"Nah you pervs are fine," Bob teases.

Frank moves back to the back of the bus. He leans against the door, "Are... _you_ sleeping here?" 

Brock is laying down on the long side of the couch to see if he would fit and be comfortable. He turns and looks up at the sound of Frankie's voice. "For the night, at least. It's less claustrophobic in here. To me anyway."

"Ok." Frank nods. It'll be the first time that he's slept alone in weeks but he understands. When he gets the chance he will stop and get soft things like blankets and nicer pillows. "When we stop in Philly, we'll grab pillows and things."

"Sounds great to me."

Frank nods as he takes a step back to let Brock get comfortable. He didn't know if he needed to stay. Didn't want to invade. Conflicting thoughts fill his head and he feels like he's drowning. Pausing for a moment, he moves back to the bunk he chose and pulls a few items from his backpack. He can feel the sullen look on his face.

Gerard can tell something is off with Frank, it's the look on his face. Maybe the honeymoon is _over_. Diamond lost its shine perhaps. While he promised Linds he'd be good, he can't help himself. He climbs in the bunk above Frankie then leans over, "You ok?" 

"I'm good." 

Gerard glances at the back of the bus then down to Frankie's with a big smile, "You can always climb up here. I can keep you cozy." He winks with a smile then rolls back into his bunk, "I can think of a dozen ways I can keep you warm." 

Ray drops his bag in the bunk as he gives a warning look to Gerard. "We should be in Philadelphia in like thirty minutes. So kick back and relax kid."

Mike plops himself in the bunk across from him letting his knees hold his chin up. He speaks softly and gives him a smile, "We all got your back, Frankie. We like B and are stoked he's here." 

Frank nods and gives him a weak smile. 

"We _will_ be in Philly in twenty-five minutes. It's soundcheck then meet and greet with around two hundred forty-five fans as well as photos with one hundred twenty-five fans," Alan says with a faint trace of hostility towards the boys. "I suggest you get changed and freshen up. Wouldn't want the fans to have a bad experience…"

"That's a lot. Like three times more than last time," Ray replies, sounding tired already. 

"Wanna make money kid, you gotta whore yourselves out." Alan doesn't bother turning to face him, instead, he sits at the front of the bus. "Gotta shake that ass for cash." 

"Cheapens the experience," Frank murmurs to himself mostly. He glares at Alan. He put a target on his back by bringing Brock here and talking back.

"Only thing cheap, Francis, is you." Alan mutters as he raises an eyebrow, "Every whore needs a pimp." 

The band falls silent in shock. 

"What? I'm fuckin with him. Relax, don't make Captain Steroids suspicious. He _can't_ take a joke for sure."

Brock rolls off the couch and stands, making his way towards the group. All "joking" aside, and he's not an idiot he knows what Alan is doing. He does need to integrate into the social group and get to know the ins and outs of things. His fingers wrap around his dog tags that were hidden under his shirt, pulling them out. The warm metal pressed against his skin always acted as a reminder that while he walked away from the military a changed man, he wasn't a broken man. Some might see his mental issues as having a weakness and think him lesser for it. In fact, most did. Alan certainly did. But he disagreed. Sure he needed a few extra steps to make sure he slept okay and he really wasn't good with unexpected noises, but he still was a good man. He wasn't going to let some slimy middle-aged excuse for a manager tell him otherwise.

"Commander," Brock corrects as he gravitates to Frankie.

Frank looks up at him giving Brock a small smile. He's trying to not let him see that Alan is getting under his skin. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to do the tour. He reaches up and grabs his fingers. 

"Excuse me?" Alan stands up and stares at Brock. His eyes dart to the different band members before settling in on Brock. His mind's made up on who is going to get the brunt of anything this man says or does. 

"My rank. It wasn't something as low as a Captain. It was Commander." Brock sits next to Frankie. His arm finds its way around his back.

"Ok. My apologies. Commander." He rolls his eyes, "Gerard, can I speak with you in private later?"

Gerard nods and looks at the others. He shrugs before looking down at Brock and Frank. This probably was not going to end well for someone on this bus. "You two need to be careful." 

"What do you mean?" Brock frowns.

"He's a shady motherfucker. You might have the smarts and size but he's slimy," Gerard speaks low.

Frank hugs Brock and rests his head on his chest. A knot of dread forms in his throat, Alan was slimy. And Brock has weak points, himself being one of them. "I'm sorry." Frank's words are a little more wobbly than he'd like, not wanting to give away explicitly how he feels.

"It's a good thing I don't care what other people think of me. Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one," Brock says in a normal tone. "Some assholes are looser than others. Especially after a few drinks."

Frank snorts but the sound is covered by the laugh of Ray and Mike. He glances to see everyone facing them and his cheeks immediately flush at the added attention.

"Here's the thing though." Ray stops and lowers his voice, "He's in the minority. We all like you so fuck him for trying to start shit."

"Again, be careful. He got the guys in another band in a lot of trouble." Gerard warns. 

"Challenge accepted," Brock smirks. "Look. I'm not worried. It'll be fine." 

"You're okay, so we're okay?" Frank gives him a sneaky smile. 

Brock smiles at him fondly before pulling him close and kissing his temple. "Yeah, baby. We're okay." 

The bus slowly makes a turn, shifts everyone to the left then makes everyone bounce and shake before coming to a stop with the soft humming of the idling engine. They have arrived.

"Alright fuckers. Soundcheck while I make some calls and make sure accounting is paying you boys," Alan says, clapping then rubbing his hands together, "Get ready and be on stage in ten." 

Frank looks at Brock with big eyes. He's not ready to let go. The others begin milling around the bus to get ready. Pulling clothes from their backpacks and other items. 

"You gonna change or at least be ready in 10 minutes, Iero?" Alan's voice echoes over the noise of the band and humming.

Forcing Frank to exhale, lean up and kiss Brock. He frowns, "I don't know which I hate more. Getting my name wrong or him calling me Iero." He lets go of Brock and grabs his bag. Thinking for a moment about the jizz soaked underwear that's now dried on his body. He should probably get those off his body and save them. Or wash them. He leans in almost touching Brock's ear, "Did you want these undies or no?" 

"Keep them on. You're going to ruin them later," Brock whispers in his ear before nipping at his earlobe and grinning at him wickedly.

"Oh." He replies surprised a little, he gives him a smile then bites his lip, "Yes sir." 

"Good boy," he murmurs before nudging him towards the others. "Go play with your friends. How long does soundcheck take? Might do a snack run. How much wine can I bring on the bus?"

"Half hour no more than 45 minutes tops." Frank smirks, "As much wine as you want? I thought we could hit up a place and get some things for the bus that I forgot."

"Are we going to have time before the meet and greet and signing? Or after at least?" He follows Frankie off the bus.

"Yeah, it's about 4 now; show starts at 7. The meet and greets usually are an hour max. It's like a conveyor belt of people. Just shuffles them in. Smile, photo, and done," Frank says as he slows his step to keep pace with Brock. He can hear the sounds of kids cheering through the fencing above them. 

The sounds of screaming fans cinch his decision to stay here next to Frankie as his bodyguard instead of leaving him alone to do his thing with the band. They can do personal shopping later. He hugs him closer, shifting into professional mode. "I'm going to need you to kind of direct me to where and how to behave as your bodyguard. At this point, I'm your employee and you call the shots. That's not to mean you can put yourself at risk to either your physical or mental health. I'm here for you. Use me."

Frank looks up at him with a half-smile, "I'm not gonna run into traffic." He takes a second to keep his sarcasm down. "But I understand what you mean. Though, you know _more_ about this than I do. Just an overall rule, don't punch the fans. Unless they hit first."

"I've never done personal security in the music industry. Most of my previous clients came to me needing security for their building like a house or business. Others wanted me to shadow them and not let anyone touch them. Some wanted me for show and I just followed them around, bored as fuck. I also know how to keep a space safe and secure for events. Usually, I would coordinate with the security guards. I might do that while you are in soundcheck. See if I can learn the map of the building and how things should go down so I can spot things that are out of place."

"Honestly, I think if I were anyone else you'd be bored to tears." Frank nods, "I'll help you as much as I can with this. I know you should probably be close by for the meet and greet and photo op. Fans are touchers."

"And is this wanted touch? Or at least bearable? Or do I need to keep them back two feet and allow you personal space?" Brock growls, not liking the idea of anyone touching his Frankie. The memory of the zoo crops up and it only makes him want to put plexiglass between him and the fans. Anything to keep Frankie safe.

"Relax. They can touch. Anything more than this; is weird," he says as he puts his arm across Brock's low back. "Meet and Greet there's a table. Maybe just keep an eye on the line or kids. Sometimes they get weird."

"Define weird? Like starting fights or are we talking about random proposals and throwing underwear at you?" Brock smirks. He's heard of some of the weirdest shit fans do at these sorts of events.

"I'm not talking about what you do when we're at home…" he bites his lip and pulls the lip ring in. "I mean, we have had kids pull out things like swords for us to sign. I've had boobs in my face to sign. It's a weird world, ba- B." He's unsure what he can call him. Or if calling him babe is inappropriate.

"If someone shoves their tits in your face, they are getting escorted out on a gurney. I can do imposing threatening face well so hopefully, just a simple stare down will work. And the gun."

Frank pulls the door open and enters but holds it open for Brock to follow. "Just don't punch the fans. In the past, they usually sat me next to Gee. So it might get a little screamy. Teen girls love him." Frank feels a little more confident inside the building. "There are three places the band usually goes. The greenroom, bathroom, or ticket office. That's where the meet and greet will be." He stops and looks at Brock, "We play kickball before the show usually. Not this time… you gonna be cool with that?"

"Why would I not be cool with that? More time with you always makes me happy. If you want to play ball, go for it."

"Just checking. The security office is down this hall and to the left. The greenroom is across from it." Frank stuffs his hands in his pockets, "Did you want to follow me to the stage or check out the security office?"

Brock debates. He wants to do both at the same time. He's not ready to leave Frankie out of his sight which is stupid because he's not a toddler with separation anxiety. And he's got a job to do. He needs to focus.

"Or you can go shopping since I'm safe in the building."

"I will check out the security office first. You know how to handle yourself on a stage and I don't need to babysit you." Brock gives him a smile. It's going to feel weird but if he can't start to separate himself a little when on the job, then he might as well leave. Instead of kissing him or touching his hand, Brock instead heads towards the office to check-in and coordinate with the staff.

Ray spots the exchange and Frank's body language after Brock back has turned to him, and knows something is wrong. He carefully approaches, "Let's go have some fun!" He tries to be sunny, hoping it will help but knowing it's a conversation that needs to happen. Not actions nor kindness. As Frank nods, he slings his arm over the kid's shoulder, "I'm always here to talk, ok?" 

He nods again following Ray on stage. He puts the happy Frank face on and picks his guitar up, strapping her on, and plugging her in. He lets a loud riff scream through the speakers, as he scans the arena floor looking for Gerard as Bob pounds the drums, hard. 

Gerard feels sick after the conversation with Alan. He's conflicted about what to do. It's bad. It's all bad. He walks through the backstage in a bit of a daze, barely dodging Brock as he passes. He keeps his eyes down, knowing he would question him.

Brock puts a gentle hand on to stop him, genuine concern on his face. He tilts his head and furrows his brows, "What's wrong, Gerard?" 

"Uh. It's nothing." He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Brock, "Lost in thought mostly." 

"You don't look okay. What happened? How can I help?" 

"Nothing. It's cool. We're good." Gerard says, still looking away from Brock. He feels like he is a little too twitchy to pull this off. "No, I'm fine. Are the guys on stage?" 

"Yeah." 

"Cool. Catch you later, dude." He feels his palms get sweaty as his heart picks up a little speed. He gives Brock finger guns and a wink. 

"Yeah, okay." He's not sure what the kid just did with his hands. Should he be insulted? Was it a code? Some sort of hand signal to ask for help? Gang signs? What's he supposed to do? He decides to just continue to the office. He'll ask Frankie later.

Gerard turns and heads for the stage, a rush of relief is backed with adrenaline as he emerges to the noise and chaos of the band. He's pumped to be on stage. 

Brock locates the security office easy enough though it gives the appearance it’s a janitor’s closet with how far away from the arena it was located. The door is closed and has a frosted glass window with the words “Security” in adhesive letters. He knocks firmly and steps back to wait.

A slender kid opens the door, wearing a black polo tucked into jeans, and gives Brock a look, "Can I help you?" The noise from inside the door quiets for his answer.

“Yes, I’m Brock Rumlow, security with the band and I wanted to go over plans and coordinate with you for tonight’s show.” Brock smiles and extends his hand to shake.

"Oh, hi!" His tone brightens, "James. You are probably looking for my boss. Hey Kev! Band security dude is here." The kid steps aside to let Brock in. The office is on the smaller side with a small panel of security cameras with a set of men of varying sizes in chairs quietly chatting. 

A sandy-haired man stands and extends a hand, "Kevin O'Neill, nice to meet you!" 

“Brock Rumlow, nice to meet you as well.” 

"What can I do for your Mister Rumlow?" He asks as he steps to the side and motions to an office off to the side, "Come on in." 

“Thank you,” he says, following Kevin into the main office. “I wanted to go over the details for tonight’s show. I will be honest, I’ve run security before but not for someone in the music industry. I could use your help.”

"Absolutely! We are a crew of 20. We have plainclothes guards in the crowd for crowd control as well as four posted at the front of the stage." He pauses, "I assume you are going to be backstage, yes?" 

“Yes, unless you’d need me elsewhere. It is my understanding that MCR has never had personal security so I am a little unsure where my place should be.” Brock sits in a chair and folds his hands. He’s feeling a little out of place here with his new role and he doesn’t want to prove Alan’s point.

"That's what I have heard. There is a lot of talk about the band and its problems. But if you would like to stay by the entrance to the stage, that works for us. I'll be at the other end of the stage." Kevin smiles warmly, "I can also give you as much help as possible. Here's my card, email, and phone number too."

“I would appreciate it. Can you tell me what sort of problems? I just got hired. I’d like to know what sort of things I could potentially be facing. I understand if that crosses some boundary of confidentiality.”

"Close the door." 

Brock rises and moves to the office door, shutting it softly before taking his seat. He’s certain he’s not going to like what he’s about to hear and steels himself.

"Fuck confidentiality. If you are going to work for them, you need to know if you're going to be employed by them." Kevin sits forward and rests his elbows on his desk, "First of all, the manager is a piece of shit. He allegedly takes a big cut from the band. He also supplies them with drugs and girls. The lead singer is a coke head and a drunk. There's a kid in the band that's been a target of the manager and singer's attention, too. So take that for what it's worth. A couple of the kids are good, maybe drink too much but good kids. I heard that the manager picked a salvaged bus for the band." His frown deepens.

“How much can this be verified?” Brock is beyond livid. His voice is whisper soft. If he’s going to bring this whole operation down, he’s going to need hard evidence.

"The finance stuff might be harder to prove. But if you get a band member to talk about it, I'm sure there's a paper trail you can follow. The drugs? He asked James and the guys about getting a hookup earlier when you arrived. One of the guys interrupted the singer and Alan _freshening up_ in the greenroom."

It takes every ounce of strength in him and more not to bolt up from his seat and find Alan and strangle every inch of life out of him. His fists clench under the desk. No wonder why Gerard looked off; the kid was strung out on fucking drugs. The money he figured was a sham. There was no way any band should only be making 2% of sales. He just needed proof. Proof and to keep his anger in check.

"Just be aware that he's a scumbag. He fired the former drummer but kept his pay until the new guy came in."

Brock nods, not fully trusting his words just yet. His hands itch to punch something. Or someone. Several someones. He has to take several calm and steady deep breaths. He was Commander Rumlow and his father’s son, not some green kid fresh out of basic. He can plan and execute this. Just not here. Nodding, he gives Kevin an uneasy smile, “I appreciate everything you have told me, Mr. O’Neill. More than you know.”

"Absolutely, Mr. Rumlow. If you have any questions tonight, let me know. Also, get earplugs." He stands and offers his hand to Brock again, "Your band should be getting off stage here soon, if not already." 

Standing, Brock shakes Mr. O’Neill’s hand once again before making his way out of the office and back into the monitor room. One quick glance at the camera facing the stage shows the band getting off the stage. He makes a snap decision and turns on his heel, ignoring the others as he stalks out of the security office and directly into the room across the hall. He needs proof. He’s going to get his proof.

Frank exits the stage. He looks back, making sure he took care of his things and heads to the greenroom. He feels a little bit better as he steps into the room and scans it for Brock. He sees his form hunched over the table slightly and his heart lightens a little. 

"I am starving!" Bob announces as he pulls out a cigarette to smoke before the meet and greet.

"Yeah, I probably should eat something," Mike replies before taking a drink of water. "I don't think I can meet or greet without it."

"Nah! I am just ready to do this!" Gerard says with excitement that feels forced. "I love seeing the fans!" 

Brock turns around at the sound of the band’s voices with Gerard’s messenger bag in one hand and a small baggie of white powder in his other. Excellent timing.

"What the fuck!" Gerard screams, storming in towards him. His fists clench with rage as he stops just short of Brock's position.

Ray and Mike stop dead in their tracks seeing the evidence in Brock's hand. Each had a feeling of what was going on but didn't say a word. 

"Who gives you the fucking right?!" 

“Care to explain why you felt the need to give these kids cocaine, Mr. Turner?” Brock says whisper soft. He’s not looking at Gerard but over and through him. Adrenaline courses through his veins, making his entire being shake ever so slightly. “Why you thought it was _acceptable_ to shoot up with Mr. Way here just before the soundcheck? And why I shouldn’t turn you over to the cops myself.”

"Snorts." Gerard corrects him inappropriately.

“That isn’t the _fucking point_ ,” Brock all but snarls, livid. 

"They like to have a little fun. You know…" Alan wears a smile that matches the nonchalant tone in his voice, "I never pressure anyone to partake. I also wouldn't do that cause you have no proof. Looks like _you're_ the one holding the bag."

“I have no proof? How do you think I came to find this? It wasn’t by accident. All I need to do is have both of you pulled in for a drug screen. Might as well the do the whole fucking band. Who knows what else you _encourage_.”

"None of them are innocent. Not even your little _pet._ " Alan raises an eyebrow.

“My _boyfriend_ does not do drugs,” Brock spats at Alan, shoving the bag and the cocaine into Gerard’s hands. He looks at the pale kid, “Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m not in charge, right? Just remember that I’m probably the only one here who not only gives a fuck but also would know how to save your goddamn lives if, no, _when_ you OD’d.” Brock turns on Alan again, “And you, at the very fucking least, should have NARCAN in case your precious “money makers” snort too much.” Brock has reached his limit and he knows it. Furious, he shoves his way past all of them and decides to use the free time to take a walk. Maybe do that shopping he and Frankie talked about. He needs at least a few minutes to calm down. 

"There's a dozen more just like them!" He snaps back following after him, "You should realize that one twink is the same as the other."

“And you need to shut the fuck up,” Brock stops where’s he at, looking down at the ground, voice dark and quiet. “I will be taking a walk. I will return in one hour. I suggest you hide your illicit activities better. Or we will be having more than just words, Mr. Turner.”

Frank takes a few hesitant steps towards Brock. He looks to Ray, who nods. 

"Lighten up _Commander_ ," Alan replies under his breath as he walks into the greenroom, slamming his shoulder into Frank, shoving him back.

"Hey!" Ray shouts as he reaches out for Frank, "What the fuck?! He didn't do anything to deserve that!" 

Frank shrugs it off and heads for Brock. He's got a feeling he needs to be with him. His shoulder throbs a little but it's fine. "B. Wait!" He rushes to catch up, grabbing his hand as he reaches him.

He strides as far as he can, putting as many doors in between him and the rest of the band. Especially Alan. Fingers tighten around Frankie’s and drag him along before he gets someplace that he hopes is secure enough before whirling on Frankie, shoving him into a wall.

“Tell me you never have done _any_ of that shit. Tell me _please_ you’ve never done drugs,” Brock pleads.

"Yes and no," He sputters.

“What!?” Brock is certain he’s felt his heartbreak. He’s seen what drugs can do to people and the thought terrifies him that he’ll lose Frankie to some addiction. 

"Nothing like that! It was just weed and it was years ago!" He feels panic hit him in the chest with a hammer, "I barely drink now!" 

Oh, thank god. Relief floods him and suddenly he’s kissing him like he’s suffocating and only Frankie is the air. He needs him. More than anything. The terrifying image of Frankie strung out on some drug makes his heart pound and his guts twist. He can’t lose him. Not to Alan. Not to this.

Frank grabs Brock's shirt and holds on for dear life. He kisses him back, feeling his heart drumming in his chest. He's unsure if his answer was the right one and this was a kiss goodbye. He's not sure if he lets go if he will lose him, his fist clenches harder, his knuckles disappearing in the fabric. 

Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in Frankie’s neck and slowly lets him go. He’s still shaking from the rage of finding the drugs. If that was true, then so were the other things Kevin had said. He can’t stop whispering the words, “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you” in his neck.

"Baby, how? I don't understand!" Frank strokes the back of his head, his voice shaking a little, "I'm not going anywhere!" 

He needs to hold him. He needs the feeling of him safe in his arms. Brock steps back and lifts him, wrapping his legs around his waist. His arms wrap around the lithe body, one going the perfect curvature of his ass and the other around Frankie’s back. He doesn’t care what it looks like; he just starts walking towards the exit. At least only exit he knows, which is back the way they came. He needs outside air and his koala.

"Babe. Maybe… not this way." He says, feeling unsure of how to phrase it, "There is a crew-and-maintenance exit that will get us out of here with little to no fan interaction." He pulls his head back a little to look at his face and kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry." 

“Lead us,” Brock’s voice was rough with emotion but soft.

"By the stage, there's a door to the right. It's a long hallway and an exit at the end." He turns his head and winces as he nods to the stage entrance.

“You are in pain,” his voice is thick and he wonders if somehow he was the responsible one who had hurt his precious _tesoro._ The thought sends a spike of fear through him.

"I'm ok. I clipped the door frame on my way out." He strokes the side of his face. He knows he should tell him the truth but it's not what he needs, "I didn't want you to leave without me. I… don't want to lose you." 

“I’m never leaving you. Not in a thousand years, will I ever leave you.” Brock makes it outside and the daylight is refreshing. Something about being outside with fresh air eases some of the tightness in his chest. He still has a mild death grip on Frankie; his koala. He leans against the wall before slowly setting him down on the sidewalk. Holding Frankie was better than any anti-anxiety pill he could ever take. His counselor at the VA would have been proud. Or very concerned over his neediness and unhealthy attachment. 

Frank grabs his hand and squeezes, "I'm not letting go. I don't have to be back here until the show. I don't need the money. I just need you." 

“You have your meet and greet and the autographs. You love your fans and they love you. Don’t do it for the money, but do it for them.” Brock pauses, taking several more deep breaths. “I spoke to the security guards. The things they told me about Alan and the band. They told me about the drugs. Drinking. Ladies of the Night? One of the guards _caught_ Gerard and Alan in the act. And I just… saw red.”

"I do love the fans but I love you more." Frank can't raise his voice above a whisper, "Gee got clean and sober but it was worse over the summer. I did drink quite a lot but nothing more."

He shakes his head in disgust. “Let me guess; Alan? I feel like he’s the whole reason for all the toxicity in the band and I want nothing more than _to–”_ He has to cut himself off. There were people around who could overhear. “I want to find everything there is to know about the finance books.”

"I can maybe help," Frank replies with no hesitation, "if I'm not kicked out for leaving." His eyes widen and he frowns at the realization that Lindsey didn't know Gerard wasn't sober and he feels a pang of guilt. "I'm still sorry because this isn't supposed to be like this." 

“Nothing in life ever goes as we envision.” Brock smiles before pulling Frankie closer, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I’m going to fix this. I’m so glad I have you by my side to keep me calm and in check. My little koala is better than any Xanax my doc’s ever tried to give me.”

"I dunno about that…" He grins up at him. The term 'his koala' makes his heart skip a beat, "But I will always be here to keep you on the ground because I need you too much. I can't imagine my life without you." 

Brock shook his head and pulled him into a soft kiss. "You don't understand what you do to me. How you make me feel."

"Hopefully it's good?" Frank keeps his eyes closed as he replies then slowly opens them. Just trying to savor a little more of the tenderness in Brock. 

"Always, _tesoro_. Walk with me? We can go shopping and forget about them for a little while." 

"I would love to! You know I am always coming." He slips his hand into Brock's, "Lead the way!"

He chuckles low and takes his hand before deciding to wrap his arm around Frankie's waist, hand slipping into his back pocket instead. He doesn't have a clue about where to go, only that he needs the walk and to be close with Frankie. He just heads down the sidewalk, figuring they'll either find someplace to buy pillows or not.

"Did you call them _ladies of the night_?!" 

"Uh… yes? That's what they are. Hired workers." Brock was unsure what Frankie found to be so funny.

"Does that make me a _dandy_ boy then?" He can't help but laugh, "Babe, it's hookers. Or just girls." 

"Well you are pretty fine and dandy," Brock winks. "Little bit randy too."

"God I love you." He shakes his head as he pulls his phone from his pocket. "We should call a cab. There's nothing around here. Did you have someplace in mind?"

"Your crib is preferable but I'll take Bed Bath and Beyond or wherever it was you wanted to get pillows and linens." He has to fight to keep the smile off his face.

"That works for me. I just want to get soft things. Especially for you. On the couch." He says glancing up at him, "Crib? Really?"

"Us," he gently corrects. "Right? Unless you prefer the bunks. That couch is our crib for the night at least. Yes, crib. I'm practicing my lingo. Kids use this again nowadays, yeah?"

"Please no. Don't. Don't try to be _hip_. I'll marry you to divorce you." Frank laughs. 

"Excuse you, but who do you think came up with this first? I think you forget that I was a teenager in the 70s. Hippie era. Disco era. My childhood. Even in Europe, though not nearly as bad as your States." Brock grinned wide as they walked. His hand that wasn't shoved in Frank's back pocket pulls out his cell phone to call a taxi.

"You grew up with all the good music." Frank adds, "But let's not try to be _cool_. Neither of us is cool!"

"Says you. I'm awesome. Totally radical."

"I will shout stranger danger… if you jump to 80s lingo." 

"Groovy, baby," Brock cracks up with laughter. He never used any of this while he was a kid. Mother found it far too uncouth. He enjoyed messing with Frankie though.

"Anyway, Gramps. Do you want me to sleep on the couch with you?" Frank is smiling wide. Everything from a few minutes ago gone.

"Well, that's a silly question. Of course. I'm honestly surprised you are asking me that considering we both can't bear to be apart. I don't ever not want you in my bed. Our bed." Instead of calling for a taxi, Brock downloads the app for Über, figuring that no matter where they were, they would always need some form of transportation since he doesn't have his baby Lambo. With a few presses of the buttons, they have a car en route within five minutes.

"Good. I wanted to sleep with you but it's a couch and small. But I was going to be butt hurt about it." Frank wraps his arm around Brocks back and leans into him just a little, " _Groovy_..." He shakes his head.

Leaning down he gently rubs their cheeks together, his lips ghosting the shell of his ear, "I always want to sleep with you, _gattino."_

"You better, cause you're stuck with me." He turns his head quickly and kisses him. "Anywhere else you want to go while we are out? Grocery store? A wine cellar? Thrift store so you can relive your glory days? Back to bed?"

"Uh, let's see. Yes, yes, yes, hell no. And maybe." Brock laughs as he ticked off each answer to Frankie's questions.

"Maybe? You _maybe_ wanna go back to bed with me?" He turns and glares a little.

Brock can't help the little snigger that escapes. He pulls Frankie close; both arms wrapping around him. He kisses him softly, "Of course I do. But sometimes things need to wait. I have a plan that involves us going to the nearest _adult entertainment_ store."

"A porn store?"

Brock's lips thin out into a line and he rolls his eyes. "I'm a little classier than that to be using those terms thank you very much. Dork. But yes, I want to go to a sex shop to get you something… for me."

"Hmm yes, I would like to visit an _adult novelty retailer_ to make a purchase for my lover." Frank puts on his best snooty rich man voice, it's more nasally than he wanted but it works. 

"Sassy ass. Sassy sexy twinkie ass," Brock's grinning wide and like a goofball. "I'm not that _bad_." 

Frank opens the car door for Brock to get in, "Um, yes unless the sheets are forty-five hundred thread count, I _won't_ sleep on them. I'm _not_ a peasant," he teases, sliding in beside him. His tone drips with sarcasm, "And it has to be washed in the tears of Italian opera singers."

"One, anything over 700 TC is a sham and two, I prefer Egyptian milled Italian cotton especially if it's double-ply. Best for the winter. I generally use 500 TC for the summer. And no, it's not washed in tears," Brock sticks his tongue out at Frank. He's definitely going to be getting something to curb his boy's sassy tongue, for fun of course.

"So I _can't_ buy you sheets at Target for Christmas?" 

Giving a wry smile, he gently smacks Frankie's thigh. "That store is on the banned list of places I refuse to shop. Along with Wal-mart and K-Mart."

"Now I'm buying you Wal-mart jeans, Target sheets, and socks from K-mart." Frank's cheeks hurt from smiling.

"You do that and you'll be sleeping alone for a night." He's only half teasing. He wouldn't really hold that against Frankie but he couldn't think of anything else to threaten him with. He gets an idea. "Maybe instead, you'll get put in a crate with a kitten collar on."

"That's not the worst empty threat you've made." He replies with a shrug thinking back to mentions of a cock cage. "I'd be cute with a collar on." 

Okay now, this is a surprising turn of events. He didn't think Frankie would be so nonchalant about it. The idea is interesting but he's not sure if actual pet play would be something he'd be willing to try. In fact the more he thinks about it, the more he finds the idea a turn off. A collar itself would be cute but the only thing he wants on Frankie's neck is his hickeys and love bites.

"You would die living in my apartment, with my Ikea bed and hand me downs." Frank teases, "That's ok, I'll show you how to be _poor._ " 

Brock pulls out his wallet and tips the driver as they pull into their first destination; Bed Bath & Beyond. "Now that's simply not true. Just because it's something I highly prefer given the opportunity, doesn't mean I haven't slept on or in worse. I've lived in harsher conditions than you or the band could ever come up with." 

"We've talked about it a little. But I was only kidding babe." Frank speaks softer as he opens the door and slides out. He wants to apologize but holds it in. He has to remind himself, he didn't do anything wrong.

"I know. I don't mind talking about it. It was gross and dirty. I can totally do poor." He wrinkles his nose in a tease.

"I mean, you already are _doing_ poor." Frank turns and walks backwards towards the door, "You gonna let me pay for something on this trip?"

Frank turns as he reaches the door and enters the store. The smell of candles and linens filled the air as they moved further into the store. He scans the aisles, looking at the cheap gadgets and kitchen appliances. 

"Yeah, about that..." Brock follows along, not really paying attention to most of the stuff. "Mind if I ask how much you make doing this? It doesn't really seem like a high paying job from what you've told me."

"It's not exactly wage work but roughly like $750 to $850 every two or three weeks. Maybe?" Frank replies as he picks up a weird kitchen appliance, "Oh and we get like $100 to $150 for meet and greets and other fan things that we all split. I mean at one point we were being paid in food and clothing, so… yeah." He smiles as they reach the enormous aisle of pillows. "But why do you ask, babe?" 

Brock is certain he can't breathe. He feels like all of the air was sucked out of his lungs from Frankie's words. Not because of anything he actually said but everything it meant. Heat coursed through his veins. His fists clenched and he fought not to react. The security guard was right. About everything. Nobody deserved to live like that and certainly not **his** Frankie. Taking a deep breath, he clears his throat before replying, "You do realize that is less than what a cashier would make in some shitty retail store. Right?"

"Oh." He sounds surprised, "I think I never thought about it." His face is twisted and confused as he turns to face Brock. He pulls a soft pillow down and squishes it. 

"There's a paper trail. Right?" Brock frowns and tries to stay focused. "Taxes. Records. Receipts. There's got to be a way I can get my hands on the books."

"I mean we have an accountant. I know that Gerard gets paid more than I do as well so he may know better on who to talk to. Why?" Frank's voice now concerned.

"I have a gut feeling that I need to check out the finances. I don't think you guys are being paid right. Or that the expenses add up. I know business and how it should be run. The _band should_ have been able to afford a better bus. You _should_ be able to take home more than some chump change. Hell, a waitress makes more than you if she can flirt right. Something is wrong and I'm going to find out." Brock's brows were furrowed as he thought over all the things he knows and wants to know. None of this felt right. He needed to prove Alan was stealing from the band.

Frank doesn't have words in his head to express the way he feels. Instead, he tilts his head to the side. He was just grateful to have a paying job; thankful to be able to afford rent and not have to scrimp to make ends kind of meet. "I don't understand." 

Sighing softly, he pulls Frankie close and into a hug, even with the soft and squishy pillow. The movement allows him to whisper softly his secrets, "I know you don't, _tesoro_. One of the things I learned from the security guards is the _rumor_ that Alan has been stealing from you. I think the rumor is true. The finances- 2% of sales is a fucking joke. They were right about the drugs. I think they are right about this too. My gut tells me this is true. It's why I need to see the records. I'm going to prove it. And then I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not," Frank replies in disbelief. 

"He's robbing from you. He's getting the other kids hooked on drugs. And if he touches you or says something to degrade you again, he's going to lose a fucking limb," Brock continues to whisper, letting some of the darkness seep into his words. The rage. 

"But, that could put you at risk." Frank's voice is low as his eyes dart back and forth, thinking and worrying about everything. 

"This isn't my first rodeo, _tesoro._ That should be the least of your worries. It's what I want. So very much. But, I also know how to play the legal game. That's why I need the proof. My lawyers will handle the rest." Brock pulls away from the whisper hold with a hard kiss and makes it a point to check out the pillows. He's not really wanting a soft pillow. It's bad for his neck. Instead, he moves towards the firmer ones. There was a nice bamboo one that looked decent.

Frank stands still for a moment. Processing. Maybe panicking. He frowns and stuffs down the things he's feeling. It's unproductive. He sure as fuck wasn't going to stay a word about Alan slamming into him or docking his pay for leaving. Or the general hazing shit that he's gone through. He does however need pillowcases and a blanket. Or two. He follows Brock, staying quiet as he thinks. 

"I really don't like soft pillows. Not super soft ones anyway," Brock offers as a change of subject. That is until he sees Frankie and the look on his face and the lines in his body. Forget about the pillows. Instead, he pulls Frankie into another hug, kissing his forehead. "I can hear your brain gremlins hard at work, sweetheart. I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"You didn't do anything, Brock." Frank says as he hugs him tight, "I'm fine, just debating." 

"On what?" He asked. "Whether or not you want a soft pillow or if you want to tell the others about Alan?" 

_Telling you everything or keeping it bottled up_ "I want proof before I say anything to anyone. I'm debating on pillowcases." 

"That's my goal, _gattino_. Except maybe the pillowcases. I really don't need them and would probably get the types of pillows that are firmer. There are ones that don't actually need a case because they have a cover thing. I honestly don't know what they are called. But yeah."

"If I tell you what's wrong will you stop rambling?" Frank teases.

"I want to say yes, but we're talking about pillows. So. Possibly not. I've never bought my own pillow before. But anyway. Talk to me, babe." 

"Nope, pause, you've never bought a pillow before?"

"Yeah. Never really needed to. The army provided the ones we used there. And the pillows that are on my bed back home were a gift from Brooke. Before that, my parents furnished the house and bought the linens and things." Brock wrinkles his nose a little. He's not that spoiled! He can hear Frank making a joke.

"I get to take you pillow shopping for the first time?" Frank grins. Spoiled little rich boy. "A good pillow case prevents wrinkles and keeps your hair from getting split ends. As far as pillows, firm is a good choice. I prefer softer pillows." He purposely drops the talk of feelings to distract him with linen talk, "What about blankets? Do you have a preference? I am for anything soft."

"I'm for anything so long as you're wrapped up in it for me." Brock smiled.

"Oh, that makes it easy. And I already planned on being wrapped in it naked and waiting." He drops the volume of his voice, "Maybe we can practice being quiet _together_ in the back of the bus. _"_

Grinning deviously, Brock agrees wholeheartedly with just how much he likes that idea.

Frank walks with him holding their pillows, and pillowcases even though Brock stuck to the idea of not needing one. They picked out a larger fleece blanket that they both agreed was the softest thing they had ever felt and a thin but soft blanket, in grey; a nice halfway between Brock's preference of white and Frank's of black. While in line Frank makes a plan in his head, he leans into Brock, resting his head on his arm until it is time to pay.

Next, it was the grocery store for snacks and wine. Frank follows behind Brock with a shopping cart, talking him out of purchases that wouldn't be reasonable. Encouraging snacks and wine, he waited as patiently as he could in the wine aisle as Brock poured over each label and listed why it was good or bad. He slowly creeps away as he watches Brock dive into the white wines. Instead, he takes a cruise down another aisle before heading to the register. B's got at least three bottles in the cart. He waits for a moment to check if he is coming. He pulls his wallet and pays with his card just as Brock approaches. He turns and gives him a big smile and moves out of the way.

"You are a little shithead, do you know that?" Brock asks, giving him a look.

"What? Me?" He pretends to be clueless and bats his lashes. "Don't know what you mean sir." 

Brock hums in mild annoyance as he helps grab the bags. He politely smiles at the cashier, choosing to instead wait until they were outside before chastising Frankie.

"I was just trying to be a good _gattino."_

"And you are. But that doesn't mean you can't also be a little shithead," Brock comments as he loads the back of the Über car with their bags. 

"I just like seeing you grumble," Frank smiles wide before kissing his cheek, "but I'm actually a very bad gattino for that." 

"You are always my good _gattino_ , even when you misbehave." Brock's grin at their conversation suddenly fades at Alan's voice echoes in his head. He kind of did treat Frankie as a pet. A kept boyfriend. How was that any different than Janella? He exerted his will over Frank just like she did. He really can't say he didn't hit him, because he's certain she did, but he has. Though it was done in consensual sex and not something used to truly punish. Still, the idea settles in his chest like a weight. He pushes it aside to focus on Frank and get going to their final destination.

"You okay?" Frank touches his hand carefully, "I lost you for a second."

"Let's get in the car, first. 'Cause we've got a time limit and we're going to need some time to ourselves after shopping too."

He nods and opens the back door for Brock. He is trying to not frown as he sits down beside him. He knows it's something bad rolling around in his pretty head. "I love you and whatever is going on up there is not true." 

"I love you too, _tesoro_. More than anything in the world. It's just. Alan's words about you being a pet." Brock looks away, brows furrowed and mouth turned down. "He's not totally wrong and I hate it. How am I any different than _her_?"

"Whoa, hey! You don't know how you are different?" Frank cups his face. "I am happy. The happiest I have been in a long ass time. You love me. You take care of me and encourage me. You are light-years away from her. Do you think of me as a pet?"

"Like an actual kitten?" Brock struggles for several minutes before replying, "I take care of you. I like doing that. More than like it. I need it. But, if you think about it…"

"I believe that a really smart and wise, not to mention handsome, man once said not to care what other people think of you." Frank smiles, "Straight answer, am I a pet to you?"

"No, you're my boyfriend. A kept one but still. Occasionally also my stuffed animal when I need koala time."

"Shush!" Frank raises his voice louder than Brock's. "Then I'm your _boyfriend_ , not your _pet_. And I happen to love koala time." 

"Me too. More than you know. It's so important to me. To us. You've opened doors in my soul that I never thought possible." Brock itches to pull him into his lap again and has to settle for placing a hand on his thigh instead. Damn seatbelts. Stupid car. 

"Then it's settled. Fuck Alan, he can go stand in oncoming traffic." Frank leans into Brock, "I love my big grumpy bear. Don't let some sad three-time divorced man mess with your head or heart." 

"I love you," Brock leans over and kisses him. "Thank you." 

"Besides, I'll just have Jack kick your ass if you are ever bad to me." He smirks trying to hide the laughter in his voice.

Brock gently nudges his shoulder playfully with his own. "Traitor. You telling me you'd rather be with him? Over me?"

"Fuck no. He's just tougher than me, so he could try to beat you if you're bad to me. Me and your brother are pals." Frank laughs, "I can't imagine..." 

"Good because you are _mine_." Brock leans down and tips his head up, kissing him.

"Do we have to go back?" He asks quietly. 

"Only if you want to quit music and come live with me. Might even take you to Italy with me. Live on the yacht. Go to the beach every day. Sun, sand, sea, and me. Never having to work a day in your life. Make all the music you want. Let people have it for free."

"That's not fair." He frowns. That sounds perfect. He wants that. "You know what my answer is." 

"Then quit. But I know how much this means to you. The fans. Your friends. The band. We can always have that later. But I can promise you that will be our future," he says, smiling.

He pouts a little. He is being greedy and wants both. "Fine. I guess I'll stay but I'm going to complain the whole time." He sneaks a small smile at Brock. His eyes look past Brock as they pull in front of the next stop. His small smile widens, "We're here." 

Brock thanks the driver, instructing him to wait, before getting out with Frank and heading inside the novelty store. He heads to the back. He throws over his shoulder with a wink, "You can have whatever you want baby." 

Frank finds himself distracted at a glass case, the blown glass toys inside sparkle just enough to keep him from leaving. His eyes scan over to the front counter seeing the clerk watching him with a familiar glint in their eye; he might be recognized. Maybe. He moves quickly to follow Brock. "What if I want something that's not for sale?" He teases. His eyes meet each display leaving him feeling like a kid in a candy store. "Maybe we can get you a nice pair of manties." 

"Hell. No," Brock stated as he looked over some items. "Those are only for your adorable ass." 

"True. My ass is pretty cute." He slips his arm around his waist. Thinking about Brock in something lacy and dainty was weirdly cute. "Are you looking for a specific item? Or when you see it?" Frank picks up a bejeweled plug, flipping it over and deciding that Brock is much larger than that before putting it back

"I'm looking for something specific." Brock decides to stick with being vague for now. Both for added mystery and because he's not sure if this store has what he's wanting. 

"I'm going to wander then," Frank replies before kissing his shoulder and wandering into the store. He looks at the DVDs and magazines before moving on with a wrinkled nose, finding the men's underwear and casually flipping through the hangers. Finding a couple pairs that he likes, he glances to see where the store clerk was and where Brock was. Movement catches his eye as the girl approaches Brock with a relaxed posture and soft smile.

"Are you finding what you are looking for?" The girl asks him.

"Not really."

Frank stands quietly watching. D _on't call me over._ He can feel his neck getting warm.

"What were you looking for specifically?" She asks as she carefully places her hands together over her stomach.

"I'm looking for a prostate massager. Preferably one that is remote controlled. Needs to be worn comfortably for at least an hour, so long battery life. Or rechargeable," Brock turns to find Frankie and motions him over. " _Tesoro_ , come here." 

Frank's face flushes a deeper pink as he approaches, stopping on the other side of Brock away from the salesgirl. "Yeah, babe. What's up?" _Breathe. It's not a big deal. Unless she's a fan._

Brock wraps his hand around Frankie's waist. He turns back to the clerk. "I need something that's also going to fit him snug and _tight_."

Frank can feel the heat from his cheeks increasing. His eyes get a little wide before he relaxes them. _Is he doing this on purpose?_

"Well, I have a couple options. Three specifically, how about we go up to the counter, I can open these and show you how they work? All are app compatible and rechargeable." She pulls three boxes from the shelf, looking at the two men.

"Sounds perfect, thank you." Brock nudges Frankie to follow after her, giving him a sly smirk.

She leads them to the front of the store and opens each item. "I have the apps downloaded. The Edge is whisper-quiet." She hands over the toy to Brock and smiles at the red-faced man beside him.

"Features?" Brock wraps his hand around the girth of the toy and measures.

"Aside from the Bluetooth connection and quiet motors, it has a feature in the app that allows you to create your own pattern, it has the capability to pick up ambient sound as well as the ability to connect to music and vibrate to that," She rattles off and takes a breath. "Comes with a 2-year warranty as well." 

"So it'll vibrate to let's say… a live concert?" Brock asks with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Oh yeah. The louder the sound, the more intense the vibration." She hands the iPad to Brock with the app loaded. 

Brock takes the iPad and selects several of the more intense vibrating modes. He's essentially playing with it for Frankie's embarrassment. He looks at his boyfriend, "What do you think, babe?" 

"It's fine. Great!" He isn't listening to a word that is being said, instead, he is trying to not burst into flames, "If this is what you want, I'm good with it." 

"Well, now, hang on. We haven't checked out the other two packages. We should see if those might be something you will enjoy." Brock smirks. He's already made his mind up but Frankie's red face was just priceless. He looks at the clerk and shoots her a wink.

She smirks back at him, "The We Vibe Ditto is another great option, it might not have the girth that you are looking for. It is on the more _petite_ side." She hands the new option over. 

Frank puts his hands on the counter and stares down. He sneaks a look at her phone to see if he was right about his suspicions but he can't tell. He wants to melt into the floor. 

"Hear that, _gattino_? Petite. Like you," He has to suppress the grin that is threatening to burst. Deciding to take pity on him, he slides back the We Vibe Ditto back and pulls out his wallet.

Frank look's up at Brock's face; he only heard kitten. "Huh?" 

"Before I forget, can you grab some lube for us, _gattino_. See if they have travel packs. And l will start ringing up this stuff, okay?" 

Frank nods as he moves to the lubes. He picks up a couple different packets and tubes. He needs to leave. Before he is permanently red. "I got new ones to try." He forces out as he returns, decidedly not looking at the clerk.

"Great. Looking forward to trying those first later." Brock takes the items from Frankie and adds them to the total.

"Did you want to try flavored lubes?" She offers.

"Not a bad idea. Also not for me, I think. Frankie? Did you want one?" 

He shakes his head no. "'m fine." _You **are** doing this on purpose. _

After paying, Brock takes the bag and they head back to the still waiting Über. He's going to have to tip the poor driver extra for all of this. Especially since he probably could have made so much more in the amount of time it took for them to shop. While he's grateful for people like this to assist when he doesn't have his car, he hates the business model. There was just no real way for these people to make money. They slide into the car and have their driver take them back to the arena.

As they stop outside the arena, the driver who's a little younger than Brock turns back and looks at the two men. "You're from the Chemistry Romance band right?" 

Frank can feel himself blush again. "Yeah."

"My kid loves you guys!" 

"That's awesome. You guys coming to the show tonight?" Brock asks.

"Aw. Thank you! Yeah, did you guys get tickets?" 

"No. We didn't. She was disappointed." The driver gives him a smile, "Can I trouble you for an autograph?" 

"Yes, you can. Would you guys like tickets? I can have some at Will Call for you and her," Frank offers with rosy cheeks and a smile.

The driver looks shocked by the offer. "Oh, I wouldn't wanna trouble you to do that!" 

"I was thinking of backstage passes, babe. Since he was so kind as to play personal driver for us most of the day." Brock grabs the bags out from the trunk.

"That's a great idea! Please, it would be my pleasure to have tickets and passes for the show." Frank nods and he autographs a piece of paper for his kid, "Our show starts at 7. Please come, Brock can keep an eye out for you guys too. Right baby?" 

"Absolutely. I'd be happy to give you the tour."

"What is your name? They will be at the Will Call window." Frank smiles big as he hands back the paper.

"Travis Wilson," He says quietly. 

"Thank you for being an excellent driver, Travis." Frank nods and hands him a $20 before getting out of the car. Frank joins Brock at the back of the car, pulling bags from the trunk. He feels the lump of anxiety hit him again as he sees the private entrance door. He can feel his chest get heavy as he follows Brock in.

Frank steps to the side of Brock at the gate, flashing his plastic crew pass at the guard who opens it for them. He looks back at Brock who is technically supposed to be the one who does that, checking in on him before they head to the bus. "Are you boyfriend or protector?" He asks him with a little smile.

"You're late, Iero!" Alan shouts from across the bus parking lot "That comes out of your pay! Get your ass in here now!" 

The sound of the plastic crinkling in Brock's hands seems louder than what it should be. Brock wants nothing more than to stride over and beat the face off of that man. He needs to focus. Breathe, Rumlow. He's dealt with snakes in disguise. Some from those of a higher rank of himself. He can play nice. Giving a smile to the guard, he tightens his hold on the bags, shifting them all to one arm just to keep it preoccupied and from lashing out. His other arm moves to Frankie's back, needing the grounding touch to keep his temper down.

"I love and appreciate you." Frank is only loud enough for Brock to hear him. Frank knocks on the bus door then turns to face him. "Thank you for the fun afternoon." 

"Thank you for being an amazing and perfect boyfriend and friend. I love our quality time. I love you. We can do this." He was fairly certain he was trying to reassure himself than Frankie.

"We can do this and do it gracefully. Without murder," Frank replies as he puts the bags down on the table. He leans up and kisses him. 

"It's only a few hours." 

"We aren't even that late," Brock murmurs grumpily.

"He's trying to bully me," Frank turns and takes his time pulling the things from the home store out, "and to get under your skin." 

"I'm not letting him bully you. I don't care what he says about me." Brock assists with the unloading.

"I am not letting him bother me." Frank stops and looks at him, "He wants you to react. To anything; so you get forced out for being violent "

"Then I'm going to be hitting the gym on a daily basis just to keep my aggression down low."

"Ok! I'll help as much as I can too." Frank gives him a dirty smile, "I think a lot of venues have a fitness area too in case we aren't in a hotel." 

"Oh, that's a great idea. And you have to come with me. To check out my form and all. I'll need a spotter, you know. Especially in the showers after," Brock's dirty grin matches Frankie's own. "May need to take two showers. To thoroughly ensure cleanliness."

"Yeah, showering alone can be quite dangerous." Frank grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him down to kiss him. Letting go of the fabric and putting his arms around his neck. 

The hiss of the hydraulic doors fills the quiet space on the bus. "The fuck Franklin! Did you not hear me?!" Alan storms in, shouting at them.

Flinching at the sound almost ruins the moment but he refuses to let go. Frank pushes himself against Brock, he grabs his hands and puts them on his hips under his shirt. He needs touch. _Don't stop touching me._

"We were just putting away some important and much-needed items, Mr. Turner. I apologize for keeping Frankie out for too long," Brock said lightly. His thumbs gently caress small circles into both of his hips. "We were just headed back inside."

"Looks more like you were sucking face. But it's better than other things you could be sucking," Alan shoots back with a trace of disgust in his tone, "Longer you take, the more you lose, Iero." 

"He doesn't need the money. I have enough for the both of us, so you can stop threatening him with that." Brock can't help his tone from turning a little icy. "Like I said, we're going. You can be an adult and be patient."

Alan huffs. He keeps his mouth shut and leans against the wall, glaring at them. He shifts his weight and exhales loudly. An idea flickers in his head, "It all makes sense now." 

"What's that?" Frank grumbles as he holds Brock's hand on his hip. He is nervous about the response. 

"He's your sugar daddy. I thought it was an arrangement. But not like this," Alan snorts.

"You can believe whatever it is you want to believe, Mr. Turner. I know the truth. The band knows the truth. I can't change your mind. Only how I respond. And I'm done letting you dictate my emotions." Brock moves and continues putting away the snacks, dismissively.

"Babe, did you want the blankets here or in there?" Frank tries not to smirk but can't help it. He puts cases on the pillows and sets them in the bunk. "I won't be late. If I'm late, put me at the end." 

"Put that on the couch, please. Thank you. Oh, and this too," Brock hands him the bag from the sex shop with a wink. 

"Perfect! You're always a step ahead." Frank leans up and kisses him, "I'm ready whenever you, baby." 

After a quick check of his things, Brock nods and wraps a hand around Frankie's. Together they head out after Alan. Frank holds tight to Brock's hand, enjoying his boyfriend for now until he turns into bodyguard Brock. As soon as they enter the building the sound of voices and laughter fills the halls. Alan leads them into a large open room with a table and chairs set up. The band members, talking in front of it, look up and smile at their entrance. 

Alan places pieces of paper in front of each chair putting Frank next to Gerard. "Have a seat gentleman and Francis. I'm opening the doors for the fans, now. Strap in boys. Smile pretty." 

Frank smiles at Gerard and glances at Brock. His eyes widen as Gerard's hand squeezes higher up on his thigh than necessary. He leans into Frank and whispers, "Just relax, kid." The doors open and girls flood into the room filling it with noise.

Brock moves and stands directly in front of the table. He stares at the sea of oncoming girls with the same stoic expression he would with a hundred soldiers on the battlefield. He waits until the crowd is halfway to him before raising both his hands to his mouth and giving an ear-piercing and long whistle. He carries the whistle until everyone has come to a complete stop.

"Thank you." Brock's voice is that of the Commander. It's loud and authoritative with no room for disobedience. He stands in military parade rest, body perfectly straight. "Now I know you are all anxious to get your autographs. But I will **not** have you all stampede these gentlemen. I want all of you to form a single file line and if _**anybody**_ breaks that line, you will forfeit your privilege to see the band and I will be escorting them out. Is that understood?" He pauses and looks at each of the girls with a hard stare. None seemed to be willing to put up a fuss. Brock points to a point at the end of the table for them to form the line at. "Good. Move into your line. Now." 

"I get why you fuck him now." Gerard squeezes Frank's thigh before putting both hands on the table, "I'd let him rail me." 

Frank frowns but pulls his smile out for the fans who are anxiously chattering in front of Brock. When the majority of the girls are in a near-perfect line, Brock allows them to start walking down the table and get their signatures. He stands off to the side to engage with them and ensure their compliance. A fan is overcome with excitement and reaches across the table to hug Frank, catching him by surprise and letting out a little 'oof' at her squeeze. Gerard chuckles at the scene. 

"Hey!" Brock barks loudly, his voice echoing off the walls in the small space. He moves towards her, hoping he doesn't need to throw her out. "No touching the band members unless they say it's okay!"

She pulls back and apologizes before handing over her item to sign. 

"Thank you for supporting us, sweetheart." Frank smiles at her. He glances at Brock and winks. The girls file nervously and anxiously passing items for them to sign. The faces are a blur as Frank smiles at each of them until the line disappears. It's only for a moment because the next thing is photos with the band, even more tiring.

"Only a hundred right?" Frank asks.

"No Iero, we bumped it up to two hundred," Alan smiles with a glimmer, "you don't have to participate if you don't want to. It's not about the money." 

"They need a water break, Mr. Turner. At least a few minutes. Before the next set comes in," Brock says as he walks over. "And there's no way you bumped it to two hundred. Passes were sold out. They always are. I highly doubt you gave them away for _free_."

"You heard him, get a drink." Alan snaps, "I make the rules, Rumlow. If I say there are more sold, then there are. You gonna count each ticket?" 

"I have better things to do than count tickets. But if you don't want me interfering with your management, then maybe you should start treating these men like actual human beings and not robots. Pretend to be a decent human for once and ease up on these kids." Brock crosses his arms, feeling pretty chill about this whole thing. He's never going to stop pushing against Alan but it doesn't affect his mood any longer.

Frank can't help but grin. That is his Brock. His big scary bear. He gets up and moves a little as stagehands begin to take the tables and chairs to start setting up a screen for the photos to be taken against.

"Where did you guys end up?" Ray asks him.

"Shopping. Just needed to get him out of here." Frank replies softly with a smile at his friend.

"How's your shoulder?" Mike asks unaware of the story Frank had told Brock, "He slammed into you pretty damn hard."

"I'm fine." Frank barely gets out.

"He coulda dislocated your shoulder, man" Bob says as he joins the group. 

"He did _**what**_ ," Brock seethes low, approaching them. Chocolate brown eyes burned with rage. His fists clenched tight. " _You_ _lied to me_." 

"Alan shoulder-checked him really hard," Ray says softly. He doesn't want to be a liar. He respects and likes Brock too much.

"I did. I did it for a reason. I don't like that I lied to you." Frank steps forward from the group and touches his hands, "If I told you, I was hurt, you would have blown up. Done something dumb." 

"I can deal with a lot of things. Lying to me is a hard no for me. It breaks my trust in you. Do you understand that?" Brock speaks softly. He's angry and hurt. How can he possibly trust anything Frank says?

"I do." Frank nods, "I'm really sorry. I didn't do it to hurt you." The panic in his chest is making it hard to breathe. He kicks himself. He should have said a damn word. "Please believe me." 

Gerard stands quietly to the back of the group. He's trying to not enjoy the shitshow in front of him but it is hard not to. He grins before taking a drink. Soon enough, Commander Beefcake will be gone and he can have Frank. 

"You need to get ready for the photo ops. We can talk after I've had a few moments to think and calm down okay? I need to focus on your safety first and I can't do that and think about this. Okay? I love you." 

"Ok." Frank nods. He lets go of Brock's hands and steps back to the group. Ray hands him a bottle of water and gives Brock a small sad smile. 

Great, now Brock feels like shit. He's still angry but he doesn't want Frankie to feel upset. He doesn't need him worrying about anything other than the photo op. He makes a quick decision to go over and grab Frankie and pull him into a kiss, one hand coming up to cup his cheek and the other wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against his own body. He needs to reassure that no matter how angry he is, that will never ever equate to them not being okay.

Frank kisses him back, confused. He loves him and hates the choice he made. If it's the kiss goodbye he might as well enjoy it. He can hear a playful whistle from the guys behind them. 

"Get a room," Gerard murmurs as Alan returns. 

"Jesus. We are opening the doors in three minutes." Alan's voice growls, "Maybe work on your professionalism Iero." 

"Chill Alan." Mike snips back.

"Stay out of it, Micheal." Alan snaps and points at him, "Gerard, control your sibling."

Pulling away he whispers against his lips, "No matter what. No matter how upset I feel. Or how angry I am. It will never be the end for us. Me asking for some time to calm down will _never_ result in me leaving you. We will talk it over and we will move on. But it will never ever result in us not being okay. Okay? I promise."

"Okay." Frank runs his fingers over Brock's chest, "I love you." He wants to apologize over and over again but holds it in. He can hear the doors of the room rattle.

"Told you. Showtime, boys!" Alan's voice echoes in the room as he unlocks the door. "Look alive." 

"You're going to be okay," Brock steps away and asks the band as a whole, "Where will I be the most effective? Crowd control?" 

"If we have them enter one at a time that should be fine for us. Keep them at bay and if we need help, maybe?" Ray offers with a smile. 

"Yeah. It's the standard come in, smile, and leave." Gerard says nonchalantly as he fixes his hair.

"Are they allowed to touch you guys? With permission? I'm assuming so since this is a photo op. Anything they aren't allowed to do?" Brock is unsure about this. He's not too thrilled about people touching his boys. 

"They can touch the lower back or arms but nothing crazy," Ray speaks firmly with the boys chiming in agreeing with him. "Maybe don't touch Frank." 

The sound of girls begins to fill the room again as they stand impatiently at the door, "Welcome Ladies! Come on in!" Alan announces purposely trying to undermine Brock.

He has to suppress an eye roll. He turns to his best guys, Ray and Mikey for backup. "You guys back me up on this crowd thing, alright? These fans will probably listen to you over Turner and Hooch over there. Especially since the one guy who _should_ have your back, doesn't." 

"We got your back, Brock." Ray nods at him.

Brock nods his thanks and moves to act as some form of barrier between his team and the fans. He gives a carefully measured look to Alan as he carefully navigates the crowd into some form of organized chaos.

"Where is the arena staff?" Bob asks out loud, as the line forms in front of Brock. 

"They are probably watching and laughing." Gerard nods to the camera in the corner of the room. He smiles as he straightens his posture as the first girl steps up with an eager look on her face.

Soon the line is moving along, the fans are sweet with nice words for the band. The exhausted faces of the band members pulled the smiles on for the last few photos. Brock gently heards the stragglers out before making his way to the bathroom for a quick few minutes of peace and privacy.

As the doors closed, Ray overdramatically pretends to fall on the floor. "Let me sleep!" He fakes a yawn before Mike sits on him. Frank smiles and rubs his neck. He is tired and his cheeks hurt. He closes his eyes and exhales. He just wants Brock. And quiet time.

"You gonna be ok?" Gerard asks standing behind Frank as he slips hands over his hips. He pulls Frank into him. The closeness causes Frank to jolt. "Relax, I'll only bite if you ask."

"Yeah. I won't ask you." Frank quietly snaps back and pulls away, "I'm not playing around. Back off." 

"Frankie, you lied to him. What's one more secret." Gerard offers with a smile. He scans Frank's body then meets his eyes. "We've had secrets like this before." 

"Fuck off." Frank hisses at him before stepping to the side. He is done and not waiting for Brock or the others. The bullshit of this whole day makes him leave. It makes him want to quit. He pushes through the door and heads for the exit that takes him towards the tour bus. 

He finds the right hallway, rushing for the bright light through the glass doors. He can feel the cool air and lets himself relax for a moment. He opens the door and makes it to the peaceful silence of the bus. He stops just inside the bus, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The door hisses as it opens, Frank grins. "I'm glad you're here." Frank grins as he opens his eyes to Gee. His stomach drops as his smile disappears. _Not you._

"I'm glad to see you too!" Gerard's smile is dangerous. He touches Frank's face with careful hands 

"You're not who I wanted."

"Oh. But I think it is." He steps closer to Frank and puts his arm against the wall to block, "Just trust me, I won't tell him a thing." 

He leans forward and kisses Frank. Then removes the space between them with his body. His hand runs down Frank's side and under his shirt. His cold fingers touching over the soft skin. He runs a thumb over his nipple then back down his stomach and over his jeans, giving him a careful squeeze. He can feel Frank's hips push against him. He pulls away from Frank's lips, "I knew you still wanted me."

Frank's hands pushing against Gerard's chest as his hand cups Frank's cheek. His head is screaming but his body is _betraying_ him. He doesn't want this but his skin craves the contact, as he arches ever so slightly to the familiar feeling of another. He should have stayed in the building, waited for Brock. As Gee pulls away, he shoves him back but he doesn't move. 

"I'm telling you to fucking stop!" Frank snaps and pushes him away.

"I'm just getting you ready for the show, Frankie boy." Gee strokes his cheek and goes in to kiss him again. Frank tries to turn his head away but fingers grip his chin and force his face forward to kiss him again. He moans against Frank's lips which sends a chill down his spine.

In a panic, Frank pushes his hands into Gerard's stomach then jams his knee between Gerard's legs, hard. He feels the air escape from Gee before he steps back, gasping for air. Frank books it out of the bus and into the outside air. His head is fuzzy. He might puke. He ducks around the bus and drops by the first tire. He's not only a fucking liar but now he's a cheater too. What can he do to drop himself lower? Brock will never touch him again.

After a quick trip to the men's room, Brock heads back to catch up with the band. Now that the annoying photo ops and meets and greets were done, he was looking forward to the hour or so before the actual show started. He and Frankie needed that time to talk about what happened with Alan and his shoulder. Brock still wasn't sure what to think or do about that. Opening the door, he steps inside, eyes searching for Frankie. He frowns. 

"Where's Frankie?" He asks the guys as a whole.

"I thought he was going to find you?" Ray says tilting his head to the side, " He seemed upset after talking with Gerard."

"I think Gerard followed him. For whatever that's worth." Bob adds.

"And you let him go?" Brock asks incredulously. "Knowing that Mr. Way has upset Frankie and that he's repeatedly tried to get him to re-engage in sexual activities, no one decided to keep him from following Frankie?" Brock shakes his head. These kids… he swears they would lose their heads if they weren't screwed on. Lovable dorks but also unobservant airheads.

"They've been on good terms so far," Mikey offers. He's mostly defending his brother but can see why they shoulda stopped him.

"I love you guys, but you are all airheads," Brock gently chastises. "I've got to find them. Before one of them gets hurt. Which way did they go?"

"Frank headed to the bus area," Ray says with a frown.

"Thanks, Sunshine. Be back in a jiffy. Or not. Might just chill in the bus until showtime. Maybe watch some Netflix or whatever you've got for TV." Brock heads towards the exit leading to the buses.

"Just say have sex." Bob laughs calling after him.

Brock turns and walks backward, calling back, "What? What are you talking about?" 

"Nothing. Go get your boy!" Bob hollers back. 

Turning back, Brock jogs out the door and towards the buses. A jog that turns into a full-on run the moment he sees Frankie by the tire, alone and bent over. Worry spikes through him and he wonders if Frankie got injured somehow. 

"Frankie?! Frankie oh my God what happened?!" Brock runs over and has to visibly stop himself from pulling him into a hug. There might be physical injuries he could be making worse. "Are you okay?!" 

_Fuck._ "No," Frank replies letting the words fall out. He is a liar and a cheat. His eyes well with tears so he forces them closed and holds his breath.

"Baby, are you hurt? What's wrong?" Brock's voice is laced with concern and fear. 

"Not hurt," Frank's voice shakes, "just awful." 

The moment Frank says that he's not hurt, relief washes through Brock. He finally gives in and wraps his arms around him, pulling him in a tight bear hug. He whispers, "Koala time?" 

He's going to have to tell him. He doesn't want to. But he has to, "I- he kissed me. I didn't...But he just didn't." The tears just run from his eyes as his voice cracks. He wraps his arms around his neck. "And you're mad!" 

"Shhhhhh," Brock rubbed his lower back and held him tighter. "Deep breaths for me, ok? Just try to calm down. I've got you, I'm here. You're okay, baby. We're okay."

Frank quiets himself. _Clamp it down, Iero._ He lets a few more tears fall before stopping himself. He must be tired. He is better at keeping it in. When he thinks he can maintain composure he speaks, "I'm fine." 

"You're not but that's okay," Brock says gently just as he lifts Frankie for koala time. "I love you, baby. Just relax and let me hold you and take care of everything."

Frank wraps his legs around Brock and rests his head on his shoulder. He debates on telling him what happened. He did handle it. Sort of. But Brock should know. What if he gets mad? He hears the bus door hiss and feet moving towards them as Gerard emerges walking a little more gentle than normal. _Well shit, that doesn't look good._

Brock turns at the sound of the bus door opening to see Gerard exiting. He gently sets Frank down and strides over to the man, "Hey! What the fuck is your problem?!" 

"Nothing, you psycho!" Gerard snaps back. He has pain in his stomach that he'd not felt in years, "Your little chihuahua over there kneed me in the balls!" 

"Good. You fucking deserve it. Maybe next time don't snort your brain into a blender and you'll learn to take no for a fucking answer," Brock snarls at Gerard.

"Oh fuck off with the drug shit. I already know one of you shits called Lindsey. So thanks for that." He rolls his eyes, "You can have the leftovers, Brock. They are warmed up for you." He pats his shoulder before moving around him. 

A hand whips up and grabs his wrist, twisting the joint and the limb behind Gerard's back. Brock squeezes his hand and puts pressure on his wrist joint. "Don't fucking touch me. You know what pisses me off the most about you? That you are supposed to be Frankie's friend. Instead, you'd rather ruin your life with drugs and following along with whatever that slimy scumbag Alan tells you. You treat Frankie like property and like shit. You don't deserve anything, least of all him."

"B. Stop." Frank's voice hardens; it's shit like this that will get them in trouble. Alan is looking for any reason to fire him and kick them both out. "Please." 

"He needs to be sober to have this conversation," he adds. Thinking back to the dinner at Gerard's house, he realizes he must've been using since he met with Alan. His heart gets a little heavier at the idea. This guy isn't his friend. 

"Maybe all this aggression should be targeted towards the right person. The liar who seems to _enjoy_ my attention," Gerard hisses.

"Hmm. You're right. You're just a pawn and lackey. You're not the _root_ cause of the problem. But that's not for you to worry about. Stay the fuck away from Frankie or my patience will run thin." 

"Was talking about your little pet."

"Let me say it slower for you to understand. Stay. Away. From. Frankie. Am I clear?" Brock twists his wrist again, tighter. It's not going to break anything. Just maybe dislocate or overextend the muscle. But that's not something Gerard needs to know. 

"God, you're a psycho!" Gerard hisses. 

"His brother's worse," Frank adds, not helpful but it's kinda true.

"And you have no respect for anyone, not even yourself. It's disgusting. I should have you up on sexual assault charges. It's a good thing Frank is _your_ _friend,_ whether or not you deserve that, and won't call the cops on you. Learn some respect asshole and get the fuck out of my sight." Brock lets him go with a none too gentle shove.

Gerard shoots a glare at Frank and then to Brock before disappearing into the building. He passes by Ray who grumbles at him, he just needs to find Alan. That nut job is going to hurt someone.

Brock turns and goes over to Frankie. He says the first thing that comes to mind, blurting out the words with a laugh, "You kneed him in the balls?" 

Frank blinks and gives a little smile, "What? He had me pinned down. I had to do something." He leans up and kisses him. He doesn't give a shit if fans or anyone else sees. He actually needs it, his Brock. If he can't run away, then he's going to be a needy little shit.

"I love you. So proud of you for fighting back. My little hellcat," Brock kisses him back, gently. 

"Thanks?" Frank tilts his head to the side, "And yes, Koala time." 

"My pleasure," he says. "But maybe after we get on the bus? The damn thing is probably too small for me to carry you to our 'bedroom' without knocking you out." 

Frank nods with a little smile at calling the couches their bedroom. "I can walk. I just need you," He says with a soft voice. Frank follows Brock into the bus.

Gerard storms into the room where Alan has holed up. "He tried to break my wrist." 

"Really?" He says with a crooked smile. 

"Yes." 

"Cameras?" He asks

"Yeah outside." 

"Excellent."

Frank follows him down the narrow hall with his hands touching Brock's back. "We gonna have that talk now?" He wishes he kept his mouth shut. He has a good feeling he is going to be just fine but still.

"No. Major crisis first, then that. You come first in all things, _tesoro_. We're going to do koala time first." Brock turns and sits on the couch, pulling Frankie into his arms as he lays down on his back.

"I don't _always_ come first. I can think of a few times where you have." He tries to hide the smile that makes the corners of his mouth twitch and nose move just slightly.

"Oh, I can definitely tell you are feeling better if you are making those kinds of jokes. Maybe you don't need koala time… " Brock grins.

"No, I do!" Frank hugs him tighter. "I wanna go home." 

This sobers Brock up quite a bit. He's fairly certain this whole day wasn't supposed to be the norm for any musician. Frankie wasn't happy like this. And that was more important than anything. "Okay." 

"You're supposed to say no and be the voice of reason." His voice is small. 

"Let's go home. Tell them you quit. And that the only way you'll return is if they fire Alan." Brock holds him tighter. "You aren't happy here like this. Your happiness should come first in your life. Come home with me. Making a statement will either work or backfire, but either way, I'll be by your side."

"You are a smart man." He replies softly, stewing it over, "Will you pack the shit in here when I'm on stage?"

"You got it. Just keep it secret. Act normal. Be the first out of the building as soon as the show is over. I'll have our things in a taxi waiting for us," he grins, pulling in Frankie for a kiss. The walkout may take a few days or a few hours. Either way, he's going to have to make a few phone calls. Time to get an ax to cut down the rotten tree… 

"I can do that." Frank nods, "What if they don't want me back?" 

"I'm certain they will. But if not, then I guess we're taking a trip to Italy earlier than planned. Early retirement?" He hopes that Frankie won't be angry with him if things go south and they actually don't want him back. The band will possibly break up but it might actually be a good thing for Gerard's sake. As much as he intensely dislikes that man, he hates drugs more.

"Early retirement sounds nice." Frank's voice lightens, "I'm really sorry today's been a shit show." 

"It could've been better. But it also could've been worse. We handled it. We're okay." One of his hands comes up to caress Frankie's cheek and card through his hair.

"You wanna get married?" He jokes, nuzzling his chest and curling his fingers into Brock's skin a little.

"Yes. One day, we will." Brock gently rubs his back.

He was serious but chooses to not say that. As much of a crazy mess as it was today, why not throw a wedding or a funeral in. "I love you, Brock." 

"I love you too. Very much, Frank." He checks the clock. They have at least one hour before he supposes they should prepare for the show. His hand gently runs through Frankie's hair. "What do you want to do with our moment of freedom? Besides you needing koala time?"

"To explain myself, then be at your disposal for the next 50 minutes," Frank replies with his eyes closed. _Also, marry me, punch Alan in the nose, and take me home._ He was open to anything. 

"Okay. Let's talk." Brock nuzzles his hair and holds him tighter.

"I lied to you. I'm sorry. You were upset and I didn't want to further upset you." Frank explains as he draws into the material of Brock's shirt, "I never wanted to hurt you."

"While I understand why you did it, that doesn't take away the fact that it changes how I hear what you tell me. It plants a seed of doubt and I'm going to wonder every time what else you are hiding from me." Brock keeps his voice level and calm. Gently stating facts and his feelings without any intense emotions.

"I understand." He replies with a wobble in his throat as he squeezes his eyes shut to prevent them from betraying him, "I don't know how to fix this but it has not happened before nor will it again." He is disappointed in the choice he made. If he wasn't stuffing his emotions down he might actually cry. _Again._

A thumb comes up to gently swipe at his eye, noticing the slight wetness there. He's fairly certain with the way Frankie's eyes are screwed shut that he's holding back. The thought makes him sad a little. Soulmates should never be closed off from each other.

"It's okay," he whispers. "It's okay to feel. Don't hold back from me, sweetheart. I'm here for you. I've got you. And I always will. Let me be your strength when you need it. Just like you are mine. We will get through this and all things together."

He looks up suspiciously, "Are you reading my mind again?" A little tear sneaks out and trails his cheek. He sniffs, "I just don't want to lose you. And I'm not that person, I'm not like her. That scares me...that I'm like her."

"For always and forever, I'm yours. I'm never leaving you. I don't think you are like her. You are good and kind and funny and smart and beautiful. Inside and out. You are amazing. The love of my life. And I will take your good days and your bad. Your perfect traits and your worst. I'll take your darkness and help you fight it. I want your brain gremlins and your fears. I want it all. Every thought in your head, I wanna know. I want to help you take on your every mountain. You are nothing like she is. I know she left a mark inside of you. I want to help you heal it. Replace it with love."

Frank's cheeks flush as he crawls up Brock to be level to him. "I don't think I deserve you but I'm going to keep you until the devil catches me." He leans down and kisses him. 

"How can that be? You're my angel. My saving grace," Brock kisses him deep, pulling him closer. Trying to pour into the kiss just how much he needed Frankie. He needed him to be okay because if his love wasn't okay then he wasn't okay. Frankie was his light in the dark. His True North. And there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep him in his life.

He breaks the kiss and smiles, "I'm ok. I promise." He kisses his nose then pecks him on the lips, "And you're ok. And we're going home." He scoots down just a little then rests his head on Brock's chest. He doesn't feel like he deserves this good of a human in his life at the moment but he for sure doesn't want him to leave. "You know if I fuck up again, I don't think I can top that speech… and I can't afford to buy you a hawk just yet. So I gotta think of something. But seriously, I love you more than I know how to express." He adds, glancing forward at the black bag across the room, "What are you going to do with that _toy_ you purchased?" 

"Mmm, my plan was to make you wear it during your concert. Give you a better reason to dance around on stage for me. See how many times I can get you to come in your pants for me. Then fuck you senseless." Brock says simply and yet dark.

"Oh, you're evil..." He turns his head to look up at him, "I mean… I'm in but you're rotten and I love it." 

Chuckling he pecks him on the nose lightly, "Maybe we try it at home first though. Private. Don't want to give the fans ideas. Or Gerard. Besides, you can't say it's totally torturing you alone."

He never thought about Gerard. But likes the idea of privacy. Even just out in public. "That is probably wise. I'd rather not cut my wrist on a guitar string from an orgasm. That's not a set of wires we should cross." 

"Yeah let's not. I need you alive, my little pain slut."

"Living does look nice on me. And I don't want you to feel guilty for something you didn't do," Frank gives him a look, "cause I know you'll beat yourself up if I got hurt. Like ever." He wonders if his shoulder is bruising.

"Damn right. I care about you that much. Your safety is my priority. Not just physical either."

"Speaking of. I love you but if we come back on the road, I need to know my boundaries or you're fired." Frank keeps his tone neutral, "I have a hard time not touching you. Or being affectionate. It feels _weird._ "

"Oh?" He tilts his head in curiosity.

"Don't get me wrong, you are good at your job."

"Can you give me an example for clarification?" He's more than a little lost.

"You don't realize that you physically change from you to bodyguard Brock." He says, "An example, we parted ways before soundcheck, you just walked away. It threw me off. What do I do? Shake your hand and say good day? My instincts tell me differently."

He gives a little laugh. Frankie is so fucking adorable he can't even handle it sometimes. Gripping him tight, he rolls them to the side, pinning Frankie between him and the couch back. After a quick but sensual kiss, he pulls away, humor in his eyes.

"I know I do. I have to. I have to be in a certain headspace when I'm working security. Please don't take it personally. You can do whatever feels right while I'm not ‘on the job’ so to speak. I can't have you being so sexy and distracting me or I could lose focus and next thing you know, you've got mobbed or something. Not to mention I'm not just protecting you anymore. I gotta make sure all my boys are safe. Even Gerard."

"I need a word that I can say to you that can be used in place of ‘I love you’ when you're working."

"Why would you need something different? You can still tell me that. I just won't respond the same way if I'm on the proverbial clock. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"I don't know. I've never had a bodyguard nor have I been in love with my bodyguard. I don't know how this works." He smiles wide and strokes his cheek with his fingertips, "I don't want to put you or me in a position that could be dangerous."

"I would never do that if I can help it. And our bodyguard relationship is not normal and that's okay. It works for us."

"It does work for us." Frank can't keep the smile but he tries his best biting his lip before speaking again, "Also your big scary Commander voice is hotter than it should be." 

"Is it now? Guess I'll have to work on that the next time you need a spanking." One of Brock's hands slides down to Frankie's hip before sliding over to his ass.

"I would be a very wet mess if you did." Frank returns his hands to Brock's chest then sliding one under the hem just a little to steal warmth for cool fingers. 

"I like the sound of that. We are totally exploring this later." 

He kisses him. A wave of relief hits him, he slides his hand up Brock's side. The idea of not having to come back sounds more appealing. He knows he should be get up and get ready but fuck it. His kiss is a little more urgent as he presses his fingers into Brock's skin. 

"We are going on stage in like five, Frank." Ray's voice echoes in the quiet small room, "I'm really sorry! For everything." 

When did Ray get on the bus? Brock is surprised he didn't hear him approach. Even more surprised that he didn't _react_ to the voice. Hey, maybe he's getting better. Though he's certain it's because of his Frankie. Everything's better when Frankie's in his arms. He nuzzles and kisses him some more before shifting to let them up.

"Thank you Sunshine," Brock calls back. "We're headed out now. Be there in a second." 

"Thanks, Ray." Frank chuckles, "Sunshine huh? It's fitting."

He doesn't want to get up. He just wants to stay there. Maybe under Brock. Or on top. But he's got at least one more show to do and he can't let the fans down. He sighs and looks Brock in the face, "This is the right choice, right?" 

"Staying? Or leaving?" 

"Quitting."

"I feel the right choice here is whatever's best for _you_. At the end of the day, I really can't dictate what you do with your life. Or make decisions for you. I think this will help with the issues within the band and Alan. I know within my heart that you and the band would flourish without him." 

"You're going to make a very diplomatic leader, Brock." Frank smiles.

"If that was a nice way of saying what I said didn't help you and that I'm a dick, that's okay," Brock laughs. "But I mean it when I say that you have to take a look at what you want both now and in the long run. I'll stand by whatever decision you make."

"I meant that you have a good answer but you're still letting me choose. I know what I need to do. And you're right. Too bad you can't have Jack bring your baby up here and you could hug and kiss her while I'm on stage." Frank sighs, "It's the little demons in my head making me worry." 

"You know, that's not a bad idea. I bet he could drive up here or meet us by the time you get off the stage. All hot and sweaty and sexy…" Brock trails off, a little distracted. He gives himself a head shake. Standing, he offers his hand to Frankie to take. He needs to at least make a presence as if everything was normal.

"I'll call him first. Then Brooke. But first, we need to pretend everything is normal and fine. I'm going to get you on stage and work security. When the band starts, I'll slip out."

"That works for me. And you know that Jack will enjoy opening her up." He takes Brock's hand and pulls off his t-shirt. Revealing a bruise on his shoulder, which he quickly turns away from Brock, "I gotta suit up." He saunters into the hall towards his bunk to pull his stage clothes from his bag. A white button-down with a red tie in the collar. He quickly dresses and fixes his tie. He makes his way to the front. "You coming?" 

Brock looks him up and down and finds the outfit to be _very_ appealing. He's going to be speed packing just to watch his lover dance around on stage with his guitar. He almost is sad he's going to miss the show. Almost.

"With you in that outfit, yes. I am definitely coming." 

"I usually have a bulletproof vest but it's under the bus." He smiles as he looks down, "I had to get shirts a size down, feels weird." 

"It's because you're so cute and tiny. And sexy." Brock moves and brackets Frankie with his hands on his hips, voice dropping lower in register. He really likes the tie. And the white. He looks ravishing and the mental image of him soaked with sweat and other things has him thinking wicked thoughts.

"Thank you, baby. I'm glad you like it." He slides his hand over Brock's crotch, "And I plan for you to be _coming_ later." He leans up and plants a kiss on his lips.

A little sigh of a moan escapes. They need to go before he says fuck it all and he drags Frankie to bed and rips off those clothes. They don't even have a bed. He takes a deep calming breath and ushers Frankie out of the bus and into the building.

He is wearing a grin the entire walk to the stage after seeing Brock's response. As he walks the ramp he looks back as he straps a guitar on and pulls the pick from his pocket, "I love you. Don't punch the fans." 

"I love you. Don't dive into Bob's drum kit or better yet, don't get hurt. I won't punch fans." Brock holds up his hand. "Fake scout's honor."

"I won't _purposely_ get hurt." He smiles and winks at him before turning and heading on stage. He probably is going to get hurt, he's giving the fans the best show. 

"Don’t get hurt!" Brock hollers after him. Damn that man. Swear to God he's going to have a heart attack from the stress of Frankie doing stupid shit that will one day end him up in the hospital. Or dead. Why did he have to fall in love with such a reckless puppy?

Frank pushes himself harder than he has in a long ass time. It's at the halfway point in the show and he's been good. His nervous brain has switched off as the roll into 'Prison', Gerard saunters over and wraps his arm around his neck and runs his hand down his chest as he sings. The song shifts to a chord change before Frank can pull away, Gerard licks up his cheek and shoves him away. Frank approaches the speakers, uses his foot to lift himself higher, and jumps back almost falling as he hits cords that roll slightly. 

He does his best to not interact with Gerard but it's hard. The adrenaline and his need for contact drive him to play along with the game. Until the set rolls into the encore. He leaves the stage, soaked and tired. They have one song left as he swallows down as much water as he can. He scans the backstage area for Brock before running back to the stage for the final song. A rush of emotions hits him as Ray gives him a huge smile. It's not like he's never seeing them again. Even if the band replaces him, Ray can come visit him and Brock. The lyrics hit a little too close to home as the final chords are played. He takes off the guitar as he leaves the backstage area wrapping Ray in a hug before taking off. He slips past the greenroom and goes out to the buses looking for Brock. 

Sitting facing the road with its engine running is the black Lamborghini. The top is down and Jack is at the wheel. Leaning against the trunk with all of their things packed inside is Brock wearing the widest grin ever. He opens his arms.

Frank books it from the door towards Brock. He's not a runner but he wants to get the fuck out of there. Seconds before he is to him, he jumps into his arms and wraps himself around Brock. He kisses him hard, pushing his fingers into Brock's hair. 

Ok, Brock's not one for chick flick movie moments but this one was pretty damn perfect and exactly what he wanted to happen. The nearly three hours felt like a lifetime ago. Packing up their things took the majority of his time but it still wasn't enough to keep him distracted from missing Frankie. It doesn't matter anymore. He's in his arms now, right where he belongs. He deepens the kiss, uncaring about the guitar digging into him or the fact that Frank's soaked with sweat. Jack clears his throat, loudly and revved the engine. They were on a time crunch if they wanted to put a serious dent in the distance between them and this asshole that was ruining his brothers' lives. Brock laughs into the kiss and moves to sit them into the backseat, never letting his Frankie go. As soon as the door closes and they are situated, Jack floors the car like a race car driver.


	9. The Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are our own. We are still looking for a beta.

Frank touches Jack's shoulder as they speed back to New York, "Thank you." He lifts the guitar over his head and rests it in the passenger next to him.

"Anything for my brothers," Jack calls over his shoulder. "It's not often I get to drive the Lambo so, I suppose I should be thanking you. Though if you two are going to get hot and heavy back there, let me know. I brought headphones." 

"Military-grade?" Brock asks. 

"You didn't happen to bring a shirt for me to change into did you, babe?" Frank asks, smiling at Brock. "Jack, we can behave until we get home." 

Yeah, that's debatable. The white shirt was nearly see-through where Frank's sweat made it cling to his body. Hints of ink shown through the fabric. His hair was dripping and plastered to his head only adding to the sheen of moisture across his skin. Brock wanted to lick every inch of him clean. Then get him filthy dirty again. Thoughts of him moving and dancing on the stage soaking wet like this enter his head and make his pants tight. He needs him now. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and he bites down to keep from utterly ravishing him here and now. His brother has seen and heard worse. And he brought headphones.

Frank leans in, "Are we gonna be good?" He smiles wide before kissing him. He feels kinda gross but the way Brock is staring him down makes him think otherwise. He realizes as soon as they hit the freeway that he never told anyone. He should email someone from the label and maybe text Ray. He keeps the panic in.

"Hell no," Brock says before surging forward and kissing him hard, one hand going to his waist and the other wrapping around his head to push him closer.

Frank moans against his lips at the feeling of his hand at his waist. Grabbing his shirt and pulling it up to touch his skin, his legs straddle Brock's lap. If this was going to happen, it needs to be sooner than later. _Sorry, Jack._

"Guess I'll just push a few buttons then," Jack mutters to himself. The top of the convertible raises the moment he's at a spot of heavy traffic and he turns up the volume of the music just a little. The front windows roll down to create a cross breeze and he settles down to actively ignore the two lovers in his backseat. One headphone goes in before being discarded. It's not like he hasn't seen or heard, or hell, done worse and he needs to be able to hear if there were EMS on the road.

Brock moans into the kiss and shifts so he's pressing their lengths together. Hands claw at Frankie's pants, trying to pull him closer. Breaking the kiss for air allows him to finally lick up his neck to his jawline, nipping in all the places he's come to know that will turn his boy into a hot and heady mess.

"Fuck, I need you, baby," he groans against his throat.

"I need you to fuck me," Frank growls, enjoying the nips and Brock's hands on his body. It is the adrenaline that is making him want this in front of Jack but he doesn't question it as he works his fingers to pull at the button on his pants.

Brock's hands roam over the soaked white shirt. He surprisingly likes the look. It’s teasing him. He might just keep it on while Frank rides him. It kind of hints at what he would look like on the stage, all soaked with sweat and screaming into the mic. Coming hard in his pants. Yeah, the shirt and tie might be staying for a bit. His hands instead shift down to grab Frankie’s pants button and easily undoes it and the zipper, shoving a hand inside to grab and feel just how hard he is. 

Frank groans at his touch. His hips lifting a little to encourage him more. "Please, fuck me." 

“I’ve got you, baby. Gonna take very good care of you.” Brock pushes his hands into Frank’s pants and shoves down the fabric. It was more than awkward, it is damn near impossible. An idea occurs and he gently shoves Frankie back a little just so he can pull his pants down further. Stupid clothes. He huffs in frustration as he lifts his own hips and pulls his own pants down to his knees. Adding insult to injury, he had to thread his legs through Frankie’s just so he would have access to his perfect ass and face him. Fuckit. He yanks Frank’s pants over his shoes and off, that way his boy can actually sit properly and not be restrained by stupid fucking pants and stupid fucking underwear. What a way to ruin the sexy moment. 

Frank can't help but giggle a little at the awkwardness of the moment. He kisses Brock and wraps his hands around his neck, pushing his hips a little closer to him. He's trying to bring himself back around to sexy. He pulls a hand away to take his tie off as the other hand grips his skin. 

“Do you need lube back there,” Jack’s voice cuts through the silence.

Frank laughs as he stills his hips. His head rests on his neck and kisses his skin. _Damn it, Jack._

“Damn it Jack you cockblocking sonofabitch yes I want lube gimme,” Brock breaths out the words in one rush of breath. 

“Okay,” Jack chuckles to himself. He didn’t mean to but that was just too funny. He grabs the lube he knows his brother keeps in the small console compartment and tosses it over his shoulder. “I just wanted to help that’s all. You seemed to be having a bit of a problem. Sorry to interrupt.”

“I hate you,” Brock says as he grabs the little bottle no bigger than a travel-sized hand sanitizer. It’s what it was at one point, before Brock used it up, cleaned it out and switched out the contents. How unfair it was that all these interruptions were ruining the hot and frantic sex they should have already been having. Dammit all to hell and back.

Frank chooses to ignore both of them. Instead, he rolls his hips against Brock. He continues to kiss and carefully nip along his neck, moving towards his ear. "Stop talking and fuck me please!" He whispers in Brock's ear, he adds a little whine to his voice, knowing that Brock loves him needy. 

Brock groans. A shiver runs through him at the words and straight down to his cock. His thumb flips open the cap on the lube and coats two of his fingers, teasing and inserting them both in Frankie, giving them several pumps and adding a corkscrew twist motion.

"Oh shit!" Frank hisses into Brock's neck. His hips push back into his hand. The twisting of his fingers sends electricity through his veins. He can't help the whine that comes out.

“That’s right baby,” Brock whispers, increasing the thrusts of his fingers. “Gimme those needy whines. Gets me so fucking hard. Wanna watch you bounce on my dick.”

"Oh fuck!" Frank whines quietly as he clenches around his fingers and rolls his hips trying to match the speed of Brock's fingers, "I need you inside of me. Please!" 

Sliding his fingers out with a moan at his boy’s perfect words, Brock quickly squeezes a generous amount of lube on his aching length, stroking himself to make sure he’s coated. The hand on Frankie’s hip urges him forward and down, his own hips arching up. His head tips back, a long drawn out moan escapes at the feeling of Frankie sinking down on him. “Shit, Frankie. God, you feel so good.”

Frank arches his back slightly and lets out a loud moan. This is what he wants, what he needs. He lifts his hips just a little to get the right angle before leaning forward and kissing Brock. "Your cock is fucking perfect," he whispers as he pulls back and begins to pull the shirt off.

Jack takes the back roads back to their building to minimize their chances of a cop car spotting his back seat passengers engaging in illicit activities. The last thing they need is to be pulled over while his brother was caught up in the throes of passion. Not to mention that he feels bad that he accidentally cockblocked his brother so he wants to draw out their road trip for a long as possible. He didn't want his big brother to hate him if they didn't finish.

Brock growls and puts out his left hand to stop Frank from taking off the shirt. He's not ready for that just yet. His right hand's fingers dig into Frankie's thigh and urge him to move, "Don't. Ride me." 

Frank grins with an evil glimmer in his eyes. "Touch me," he moans as he lifts his hips and slowly eases himself back down. Then repeats his rises and falls, letting out a small groan. 

"Fuck yeah," Brock pants out, left hand moving from his chest to grip his hip hard, helping him ride. His right wraps around Frankie's dick, weeping with precum. The pad of his thumb swipes across the pearly bead and spreads it around his cockhead. Shifting his grip for better traction, he adds a little bit of lube before stroking him to the rise and fall of Frankie's movements.

"Oh my god!" Frank cries out at the grip on his cock. He picks up speed as he leans forward, a hand gripping the headrest. He whines as he fucks into Brock's hand. He finds the right rhythm and sticks with it. He forgets about Jack for a moment, "I love your huge fucking cock! God, I need you to come inside me!" He whines then kisses Brock's lips as he clenches around his cock. His body is tightening the faster he rode Brock. 

Holy fuck this was so hot. He's close with the way Frankie's perfect body rides him hard and fast. Both of his hands grip the back of Frankie's thighs tightly, using his strength to take over a little and force Frankie down faster and harder in a way that he probably couldn't do in a small space. He snarls as he raises his own hips and fucks Frankie down, "Touch yourself." 

"Oh fuck. Oh please!" Frank cries out as an electrified pressure hits his low stomach. He was going to come from the increased speed and the pressure on his legs. His hand grabs his cock and starts stroking fast to keep up with Brock. "I'm gonna come. Baby. Please!" He begs as he tightens down harder around Brock.

"Come for me, baby. Wanna watch you come," he grits out through clenched teeth. He's gonna blow the moment Frankie tightens hard around him. 

The words force a surge in his body that caused him to jerk and lose the pace with Brock. "Oh fuck!" Frank cries out as he comes. His hips jerk again as he relaxes and clenches around Brock. One hand buries into his hair as he slowly strokes himself riding out his orgasm as he quietly whines.

Brock forces Frankie down a few more times, fucking him through his boyfriend's orgasm and causing his own. He comes with a cry of Frankie's name, stilling them both and panting hard. "Jesus baby. God, I love you." 

"I love you too!" Frank whispers into Brock's neck. Placing soft kisses as he strokes the back of his head with his fingertips. Once his breathing slows as he realizes the only sound was Brock and him breathing hard and the music was gone.

Brock wraps his arms around Frankie, totally ready for cuddles and a nap. He nuzzles his scorpion and peppers him with kisses. He mouths at the tattoo, sucking gently, "Look so good in this shirt. Thanks for keeping it on." 

"Oh, you like the shirt?" Frank grins against his skin. He loves the attention Brock pays to the scorpion. He relaxes against Brock's chest, his fingers still pushing through his hair. "Thank you for picking me up." 

"Mmm, my pleasure. Always," Brock kisses him. "We should start getting cleaned up. I think both of our shirts have your cum on them. And–" He looks around and realizes they've stopped moving. 

"Baby?" Frank touches his face. He looks around the car, realizing that Jack is gone. "Where's your brother?" His face turns bright red at remembering that Jack heard them. 

"When did we get home?" Brock asks incredulously. He doesn't remember most of the trip but that's okay. He was preoccupied with something more important. "Okay then. Guess Jack is upstairs. Now we get to put pants on and do the awkward walk of shame. While carrying bags. Fantastic. Jackasshole."

"Did… did you want him to wait in the car while we finished?" Frank asks, trying to keep a smile hidden.

"Well," Brock sputters. "No? But like. He could've… stayed and kept watch or _something_?"

"He could have said something?" Frank offers. He holds his chin and kisses him. 

"Yes!" Brock pouts into his lips. "Jackasshole. He'd better at least be upstairs and doing what I asked him to do. Jerk."

"What you _asked_ him to do?" 

"Yep. I asked him to work on our small Alan problem. Him and Brooke. As a backup plan. They are _very_ much excited and onboard."

"Oh. Really?!" Frank replies with a big smile. "Like this is all _legal-ish_?" 

"Totally legal, promise. Okay, some of it might be legal adjacent when it comes to gathering information but nothing major." Brock gently shifts Frankie off of him and onto the seat next to him, moving the guitar over. Leaning over he pulls up his pants and adjusts his shirt as best as he can.

Frank pulls his jeans on, shimmying his hips to pull them up before zipping them. His underwear was somewhere under Brock's feet or the seat. He was thankful that he was short, it allowed for a little more room to move in the tiny backseat.

Brock gets out and goes around to the trunk, opening it and pulling out their bags. He grabs most of what he can and waits for Frank to join him for the rest. They both need to go upstairs, shower, and go to bed. And deal with the aftermath of what he's sure is all hell breaking loose with the band members. Frank slings the guitar over his back and begins pulling out the bags and nods at Brock. He sets a bag down and closes the trunk. "Ready?" He smiles up at Brock. He's ready for a shower and sleep. And water… not in that order.

After a quick trip upstairs, Brock and Frankie enter their apartment and unload the bags on whatever available surface they could, too exhausted to care at the moment. Brock strips down nearly the moment his hands are free from their belongings and approaches Frankie from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist with the intention of coaxing him into a shower, food, and sleep.

"Have you checked your phone yet?" He asks, resting his chin on Frank's shoulder. "I'm sure there's some backlash. Probably should send out a mass text with a simple 'I quit' so they don't think I've actually kidnapped you and call the cops. Then come shower with me."

"I haven't checked yet." Frank pauses and looks around for his bag, "I didn't think about them calling me in as missing."

"Two people with a bit of power hate me right now. All either one of them has to do is pick up a phone and call it in as a kidnapping. Not to mention I'm not naturally a passive person so they will have evidence to back up that I've been making threats and such." Brock sighs and kisses Frank's neck. "You might have to call the big boss personally and tell them just to cut off any retaliation Alan and Gerard can make."

"I need my backpack." Frank feels a little sick at the idea of those two doing some dumb shit like that. He pulls his phone out and turns to look at Brock. "I have 15 texts and 9 calls. And emails." 

He figured it was bad, but somehow he was still surprised at the amount of missed messages. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm going to be honest here, I intended to have you notify everybody when we were in the car but, uh, yeah, that didn't happen. So this is on me. I'm sorry."

"How is it your fault, silly? I'm the one who left. You're just my getaway driver." Frank reads the messages from Ray, who was concerned. 

"The plan was to let them know as we were driving away. Instead, I got distracted and jumped you. This amount of worry and concern is on me." 

"I got this baby." Frank looks up and smiles warmly. "Most of the messages are concerned… oh." He reads over a message from Alan and frowns. He closes out the messages, sending out a mass "I can't do this. Something needs to change or I can't be in the band," message. 

"I got called a fag twice." He looks up and raises an eyebrow at Brock. He quickly composes an email to the label representative and the band's lawyer. "I think I am covered for now. Can we shower and snuggle?"

He sets his phone on the counter and grabs Brock's hand and pulls him into the bathroom. He strips himself as soon as they hit the bathroom door and pulls Brock into the shower with him. "I need you." 

Oh, how he loved to hear those words. They carried such a myriad of meanings behind them, like a hundred flavors of ice cream. Brock savored each one. Though he had a few favorites. The way Frankie would whine or moan those words, voice wracked with lust and borderline begging always gave him gooseflesh and the need to satisfy and claim. There was the "I need you to hold me", which always brought his domestic side. He knew he was more than a little touch starved so he reveled in any chance he could get to hold Frankie close, especially if there was skin contact. Wrapping his arms around Frank's waist, he pulled him into a gentle but firm kiss. Hands caressed and roamed his skin. He could never get enough of him. The shower spray beat down on them both, its pressure unforgiving.

If it were safe and practical, Frank would want Brock to carry him. But he will take what he can get, wrapping his arm around Brock. He had fallen in love with someone who turned him into a needy little monster. Needing to be touched was something still new to him but not something he was going to give up anytime soon. 

As much as Brock wanted to keep standing in the shower and hold Frankie, they need to get clean. The night was barely just beginning but it has already been taxing. He still wants to check in with his siblings and they need to eat before going to bed. With a reluctant sigh, he pulls away. There would be plenty of time to cuddle after supper.

"What do you want for dinner," he asked as he ran a soapy cloth over them both. 

"Something easy. And little effort." Frank looks up at Brock, taking the cloth from his hand and wrapping it around Brock's cock, giving him a few strokes and then himself before handing the cloth back to him, "Possibly something takeout?" 

"I was thinking of delivery. Pizza? Chinese? Burgers?" He finishes up bathing and quickly washes his hair.

"Chinese, you, and the couch sounds like a plan to me"

"Perfect." 

"Did you want me to order food while you check in with your siblings?" He glances up after rinsing his head. He was trying to ignore the nagging the back that was telling him that the band didn't want him or did Brock. That he needs to apologize for everything.

"It might be a shit show the next couple days. And I'm really sorry. In advance." Frank blurts letting his fear and worry win. 

Brock raises an eyebrow as he rinses. "What are you worried about exactly? What do you think or know will happen?"

"I'm going to be getting more phone calls. I'm sure l have to go in for meetings. Thankfully the band doesn't know where you live because they'd probably just show up." Frank sighs. He also knows he is going to be stressed. He's gonna bottle it up and it's going to either turn into tears or he'll pick a fight. 

"If I didn't think it would cause a fight and ruin my sanctuary, I would invite them over for a discussion. However, I want you to know that I am here and will be with you always through this whole thing. _We_ have lawyers if this is going to be taken that far."

"I just have to be clear and take away emotions when I talk to any of them. I'll probably write out something that I can follow along. Not a list of demands but a _list of demands._ " He replies with the idea rolling around in his head but landing back to one thing that stuck out, "We?" 

"Everything is a _'we'_ , sweetheart. Yes. We. I've got your back. Especially since this was my idea," He grins as he steps out of the shower and begins to dry off. He hands a fluffy towel to Frankie as well.

" _Just marry me already,_ " He mumbles as he takes the towel, feeling himself giving the man heart eyes. "I would feel bad using your lawyers. Since I'm just your boyfriend, I don't want to feel like others in your past…" he refuses to speak the one shithead's name.

"And you are a thousand times the man any of them could ever hope to be," Brock goes over and hugs him, kissing him lightly. "I love you." 

"I love you too," Frank replies as he ties the towel around his waist and opens the dresser for comfortable pants to wear. He should invest in some nicer things to wear here. Not that Brock cares but maybe a few more new items like less hole-y things. Maybe he'll shop online when he wakes up at 4 a.m. "I know I'm better than them. I mean look at me, I'm damn adorable. And not." He stops. _Be mature._

"A white trash sugar baby?" Brock grins. Yeah he's got a little bit of bitterness over his previous partners just because they had hurt him but he's so thankful they are things of the past and he's moved on. He slips on sweatpants, forgoing underwear, and grabs his cell phone to call Brooke and order food.

"Yes, but I was thinking dumpster fire humans." Frank snorts, "Or the human equivalent to stepping on a Lego." 

"I see no difference," he chuckles.

"Before she answers, what do you want for food?" He asks, "I can always go pick it up. The restaurant is like five blocks away."

"Probably Lo Mein. Or whatever, I'm not really picky right now. But get it delivered. Unless you want the walk." Brock sits on the couch and gets ready to call Brooke.

Frank smiles and kisses his cheek. "I'll take care of you." He hesitates on the idea of walking, his overly cinematic brain thinking something will happen if he leaves, "I can give you some sister time?" 

"What about my constant need of Frankie cuddle time?" Brock grins up at him. "If you want to go, go. Enjoy the walk. Or take my car. But I was thinking we could sit and cuddle and talk over the next steps and plans. You could say hello to Brooke if you wanted. I'm good with whatever you want, _tesoro_."

"Well, I'd be a fuckin monster if I chose to leave now. I need my big teddy bear time." He teases as he sits beside Brock, "I can order the food here and get as much _you_ time as I can just in case things change. Also, I _refuse_ to be responsible for that car without you present. _Hell no._ " He adds before turning his phone on. He frowns at the number of messages he has. Not now, he's going to get them food. He orders the food online and gets comfortable on the couch. Encouraging Brock back into him because he knows B loves his head rubbed and Frank likes the weight on him. He takes a deep breath and opens his messages while Brock babbles to his sister in Italian.

He's got three messages from each guy and about six from Alan.

_Ray: Dude, don't quit!_

_Ray: You can't quit! We're supposed to have each other's backs! How can I do that if you're not here?!_

_Ray: Frank, just call me. Please, dude._

He'll call Ray later. Instead, he sends him a quick, 'I'll call you' with a rat emoji.

_Bob: Are you for real? Like you're done?_

_Bob: dude, it's a shit show on the bus_

_Bob: Alan was going to report you a missing person but you blew it for him. He is PISSED!_

Frank doesn't need to respond to anything there and moves on to Gerard.

_Gerard: Very mature, Frank. Can't use your words to talk about this. You just fucking run?! Cool._

_Gerard: it's fine. Thought that we were friends. It's that stupid Guido getting in your head. Things are not so bad that you have to bolt._

_Gerard: You really are ignoring us? This is a bad look, Frank. Fucking call me, Christ._

_Gerard: I know I've been kinda awful to you. I know that I have pushed my boundaries. You're one of my best friends and this band needs you. I need you. Even if it means you bring Brock with you. Please just call me. We can figure this out._

"Wow." Frank says softly as his fingers stop moving in Brock's hair. 

Brock stops speaking with Brooke and tilts his head up, asking him what was going on in Italian before shaking his head. Oops. "What's up?" 

"Sorry." Frank replies as he strokes his cheek, "Gerard kinda apologized." 

_Mike: Dude you are the ultimate damn troll. This whole bus is in chaos mode._

"Wow. I'm surprised," Brock mutters in awe.

_Mike: But like please don't quit. We can all get Alan fired if we try as a team. I have evidence of him doing drugs on the bus. You can use that..._

"Mike has evidence of Alan's activities too. Apparently." Frank quietly offers trying not to interrupt the streams of Italian. He could only understand his name and the names of the others.

"Perfect. We'll use that," Brock says before slipping back into Italian and telling his sister the updates. Even though she speaks perfect English, it was just easier for them.

Frank hesitates again at Alan's name. He already can feel how much it will hurt to read the words.

_Alan: I hope you know that you are a piece of shit for doing this to your friends. That big meathead will leave you when he gets bored and you will have no one. Nothing._

_Alan: Answer your fucking phone you little faggot piece of shit._

_Alan: Say goodbye to your shitty little music career you fucking idiot. Literally ruining your one shot at not being the dirty street kid you truly are, Iero._

_Alan: You know that he will tire of you right. I mean once you teach him how to write and not be afraid of fire, he won't have a use for you. Guess you'll suck dick for money to get by._

_Alan: The band doesn't need your faggot ass. You are talentless and more worthless than an 80-year-old whore. Maybe you should just end it all, but this time not chicken out._

_Alan: you have a meeting with label executives tomorrow at 9 A.M. If you do not show this will be considered a breach of contract and they will take legal action against you for lost wages._ **__**_Go ahead and bring your neanderthal protection, they want him there too. Try not to fuck him on the table in front of them… we are trying to maintain a level of professionalism for the band._

Frank groans. Then sighs. The words shouldn't hurt but they do. He leans forward and kisses Brock's forehead. 'Don't let it get to you' he repeats in his head. He rests his phone on Brock's chest to rub his eyes for a moment. He should have just taken the abuse. 

Brock takes his phone off his chest and looks at the text messages from Alan. His expression changes from neutral to one of pissed off. He screenshots all of the text messages and sends them directly to his phone and then to Brooke's.

He watches Brock work quickly to get the messages sent then listens to the tone of his voice change. It's angry Italian. His instinct to apologize takes over before he can stop it. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He's tired. He can feel the tears fighting to come out. He hates that Brock is brought into it now. He takes his phone back as another message buzzes in. He checks and sees it from Alan. He frowns hard at the words.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Alan: Should have punched that prick when I had the chance. Maybe I'll call a friend in the city and have them handle my problem._

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank replies with _enough_ , to Alan. He realizes it might be starting something but he doesn't need to have Brock losing his cool. He hands the phone over to Brock and rubs his scalp making small circles with his fingertips.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock snorts and sends a screenshot of that to Brooke as well with a few laughing emojis and the words _What a joke_. "Good luck with that, fucker." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm glad you find it funny." Frank takes a deep breath. He places his phone to the side, as it chimes with the announcement of their food's arrival. "Sit up, love. I'll be right back. Tell your sister hi." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock laughs and scoots over so Frankie can get up. Wiggling to the other side of the couch he laughs and tells Brooke what Frankie said. "She wants to know why you _don't_ think it's funny?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank returns with the food. "Because I don't like him threatening my boyfriend. Also I'm not sure if it's a real threat or not… just tell her I'm a worrier." He says as he sets the food on the coffee table. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You guys aren't even concerned..." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nope," Brock switched the phone to speaker and set it down between them so they could eat and chat. "Tell her yourself, love. You're on speaker. We're eating Chinese."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He looks up at Brock with a slight look of concern. He looks at the phone and makes a face. "Uh, hey." _Nice Frank, let's be awkward to his sister the first time you speak to her. Great impression!_

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Hello Frank, nice to unofficially meet you," Brooke said from the speaker, a smile in her rich, slightly husky, voice.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nice to meet you too, Brooke! So yeah, I am a little worried. He is a scumbag and his threat could be real. I also don't like that he threatened Brock, just in general."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I highly doubt his threat is for real. This 'friend in the city' could be a true friend or as far as a hired Hitman. Having already seen his finances, he really can't afford one so we can rule that out. Guy's a big spender. Tends to blow the money as soon as it comes in. No surprise there considering he's a drug user. Next step down would be the local gangs. Now, my brother is one of the top men in your States and I trust that he would win in a fight against some low life gang members. Unless Mr. Turner is affiliated with the mob, which again I highly doubt but I could cross check that; they wouldn't dare touch him simply because of us. So no, Frank. We aren't worried. And neither should you, future _cognato_." Brooke paused to let him respond.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I guess… what did you call me?" He chuckles nervously, looking to Brock as he glances back to the phone. "I can hear Brock's words but in your voice, must be a family trait."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"He learned from the best, yes. And I called you _cognato_. Future brother-in-law," she replied warmly.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank looks up at Brock with a small smile. _What has he been telling her?_

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"So you got into the records, then?" Brock asked, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Were you temporarily deafened by the sound of you slurping your food? Of course. Why do you doubt me?" Brooke huffs in irritation.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh I can see why she is the better twin..." Frank teases with a grin before leaning forward and wiping Brock's chin. The future brother-in-law thing clinging to the back of his head, "How much is he taking from the band? Can you tell?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I don't doubt so much as I enjoy bugging you, _sorella_ ," Brock snickered.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brooke lets out a string of rapid Italian filled with insults that make Brock laugh. After a moment, she answers Frank, "Since I do not know what he _should_ be making no, sorry. However I can tell you that from his career with your label alone, he is grossing a little over seventy three thousand dollars a year."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I want him audited by the IRS. And I want to see the band's finances," Brock says.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I can arrange that," she replied.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank has a million and one questions. "Apparently, I am making less than a waitress so I would like to know at some point. Thank you for doing this." Frank glances over at Brock and shakes his head as he chows down on the entree. "Has he told you _everything_?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Depends on what you are referring to. I know most of what's going on in regards to this issue, yes." She sounded confused. "What's your concern?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nothing specific. I mean I worry about everything. So, what's new." Frank rambles a little then looks across to Brock before eating. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock picks up his phone and minimizes his sister's phone call, still keeping her on. He does a quick Google search of what the average tour manager made per year.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You know... there's a pill for that," she gently teases. "But I hear there's some great holistic methods to reducing anxiety if you'd rather go that way."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh it's much easier to bottle it up and never deal with my emotions." Frank replies quickly making the truth sound like a job. "Much to my boyfriend's displeasure." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I understand his dislike. It's not healthy or conducive to a flourishing relationship."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Hey _,_ the Google says the average wage for tour managers is around forty to forty-three thousand a year. Without knowing his exact amount he's supposed to be getting, we really can't calculate variables like pay raises and if he negotiated a higher base due to experience. Either way, there's a disconnect. It's far too high," Brock grumbles.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Baby, it's just google. Not the google." Frank places his food down, leans across the couch and kisses Brock. He's too damn adorable. "It's too bad we can't just get a hold of the label and talk to the accounting department to find out his information." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"He thinks he's being funny," Brooke says. "How do you think I got his bank account information? He didn't exactly give it to me willingly. I could access the accounting department records but I think it would just be better to have Brock as his replacement. It's better to have him fired for other reasons and then bring to light his financial theft from you guys instead of using semi-legal routes that won't hold up well in court."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Aw he is funny. But you want to be my boss?" Frank snickers, "And you said you weren't a switch." He enjoys his joke then adds, "My bandmate said he has proof of the drug use on the bus. Not sure if that helps." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Every shred of evidence that you have that can be used to put this man behind bars is perfect. At the very least we want him fired. Your text messages are a great example of verbal abuse. Brock has mentioned there's been some physical as well and I'm sorry."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank looks at him with a small tilt. "Physical?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I told her about your shoulder. I don't know if there's ever been more and I hope not." Brock opens his fortune cookie and eats it.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nothing I can prove." Frank's voice turns cold, "You can go back in the messages from Alan as well. He's a _charming_ human." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nothing… you…" Brock stills and looks at him, cold fire burning in brown eyes. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"As hard as it will be, you will need to speak to both the label, or whomever has hired Mr. Turner, and our lawyers about all of the incidents that have happened between yourself and him. Regardless of what the label does, I am prepared to sue for theft of wages and abuse on an employee," Brooke's voice was hard.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"The relationship between him and I had always been like this B. He has always picked me because I wouldn't let him pick on Mike." Frank scoots closer and touches him, "Better me than him." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Well. We play our cards right and he will be a ruined man when I am through with him. Nobody messes with our own. Regardless, he will never hurt you again, _cognato_ ," Brooke reassures.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I appreciate you for being willing to help. I truly don't deserve you both. Thank you Brooke." Frank smiles at the ' _our own'_ statement _._ He holds in the rest of his thoughts of doubt and his feeling unworthy of Brock.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You are most welcome," she laughs a little. "If you are really worried, you can just pay me back by coming to visit. I'd love to meet you face to face. Otherwise, take this as it is: you're family now. Jack has told me wonderful things. As has Brock, though with his track record, Jack's assessments hold more weight."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I will absolutely come visit with Brock." Frank's voice gets soft with a silly smile, "I have to meet the better half to my best half." He didn't fully realize that Jack liked him. He likes Jack. He's an awesome guy, he's got good taste in music.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Our home is always open for you and those closest to you. Mother and father will be excited to meet you as soon as Brock gets the courage to tell them, the lazy ass."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm not being lazy. I just got a lot of other things on my mind that are far more important, that's all. I might do it after this whole mess with Turner goes away," says Brock rather absently as he reads his fortune cookie.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"My parents know about you." Frank adds, "At this rate, you'll probably end up meeting me on our wedding day." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brooke laughs, "I can assure you that will not happen. Even if I have to come rescue you myself from his bed, I will. Besides, we have a little bit of tradition to do before you two can get hitched."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Gotcha. I'll make sure to keep on him to take me _home_ then." Frank raises an eyebrow curious about the traditions that they have. "You can kidnap or rescue me any time Brooke. He does have quite the gravitational pull."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Well this will put a halt on your tour," Brooke trails off suggestively.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I don't think this will last but a day or two and that's not enough time," comments Brock, putting all of his trash into the kitchen.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Unless they don't want me back." His voice loses the brightness it had seconds before. The idea of not being welcomed back hurts a little more than he expected. He realizes he's hardly touched his food and hopes that B didn't notice. He already worries too much. "But I suppose, it's a waiting game."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You already have text messages from the band asking you to come back. Hell, you even said Gerard apologized, _tesoro_. There's no way they _don't_ want you back." Brock returns and sits next to Frankie, picking up the phone and giving him a look at how much he hadn't eaten. For now, he ignores it.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Are you coming with me tomorrow to the meeting with the label? I'm not sure what I need to say or bring." He feels himself slip a little, letting the fear and worry push out of him a little more, "What the hell do I wear? I can't look like...uh, how I normally dress, right?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Relax, _tesoro._ Of course I'll come with you. We'll do this together. One thing at a time, okay?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Sorry. Sorry." He says quietly as he bites his cheek.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock leans over and plants a soft kiss on his cheek, "It's okay, _tesoro_." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm not even there and I can feel my teeth rotting," Brooke giggles. "It's very cute you call him _tesoro,_ Brock. It's fitting from what you've told me."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"He's a cute and perfect man," Brock grins.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Far from perfect my love. Yeah Brooke, he's got a few names for me. I assume you have heard them." Frank sighs, "I have nothing besides babe." He pushes some chicken around in his container. His appetite has disappeared.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock gently nudges Frank a little and points at the food, silently telling him to eat. After a moment Brooke responds, "Would you like me to give you one that I think you will like and is used for long established couples?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He glances at Brock, "Yeah. That would be great!" He takes a bite of chicken to keep Brock at bay. "I'm eating. Relax, Brock.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"He does tend to mother hen, doesn't he? Gets it from our mother. Now, you can call him _polpetto,_ " she says slowly and carefully so that he can pronounce it correctly.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

" _Polpetto_?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock flushes a little and hides his face in one of his hands, groaning. Of course, she had to give that one. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

" _Polpetto_?" Frank repeats, "What does it mean?" He watches Brock's reaction with a small smile. _Is he embarrassed?_

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brooke laughs. "Brock is probably blushing isn't he?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"He is." Frank's reply is quiet like he is trying not to disturb a sleeping child. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It doesn't translate exactly into English but it's a derivative of _polpetta_ which means 'meatball'. It's a _very_ intimate term. Which is why he's blushing."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh?" Frank pushes his brows together. That's not embarrassing… What am I missing? He tilts his head. He is going to save that in his back pocket for the right time, "I do enjoy seeing him blush. Thanks Brooke!" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You're welcome! I hate to cut this short but it's nearly 7am and I need to prepare for work. Keep me informed. I'll text you two later, okay? Love you Brock."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank stands hoping to not rouse much attention as he carefully moves to the kitchen to throw his food away and wash his hands. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yeah will do. Love you _, sorella_ ," Brock says.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Bye Brooke! Have a great day!" He raises his voice a little. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Thanks Frank! Sleep well," Brooke says before disconnecting.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank pauses from the kitchen and stares at Brock for a moment. He wonders if he misses her. Home. What is he like at home? He frowns a little as he unintentionally made himself sad. "She's sweet." He returns to the couch and sits next to him.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Don't be fooled. She's a firecracker if you piss her off enough. She can be more of a hot head than me sometimes. Ruthless too. But awesome," Brock wraps his arms around Frankie.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"She had to put up with you and Jack. Of course she is a tough cookie." He leans back into Brock. "I was a little surprised though." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh? Why is that?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I just wasn't expecting her to be that warm towards me," Frank says, smiling to himself as he snuggles down and kisses his arm, "also I need to see you blush more, my love." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock groaned and tilted his head back a little. Dammit, Brooke. Why. Why did she hate him so much? He could feel his face heating up again. "Noooo." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank turns to face him, straddling his thighs, "Huh, I get why you like seeing me blush..." He leans in and kisses him. He didn't understand why he was so blushy over it. "I won't call you that, if you don't want me to." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It's not that. It's just. It's a very intimate thing to say." Brock's blush deepens.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Please don't think I am mocking or being a dick but _how_?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You're not. Yeah it means meatball. But it's… it's for lovers. Boyfriends. It's not for casual couples either or something for new relationships," Brock struggles to try to explain the level of intimacy.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It's for couples like your parents?" Frank offers, he has a weird feeling that he should not use the term.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yeah. They could but if they do I've never heard my mom say it," Brock gets an idea. "Your parents; have they been married for a long time? Do they have little pet names for each other? Cause it's like that."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Ok. I think I understand." Frank nods. He won't be using it. He's not earned it. Not yet. Despite how he may feel.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It's for marrieds. You using it for me implies that we're married and already at that deeper level of intimacy. Like you calling me your husband," Brock smiles, even though he's as red as a blushing bride.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Gotcha." Frank replies. "I still like you in red." He pushes back in his head the voices that are slowly deflating his balloon. He shifts himself off Brock's legs and moves across the couch again. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yeah, so. There's that," he smiles at Frankie. It felt weird in a good way to hear Frankie call him _polpetto_. Made him feel like a virgin teenage girl being courted.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm not sure if you could handle that name being used. You might explode into butterflies." Frank teases.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That obvious huh? Guess that means we'll just have to practice." Brock sits forward and leans over to kiss him.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"It's very obvious. A blind guy can tell." Frank smirks, "Practice, baby I didn't bring a butterfly net. If you don't want me to call you _polpetto,_ I won't." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Why wouldn't I?" Brock is so confused. It's for serious and committed couples. They were, right?

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Because your reaction is _mixed?_ And I'm not sure if I'm allowed or not?" Frank touches his face, "you're being confusing." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock kisses the inner part of Frankie's wrist. "I'm sorry. I'm not meaning to. Of course you are allowed to. There's no rule saying you can't. And," he tries to wrack his brain and figure out what it is that Frankie is reading at mixed signals. "You know how you got all blushy when I first called you, well, anything? And you kind of protested to like all of them? But you secretly like it and now you don't protest anymore?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Partially true. I liked _tesoro_ from the start but I follow," Frank replied.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Nodding he continues, "Kind of like that. Except," Brock pulls Frankie into his lap and lays down on the couch armrest. He kisses him deeply before hooking one of his legs around Frank. "Except you are essentially calling me your husband."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"And this is where I'm confused. Maybe not confused. Conflicted?" Frank fights himself for pushing this, "Maybe we aren't on the same page? Or it's me."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock shrugged. "Like she said, it doesn't translate very well. You, uh, don't want me to be your husband? At some point?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"No, I do!" Frank gives him a look, "I didn't want to push it. I thought you didn't want me to because I haven't earned it."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Technically it's _your_ term for me, if anyone is earning anything it would be me earning the right to be your husband," Brock pulls him into a kiss, slow and sensual. When he pulls away to speak again, his voice is low and soft, "And I very much like that."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I like it a lot." He grins, keeping his eyes closed for a little longer before opening his eyes, "Calling you my boyfriend feels childish. I already think of you like my husband because I didn't wanna freak you out or overstep my place. I just don't say it."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's why I used to use partners; because it sounded more mature than boyfriends. Personally it doesn't matter to me. You can call me whatever you'd like," Brock pulls his head down for another kiss, this one a little needier than the last. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank responds with a soft small moan. A hand cups Brock's cheek while he kisses him back, matching the need with his own. Relief washes over him, the pent up feeling of wanting to say something and getting to washing away that anxiety. If he wasn't careful Brock would have him working through his feelings. They should go to bed but he's not willing to ruin this moment. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Breaking the soft kiss to nuzzle him, Brock sighs with contentment, murmuring, "What time is our meeting tomorrow?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Nine in the morning." Frank's reply is quiet as he strokes the back of Brock's neck with soft fingers.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Bedtime then. I've got a feeling I'm going to need to tether you to the mattress tonight," Brock says giving a lazy grin. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Pssssh, I'll be fine." Frank jokes, "I know I'll be up and down if you don't make me sleep." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sitting up and trying to keep a hold on Frankie so he didn't drop him to the floor proves to be more difficult then Brock anticipated. Yeah, he might be a little tired from the food. He manages though. He releases him with a quick kiss before getting up to throw away Frank's discarded food. He lightly teases, "You need to learn to stress eat and not stress starve, _tesoro_." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"How do you think I stay so lean?" Frank throws it back at him, getting up quickly to follow him slowly. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Genetics?" he asks, brows furrowing in thought. He actually hadn't given it much thought before. What if Frankie wasn't a twink body type due to genetics? He wants him to be healthy first and foremost. Giving him an assessing look, Brock tries to imagine him with twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty pounds extra. He's not sure if it would change his sexual appetite but he doubts it. His Frankie would still be adorable no matter his weight. "Please don't starve yourself to keep from gaining weight because you think I won't want you anymore. I love you and I'd rather you be healthy over skinny. You'll still be my Twinkie no matter if you fluff up a little."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Well I'm glad you will still love me if I put on weight." Frank raises an eyebrow, "I was kinda joking. It's mostly genetic, my mom is bird like." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I figured but it just got me thinking. You do stress starve. I just didn't want you to worry about keeping yourself a certain away just for me. It's something you would do." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"What? Me worry about something small and get hung up on it? I _don't_ do _that_!" Frank scans his face, "So what you're saying is, if I start working out and being like a normal person. You're not going to kick me out or make me sleep in the peasant closet?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock gives him a look of both amusement and playful irritation, moving to grab him, "Maybe I should. You are small enough to fit in a closet. Again." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's a bold assumption Mr. Rumlow that I have ever been closeted…" Frank moves away from him with a smile and a raised eyebrow, "I don't believe in don't ask, don't tell."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock's grinning like a goof now. He's glad Frankie picked up on the game he started. He steps a little bit closer. The opposite of what he actually would normally. He loves how his boy ignites such a youthful fire in him. Makes him feel young. Grinning, his hand reaches out to grab him again, "I only use that when I'm undercover or for other good reasons I can't think of right now. It's a tactic for me. Saved your butt, remember?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Must be that Alzheimer's kicking in." Frank replies as he steps to the side putting the kitchen island between them moving slowly, "I'm Frank. Your _boyfriend_. We're at our apartment and it's _not flying._ It's just _really_ high!" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You little shithead!" Brock laughs and darts around the island. "Come here!" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Shit." He makes a break for the living room, "Don't break a hip." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Please. You're so gangly you'd probably trip and break something before me." Brock slowly stalks towards Frankie, still playfully grinning.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I am not clumsy! I am a graceful gazelle." Frank stands in place watching Brock and his exits. He's gotta time this just right. "I have the moves of a dancer." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yeah, I have yet to see that, so that claim doesn't count," Brock inches forward a little more, smirking. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's cause you've not seen my moves yet." Frank grins as he watches Brock move closer. If he gets that coffee table between them, he can make a break for it. "Is your eyes giving out? Do you need glasses to go with that walker?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock doesn't answer. Instead, he bolts after Frankie, going around the coffee table and chasing him. Frank makes a break for the kitchen once more, hoping he can get around fast enough to pass by Brock and make it to the bedroom. He already knows that won't happen but he's gonna try. Brock can see what Frankie's going for in his eyes. The kid was projecting his thoughts and movements louder than a neon sign. He purposely goes a different direction to cut off his way towards the kitchen and herd him back towards the bedroom. Once it's a straight shot, all bets are off. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Shit. This isn't what Frank planned. He moves carefully towards the bedroom. He knows he's trapped then. He turns to face Brock as he walks backwards into the bedroom. What's gonna happen once he's caught; a list of deliciously bad things fills his head causing a wide dirty smile to emerge on his face. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock stands still and watches Frankie inch backward towards their destination. It's exactly what he wanted and he's pleased with himself. Once Frankie is roughly halfway down the hallway, Brock switches from standing still to full-on outright running hard straight for him in a flash. Frank knows that he can't compete with Brock. But he's not going to give in just yet, he runs into the bedroom and waits for the inevitable capture with a smile on his face. It doesn't take long either, Brock being pretty fast considering his bulk. Thanks to his boxer's feet, he takes the sharp turn into his bedroom nearly on a dime. With seconds later he's grabbing Frankie by the waist, his momentum making them fly into the mattress with a little bounce. He's on top and after a little shift of his body, he's effectively pinning Frankie beneath him. A predatory grin breaks out, "Gotcha." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The look on his face makes Frank's heart pump a little harder. The warmth in Brock's eyes is different, no longer welcoming and loving but something darker. It makes parts of him buzz with anticipation. He's thankful that Brock loves him or he might just be in danger. He shifts a little playing into Brock's 'prey drive', knowing fully that the squirm will work on both levels. He bites his lip and pulls the lip ring in before giving him a devilish smile. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock's tongue licks his lips subconsciously before tightening his hold on Frankie and diving forward and kissing him hard. He can feel his body reacting to both the squirm and the rolling of the lip ring. He tests the waters with a little roll of his hips.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank lets a whine escape as he pushes back into Brock. He likes this game, this needs to be a thing. He pushes against Brock's hold trying to kiss him but he can't move. "Oh no. What are you gonna do _now_?" He asks as he pushes his back into Brock.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Depends. On how bad or good you're going to be," Brock purrs.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Fuck I want to be bad…" Frank says with a smile. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"We shouldn't. You need sleep and rest for tomorrow," Brock reluctantly agrees and rolls off of him and lays next to him. He'll get up in a minute.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank lets out a frustrated sigh. If Brock was out of the room, he'd probably throw a silent tantrum. He now more than ever hates everyone. He already plans to be in a bad mood. He chooses to stay quiet and calm down before he grumbles at Brock who is innocent and only trying to take care of him. He slides off the bed and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I'm sorry, _tesoro_. We just don't have the time for me to thoroughly take you apart. You need the rest… But, I don't want to leave you wanting either. How 'bout I make it up to you?" Brock says softly.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank stops in the doorway and turns to him, "You don't have to apologize. It's not you but I am intrigued, go on?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He chuckles low and quiet. Crooking a finger in the 'come here' motion, he grins, "It's nothing fancy, doof." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank walks back with a curious smile and stands in front of him. Sitting up Brock places his hands on Frankie's waist. Gently tugging down his pants and underwear, nuzzling his hips and kissing the skin. Completely avoiding his cock for now. He's enjoying the sight and feel of Frankie's smoothness under his tongue.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank watches him closely, his legs a little tingly at his touch. His knees slightly soften. He holds his breath feeling like the slightest movement will blow him away. With careful fingers, he touches the top of Brock's head and runs fingers in his hair.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You like this?" Brock murmurs against his skin, licking and kissing his way closer to Frankie's hard length. "Want to lie down on your back? Ride my face? Or just like this, baby?"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Fuck." Frank sputters out. The choices make his knees buckle a little. He can't form the words instead he just whimpers at Brock's touch.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Choose," Brock says before licking over Frankie's cockhead. "Or I stop." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Like this!" He blurts out without thinking.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Good boy," he whispers before taking him into his mouth slowly.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank gives a small moan. He almost regrets making a split decision but rolls with it. His fingers push through Brock's hair as he watches him work. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He flattens his tongue under Frankie's cock, giving it a long and firm lick from base to tip before sucking down to his base. Fighting his gag reflex, his lips tighten their hold before he begins to suck hard as if Frankie's cock was the straw to a stubborn vanilla milkshake. A low moan escapes.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank groans loud, "Holy fuck baby. You're fucking perfect." He watches Brock work his cock, the moan sending a tremor down his spine. He inhales and focuses his attention on not coming quickly, his fingers move from his head and trail Brock's neck. "You sure you dont… wanna fuck me like a whore?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brown eyes snap up to look at him, desire evident in them. Of course, he wanted to pin Frankie to the bed and fuck him hard and fast like a whore. Several reasons crop up in his head as to why he shouldn't and a growl rumbles in his throat. He loved giving head but for him, it was always as foreplay and never the main course. Dropping his eyes he slides off of Frankie, a trail of spit following him. His tongue swirls patterns over his slit and flicks across the bulging vein.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Jesus, B." Frank inhales sharply watching Brock carefully. He touches his face as a small moan slips from his lips. He gains his composure with an exhale, "You know I like it fast and dirty like a dirty little whore." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

With a groan he pulls away, stroking Frankie lightly and licking his lips, "You tryin' to get me to change my mind?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yes, please. Fuck me please!" Frank moans as his hips push into Brock's hand. He is hit by a wave of need as Brock's hand teasingly strokes him, "I need you to fuck me fast like a filthy fucking slut." Not giving him a second to think or react, Frank closes his eyes and drops his head back, his mouth opens as he lets the rest fall. "I need your big thick cock to fill my tight ass. I wanna come on your cock, please!" Frank begs," I wanna feel you come inside of me! Please!"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock shudders at the words, goosebumps breaking out all over him. Those were the words he needed. The ones to take him from zero to sixty. His mouth falls open and a moan escapes, one of his hands moving to grasp his suddenly too hard cock. He's nearly overwhelmed by the sudden arousal. He pushes Frankie back so he can stand and shove his face down onto the bed, "Holy fuck Frankie. Shit, you have no idea what you do to me. God, you drive me wild."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Please Brock!" Frank pleads as his knees shake with excitement, "Wanna make you come."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Should fuck you dry, you little slut," Brock whispers in his ear, one hand grabbing at an ass cheek. "Make you scream for me." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh fuck, please!" Frank whines pushing back into his hand, begging, "Need to scream your name. Please fuck me hard and fast like a dirty little slut you can ruin!"

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Jesus," Brock moans. He's certain he could come from Frankie's begging alone. God, he needs him. Needs him now. Moving away for a moment, he spits on his hand and strokes himself. Getting into position, he rams himself hard into Frank's perfectly tight and hot ass. Not giving him a moment to breathe, he pounds Frankie's ass, "Fuck! Oh god!" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh fuck!" Frank shouts, his back arches as Brock shoves into him. A mix of pain and excited arousal burns through him as Brock pounds into him. Each thrust into him is fast and brutal, stabbing out cries from him. He's going to come way too quick as he whines louder grabbing the bed.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's right, fucking whore. Scream for me," Brock punches out, hips never stopping their relentless assault. His hand comes down hard, the sound of the slap loud in the air.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh my god!" Frank cries out as the hard slap makes his body jerk forward. "Please make me come!" He begs.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Blanketing his body, Brock wraps his left hand around Frank's throat and slowly tightens his hand, squeezing out the air in his lungs. His right-hand rains down a hard slap on his ass in time with his brutal thrusts. He growls out, "Come for me, slut." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pressure on his throat mixing with the hard and fast pace breaks him. A hard and heavy weight in his stomach gives way and as he comes. Fire burns through his veins as his legs struggle to stay upright. "Fuck" pushes out of his mouth but it's barely a whisper. He loves this man more than anything. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It doesn't take much longer before Brock's hips stutter. His hand around Frankie's throat tightens even more as a cry is ripped out of him, coming hard. He slumps, every muscle feeling like jelly. His hands move from Frankie's throat and ass to the bed, helping him raise up and move onto his back on the mattress. He fights for air a little, "You okay, baby? Did I hurt you too much?" 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank is trying to get his breathing under control. "I'm okay. I'm good." Fuck he's more than good. He is great. "Thank you." He leans over and kisses him. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

His hand comes up and strokes his cheek, "I love you. I should be thanking you though." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's one way to tuck me in." Frank grins wide up at him. He might be tired in the morning but it was worth it.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock can't help but chuckle at that. He wants nothing more than to sleep right now but he needs to at least clean up first. "We should shower but fuck it. It's late. I'm gonna clean up a little. Then sleep. You need to try to sleep the whole night, okay? You're going to be exhausted otherwise."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I will try." Frank folds his arms and rests his head on them. He wonders how much he moves in his sleep. He probably annoys him with how much he is up and down. He should get up but he doesn't want to just yet. "Sorry if I wake you up at night." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Getting up, Brock heads into the bathroom, "It's fine, _tesoro._ At this point, I'm used to it and it doesn't even bother me. I just crack an eye and either roll over or try to bring you closer. I think my subconscious is under the impression that if I keep you in the bed, you'll stay."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Usually if you do, I do." He replies, giving Brock a moment away from him, "But I'll work on that." He waits until he can hear him finishing up in the bathroom before crawling out of bed and heading there. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You say that like it's something you can control," Brock says, flushing the toilet and washing his hands. "I think I'm going to get you a weighted blanket. That's supposed to help with a lot of things. Depression and anxiety and I think sleep disruption. That, plus me, should keep your brain feeling safe."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"If it will help and as long as you're there, I'll try it." Frank says moving out of the way for him. He feels safe with Brock. It's not that, "I can fix it though. I don't want you to add another thing to worry about."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock turns and looks at him, "Okay I want you to stop that train of thought right there. I am concerned that you tend to treat everything I say as a command to fix it. To fix yourself. And I know that probably stemmed from Judith, but baby, please try to remember that's not what I'm doing. Okay? We're in this together. I want what's best for you. I want to help you with your problems. I would imagine you'd do the same for me. I just don't want you to think that I'm not happy with you. Because I am."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Okay. I don't mean to do that, intentionally." Frank pauses. Thinking carefully about the way he continues, "I am sorry, er not sorry. I'm just going to stop talking. I just want the same things you want for me but for you too."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock hugs him tight, kissing his cheeks, "I love you. So much. And I'm sorry if that came out wrong and only fed your brain gremlins and didn't help. I'm trying to navigate this– us and take care of you and I'm sure I'm doing some things wrong. I just want you to be healthy and safe."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I love you too with everything in me. But I was thinking that if I don't go on the road, I'll maybe _get help_? Maybe. I don't know. Maybe I'll just get sleep tea. Something. To try." Frank replies with his voice getting softer as he goes. _Damnit, Brock, you're gonna uncork something I can't control._

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You are such a good boy, and I love you very much. So proud of you for willing to admit and agree to needing some help. It's okay to need help. It's not something you or anyone should be ashamed of. Remember that, okay? I need help in my life just like you do. We help each other. Because we are soulmates," he pulls out of the hug a little to kiss him again.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I love you very much and want to be the best me I can. So I can take care of you. There are some things that I need to work on." Frank smiles up at him, "And that's okay that I am a little broken."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Everybody is a little broken inside. Life does that to you. It's okay to not be okay." Brock pauses their talk for a moment, "Are you ready for bed? I'd rather continue this under the covers and holding you than standing here in the bathroom."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Yes please. I'm very ready for bed." Frank smiles and flips the light off, following Brock to bed, "You know, my band...the band. Has a song about this…" he slips into the bed and waits for Brock to join him. Maybe he will sleep the whole night...

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's because your band mates are amazing artists. Terrible music though but awesome artists," Brock teases as he slides under the covers and molds his body around Frankie. "But back to what I was saying. I agree with you being the best you. I want that too. I want to be that for you as well. I want to help you the way you help me."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"How do I help you? I don't feel like I help enough. I love you and sometimes feel like you do so much for me." Frank turns a little to face him more, "You know I feel like a hurricane sometimes." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brock didn't know what to address first. He buys a little time by hooking his leg over Frankie's and pulling him in tight. He yawns and sighs, content, before responding, "You help in the only ways that matter. And as long as we meet each other's needs, we are even. I don't want you to feel like you aren't doing enough. My needs aren't the same as yours and we shouldn't compare them. And you help…one by letting me take care of you. By submitting to me. One of my major needs is the need to take care of my partner in every way. It gives me a sense of pride, purpose, and fulfillment."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"What are your other _major_ needs?" Frank asks before pressing lips to his chest.

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"We're doing it right now," Brock murmurs and kisses Frankie's forehead. 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Cuddling?" Frank asks, a little confused but fine with it.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"That's one aspect, yes. As well as me holding you." 

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You just need to be touched, right? I am more than willing to oblige." Frank smiles. He needs it but it feels different than his own needs.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Giving a little reluctant smile, Brock nods, "In a nutshell, yes. Though it's a bit more... severe than the average person. It's definitely driven a wedge into some personal relationships in the past, especially growing up."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Baby, I love that you want to be touched but what happened? Why?" Frank touches his cheeks with a soft hand before kissing his lips. "Who wouldn't want this? Or to be touched by their love?" He really has a burning hate for Brock's past decisions.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I really don't know when it started. Or why. But I noticed it being a problem around the time I joined the military," Brock's voice was soft between them. "With the exception of Jack, I didn't know anyone when we moved here. No friends or family. It was just the two of us. Once we'd joined, training and our assignments kept us apart too. I felt isolated. Alone. Anxiety found its way into my life for the first time. Stress right on its heels. I built walls to keep things inside and in doing so it kept people out. I learned the American culture and it backfired." Brock had to take several deep breaths. Not because the topic was bothersome, though that was true as well. But because he felt like he didn't have enough air to continue speaking. As if he was holding his breath while talking. Perhaps he was. "It's always fun and nice to be intimate and touchy feely when you are in a new relationship. But eventually it gets old. It becomes demanding. And needy. And nobody likes that. So I kept myself even more distanced. Touching only when necessary. Learning to live with the urges and desires and forcing them to stay under control. To not give in. To ignore the pain. Each past mistake was all for it at first but I began to learn when to start holding back. Like a mimicry of what a relationship should look like. Fake it until I make it. Sometimes the anxiety builds and it's like I can't breathe but I just block it out because it's not normal to need skin contact this much. Every second of every day, I felt like I was under duress until you came along. The moment you let go, I'm certain I lose a quarter of my breath. My lungs can't expand because there's a tightness in my chest. Tension in every nerve. My skin aches. Doctor says it's 'just' touch starvation. Like it will go away with some cuddles. But I've been dealing with this for at least half my life. So yes. You help in the most important way."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank leans up and kisses him. "I am sorry baby. I can't imagine your pain, sadness and need but, I don't want you to ever feel like that again." He's been fighting back tears, cursing whoever's in charge of making him be born so late.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You are my strength. My grounding rock, if you will. Every time I am angry and I would even hazard a guess that it would work during a flashback, me holding you for koala time brings me back to baseline. It's calming. I need it. You are a soothing balm. You keep me stable. You are better than the anxiety meds Doctor Choi tried to put me on years ago. I need your touch. I need you." Brock's voice cracks a little at the end, his eyes hot and wet at the feeling of admitting something he's needed to say but never could. He never found his match to share it with. Until now.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I love you more every day, Brock. You are the strongest person I have ever met." Frank's voice is soft, "I didn't think it was possible but I do. Thank you for telling me cause it's a big deal to let someone in." He kisses him again and clings tighter to him. "I hope you know that now you're _really_ stuck with me."

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Frank holds tight to Brock as he listens to his reply. He hates everyone who has hurt Brock in the past. He deserves the world and so much more. He is fighting sleep to stay awake with Brock. His body is warm and he is safe as he loses his fight with sleep. He stays asleep and as close to Brock as he can, too tired to be restless. It's the first night he sleeps the whole night through.

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	10. The Label Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are our own and per usual we don't own anyone other than the few splattering of original characters.

The morning comes too soon. It's not the alarm that wakes him but Brock stirring. He yawns and stretches before opening his eyes. He can see how tired Brock looks and feels a pang of guilt in his chest. "If you wanna sleep, I can go to this alone." His voice is a mix of sleepy and raspy, "You look so tired and it's my fault." 

"I've ran on less," Brock croaks out.

"I know baby." Frank kisses his cheek, "Not because of me though." He slowly crawls from bed and heads directly to the kitchen to start coffee. He won't be any use to his case if he can't think straight. He should shower but debates the true need for it. He steps back into the bedroom and dresses quickly before splashing cold water on his face. He can already feel himself getting anxious. _They aren't going to want him back. This meeting is to cut him._

Brock drags his body into the bathroom for a quick military shower. He needs to wake up. He wasn't lying when he said he'd run on less sleep before, but it wasn't always about quantity. For some weird reason, he didn't sleep all that great even though he had plenty of hours. He has a vague feeling there were some dreams involved but he doesn't remember any. Dressing in a daze, he goes into the kitchen. The cold shower helped a lot and hopefully, the coffee will bring him back to feeling human.

Frank is sipping coffee, standing silent in the middle of the kitchen reading a piece of paper he'd written out. He assumes he looks like a child of the corn standing silent and still like this but does nothing to correct this. He's not sure what he put on but frankly didn't care. He can hear Brock moving around in the next room. "You gotta be good today." He mutters to himself. 

"Smells good," Brock yawns out as he wraps his arms around Frankie, one hand slipping under his shirt and resting there. "So does the coffee." 

"Thank you, baby." Frank turns his head and gives him a small smile, "Your coffee's on the counter. Didn't know if you wanted it to go or not."

"Probably best. Gives us more time to get there early. I texted Jack. He's coming with us." Brock pours his coffee into a travel mug.

"Jack's coming with us?" Frank lowers the paper and looks at Brock confused. 

"Yeah, I figured there are two ways this will go down. One is they give us what we want and the tour resumes immediately. In which case Jack has to drive the car back here. Even if the tour doesn't resume immediately he'd still need to take her home. Two is not so pleasant. They don't give us what we want in which case, Jack will need to document everything so our lawyers will take over. He's also going to be there to both help with moral support and defend you if needed. I know it's probably more than necessary but I prefer to be over-prepared than under. And if things don't work out and all hell breaks loose, then he's still driving us back here because I'm going to be cuddling you and not fit to drive."

"What kind of car does Jack have?" He flashes back to hours earlier and how cramped it was, "You really are prepared for this." Frank makes soft steps to stand beside Brock, "Thank you no matter what happens, _polpetto."_ He leans up and places a kiss onto Brock's cheek. The word felt natural coming out as he gave him a sleepy smile.

Heart skipping a beat, Brock is certain he can feel his face heat up. It was so unexpected. He loved it. It felt amazing to hear those words. Made his heart soar and his soul dance with joy. Still blushing, he leans over and kisses him, "Are you ready to do this?" 

"No but I have to." He gives a half-smile to Brock before yawning. "Let's do this." 

Frank, Brock, and Jack enter the recording labels offices quietly. The hum and noises around them are slightly overwhelming at first until a tall dark-haired woman in a nice blazer and jeans approached. "Hi, Frank! Sorry, we have to meet under these circumstances." She extends her hand to Frank, "Lauren Mills. I'm the new representative in charge of the band on behalf of Reprise Records." 

She turns to Brock and scans him with her eyes. The corners of her mouth lift a little, "And you are?"

"Brock Rumlow, ma'am," he shakes her hand.

"Oh! It's nice to meet you." Her voice rises an octave with recognition. She looks to Brock's left and offers her hand, "Are you Mr. Rumlow's personal security?" Her voice was genuine and kind.

"Of sorts, ma'am. I'm here both as moral support for my brothers and as a legal representative for Mr. Iero just in case. Of course, we know that formal meetings suck and this could have probably been resolved over a drink," Jack says, grinning and offering his hand. "Jack Rollins."

"It's nice to meet you. You're absolutely right this could be settled over a scotch or two." She fights a smile as she replies. She checks him out and blinks hard like she is slapping herself, "Right this way gentlemen." 

She leads them down the hall lined by tables of people working at different stations and into an all-glass meeting room with a long table filled with two older men in suits and Alan in a tan leather jacket. Alan smirks at Brock as he remains seated as they enter. The suits introduce themselves. Mr. Holland sits to the right of Alan and Mr. Vargas to the left. Both men look like lawyers in a crime drama.

"We all know what brings us here. No one wants the band to break up." Laura says with a warm voice as she scans over the room, "but there have been accusations that are very serious and need to be looked into." 

"Yes, ma'am. Hopefully, we can resolve this and let the truth be known," Brock nods his head. "Peacefully, of course. Most of us have Frank and the band's best interest at heart."

"We all want what's best for the band." Mr. Holland says tapping his pen against a legal pad, "Mr. Iero, what can we do to resolve this quickly and without any more time taken away from the band?"

"Fire Alan." Frank shoots back without hesitation.

"Do you have a legitimate reason for firing Mr. Turner with proof?" Mr. Holland asks with a hard voice as he glares at Frank.

Jack sits forward, sliding over hard copies of the screenshots from Frankie's phone. "These were taken in mid-conversation between Mr. Turner and Mr. Iero. Below that stack is records of past conversations both in text form and transcripts of their phone calls. All of that indicates severe verbal abuse."

Brock takes Frankie's hand under the table and waits until Jack is finished before adding, "I spoke to the venue security yesterday during soundcheck to coordinate for the event last night and they informed me that one of the guards there had interrupted Mr. Turner and Mr. Way partaking in snorting cocaine. I decided to investigate for myself and discovered a white bag in Mr. Way's messenger bag. It is my understanding that it is because of Mr. Turner that the boy is even doing the drugs in the first place."

"There is no way you have any proof of that _, Commander._ " Alan snaps back only to have Mr. Vargas to cut him off with a hand touching his leather jacket.

"Do you have proof of any of this Mr. Rumlow? These are serious accusations." Mr. Vargas asks. His face is scrunched as he stares across the table.

Frank stays quiet. He knows his emotions will get the best of him, instead, he squeezes Brock's hand. He looks across the table at Alan who is glaring hard at him. His eyes dart to the table to avoid it.

"Feel free to speak with the guard. Head of security was a gentleman by the name of Kevin McNeill. We have a text message from one of the other band members who has agreed to come forward with evidence that Mr. Turner has engaged with drugs on the bus," Brock replies.

"We have video," Jack piques up. 

"Video?" Lauren asks with a serious tone, "Did you happen to bring this with you today?" 

Frank looks at Brock then Jack. _How in the hell did they get video?_

"Yes. I took the liberty of calling up venue security last night and they were more than happy to send me a digital copy of the video. They've worked events with Mr. Turner and the band before and have never been comfortable with him or his actions. I burned the video to this DVD," Jack slides over a DVD case with a disc inside labeled with the date in block letters and the words _"Drugs and Assault"._

"That is bullshit! There is no video proof of this shit!" Alan snaps as he slaps the table. His face reddens; he's on the edge of snapping. Frank knows the look very well. 

"I would like to see this video." Lauren looks at both sides, "Give me a moment and it will be ready." She gets up and stands behind Jack, opening a cabinet and lowers a screen before inserting the disc. She dims the light and presses play before taking her seat. 

Brock leans over and whispers to Frank, "You need to tell them what's been going on. Show the bruise too. It needs to come from you."

Frank nods and feels his stomach knot up a little. He turns his head to the screen and watches a familiar scene of Alan and Gerard doing lines. He hears Lauren inhale sharp and glance over at Alan, gripping her pen tighter. The footage changes and begins with Brock's confrontation about the drugs. It is silent in the room as Brock storms off camera. Alan walks forward towards Frank then throws his weight into Frank knocking him back and almost off his feet. 

Brock grips Frank's hand tighter before he has to force himself to relax lest he accidentally breaks his boyfriend's hand. He needed to remember that this douchebag was getting his just desserts and it would do them no good for him to react right now.

Lauren looks to Frank and tries not to show preference to him but before she can speak Alan cuts her off.

"That's been doctored! I would _never_ jeopardize the safety of my boys." Alan shouts and points across the table, "I have never done anything but take care of you, kid. This is how you repay me?" 

"I have the bruise to prove it." Frank speaks confident but quiet on purpose. "It's been a constant barrage of insults and attacks like this for at least a year." 

"Would you be willing to show us the bruise in question, Mr. Iero?" Mr. Holland asks. 

Alan is leaning over talking to Mr. Vargas and glancing at Brock as he whispers.

"Yes." Frank speaks softly, realizing he needs to own more than the button-ups he wears for the show. He looks to Brock before pulling the collar of his shirt over revealing a little of the dark bruise. 

"I hate to ask this but can you please remove your shirt so we can get a better look, Mr. Iero?" Mr. Vargas asks with a skeptical look on his face.

Lauren's face is full of concern and sadness, as Frank nods. He lifts the one side of his shirt revealing the bruise taking over his shoulder. 

"Thank you, Frank." Laurens says with a sad smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Iero. Now, Mr. Rumlow, it's been brought to my attention that you and Mr. Turner have had several _heated_ exchanges before. Would you agree?" Mr. Holland asks, turning his focus to Brock.

"Yes. I have confronted Mr. Turner on several occasions on his subtle and not so subtle abuse of power in his position. I don't put up with bullies or injustice. These are good kids and they deserve better than their manager heavily _encouraging_ sex, drinking, and drugs," Brock calmly states.

"Now, Mr. Rumlow. What's the nature of your relationship to Mr. Iero?" Mr. Vargas asks with a raised eyebrow.

If it's one thing they would kick him for and potentially hurt their case, it's probably this. Damn. He sighs, "I am currently dating Mr. Iero as well as providing band security."

"Do you feel this could be a conflict of interest? By dating Mr. Iero?" Mr. Holland asks.

Frank is biting his tongue. He knows what is happening. He wants to defend Brock but knows he has to be quiet. This was way too important to blow.

"No, sir. If anything it assists me in ensuring both my friends in the band and my boyfriend are safe. I have commanded teams across hostile territory one day and turn around, with the same men, and go to the bar for drinks and darts. I am perfectly capable of separating work from pleasure."

"Would you say that you have a temper Mr. Rumlow?" Mr. Holland asks as he writes on paper, "Mr. Turner had stated that on many occasions you have _blown_ up and argued heatedly with him. Would you agree to his statement?"

"Only to those who threaten people under my protection. I am not an aggressor, no, however, I will defend those I care about."

"So, you have a temper when provoked. One could ask that a man who has a temper could be pushed to react in a physical manner, correct?" Mr. Vargas asks as he pulls a file out and looks up. He slides the file over and looks at Brock and Jack. "I have photographic evidence of Mr. Rumlow assaulting Mr. Way in the bus staging area. Is this you in the photo Mr. Rumlow?" 

He doesn't need to see the photo. It doesn't matter. He knows what it is and mentally kicks himself for being as stupid as a rookie for not noticing there was a camera out there. He can feel Jack's hard stare without even glancing at the seat next to him. "Yes." 

"This is taken out of context." Frank adds quickly, "There was an _incident_ between myself and Gerard. This was taken directly after it." 

Disregarding Frank's comment, Mr. Holland asks with no remorse, "It isn't a far leap to say that someone with a temper could react towards their partner. Are you the cause of the bruising on Mr. Iero’s body?"

"Mr. Rumlow before you answer. Frank, what is this incident you are talking about?" Lauren cuts off the questions.

_Shit._ "On… a few occasions Mr. Way has _propositioned_ me and been rejected. He took it too far this time." Frank says looking down. Dudes don't admit to being sexually assaulted. They suck it up and deal with it.

"Are you saying that you were raped?" Mr. Holland asks with an almost mocking tone. 

Frank hesitates. He doesn't want to be here. This isn't what he came here for. Fuck. This is his friend. "Sexually assaulted, yes." He replies trying to hide his embarrassment and sadness.

"Men don't get _sexually assaulted_." Alan mocks him with a smile.

Frank feels himself folding. He shouldn't have done this. He brought Brock into this. He outed Gerard. He's a monster. He closes his eyes and sits back. He can't respond.

Jack shifts forward and captures Alan with a hard gaze, “Excuse me, Mr. Turner but you are extremely incorrect. Any unwanted physical contact is considered assault. It does not matter the genders of the parties involved. Assault is assault.”

“Gerard is a good, albeit misguided, kid,” Brock says. “The drugs have really affected him and his ability to be rational. I’ve told him repeatedly that he needed to respect Frank’s wishes and he has not. Frank has told him no on several instances. I want to help Gerard, not hurt him. What is not in the photo was that Gerard had placed his hand on me and I used gentle force to remove the contact. I proceeded to then inform him that he needed to seek help and I offered my assistance.”

"Have you witnessed any of the assaults on Mr. Iero?" Mr. Vargas asks.

“Let me make something clear with all due respect, Mr. Vargas. The incidents between Mr. Way and Mr. Iero is nothing more than a personal misunderstanding. They are friends and their intrapersonal dynamics have recently changed with my entrance into the picture. While I have indeed witnessed one incident, I do not think it is best to focus on this considering it is something the two of them are in the process of working out. Neither Gerard nor Frank are on trial so to speak and we’d all appreciate it if you stopped prying into personal affairs,” said Brock. His voice was level and calm and yet indicated he was done with this topic.

"I agree. This is not relevant to the situation with the band." Lauren adds. "Seeing the documents presented here, I personally would like to ask Mr. Iero to stay with the band. I have emails from the other members expressing their desire to have you in the band. If you and Mr. Rumlow and Mr. Turner would excuse us. We need to have a private meeting."

“Madam Mills, may I ask a question with a potential follow-up request?” Brock asks.

"Yes. Go ahead, it's Miss Mills." She replies. 

“Do you have access to payroll for both the band and Mr. Turner?” He prays the answer is yes and that Alan was dumb enough to leave an actual paper trail.

"Yes, I do. Why?" 

“I have reason to believe Mr. Turner is not reporting accurate expenses and I wished to request you to take a look at the payroll and bookkeeping records,” Brock asked.

“Before you ask, Miss Mills,” Jack interjects. “My lawyers have subpoenaed Mr. Turner’s bank account and he is grossing far more than what he should be for his title as Tour Manager. My brother has informed me of several expenses that just don’t add up on the books. We’d like that investigated.”

"I've been informed that the amount of money I am making is less than a wage worker. Also 2% of sales feels _smaller_ than what other bands we tour with receive. _"_ Frank adds with a smile to Alan.

"You lying little sack of shit." Alan hisses, "You know you get paid more than that." 

“Not according to what we were told at the band meeting before me meeting you, Mr. Turner,” Brock retorts. “Two percent of sales. Two hundred meet and greets. Nearly two hundred autographs. No frills. That was just one night before the actual show. Not to mention the lack of actual security. You made the band _pay for their own tour bus_. Which is a fucking joke by the way. It’s a tin can on wheels.”

"What?!" Lauren raises her voice, "The band _never_ pays for the bus! We gave you a budget for security!" She is visibly flustered, "Two fucking percent?"

“When I informed Mr. Turner that I was acting as personal band security after Frank was mobbed by a gaggle of girls, he told me the band could not afford me. I told him I wasn’t going to charge anything instead because of my personal relationship with Frank,” Brock smiles at Alan. Asshole.

"Can you… I have to make a phone call." Lauren rises from her seat and rushes out of the room. 

"Your faggot ass just can't keep your mouth shut and be happy with what you have, can you?" Alan snaps and points at Frank.

"Mr. Turner!" Mr. Holland raises his voice.

Alan sits back and glares at Brock.

“Mr. Holland, I will be pursuing legal action against Mr. Turner for threats, assault, and theft against my brother and the band. Will I have the Label’s support in this?” Jack asks.

"Yes." Mr. Holland frowns at Alan. 

"This is a bunch of bullshit!" Alan shouts and rises to his feet and tries to move towards the boys. 

Jack stands up in a second and moves himself to protect both Brock and Frank. The easy-going posture in his shoulders begins to drop away and his face hardens “I suggest you stay where you are, Mr. Turner.” 

Allan steps back and sits, "Probably a faggot like your brother." He hisses as he sits.

Lauren returns with an older man in a pair of jeans and a Metallica shirt, he turns to Alan, "Mr. Turner. We are terminating our contract with you. Your services are no longer needed. You are fired." The man stands firm and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I should have beaten your big faggy ass when I had the chance!" Alan shouts and ignores Jack's warning as he moves towards Brock, "You and that little fairy princess better watch your fucking backs!" 

Jack moves again, putting himself in front of Brock. His voice turns icy, “I suggest you leave, Mr. Turner.”

"Or, what? You'll blue steel me to death?" He snaps back moving around the other side and straight for Brock.

Brock moves Frank out of the way, unsure if Alan was gunning for him or Frankie. He’s not sure what to do here, in terms of keeping Frankie safe. He’s not going to let Alan attack him but he also doesn’t want to be up on an assault charge either. 

Alan shoves past the older man who fired him as he tries to stop him, then swings at Brock. Trying to hit him in the face as he hurls slurs at him. Frank moves against the window behind Jack. He doesn't want any part of this fight. 

Brock raised his arm to block the attack, deciding to only use offense here. He needs to keep showing that he can defend and not harm others even in intense situations. Keeping his boxer arms up, he doesn’t hit back.

He is trying to get a response. Anything to show that Brock was just as bad as he said he was. His rage is boiling over and he tries again for Brock's face. "Fight back you big fucking bastard!" He doesn't hear the other men in the room yelling for him to stop. He looks past Brock and sees Frank. The reason for all of this bullshit, he throws a punch but is looking for a way to him. He isn't sure if he can make it past the other noodle eater but he's gonna try. He shoves a shoulder into Brock attempting to roll past him like a football player would. 

Standing firm, Brock uses his body to keep Alan from moving past him. Jack comes up from behind and grabs Alan’s shirt, pulling him off and punching him hard in the face, “Stay the fuck away from my family!”

Lauren pushes into the room with armed security. "Tan jacket needs to be held for the cops." She turns to Jack, "Your hand ok?"

“Yes, ma’am,” smiles Jack. He checks over his knuckles. No damage other than a hint of redness.

"You alright Brock?" She asks. 

Nodding, he gives her a smile before turning to Frankie and wrapping his arms around his love. He cares nothing for the barely-there scratches he got from Alan’s weak attacks. He’s dealt with worse. He only cares about Frankie. Pulling him in tight, he whispers, “Are you, okay sweetheart?”

"I'm fine, baby." He replies as he hugs him tight, "You sure you're ok?"

"Gentlemen, I'm Mo Osten. Mr. Holland and I would like to move this meeting to my office. We have some things we need to discuss." The man in the Metallica shirt says with a big voice and wide smile. 

Brock nods to the new guy, not really caring anymore about the meeting. He feels confident that they presented their case to the label enough that everything will work out alright. Even if they didn’t it really didn’t matter anymore. He was more than ready to take Frankie to one of his homes and never let him go.

Frank follows along holding on to Brock's hand and into a large office lined with gold and platinum records for multiple bands, including MCR. 

"We have Mr. Way and the band on a conference call, holding. We have to discuss the tour." Mr. Osten offers seats to everyone. He presses a button on the phone, "You there gentlemen?"

Gerard's voice comes through, "Yeah."

“Hey guys,” Brock offers. 

The phone erupts in happy greetings that sound a little more chaotic than anything.

"Frank's with you right?" Ray's voice comes through.

"Hey guys." Frank replies a little reluctantly. 

"Alright gentlemen. So updates, Alan is no longer your tour manager." He says without pausing, "We have two options. We let you kids out there on your own for a few weeks until I can get a new person to come take over or we cancel the tour. What do you want to do?"

"We don't wanna cancel." Gerard and Ray both overpower everyone on the line.

"Do you think one of you can handle the responsibility of being a manager?" Mr. Osten asks the dead silence on the line.

Brock leans over and whispers in Frankie’s ear, “Should I keep my silence here?”

Frank smiles at him then whispers back, "Only if you want to stay quiet. Which… isn't really your style." 

"I mean, I could do it." Ray offers with a weak voice. 

Without thinking, Brock blurts, “Oh Sunshine, you adorable floof of a man, we all know you couldn’t handle the stress and the band. None of you kids could.”

"You're probably right Mr. Rumlow," Mr. Osten says with a nod. "You are all kids."

"Fuck, why doesn't Brock be our boss?" Bob blurts out.

"I'm sure Brock has other things to do than babysit you pack of weirdos." Lauren jokes.

"Does this mean I can come back?" Frank asks with the hint of a smile.

"Yes, dummy. You didn't have to leave!" Mike snorts.

"Hey Mo?" Gerard asks with hesitation to his voice, "We don't want to stop touring. Maybe if… I mean he's already going to be with us…" 

Gerard's input surprised him; though once he remembered the text message, it made more sense. He's not certain if the kid has truly forgiven him and moved on or if this was some sort of tactic to keep Frankie around. He hoped it was the former. Like it or not, the band was _his_ people now. Brock can't keep a fond smile off his face.

"Brock, would you be our manager?" Gerard asks more confidently. The sound of a smile coming through the speaker. 

Frank squeezes Brock's hand and keeps his grin small. He is nervous about the intentions of Gerard. He hopes that it's the sobriety that is talking and nothing more. 

"I'd love to, Gerard. With some conditions but we'll talk about that later," Brock smiles at the speaker.

"So, if there is an agreement, we will have to cancel the show tomorrow night because we have to make arrangements. But, it seems like you guys are back together." Mo says with a smile at Brock. "Lauren will call you later with all the details. For now, enjoy your day off. She is going to get you set up in a hotel for a few nights. We'll talk soon." 

"Yes sir, thank you," Brock nods at them both.

"Oh you're not done, young man." He says after hanging up the phone. "We have to work out payment and other things like what you need to do your job." 

"You two also should look over the few bus options we have available." Lauren says smiling before going back to her phone.

"A proper bus for these boys is greatly appreciated, ma'am. One that isn't a metal death trap on wheels." Brock says to Lauren. He then turns to Mo, "I'd like to defer my payments to the band members instead; in the form of a salary raise. They deserve it."

"Are you sure?" Mo smiles at him, "I can afford to pay you and them." 

"Also security. We need to discuss a security team." Lauren adds, "Unless you're tagging along, Jack?" 

Jack pushes up his glasses and looks up from his phone where he was composing an email. He smiles at Lauren, "With all due respect to my brothers, I'd rather not spend any part of my life in what amounts to a mobile locker room. I have some family matters to attend to that prevent me from making such a trip."

"Lauren will have a contract drafted up. Is there anything that you would like added to this as part of your rider, Mr. Rumlow? Anything within reason, I can't give you a pony. But we can accommodate diets, exercise habits, and other luxuries you need to be comfortable." Mr. Osten says with a smile as he holds a pen above paper. 

"Gym?" Frank leans in and whispers.

He nods to Frankie and decides he should be honest about what he's about to be walking into. He'll need to know as much as he can before hitting the road, "While I have both business and military experience that I believe qualifies me for this job, I will freely admit that this industry is new to me. What is a rider?"

"I appreciate your honesty." Mr. Osten replies, "Riders to a contract like this are little extras that can be provided to you. It can be almost anything. If you want only red M&Ms or only diet Pepsi, the concert venue will provide it. It can be anything to make your experience better."

"That sounds like that should be something for the boys, not me. Or any tour manager," Brock says, frowning. He briefly wonders what Alan was getting.

"I have my own rider set. It's mostly equipment needs like specific picks for my guitars and coke. The soda…" Frank offers.

He's got no idea what he could need at every concert venue. And even if he could come up with something he could just buy it himself. It seemed silly to need "perks" like this added but he supposed it was a way of rewarding the team after a hard day. He turns to Frankie and offers a smile with _help me_ eyes.

"So, the problem is Mr. Osten, Brock here is the type who if he wants something he buys it for himself. So my wonderful boyfriend is thinking 'I don't need anything extra to do my job.' but what he's not thinking about is his need and requirement to be in control. So maybe he requires a meeting with the security office before the band goes in for soundcheck. Or maybe he needs to have access to a secure wifi network. Or healthy snacks because he _encourages_ his boyfriend to eat better." Frank offers with a small smile at Brock.

"You know me better than myself, _tesoro_ ," Brock smiles awkwardly and fondly. Frank was right, of course. He teases Frankie just for showing how well he knew him, "Safe and healthy is all I care about. And wine. And maybe you." 

"I can tell you this much sir, he's already going to throw a fit over procedures like bandpasses to get access to doors and bus areas." Frank smirks as he turns back to Brock, "Love you too _polpetto_." 

Frank feels lighter. Happier. He has the love of his life and his band back. Mr. Osten promises to have a courier deliver contracts to the apartment and welcomes him to the Reprise records family with a hug. Lauren walks them out of the office and to the front door and touches Jack's arm. 

"If you want to go have a drink or two, here's my number." She smiles, handing him her card, "My personal number is on the back." 

The corners of Jack's lips turned up as he realized what was going on here. He takes the card deftly and pockets it, stepping a little closer to her. His smile widens, "I would love to join you for drinks. If, of course, you would join me for dinner?"

"I would love to have dinner with you!" She smiles with a little sparkle in her eyes. She comes back to reality for a moment and looks at Brock. "It was great to meet you Frank and you as well Brock. And you too _Jack_. Please call me, for anything."

Frank elbows softly Brock with a smile before nodding to the door. Giving Jack a moment with the pretty lady. Brock nods and after thanking Lauren, he takes Frankie's hand and they go to wait for Jack by the car. The sun beats down upon them, shining bright and chasing away shadows. It's perfect for how Brock feels right now. Alan is gone. His boys are safe. He's happy.

"Are you going to call Brooke?" Frank asks squinting up before finding Brock's shadow and hiding under it.

"Not right now. Right now I just want to be with you," Brock wraps his arms around Frankie. "We should celebrate our victory."

"Thank you." Frank replies as he wraps his arms around Brock. "We totally need to celebrate! And I hope you know that the boys are going to be calling anytime now to talk to _you_. Not me." 

He laughs a little, confused and amused, "What? Why? Did they do that a lot with Alan or something?" 

"No you dork. You won against Alan. We won. They want to congratulate and thank you." Frank laughs, "And get your number because you're the boss now."

"I was always _your_ boss," Brock's voice lowered playfully.

"I let you _think_ that." Frank teases, knowing fully that Brock is in charge. "Where are we going to celebrate?" 

He shrugs, not really sure what he wanted to do next with the little remaining freedom he had before the tour started. Speaking of which, "The concert tomorrow is canceled. What are they going to do about that?"

"Oh that didn't take long." Frank grins, "The concert will be rescheduled to the end of the tour and those who can't attend will get a full refund." 

Frank pauses, "Or did you mean the boys?"

"Bit of both. And I'm sorry. My train of thought took a detour. What would you like to do and do you want it to be just us or a group fun event?" Brock asks, nuzzling into Frankie's hair.

"As long as you're there, I don't care. And I get you alone at some point." Frank speaks softly, "I do think _I need_ to feed you and Jack. So celebratory breakfast? Brunch I suppose."

"Great because I'm starving!"

"Excellent! My treat. As a thank you." Frank grins before kissing Brock.

"Okay. Are we inviting the band too?" He kisses Frank back, light and quick little pecks.

"We can invite them. It will take them an hour to get here." Frank says with a smile. "Did you want to wait?"

Brock slowly blinks as he thinks on that. He's really hungry and doesn't want to wait but he also would love to hang out with the band. _His_ boys. His team.

"Or we can invite them to dinner?" 

He waffles a little making mental plans. "Sure. Maybe we can hang out after lunch, they can get their own while meeting up with us. We can hang out and all do dinner together. I like that."

"Yeah that works for me, baby. As long as I get you to myself." Frank kisses him again, this time a little deeper before pulling back. His phone buzzes in his pocket against Brock's leg. "And that's for you." 

"Your phone. How do you know it's for me? Could be your parents or something. Could even be an email," Brock teases, kissing the tip of his nose.

"You better answer it." Frank grins like a fool, "I bet it's Ray." 

"Ok if it's Sunshine, I'll take it," Brock holds out his hand.

"If I'm wrong I'll let you buy me something. Or tie me up. Whatever you want to do to me." 

"We would do that anyway. I already do that. I do what I want with you," Brock winks.

"Oh you do?" Frank pulls his head back a little. He pulls his phone out, not looking at the screen and handing it Brock. He debates on poking the bear, "Do you want to try this theory?" 

Before he could reply, he's cut off by his brother who finally leaves Lauren and joins them. Jack heads over, pocketing his phone. Giving a side hug to Frankie and Brock he happily says, "Victory is ours. Congratulations on being a free man, Frank."

"Thank you, Jack!" Frank laughs and hugs him back. "You hungry? My treat!"

"Call Ray back, B." Frank looks at Brock and smiles. "So we better be invited to the wedding." 

"Who's getting married and where's the food?" Jack asks eagerly.

"Wherever you two dorks pick and yours and Laurens." Frank smirks. "She practically melted when you asked her to dinner." 

Frank's phone buzzes again and he looks at Brock with a smile. "I'll pick somewhere. Can we just head there?" 

"I'm not," Jack protests. "It is just dinner. Relax. Hold your matchmaking self in check. I'll drive you to lovebirds wherever."

Brock cracks up and goes ahead and takes Frankie's cell phone, answering it, "Hello." 

"Hey Brock!" Ray says, sounding happily surprised. "Congrats on the job promotion!" 

"Hey, Sunshine. Thanks. I'm glad things worked out. Thank you for your help." Brock nudges Frankie and motions for them to get into the car. Jack catches it and moves for the driver's seat.

"We are happy to help you out. If Frankie loves you, then you're family. Then, you help out the family." Ray replies, "So Lauren called and said we are getting a new bus? And we don't pay for it! Don't know what you did but..." Ray pauses. "We're not worthy!" The band shouts.

Frank sits in the backseat, still touching Brock's arm. He gives Jack directions to the restaurant and kisses Brock's cheek. "We are doing dinner if you want to join us." Frank offers to Jack. 

"Are you guys coming here tonight?" Mike asks in the background.

"That's what we are trying to plan now, Mike-n-Ike. We're going to do brunch, and then we want to hang out with you guys until we all do a dinner to celebrate tonight. How's that sound?" Brock asks. His free hand moves to rest on Frankie's thigh. 

"I am seeing nods. So we will get a ride from Philly to New York and hang out with you guys! What's the plan? Where are we meeting?" Ray asks enthusiastically like a puppy.

Frank's heart flutters a little more. His friends and his love getting along. He's got a family. He should call his mom and tell her updates. He'll do it tonight while Brock's asleep. She's an insomniac like him. She is dying to meet Brock.

"How adventurous are you guys?" Brock asks, an idea forming in his head.

"We are always up for an adventure!" Gerard chimes in. His voice sounds bright and cheerful.

"We aren't, like doing a work-out gulag, right?" Mike asks with a chuckle at the end. 

"Not unless you count running around like crazy and eating junk food and playing games, a workout. In that case, yeah," Brock grins at Frankie. "I was thinking maybe we hit up the Six Flags parks. Bring a swimsuit." 

"It sounds like a plan! I'll call when we hit the city!" Ray replies, "We'll see you guys in an hour!" 

"Six flags? Really?!" Frank tries to hide his excitement. He is happy that he is in love with a big kid to match his own inner big kid. "Should we go home and change?" 

"Sure. And grab something to get wet in." 

"I take it we're getting drive-thru then?" Jack asks, turning the car home. 

"It's up to you guys." Frank smiles. He wonders why Brock picked a theme park. Was there a motive? Was he just wanting a little fun before having to be miserable on a bus for a few months? Knowing Brock, it was because he saw an ad and wanted to go. He is hard to predict and that's why he loves him.

"Am I still going on this little adventure of yours or is this for the band only? Otherwise, you can drive yourself, sir. I am not your chauffeur for the day," Jack teases.

"You should come, Jack!" Frank says with a huge smile. Any time he can spend with Jack, Frank will take. 

"I'll drive, Jack. You can relax and chill back here. You'd probably work anyway and you could use a break. Besides, I need someone to show off with me at the carnival games. Gotta win those prizes for the kids," Brock nudges Frankie.

"Exactly! Someone's gotta show Brock up and keep his head from swelling too big." Frank chuckles and kisses Brock's cheek. "Also who is gonna drive when the big guy gets tuckered out…"

"Heyyy!" Brock exclaims as Jack laughs and pulls into their building."Excuse you both!" 

Frank laughs as he unbuckles, shifting in his seat. "You know it's true. You're like a big kid, baby. Big kids need naps during car rides too." 

"I do not! Hush!" Brock gets out of the car and takes Frankie's hand. They stroll into the building and ride up the elevator. Jack trailing along.

Frank is wearing a smile that's wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. He loves the banter. "You get cranky when you're tired or hungry. Brock in the sun all day means you need a nap and a cookie." He follows Brock out of the elevator and towards their apartment. 

"Or wine. Usually, I will just shove a glass of wine in his hands and tell him to shut up," Jack snickers.

"Yeah! Wine over a cookie." Frank agrees. "It's like a pacifier."

Jack cracks up and nearly trips over a shoe when he enters their apartment and instead he careens into the couch. "Oh my god, you are so right!" 

Frank picks up the shoes and tucks them to the wall. Deciding he's getting them a shoe thing for the closest to hide their shoes. Mainly to hide his invasion of Brock's space. "Please don't die. Sorry." Frank says with red cheeks, "He is gonna deny it. But we know the truth." 

Jack giggles from the couch and nods. He tries to catch his breath and sits upright. "Not gonna die. And I totally agree with you." 

"I hate you both," Brock smirks and heads into his room to change clothes.

"You love us!" Jack calls after him. 

"He does. He's just a big teddy bear." Frank says before entering the bedroom. He strips out of the nice jeans and shirt and swaps it for shorts and a thin worn band shirt. He watches Brock change and grins. "I am the luckiest man on earth." Frank leans against the wall as he bites his lip with a smile.

“That’s debatable, love. I’m certain I am the luckiest man on Earth.” Brock slides off his button-down shirt and puts on a form-fitting tee shirt in forest green and pulls on khaki cargo shorts. His dog tags and weapons glint in the light before disappearing beneath his shirt. 

"How many weapons do you need?" Frank snickers. Before approaching him and wrapping his arms around him. He leans up and kisses his chin.

“As many as it takes to take down any threat to me or my family. But don’t worry, I’m packing light today.” And by light, he meant only one gun and not two. Three knives instead of six. And that isn’t including the one in his boot. 

“Packing light? What just a gun, couple knives, ninja star, and brass knuckles?” Frank teases. He knows that Brock is prepared for everything. “I'm ready whenever you are, love.”

“Ninja stars are boring. I prefer knives….” Brock grins and loops his arm in Frankie’s. “Got swim trunks or do we need to get some at the park? Sunscreen? Eh, let’s just wing it.”

“I got trunks. They are a little shorter than I usually wear so don't make fun of my pale chicken legs, Mr. Naturally Tan.” He smiles then pauses, “Why are ninja stars boring compared to knives? Shouldn't…it be the opposite?”

“Ray usually carries sunblock. He runs with a pasty crowd and plays mother hen.”

“See this is why I love Sunshine. He gets me. He’s a good second-in-command. And ninja stars are overrated now. Sure, it’s a round bit with a bunch of pointy edges but that makes it _easier_ to hit the target. It’s like training wheels for knives. Takes less skill to use them.” Brock heads out to the kitchen and grabs himself a bottle of water before offering one to Jack and Frankie. “We good to go?”

Jack gets up off the couch. He’s no longer wearing his business casual outfit but instead in something very similar to Brock. Instead of cargo shorts, he’s wearing cargo pants. He accepts the water and nods to his brother. 

“So I am currently being replaced then?” he teases at Brock.

“Only temporarily while I’m on tour, little brother.”

“No one can replace you, Jack.” Frank smiles, “I wouldn't let him.”

Frank thinks for a moment as he takes the bottle of water, “You didn't say no to the brass knuckles…”

Brock grins and instead of answering he decides to head for the door, opening it and ushering them out. He wanted to run by a drive-thru and get to the park quickly. Excitement bubbled beneath the surface of his skin. He couldn’t wait to have some fun.

“I am surprised you aren't parking in the back 40 to prevent anyone from breathing on your baby?” Frank teases as he keeps pace with Jack. He puts sunglasses on and glances around to see if he could see familiar faces.

Brock takes Frankie’s hand and heads towards the front gate. He too is searching for his rag-tag band of merry misfits amongst the crowd of potential problem people. “She’ll survive. The person who touches her on the other hand….”

“I am going to say something controversial… it’s just a car.” Frank teases. He spots Ray's hair just inside the park gates. The big goofy smile on his face as he waves to get their attention. Must be a perk of being one of the tallest members of the band. 

“True, but I also happen to like it very much and don’t want to have to replace it. It would be a pain in my ass to try to find the same model. Not to mention I’ve customized it and while sure I can afford it, doesn’t mean I want to spend all the time I’ve already put into it again,” Brock heads over to the group.

“I was teasing.” Frank replies in a whisper. Switching to tones, “Hey guys!”

“We didn't know if you were inside, so we already paid to get in…” Ray says with a smile hugging Brock first then Frank. He pauses at the new face, “Hey! I'm Ray Toro!” He extends his hand with a friendly smile to Jack.

“Jack Rollins, Brock’s brother. Nice to meet you,” Jack smiles and shakes his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jack! Frank's actually told me a lot about you.” Ray is happy to finally put a face to the name.

Mike pokes around the corner without glasses and smiling, “Hey guys! Glad you're here!” He straightens out and offers his hand to Jack, “Mike Way, nice to meet you!”

“Jack Rollins. Same here,” Jack shakes his hand as well.

“Bob is somewhere and Gerard is in the bathroom. Hopefully.” Ray says, feeling a little flustered. “It's not too busy so we should have a great time with little interruption.” 

“Awesome.” Brock moves to the ticket kiosk and selects three tickets and pays for them. He returns to the group and hands his love and brother theirs. “Let’s go!”

Bob emerges with a large pretzel in hand with a smile, “Hey Brock! Frankie! New Guy! Bob- I'd shake your hand but food.” 

Jack laughs and nods, “Jack. Brock’s brother. And don’t worry, I totally get it. That pretzel is important. Enjoy.”

Frank leans up to Brock, “I'm going to check on Gee… is that ok?” 

“You're the twin?” Bob asks, confused before taking a bite and looking between the brothers. 

Brock nods at Frankie, thankful that he read his mind before turning to Bob, “No, that would be our sister. She’s back in Italy. Jack lives near me and helped us kick Alan’s scumbag ass to the curb.”

Frank disappears into the crowd and heads for the bathroom. He’s nervous about being alone with Gerard since the last time but also doesn't want him to be doing something stupid. He slips inside the bathroom to find him washing his hands, his glance over causes Frank to freeze. “Hey.”

“I’m not getting high. You can tell your husband to calm down.” Gerard replies with no trace of emotion, “Just peeing.”

“He worries Gee. He wants to get to know you and like you.” Frank says quietly, “He loves me so you get a pass automatically.” _Though that is a one time pass and it’s been used._

“Yeah, I know. I had a long talk with Linds and she filled me in. She also chewed my ass for falling back into habits.” He frowns, “She also has a bone to pick with Brock because he didn't call her.”

“Well, tell him that. Maybe Linds can be the bridge to making you guys cool.” Frank offers, he can't use himself as that option because well, jealousy.

“I have been told I have too and she will check with him.” Gee puts his arm around Frank's shoulder, “You ready to ride so many coasters you puke?”

“Come on, weirdo.” Frank laughs as he opens the door, leading Gerard to the group. He nods at Brock and smiles then introduces Jack to get the pleasantries over with. “Gerard Way, this is Brock's brother, Jack.” 

“Nice to meet you.” He nods at Jack then turns to Brock, “Lindsey is pissed at you.”

“Oops?” Brock is not too sure why Lindsey is mad at him but okay. He tilts his head in confusion before genuinely being concerned over Gerard, “Sorry. How are you doing, kid?”

“I am sober if that is what you are thinking of asking next. But I am good. Kinda glad to have a day off.” Gerard exhales and relaxes a little, “She’s pissed cause you didn't call and tell her what happened. I had to talk her down from stalking you in New York to kick your ass.” 

Brock moves over to Gerard and hesitates briefly before pulling him into a quick but tight hug. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to rabbit or think that I didn’t care about what happened. That I don’t care about you. I knew we would work things out and it would be nothing but water under the bridge.”

“Thank you, Brock.” Gerard hugs him back, “I appreciate that. Let's not have your feels hanging out in the middle of an amusement park. I just want to apologize for now.” 

“Yeah! Let's have fun!” Bob says between bites of pretzel.

“Just call her later. She misses you.” Gerard pats him on the back and grins.

“I will. Her and my sister with the good news. My ladies. Just not Ladies of the Night,” Brock moves out of hugging Gerard to hold Frankie’s hand happily. He’s a dork and doesn’t care. “Okay, let’s go ride some rides.”

“Ladies… Oh, baby. What am I gonna do with you?” Frank laughs and shakes his head. 

“Would you like me to take him out and beat him like a throne rug?” Jack offers.

“Nah, he might like it too much.” Frank smirks.

“Good news?” Mike asks confused, “Did you two get engaged finally?” 

Frank snorts, “No. He's talking about the band. Brock’s waiting to meet the parents before that happens.” 

“Yeah, I haven’t thanked Brooke yet for kicking ass and pulling strings to make everything happen. We’re a team and she’s the badass one in the chair who sits at the computer and makes magic happen. And I gotta take you to Italy to meet my parents and I need to meet yours before I’m even considering proposing, _tesoro_.” Brock kisses their joined hands before moving down the park’s street towards one of the larger roller coasters that appeared to have a decently short line. 

Frank gives Mike an eyebrow raise and a smile as he follows along with Brock through the park. He already knows that Ray wants to ride the El Toro coaster, but he sees the ride Brock is heading for. It looks more like a kitchen appliance than a rollercoaster with the Jersey Devil in the background. The glee in Brock's face was almost too much for Frank to handle. 

“This looks like fun. Something good to start with. What do you guys think? Ready to get topsy turvy?” Brock gleefully smiles.

“Don't puke old man.” Bob teases but looks painfully anxious, “Me, I’ll stay on the ground. Hold phones and things…” 

“This one isn't that bad! The Wonder Woman one looks pretty uh, stomach-churning,” Ray says, glancing across the park to it.

Frank grips his hand and follows along. “Do you think I will make the height requirement?”

“If you don’t want to go, then say so,” Brock squeezes his hand. “We can ride-swap or come back. Or skip it.”

“No I wanna go, I was just making a joke… because I'm short.” Frank looks up at him confused a little, “Did you forget?”

Brock blinks before realizing he made a mistake and then laughs. He hugs Frankie tight before kissing his temple. “Yeah, sorry. My bad.”

“You're fine, babe.” Frank laughs as the line moves the closer to the front. Mike steps aside to stay behind with Bob who is still eating his pretzel. Excitement builds inside of Frank's chest as he watches the machine power to life and scrambles the life out of its riders. As the ride came to a stop, it was their turn. 

The first few seconds are the hardest, he remembers. The anticipation builds up and you are feeling like you might be sick. As it's powered to life the feeling dissipates. The sounds around him turned down as his heart began pounding louder. It went by in a flash and before he knew it they were back on the ground and moving along to the next ride, then the next one. 

As they waited in line for the newest ride, a few fans, this time a couple of younger guys, asked them for autographs. They thank the band and move on quickly without much fuss.

Gerard slowed to keep pace with Frank who had paced a little behind Brock as he chatted with Jack. The two men making small talk as they work their way towards the next games. 

"Do you really wanna marry him?" Gee asks curiously.

"Yes. I'd have married him yesterday if he'd let me," Frank replies without hesitating. "It feels right."

"He's here to stay?"

"Yup. Until he doesn't want me anymore." Frank smiles.

"He'd be a fool."

"That's what I'm saying," Frank winks with a playful tone in his voice. "I am adorable and lovable like a kitten." 

He's hoping to catch Brock's attention but he fails to get a reaction. 

"We said it was a stomach bug that forced the show to be canceled." Ray says joining the group.

"I would take the fall for it." Frank offers. "It is my fault."

"No, it was a band decision. We could have had someone else play your parts but it's not the same without our madman with a guitar." Ray hugs Frank's neck. 

"I'm not gonna lie, I was worried you wouldn't want me back." Frank confesses. 

"Idiot. You are an important part of us. Our brother. You can't run from us." Gerard pokes his side, the spot Brock calls his sweet spot. The sensations confuse him for a second but then he pulls himself together.

"I just couldn't handle Alan being so relentless. His ass… no, not here. It's fun time. It's playtime." Frank nods as Mike joins their now growing clump of human.

"Dude, they have deep-fried ice cream." Mike's skinny ass grins wide.

"That sounds like a stomachache." Frank groans. He keeps an eye on his man as they make their way into the water park. He watches Bob making conversation with Brock and Jack.

"He really wants you guys to all get along and like him." Frank confesses to them.

"Why wouldn't we? He's a good man. Plus, he was willing to help you and protect you. He's cool in my book." Ray smiles.

"Same with me." Mike says with a nod. Gerard stays quiet. 

Brock and Jack join them with Bob in tow, each with wide grins. Brock gravitates towards Frank and gives him a warm hug, “Okay so I know we're headed to the waterside but there are some carnival games in an arcade that I want to check out. Win some prizes and such for my best prize.”

"That works for me, babe!" Frank replies, "But they are rigged, right?"

"I bet these two get really competitive." Gerard smirks at Jack and Brock.

Jack smirks and nods, “We are professionals. Of course, we are competitive. Which means we are going to win _everything_.”

Giddy, Brock takes his love’s hand and practically dragged him to the duck shooting game. Uncaring if the others follow or not. He’s having so much fun and just wants to share his joy with Frankie, “Look. Want a large plush that’s bigger than you?”

"Yeah! I do actually!" Frank laughs looking up at his face, the pure joy making his heart flutter.

“Okay! Great,” Brock grins and pays for a few rounds. The toy gun looks small and ridiculous in his hands.

Frank grins bigger. He leans up and kisses Brock's cheek. Glancing back to see the group finally catching up to them. He wants to make a joke but doesn't have one. The happiness overflowing from destroys it. "Kill those ducks baby!" 

The band makes a small circle around Brock as he gets ready to shoot. The chatter quiets down to a soft murmur. Frank steps back and watches quietly, mocking himself for being like every girl in the chick flicks who's excited to watch their boys win them stuffed animals. Brock raises the gun and sights down the barrel, pausing to take in several breaths of air and focus. His finger slowly tightens on the barrel until he feels it tighten. He lines up a duck and then fires, the resounding crack of plastic rather disappointing.

Frank holds his breath and watches as the shot misses. It's ok, he has a few more shots. He can do it. Maybe he's a little nervous, the crowd and all.

Damn plastic. Brock wasn't really expecting much but he clearly overestimated just how much a toy was compared to the real thing. He realized rather belatedly that he was subconsciously accounting for recoil and wind as if it was a real gun with bullets and not pellets. A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his thoughts.

"These kinds of guns need roughly .03 extra seconds to hit the target. Recalculate and raise your aim," Jack offers. "It'll feel weird because they're modeled after the old rifles that had a kickass recoil and you expect it until you realize it's just a toy."

"Yeah," Brock nods and takes aim again. "Feels weird."

Jack nods and steps back to the others. He watches carefully and tracks the movements of both the ducks and the gun. "Fire again." 

Frank watches quietly with his hands in his pockets. The sharp sound of snapping plastic and the duck falling fills his ears. _Hell yeah, good job baby. And Jack._

"Beginners nerves." Gerard says quietly to Frank. He nods in response.

"Sweet," Jack praises. He figured his brother would be able to figure it out after the single shot and some helpful advice.

Brock grins as the duck falls and takes out another nearly right after. Now that he's got the hang of it, he quickly dispatches the rest in near-quick succession. It's not what he expected from a toy gun; he still wants some realism, but it was still just as fun.

"Hell yeah!" Ray cheers quietly for Brock.

"Stone cold duck killer." Gerard replies with a smile.

"Duck hunt 2. This time it's personal!" Ray pops out and grins at the success of it as the group snickers.

Brock sets the gun down with a grin and turns to Frankie, hugging him, "Pick something, love!" 

Without hesitation, Jack picks up the gun and steals Brock's second round for his own. Within seconds, he's fired all the pellets. Each shot hits a duck right in the bullseye mark, knocking them down. He smirks at Brock when he's finished.

"Here's the competition." Gerard grins. This was the real show. 

Frank snickers at the comment. "You are a good shot, Jack." Yeah, he may be stoking a fire… but it was gonna be fun.

"Learned from the best," Jack grins before it turns into a smirk, "Until the student surpassed the teacher." 

"Please, little brother. I can outshoot you any day. With real guns. Not sure about these shitty plastic ones but in a real challenge? I've got you beat." Brock gives a wry smile at Jack before turning back to Frankie. He still needs to pick a prize.

"I'd pay to see this." Gerard adds quietly.

Frank steps up and points to a bunny. Hands it to Ray to hold. "You two are cute." He steps forward and kisses Brock's cheek, "Thank you, baby." 

"Anytime, _tesoro_ ," Brock kisses him proper, holding the bunny in one hand and Frankie close to him in the other. He can't let it go for too long however and he breaks it to look at Gerard, a look of mischief in his eyes, "That can be arranged. Free, too." 

"Is your skill just with guns?" Gerard asks with a small smile, "And I don't think any of us would miss a competition like that."

"It's not often but you should see us spar," Jack offers. "And not just with fists either. Armed combat. For fun of course."

"Armed combat?" Frank looks at him with a small frown. Thinking the worst at first but pushing it aside. Neither of them would let them get hurt. 

"What do you mean armed?" Ray asks curiously.

Jack frowns at Ray as he moves into the next shooting game, this one with some sort of western theme. "Gonna be honest here, Ray-Man. Not sure how to explain armed combat because I honestly think it's self-explanatory but it's fighting with weapons. I thought everyone knew that. Sorry."

"I mean weapon is a broad term, friend. It could be a big fucking stick or a knife. Hell, a gun is a weapon, Jack." Ray chuckles, "Smartass."

"Best be a smart ass than a dumb ass, my dude. And we generally decide on what form of weapon we will be using in the moment of the fight. Usually, it's whatever we have on hand unless we're working on a specific skill." Jack stares at the western shooter game, calculating.

"Baby. Go play with your brother." Frank whispers in his ear before kissing his cheek again.

"Gotcha. So armed is genuinely armed." Ray chuckles. 

"Of course. What were you expecting? A fight using only the arms?" Jack smirks and pays for a round on western game.

Ray laughs at the mental image. "No!" He shakes his head and looks at Mike, who is fighting back a loud laugh with snorts. "Rude, Micheal." 

The game operator was watching the group, suspicious of them. Frank catches a look between the booths. They must think the boys are cheating. 

Jack misses only the first two shots in the western shoot 'em up game as these guns were vastly different than the other game. This wasn't for a prize but just because.

"And you say you're a professional..." Frank teases, "I question these claims. Are you sure you were in the military?" 

Jack turns to him after finishing the game and blows him a raspberry in a totally adult and mature way. Then he moves on to the next game, grinning. Brock laughs behind him.

"Frank, both of these guys can run circles around you. And still, have the energy to do what we do for a living." Bob says with a huge smile. 

"Sure; if you call screaming into a mic and banging on pots and pans, a living," Brock teases. 

"Hey, you are the manager of the shrieking pot bangers now…" Bob replies with a big smile.

"I vote for a name change to that. I can see the headlines now. Shrieking Pot Bangers. Live in concert at a graveyard near you," Brock jokes.

"Oh baby! Now you can actually say that it is your monkeys and it is your circus!" Frank beams up at him

"Playing at a graveyard!" Gerard roars and doubles over.

"Does this mean I'm a monkey's uncle?" Jack tosses over his shoulder.

"Oh my god. Yes, it does!" Frank laughs. 

"You do know that you have to actually be present at our performances, right?" Ray laughs as he shakes his head.

"Frank please get a tattoo of the Shrieking Pot Bangers." Mike asks as he wipes his eyes.

"Hey I missed one show, okay!" Brock says to Ray, rather adamantly. "Cut me a break. I was busy packing up for the run." 

"It only takes one time to break a heart, Brock." Ray replies as he fakes a sob at the end.

"Aww, Sunshine, don't make it rain down those cheeks! I'm sorry." Brock pats Ray on the hair.

Jack turns around and walks backward for a moment. "Brock, you do realize that they have only played one show. So essentially… you've missed **all** of their shows. And you call yourself a manger, Commander? For shame."

"Not to mention, he's dating a member of the band! How dare you not support us…" Frank teases as he hugs Brock tighter.

"Gotta call off the wedding, now!" Gerard snorts.

"What is this, band gang initiation? Is this an emo thing?" Brock pouts dramatically. "Just don't let the tabloids get ahold of this! Scandalous!"

"No the real initiation happens on the bus when we dress you in all black and put eyeliner on you." Gerard grins

"Don't you fucking dare! You wouldn't!"

"No we are. While you sleep." Gerard grins and looks to Frank who plays innocent to the whole exchange. 

"I make no promises that you are safe babe." Frank responds to him as he bats his eyelashes up at Brock.

With a look of utter outrage over this entire notion, Brock looks at Jack for help, only to discover his brother had moved onto another game and was no longer around to save him from the emo kids and their death metal punk music. 

"Maybe even put nail polish on him." Bob adds with a shit-eating grin.

"Jack!" Brock calls, going over to him. "They're trying to make me up into some emo teenage girl!"

Jack laughs and pauses in his game of skeeball. "Well. Now you'll have one extra thing in common with Brooke, besides dating boys. She can teach you makeup!"

Frank can't help but laugh at that. "I love you, Jack!" 

"I bet we could steal some merch and really deck him out. Full-on fanboy." Ray adds trying to keep a steady voice.

"I hate you all," Brock deadpans. He then punches Jack's shoulder haphazardly. "Especially you. Traitor." 

"You do have nice bone structure." Frankie offers with a small grin. "Don't be mad, baby."

Brock glares at Frankie before grabbing him and tickling his sides, "You're a traitor too!" 

Frank squirms to get away. He didn't expect this. Instead, he expected to get his ass spanked. He laughs out, "Not my fault you'd be a pretty fangirl!" 

He didn't think about it. Didn't even realize he did it until the move itself had come and gone. One hand stops tickling Frankie to wallop a single hit on his lover's ass, right in front of their friends. "Don't even think about me in a dress!" 

Frank keeps the sound he wanted to make from the strike in his chest and plays it off, "More like a mini skirt and an MRC crop top, _polpetto_." _Don't get turned on. Don't get turned on._

"Like _**hell**_ ," Brock wallops another hit again before going back to tickling him. "Ain't no way in this world or the next will you or the guys succeed!" 

"It's gonna happen. I have full conversations with my mom beside you and your snores." Frank laughs and tries to wiggle away. "I'm giving you eyeliner at least." 

The band members laugh except Gerard. Something in his head clicks as he watches the exchange between them. A dirty devilish smile stretches his lips. He can recognize the look on Frank's face. 

Brock pulls him in tight, flush against his body in a bear hug. He's hoping that it will keep Frank from moving and try to get them both calmed down. He could already feel his cock stirring to life from all of the movements and even from spanking Frankie.

"Stop. Calm," Brock whispers, mouth pressed against one of Frankie's ears, his chest pressed against Frankie's back. Frankie's perfect ass slotting right between his hips. He tightens his arms around him, hoping the hug will give him the hint: _Submit. Do not get turned on here._ "Relax." 

Frank freezes in Brock's arms. He is focusing on breathing to stay cool. The feeling around his body forcing him to remain still also helps him settle. His arm bends up allowing him to curl his fingers around Brock's wrist. "I'm sorry." His words are barely a whisper that could be drowned with all the noise surrounding them.

Brock presses a kiss to the back of Frankie's neck. He slowly lets him go with a whispered, "Good boy." 

He softens his body just a little as the hug releases. His instinct is to turn around and kiss him but he holds back. He never imagined he'd enjoy being called a "good boy" but he fucking loves it. Then again there are several things he never imagined would be part of his life that he can't live without now. 

Brock steps away to give him space and to breathe himself. His brain quickly switches back to their fun. Another huff of a laugh bubbles in his chest and out of his mouth. He gives Frankie a look of amusement, "You try anything with eyeliner and I'll stab you with it."

Frank's mouth falls open at the threat. He hasn't fully switched gears internally. "No, you won't." He hisses at him with a playful glare, "And now it will happen, sir." 

"Don't you hiss at me, _gattino._ I will put you in time out." Brock smirks and turns to watch Jack on his game. His brother apparently had been ignoring them judging by the high score. Jerk. He's ready to leave. Maybe the water park side will cool them down.

"You've obviously never had a kitten before because they don't _do_ timeouts nor do I." Frank raises his eyebrow and smirks before falling in line with the bandmates. He knows he's going to push it and get himself in trouble if he doesn't stop. 

When Jack finishes his game they all head back outside under the glaringly bright sun and head to the water park. Brock holding Frankie's hand again. He's glad things have calmed down for them. He didn't want the other guys to know what was going on.

"No, but anything will stay put if you restrain it properly," says Brock.

_Try it old man, I dare ya._ "I suppose." He doesn't argue. He wonders what the guys were thinking. Jack was unphased by them as he's "seen worse" and he's seen Frank's ass _possibly_. He squeezes Brock's hand and gives him a warm smile. He hopes Brock is having fun. He knows the guys are. He's not seen Mike smile like this in a very long time.

Once they cross parks, Brock gets a giddy feeling in his chest. He loves the water, especially the beaches. It always reminded him of home. Once a locker is rented and towels are bought, they all switch into their swim trunks, ready to get wet.

"What did you guys want to do first? Pool, slides, river rapids? Please say rapids," Brock asks, happily.

"Rapids works for me." Ray replies with a big smile as he hands sunblock to Mike. 

"Yeah that works for me too." Gerard grins as he playfully bumps Frank with his hip, "You cool with that, Frankie?" 

Frank nods and gives him a soft smile. He shakes his head at Ray's offer for sunblock before glancing to see if Brock has been paying attention. "River it is!"

"Thank you, Sunshine, for being responsible and providing sunblock. I may need you to help me put some of that on Frankie later. His pasty ass will fry faster than fried chicken on Sunday," Brock laughs. 

"His stubborn ass won't put it on then will whine when he's burned to a crisp later tonight… you hold and I'll cover. Or vice versa. Little shit," Ray smiles before passing the bottle to Gerard, "but I gotta keep my little emos from igniting in the daylight."

Brock nods with Sunshine's statement. He makes plans to hold Frankie down while Ray lathers him in sunblock. "Frankie is a flamer but that doesn't mean I want him to _flame on_ like the human torch the moment he steps out into the sun. Let's protect the little vampires."

"I'm not a vampire." Gerard smirks at Brock as he hands him the sunscreen, "It's cute that Frank is actually the gayest member of the band now." 

Frank turns and glares at Gerard. He opens his mouth but gets cut off by Mike. 

"Yeah but he's gay only for Brock. You're just gay for anything with a pulse." Mike smiles and nods at Frank.

"Let's be honest here. I'm the only gay here, the rest of you kids are wannabes that like to walk the line. Test the waters with one foot in and one foot out. Is Jack the only straight one here?" Brock heads towards the rapids ride.

"No. Me and Ray are straight too. The others are questionable." Bob comments as he follows along. He smiles and nods for the rest of the group to follow. The red in his hair coming out in the sun. 

Frank stays quiet as he walks with the group. He watches the people at the water park. Hoping that no one will say a word about the nasty bruise on his shoulder. He already has seen the band stare at it. He debates getting his shirt and just sitting this one out. Maybe faking a stomach ache would do the trick to keep him under the radar. The 'Brock-dar' if you will.

Gerard slows and walks the same pace as Frank. "What's wrong?" He asks as he loops his arm around Frank's. The kid wears his emotions on his sleeve worse than anyone he's ever met. 

"Nothin'. Just thinking." Frank gives the canned answer to protect himself a little more. 

"It's more than that but ok." Gerard drops his arm and walks beside him quietly. He doesn't press it. No matter how much he wants to. That's not his job. 

Grabbing and passing out the life vests that are required for the attraction, Brock notices his love not exactly giving off happy vibes. Something was bothering him. It made his heartache and made him half-assed give Mike his vest before striding over and wrapping Frankie into a hug. He doesn't know what's wrong but he doesn't like seeing the shadow in his boy's eyes.

Frank hugs him tight. He's being too much and needs to stop. But he is going to take the attention for the moment, burying his face into Brock's chest and inhaling his scent. "'m fine. Just self-conscious for a moment," he confesses then kicks his own ass for being honest.

"You're beautiful, _tesoro_. Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's what _**I**_ think. And I'm more important than anyone else or your brain gremlins," Brock kisses and nuzzles his neck.

"Thank you, baby. I love you so much. I just had a moment. I'm ok." Frank strokes his hair and can't help but smile. "But, you should go have fun. With the boys and Jack." 

"I'm not leaving you. I don't want to ride anything without my best boy."

"I'm coming too, silly." Frank grins up at him. 

Brock pulls him along towards the rapids. The rest of their day is filled with the most sun that the band had been in and water that the band had been around. As the sun begins to set, Brock and Ray wrangle everyone towards the exit gates, losing Frank for a moment who had gotten distracted by a small trinket kiosk but quickly rejoins the group. 

"B said he would call us tomorrow about the bus. It's supposed to be ready for loading in the morning." Ray says quietly to Frank as he hugs him. "Drink some water, please. I know you're dehydrated as hell."

"Love you too Ray." Frank squeezes him. "Text me when you get to Gee's."

After goodbyes, Frank slides in the backseat. Sitting feels amazing as he relaxes into the seat, happy to have one more night in Brock's bed before the tour. He leans over and strokes Brock's hair as he enjoys the evening drive as the radio pumps out an opera he's never heard while Jack drives them back home.


	11. The Second Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, trying to get the tour on the road for the second time. And Gerard's making waves again. These boys...  
> Anyway, all mistakes are our own and no there's no money to be had. Sorry, this took so long, it was a beast of a document. Hopefully, it's worth the wait. Enjoy some smut and interpersonal drama.

Frank woke up to the sound of Brock's phone ringing and buzzing against the nightstand. He glances at the clock to see the bright red 5:00 mocking him from across the room. It's too early for this shit. He shifts slightly in the boa constrictor tight grip Brock had on him.

"Baby. Your phone." Frank groans as he taps his arm. His love doesn't stir. He turns his body to face Brock. " _Polpetto."_ He speaks softly touching Brock's face with his fingers, "Wake up baby."

Brock stirs and mumbles something softly in Italian involving cowboys and kittens. He shifts and sighs. Eyes flutter open, sight unseeing before he returns to sleep, softly snoring again.

"Brock!" Frank raises his voice, a little irritated now. He'd answer it himself but he can't move without getting squeezed tighter.

Eyes snap open with a harsh jump, fingers digging into flesh. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that it was just Frank and the sound of the phone that woke him up. Groaning he rolls a little and reaches for the device. After checking the caller, he answers it.

"This better be an emergency," Brock's voice was thick and hoarse with sleep. The caller on the other side is far too chipper for the time of the morning and Brock was **not** happy about it. When he gets a moment to respond, he does with a harsh bark of words, "Because it's not dawn yet you motherfucker. Don't call me again before seven a.m. or I swear I'll stab you in your sleep. See how you like it, asshole." He hangs up and silences the phone before throwing it over his shoulder; it lands on the floor with a clatter. Sighing, he gets comfy again, hugging Frankie.

Frank kisses his chest. "Who was that?" he whispers before nuzzling against his skin. He doesn't truly care. He's just happy the sound has stopped and Brock is hugging him tighter.

"Stupid Steve fucker," Brock mumbles sleepily. He buries his face in Frankie's neck and drifts between awake and sleep. Seconds later, he's snoring softly again.

"Gym boyfriend," he whispers softly as he dozes off with his fingers stroking Brock's skin.

Frank growls at the beeping of the alarm clock from the nightstand. He glares at the clock to see the bright red 6:30 and groans as he rolls his eyes. _It's REALLY too early for this shit._ He rolls to the side and realizes Brock's side of the bed is empty. He sits up and looks around the room. 

"Babe?" Frank throws the blankets off himself and moves carefully to the bathroom. He can feel the tightness and warmth across his shoulders from the sun as he leans into the bathroom only to find it empty. He moves into the kitchen finding it empty. To his office, empty. He comes back to the kitchen and checks for a note, finding a small note in neat handwriting on the island.

_Tesoro,_

_Went to the gym. Stop worrying. Be back soon._

_Love, B._

He goes back to their room and checks his phone. He's got messages from Gerard and his mom but he goes back to bed, laying there until he decides he can't sleep. He reads the messages but doesn't reply. Frank decides to turn the TV on. Maybe the noise will help him sleep. He turns to the side and cuddles under the blanket with Brock's pillow until he falls back to sleep. 

Brock enters his apartment literally dripping with sweat. He chose not to shower at the gym because it wasn't the same without Frankie now. Not to mention he really just wanted to go back home. The workout didn't do as much as it normally would for him, this time it felt a little flat and empty. He blamed it on his poor quality of sleep. Instead of sparring, Steve had him hit the heavyweight bags so his knuckles were swollen and an angry red. He drops his bag onto the couch intending to sort through it after his shower. He makes his way to his room, looking for his boyfriend.

Frank is sound asleep. The blanket pulled over his head and Brock's pillow hugged close to him. His dreams aren't good, he's murmuring something incoherent. He's being chased again. He can't get away. He's gotta jump or be pushed. 

Entering his room, Brock smiles when he sees Frankie hugging his pillow and sleeping. It's so adorable. He wants to lie down with him but the shower is calling his name more. He's certain he's probably permeating the air with his gross potency. He begins to strip as silently as he can as to not wake Frankie. Poor kid needs more sleep than he did.

Frank wakes up with a small gasp. He hates waking with a jolt. He hates not having Brock here even more. He grumbles about his stupid gym boyfriend and rolls to a sitting position. He blinks twice then realizes he's not alone. He scans up to Brock's face. "Hi?" 

He finishes removing his compression shirt before smiling and shuffling over to the edge of the bed. Frankie looks so adorable. It made Brock's heart eek with joy. He whispers, "Hey sweetheart. Tried to be quiet to let you sleep. Did you have your nightmare again?"

"Yeah. I did." He wipes his eyes, "How's the gym? And gym boyfriend?" He knows he needs to get up and maybe shower. And eat. And coffee but he just wants to pull Brock back to bed.

"It was fine. A little lacking but fine. Steve's still alive so he's fine too. Just got back. Didn't take a shower there so I'm gonna do it now. You going back to bed? You can probably sleep another hour, while I shower and get ready." 

"No." He shakes his head and blinks a few times. He can't explain why but he looks at Brock's face and scoots closer to him, "Glad you're home." He kisses him and rests his head on his sweaty shoulder.

"I'm glad to be home with you baby. I'd hug you but I'm gross," Brock keeps his hands on Frankie's waist, however.

"I can make breakfast." He offers. "And you're not gross. I hope I don't have to remind you that I am your boyfriend." He teases with a sleepy smile.

"If I hug you then you'll need a shower too. I'm dripping sweat on the floor. It's pretty gross," Brock chuckles. "It's like I swam in a pool but way more smelly."

"Fuck, I should shower before we're on a bus for months on end," Frank groans as he sits up on his knees trying to be taller and wake up a little more. "You are smelly but I don't care."

"Well then breakfast can wait," Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and pulls him into a tight embrace, kissing him softly. He lifts a little, just enough to signal Frankie. _Up._

He shifts a little as he hugs Brock's neck. He pushes the blankets to the side and wraps his legs loose around his middle. He might not get to Koala much on the road so he might as well get it while he can. "I think there's a Prince song about this..." He smirks.

"Dork. Good thing you're cute though," Brock tightens his hold and goes into the bathroom to start the shower.

"Prince is a musician. He's from the 80s. He wears purple." Frank teases. He leans up and kisses him. 

"Shut up, I knew that," Brock grumbles, pushing open the glass door and stepping into the shower. "I know one song. And he's the dude with the weird gender symbols on everything."

"I'm going to teach you all about music on tour. We are starting soft," Frank thinks for a moment, "We'll start with Prince because it's probably 1999 or Purple Rain that you know, huh?" 

"Yeah I've heard of Purple Rain. Damn thing was popular. Played all the time on every radio station. Even in businesses and restaurants, I swear. It's not even that great. I mean I like it but it's… meh." Brock sets Frankie down and turns on the rain heads, turning them to a little extra hot.

"It's not that good? Purple Rain?" His mouth falls open and he blinks, "You know that he played all the instruments when he recorded it? That he wrote it about his parents?"

"No. And that's cool and all but I feel like it's a little hyped up more than it needed to be. Like I said. It was played all the damn time. It got annoying." 

Frank shakes his head. "Oh baby. Have you seen the movie?" 

"No. Why would I?" Brock washes his hair first. He needs a shave.

"I didn't know. Just asking…curious." he replies as he rinses his hair. He washes his body thinking hard about 1980s Brock. He's gotta see pictures and Brooke could help.

Brock quickly washes his body and moves on to helping Frankie with his, occasionally stealing kisses and lingering touches. When they are finished and wrapped up in fluffy towels, Brock moves to the counter and begins shaving while Frankie begins getting dressed. When he's finished, Frankie goes into the kitchen to start the coffee and a protein-heavy breakfast for Brock that he's come to know is standard after a hard workout at the gym. Not long after, strong arms wrap around him. A hint of warm spice in the undertones of cologne and Brock's shampoo fills his nose. Smooth skin rubbed against his cheeks moments before soft lips pressed against the edges of his own.

Brock rested his chin on Frank's shoulder within a happy kissing distance of his scorpion. He greets it with a brush of lips too.

"Glad you have moved on to other parts to claim." Frank teases. "What are you going to do if I get another tattoo near there?" 

"Please don't," Brock whines, sad. "I like Scorpio. He's my favorite. Don't ruin him." 

"You are hungry huh?" Frank asks, "You also really have liked my doves lately. I was thinking Scorpio might get lonely. I could get him a friend." 

"I do like them. _"_ Brock agreed. "But that doesn't mean Scorpio needs a friend."

"He feels neglected. That's all." Frank replies as he plates Brock's food. "I mean he's all but healed." He's mostly teasing, more trying to get Brock a little riled up before they have to leave the house for the same old bus depot as before. 

"Neglected, huh? Well ain't that a shame. Guess I have to take better care of my scorpio," Brock pulls him in tighter and kisses up his neck, lightly grazing the flesh with his teeth.

Frank lets out a little sigh and melts a little more into Brock. He places the plate on the counter and places his hand around Brock's forearm. "Your breakfast is ready..." _But maybe breakfast can wait._

"Can't I just eat you?" Brock nips and suckles on Scorpio's tail.

"You don't have to ask…" Frank feels his stomach clench a little. His hand let's go of his wrist and finds its way to Brock's hair. The nips send a tingle down his back as he fights back a moan from the sensation.

Giving a little groan, Brock bites down harder before kissing over the spot and sucking the sensitive skin. He does the same to every part of the scorpion he can. His hands massage the doves, nails barely ghosting over them. 

That moan he'd been fighting back escapes easily as he drops his head a little further to the side and closes his eyes. His free hand reaching for Brock's side to hold as his knees soften slightly. "Don't stop, please" he whispers. 

"I won't," Brock whispers against his neck. One of his hands travels down to cup Frankie's cock through his pants. "Could you cum from this, I wonder?" 

"I'm willing to try," Frank moans out as he pushes back into Brock's hips. He turns his head and steals a kiss. He decides that he wasn't fully committed to wearing these jeans anyway. "Maybe… away from the stove top?" 

Brock reaches over and turns off everything, the movement pressing Frankie harder into the stove and Brock flush against his back. He snags a bite of food before returning to his original position. His lips make their way down Frankie's throat to the curve where his shoulder met and he bites down. His hand slips up his shirt and toys with a nipple.

"Oh god!" Frank grabs the counter at the mixed sensations as the teeth force a loud moan from him. His hips rock into Brock. The need for his cock to be touched worsens as Brock confines his hips to the stove. He wants to be touched _more_.

"There's those sounds I love," Brock growls against his shoulder. He pinches and twists his nipple while his other hand grazes his nails over his stomach, hips, up his sides, and over his chest. Gentle touches in sharp contrast with his lips and teeth. 

"Oh fuck Brock." Frank whimpers out. His skin is buzzing with excitement. He wants his shirt off. His hand grips the counter before he can't focus enough to get words out, "Take it off?" He releases the counter and pulls at his shirt. His hips jerk up into the counter as Brock's fingers twist his nipple and elicit a deep moan with a following "F _uck_."

Brock moves away just enough to give him space. He really doesn't want to stop for a stupid shirt. He growls deep, voice rich and sharp with an edge, "Then take it off." 

The growl makes the goosebumps rise across his skin. He pulls the shirt off quickly, dropping it to the floor. He can tell Brock is annoyed which oddly turns him on more. He pushes himself into Brock again before leaning up and kissing him. "Thank you." 

"Shut up," Brock commands, voice sharp. The hand that was caressing now gets buried in Frankie's hair, gripping tightly. He yanks his head back to expose the taught line of his throat. His tongue licks over his Adam's apple. "The only sounds I want to hear from you are moans and begging for more. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." Frank grins. He's putty in Brock's hand as the tingle from his scalp follows the hardened words and lands in his groin. He fights back the urge to mouth off and complies. He's already getting what he wants.

Brock kisses his jawline up to his earlobe, "Good boy. Now move your goddamn ass for me." 

Frank moans. His body is not cooperating with him for a moment. Instead, he's enjoying the feeling of Brock's breath on his skin and the slight sting from his hair being pulled. He pushes against Brock finally getting himself together enough. "Please, touch me." 

"No." Brock returns to peppering rough kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.

He blinks confused at being told no. He grins and rubs himself into Brock's hips. He can't help the small whine that escapes his lips. "Please." His voice is smaller than he expected. He is aching for more contact. 

"No." Brock pulls Frankie's head into a searing kiss.

He moans into his mouth. His hand grabbing onto Brock's arm. He pushes harder into him; if Brock doesn't give him more. He'll do it himself. 

Breaking the kiss with a groan, Brock hugs Frankie for a moment before grabbing his food with a muttered thanks and walking away to sit at the dining room table. He begins to eat, "We are going to be late." 

"What?!" Frank hisses and glares at Brock. "You're the fucking boss, Brock." He can feel the anger bubbling in his stomach. He reminds himself to calm down as he leans over the island.

"And we have a schedule to keep. Just because I'm the boss doesn't mean I can do whatever I want," said Brock with a sharp tone. "That also means I can't go easy on you just because we're together. If I want to keep this job in the future I have to prove to the label I'm a better replacement than Alan was."

"Go easy? The fuck does that mean?" Frank can't help but snap.

"It means we are going to be late, so finish getting ready," Brock's tone held no room for error. 

His legs tense a little, he can't decide how to respond. "Fine." He grumbles. He can't hide the frustration in his face, "Maybe don't start something you can't fucking finish." 

Brock doesn't respond, instead choosing to focus on eating his breakfast as quickly as he can. He knows his little hellcat is hissing from being frustrated so he ignores the backtalk. For now anyway. Frank asked for this, weeks ago, right after the doctor cleared them both and they got to talking about their sexual interests and things they would and wouldn't do in any sexual situation. Brock was obliging like a good boyfriend. Frankie just needed to learn to wait.

"Rad." Frank rolls his eyes and discards the little remaining food he was going to eat. He's not hungry. He quickly cleans the pan. Choosing to not say more, he goes into the bedroom and grabs his things. Stuffing them into his backpack, he is trying hard to not touch his now angry cock against anything. "Mother fucking asshole." 

He steps out and drops his backpack by the door then sits on the couch. "Ready when you are Mr. Rumlow." He growls.

Hiding his smirk behind his sip of coffee, he stands and takes his plate into the kitchen to wash before returning to the living room and grabbing his keys. "Good. Except maybe you might be forgetting something."

"And what's that, _Mr._ Rumlow?" He grumbles as he rolls his eyes. He shifts in his seat. He is uncomfortable and angry. 

"My pillow." 

" _Your_ pillow." His head snaps to look at Brock. He bites his cheek keeping in the rude comment that's rolling around in his head. "Sorry, _boss_. Let me grab that." He moves past him carefully. He's putting underwear on while he's in there, fuck this.

"You aren't going to ask why?" asks Brock, gently.

He stops in his tracks and doesn't turn around. "Why, Brock?" 

"So we can take a little bit of home with us on the road. And you seemed to love it this morning when I came back and saw you hugging it like me. Probably smells like me, huh? I want you to have some comfort, something familiar while we are gone," Brock says soft and tender.

"Fucker." Frank grumbles. He just has to be cute and ruin his tantrum. "It does smell like you." He walks carefully into the bedroom. Repeating the gentle words from Brock as he pulls his jeans off and grabs safety yellow underwear and slides them on. Redressing quickly and exhaling as grabs the stupid pillow. "Bastard." 

The sound of something metal clinks on the floor. It's too light for a weapon, he glances down and sees his dog tags. He wrinkles his forehead. His dog tags never leave his neck. He picks them up, "Am I the keeper of your things now?" 

He walks out and hands them to Brock, "These were in the bed. You might want them." He gives him a small smile, still grumpy but he can't be mad about that. 

"It was **in** the pillowcase," Brock says, taking the ball chain and holding it in both his hands.

"That's not a jewelry box." He replies, "Why would you put them there?"

"So you'd find them," Brock smiles. He slips the chain over Frankie's head. "Did you know that it's common practice for a soldier to give his dog tags to his spouse or lover. It's a reminder that no matter what, the love of the soldier's life is never alone. That they always have something with them. I want you to wear these for me. So that you never forget that while I'm your boss now, I'm never leaving you. I'm your boyfriend at the end of that day, no matter come what may."

"Damn you." Frank replies with a huge smile. 

"To be fair, _tesoro_ , I had planned this before our tiff in the kitchen. I love you," Brock says fondly, pulling him into a hug.

"I love you too, _polpetto_!" Frank kisses him and squeezes his neck. "You're still a rotten cocktease." 

"Only because you've asked me to. Even gave me free reign to implement it any time. Without your knowledge. You like this, remember?" Brock kisses him again. 

"Wait. What?" He raises his eyebrows, "That's what's happening?!" 

Brock chuckles lowly before stepping away to add the pillow to the pile of bags for the road. They really do need to get going. "You weren't supposed to know until later but I didn't want you truly angry at me. Sexually frustrated and bitchy is fine, little hellcat. But I don't want you actually mad at me. We do have to get going though. I used that as a valid reason to stop."

"I am totally fine with being frustrated. But I was not angry at you." Frank grins up at him, "Just don't keep me on a hook too long baby." 

"I'll take that into consideration but I make no promises. Grab your things, we need to leave," Brock checks the locks and lights, closing everything up for the next several months. Doing so gives him a bittersweet feeling. He was looking forward to spending all of his time with Frankie but he will definitely miss his home. A home that didn't feel like one until Frankie entered his life and stayed. This place used to feel cold and empty. Something that he only came here for the basic needs of food and sleep. Now, he's going to miss them in their bed. He turns off the last light and makes sure the air is off before shutting the door behind him, the bio lock making a little whirring noise as if it, too, is saying goodbye.

"We'll be back." Frank teases with a soft smile, "Baby, it's not like we're moving out." Unless the tour gets extended then it might be longer. But not the point, he's trying to comfort Brock's anxiety. He loops his arm around Brock's and smiles up at him.

"I know," Brock murmurs. "I'm looking forward to touring with you but I'll miss our home."

"I'll miss it too. Maybe not the bad Opera singing in the shower," he replies with a silly half-smile, "but touring will be fun. Especially now that we aren't sleeping in a… what did you call it; sardine can on wheels?" 

He laughs and takes Frankie's hand. He didn't think his singing was _that_ bad. Sure he wasn't by any means a professional singer but he hoped he didn't suck at least.

"Yes. A death metal trap. Sardine tin can on wheels. Still won't be better than our home. I used to hate this place, remember?"

"I didn't know you hated it here. You seemed indifferent, baby." Frank squeezes his hand. He lifts Brock's hand and kisses it. He calls the elevator and turns to face him.

“Okay hate is a strong word. Indifferent really is more accurate. It was more like a place I came just to eat, shower and sleep. I existed here. It wasn’t home until you came into my life and stayed.” 

"It never felt like home? Ever?" Frank questions him with a concerned look on his face.

“No.” Brock holds open the elevator for Frankie and the bags to board, then enters himself. 

"Oh." Frank takes a moment to think about how to phrase the next question, "Even when you had someone else, it never felt like a home?" 

“No; they never stayed very long and none of them ever moved in. Even though I offered. Each gave me some reason to not. Usually it was they weren’t ready to take the next step towards commitment. A few hours with someone, a home does not make.” Brock gave him a smile, trying to hide the fact that he was hurt and alone for so many years. Just because he was “dating” doesn’t mean that he wasn’t alone. Somehow it only made it worse. Amplifying the isolation.

Frank felt his heart break at the sad smile. Grabbing the front of his shirt and pulls him down to his level to kiss him. "Well it's a good fucking thing I'm not leaving until you make me." He kisses him again, "It's our home and it will only feel more like home once we get back."

He's made his mind up, he's moving in officially. 

~~

Frank crawls out of the car and is immediately attacked by Ray hugging him. 

"Whatever you guys did, we love you even more for it!" Ray says excitedly as he lets go of Frank and rushes to Brock's side and hugs him. 

“Hey Sunshine, how are you kid?” Brock hugs Ray back. He loves this guy’s puppy-like excitement. And the big hair. For some reason, he found the poofy curls rather fascinating. Nobody ever had that back in Italy. It reminded him of Jack.

"He's had too much coffee." Gerard says stepping off the bus with a huge smile, "This bus is amazing." 

“Hey Gerard. Glad you like the bus. I take it, it’s better inside as it is on the outside?” he asks, checking out the bright gleam of the black and silver Starcoach. He could see his face nearly perfect in the shine. “Certainly an improvement, that is for sure.”

Gerard hugs him as he turns around. A full and genuine hug. "Thank you." 

Bob and Mike pile out and head for them. 

"I am wonderful," Ray answers his question as the last two members of the band hug Brock. 

Frank grins from across the car at the hug circle surrounding Brock. He pulls bags from the back of the car and Brock's pillow. He quietly moves to the bus and waits to see if they keep him pinned. He boards the bus and stops dead in his tracks. He shouts, "Holy fuck. Brock!" 

He doesn’t hear Frank simply because he’s currently soaking up all the hugs from the band members like they are all puppies vying for his attention and he gets to pet them all. He loves it. He loves them. He wants to keep all the boys, his merry band of misfits. Hugs done, he allows himself to be dragged into the bus to see their new home for a few months. His jaw drops. It certainly was nothing like the run-down tin can that Alan had. 

Instead, it was sleek and clean. Black leather bench seats sat under the windows behind the driver's seat with red throw pillows on each end. Track lights and wall sconces were everywhere. A table with more of the leather seating had a quaint little workspace. Across from it, there is a full, dark brown, kitchenette with plenty of storage and a coffee maker. A flat-screen TV sat mounted up on the wall. Brock runs a hand over the gray countertop and wonders if it was laminate imitation marble or if it was the real deal. His boots give a little echo on the light hardwood floors as he moves towards the middle of the bus to find a relatively nice full-size refrigerator and microwave just next to the very generous bunk beds with their black velvet curtains. This was far more luxurious than he ever thought was possible on a bus. Everything was new and shiny and told him that Lauren clearly took into account safety and luxury. Probably to make up for the fact that Alan was stealing for so long. Just beyond the bunk beds was a small sitting area with another flat-screen TV and a full-size bed with inviting pillows and a soft blanket over the top. On the table next to the bed was a large bottle of red wine with a bow and a note folded in half with his name on it.

“Holy shit, Lauren out did herself,” Brock said in awe.

"Check the bathroom out." Frank's voice is soft as he peers out of the bathroom.

Brock moves to the bathroom. He’ll read the note in a bit. He’s a little surprised. He hadn’t thought he made that much of an impression on both Lauren and Mr. Osten but apparently, something went right at the meeting. He briefly wonders if his brother actually had more to do with this than he did. 

"It's an actual bathroom. Not like a prison bathroom." He says with an excited grin.

“Fancy toilet and sink and everything. This is really nice. More like an actual livable space. I’m happy for you guys. Glad I could help,” Brock grins.

"It's your bus too, baby." Frank smiles before wrapping his arms around his waist. He takes in Brock's smell before letting go of him. "It's got a bed for you too." 

He looks back at the full-sized bed and grins at Frankie, “I see that. We’ll have to take turns. Not really fair for the other guys to sleep in bunks. We can make a rotation schedule.”

"We already voted, Brock." Gerard speaks up from the bunks, "You're overruled. Bed's yours. Sorry." 

"The boss gets the bed," Ray adds.

"I prefer the bunk," Mike pipes up from the front.

“But... I mean, guys. I love the generosity. I do. And really appreciate it, a lot. But I feel like the bus is yours. The bed should be yours too. You earned it, worked hard for it. I did nothing but point out a few errors,” Brock smiles at them, hugging Frankie closer. 

"Your big meaty ass is going to fit in a bunk with your little panda bear clinging to you?" Gerard asks, putting his hand on his hip.

"Besides… we voted. You lost," Bob points out. 

"I think this is their way of saying thank you." Frank whispers quietly before kissing his chest.

“You checking out my ass, Gerard?” Brock teasingly asks to keep from blushing over the big gesture these boys were making for him. He didn’t feel like he’d earned it and it made him more than a little uncomfortable. 

"I mean, you do have a nice bubble butt so I guess yeah." He chuckles as Ray leans back to check if the information was accurate.

"It's a very nice butt." Frank grins as he whispers, "It's a nice butt, but not my favorite part of you." 

Face heating up ever so slightly, he licks his lips rather nervously and moves to check out the bottle of wine instead. And the note. Anything to distract from this topic. “So there’s wine. And a note. Yeah. I’m gonna read that.”

He loves embarrassed Brock. His already gorgeously tanned skin turning a soft red and the fact he licked his lips too was cute. "Do you have a secret admirer?" Frank teases. 

"Apparently so," he replies as he picks up the note and reads it.

_Brock,_

_Welcome to the Reprise records family! We would like to thank you for taking on the band. We appreciate you for bringing to our attention the issues and problems before your employment with us. We hope that the accommodations are to your liking. We did try to meet every request. There is a binder in the seating areas with all of the itinerary suggestions, the security team that we are hiring as well as everything you need to succeed._

_Please do not hesitate to call if you need any help or have questions._

_Have fun on the road!_

_Love,_

_Lauren_

_P.S. Please enjoy the bottles of wine. Jack helped me pick them for_ _you_.

" _Bottles?_ There's more?" Brock shakes his head. This was more than he expected, though he's thankful. He hands over the note to Frankie for them to read then picks up the bottle of wine on the table and nods appreciatively. "Thanks Jack." 

"Go get em Jack!" Frank's cheeks hurt from smiling. "Aw babe, I think they are saying we are going to drive you to drink more." 

"I will not," he says with a little eye roll. He sits on the bed to test its firmness and was very pleased.

"You might with the way Frankie thrashes around the stage." Mike snickers.

"Shut up, little Way!" Frank glares then grins.

“You guys keep referencing that. I’m beginning to wonder if I should actually be concerned,” he gives a pointed look to Frank.

"You don't have to be concerned. I am just _enthusiastic_ when I play…" Frank bats his lashes at Brock before shooting the boys a glare.

“An enthusiasm that has gotten you injured on several occasions from what I understand. Something that you know how I feel about. So let’s keep the over activeness to a bare minimum, alright?” 

"I’ll do my best..." Frank rubs his neck and avoids his gaze. He already knows he might not be able to do the bare minimum.

"We try to steer him from disaster. But he's been known to kick you in the nuts if you try too hard," Gerard states with a straight face.

"We have the plastic corners on the speakers so he doesn't crack his head again," Ray adds.

“Jesus,” Brock breathes out. He can already tell this will not end well for him. He doesn’t think his nerves can handle Frankie putting himself at risk of an injury. Maybe the wine was a good idea after all. He hardens his gaze and pins it on his boyfriend, “I’m going to be very clear about this now. I do not want you hurt on stage in any way. You know full well how I am and what I would think and feel about you being hurt. That being said, you will conduct yourself accordingly while on stage and _take care_ to ensure you will not get hurt. Or you will face the consequences. Am I understood, Frank?”

_Good thing he didn't use my middle name. I'm not in that much trouble. And he did say conduct myself accordingly… with vague rules._ "I understand, Brock." Frank replies with a little grin. That troublemaker grin. It isn't supposed to be there but it sneaks it's way to his face.

“Frankie. You know what I mean,” a pleading tone enters his voice. He sits forward, arms on his knees and hands folded. He glances at the other guys for backup. “Please. I am asking you to take care of yourself. No more reckless behaviour. Please.”

"I won't be reckless. I'll do my best to be careful." Frank runs his fingers in Brock's hair. "I don't want you to worry so much. Especially about me." 

“I always worry about you, _tesoro_. I worry about everything when it comes to my people. And you are at the top of my list, love,” Brock kisses Frankie’s stomach, uncaring about the other occupants of the bus. The whole world seemed to fade away when Frankie was near. 

"I know you do." He continues to stroke his head. His fingers massage his scalp a little. "I'm making it clear, it's only because I love you and don't want you to worry yourself sick." 

"You guys are going to give us cavities," Ray smiles. 

Frank wonders if that bed could handle them. Maybe sex will be hotel rooms only. Probably safer for both the bed and the band's ears.

"We are going to be headed toward Cleveland, now. Gentlemen." An older man announces from the front. 

"Sounds good. Are we all ready?" Gerard asks the group. He receives a general round of agreements.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Ray announces excitedly.

Frank sits beside Brock, "Hey. You ok!?" He grabs his hand and laces his fingers with Brock's.

"You mean besides me possibly being in over my head? I'm just peachy," Brock keeps his voice low. Worry buzzed at the back of his head. Especially now that he was on the road and there were so many things that could go wrong.

"You have told me so many stories of you being in the middle of hell and being able to pull your men through. This is _nothing_ like that." Frank lifts his arm and puts it around him, "I am going to help you every step of the way and so will the others. You are a fantastic leader." 

" _Exactly_. I understand war. I understand weapons and strategic battle moves. I'm a pretty decent chess player because of it. I understand business. The politics of navigating and manipulating people to get them to do what I want. I understand money. How to make it and spend it. I understand how to kill people or buy towns to make a political move. I do not understand music. Not enough of the way things should be. The way things can be. Not the lingo. Not even how best to protect my team from the enemy here. Sure I can plan and work a tight schedule but I know that's not all that is needed to do this. And I can't help but wonder if I'm truly qualified." He sold a great pitch in the meeting. Now he wonders if he was even bluffing himself.

"Brock. You're not listening are you?" Frank leans down. "We are here to help you every step of the way. I want you to succeed just as much as you want me to. It's literally my job as your _husband_ , friend, and kinda employee. You can do this! I know you can."

"Thank you. For letting me have my pity party. You know how they like to attack," Brock hugs him tight, pulling him into his lap. He kisses him before pulling away from him a little with a smirk, "Husband, huh?" 

"Yeah, I said it." Frank strokes his cheek, "Just stating a fact. And my intentions. I love you very much and I will chase out those gremlins as long as you do the same for me." 

"Husband? When did this happen?" Ray asks, poking his head from his bunk.

"And if you're worried about the job, just ask for help." Gerard offers from inside his bunk. 

"See we are here to help you." Frank leans forward and whispers before kissing him "I won't let you fail, _polpetto."_

Nuzzling his love, Brock sighs into the embrace. He's never been happier that Frankie entered into his life. Every time something came up, be it his own brain or something else, Frankie continued to amaze him. He was a little surprised about the lack of privacy, however. He huffs, "So you guys can hear us, huh…." 

"Every single word." Gerard replies.

"Yeah. You get very close on tour," Ray says as he ducks back into his bunk. 

Frank kisses him and strokes his cheek before following his jawline with his fingers. He didn't know if his offer would be taken but he wasn't going to let him not take help. He knew that Brock could do it. He wouldn't have wanted him to take the job if he wasn't confident in his ability to lead them. "Just means we have to close the door and talk quietly." 

Kissing him deeper and slowly, Brock's hold tightens before pulling away a little. "We aren't just talking about private talks, are we?" 

"You might just have to learn to _appreciate_ quiet." 

Brock snorts. There was no way in hell. He hates quiet sex. And gags didn't do much for him either unless it was his cock doing the gagging. Guess this trip would really strengthen their relationship so it wasn't fully founded on sex. "Or there might be a dry spell. It's pretty disrespectful and shitty of us to screw around while the others are sleeping."

Frank laughs hard, tossing his head back. "Can I explain to you how many times I have had to listen to each one of those motherfuckers and their partners or themselves?" He leans forward to kiss him, "We should be staying in a hotel every two or three days. Since this bus doesn't have a shower. While our relationship isn't just about sex, it is important. Don't get any crazy ideas, Mr Rumlow."

He thinks about this. He really can't remember a day in which he and Frankie didn't fool around in some way. It was certainly going to be interesting. Maybe it was a good thing he started the game of orgasm denial. Though he wasn't intending it to be for him too! And a shower every few _days?_ What was this? Some sort of medieval times? How barbaric. The only time he didn't shower on a daily, or some days multiple times, was when he was in the military and even then he found a stream or something to help clean up. Not showering was so gross! He groaned into Frankie's neck. This trip was already starting to suck. The last thing that Frankie mentions filters through the atrocities and he smirks a little.

"So you did mention you wanted a little voyeurism. Well. Exhibition actually. Does knowing they are listening count?" Brock half-assed tries to find some way he can get away with some fooling around.

"I think it could count." He smirks, "I know most of them, myself included, have noise cancelling headphones." Frank kisses him again, "I frankly don't care if they hear…" 

"I mean, I care if I hear it all the time." Bob speaks up quietly, "Once in a while is fine. But let's not make it a nightly thing…"

"I mean you all listened to my exploits… I can't say shit." Mike pokes his head in the room, "I won't say a word." 

Frank notices the silence from Gee. Curious that the one person who should protest isn't going to say a word. He leans back a little bit to see if he was able to see him but can't. Sitting back and looking at Brock, "We can figure things out, okay?" 

"Maybe I should just buy everyone military grade headphones that will block out a cannon blast or a missile explosion." He really wanted things to be normal for them. And whenever he wanted.

"First of all, no. That's expensive and these _idiots_ don't need them." Frank strokes the hair on the back of his head, "Second, I feel like you're stressing when you don't need too. Everything will be fine. All else fails, we'll get creative." 

"Rich, remember? I can afford five pairs of headphones. And I'm not stressing as much as you think I am. I want to be able to fuck you wherever, whenever and however I feel like it," he peppers kisses all over Frankie's neck with each word. Not to mention he wanted to heat his boy up just to tease. Round two of the game has begun.

"You are going to start something." He whispers as he tries to keep himself calm, "Baby. Noise cancelling headphones would be just fine. And probably less expensive and yeah I know, cute little rich _boy_ blah blah blah..." 

"Don't make me spank you," Brock nibbles at his earlobe. "Maybe I wanna start something. Might even finish it this time…"

Frank's breathing picks up a little at his words, "Yeah? I'm interested." 

"Being called a cute rich boy is a button, huh? Good to know…" he adds with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"You know what happened the last time you called me boy. And what I expressly asked you not to do. Don't make me punish you for real," Brock's voice loses some of its playfulness.

"No, you're right. My bad." Frank takes on a more somber tone. He bites his lip for a moment fiddling with this lip ring as he debates and decides to do it, "Super rich kid." 

Sighing, he gives Frankie the most expressionless look he can. ' _Kid'_ was just as bad as ' _boy'_ in his book. Both of them did not exactly make happy feelings exist in his body. Frankie was purposely splitting hairs. Probably to earn that spanking.

"Alright. I'll be good. I'm sorry." He wasn't sorry. He's letting the little devil drive for a while but he can feel the irritated vibe from Brock's pores, "Kid is off the table, too. A rich young man?" 

"I'll take that," Brock says. He grins, remembering their first meeting. "Little hobo."

"Hey you're the one who fell in love with a little street rat." He teases with a huge smile before kissing him.

"Okay, Aladdin. Does that mean the bus is your magic carpet ride?" Brock laughs into Frankie's shoulder.

"Makes you Princess Jasmine...and yes, hell yes this is my magic carpet." Frank snorts, "You would look nice in teal..." 

"Excuse me, I'm _Prince_ Jasmine. Okay? You get that right, _gattino._ Everybody here knows you are the spoiled princess."

"You'll be a pretty princess once I put some liner, lipstick and lashes on you.. " Frank giggles until it hits him, "I'm not a spoiled princess!" 

He laughs, full and rich. Oh, how he loves this man. He hugs him close to kiss him before laying back onto the mattress, leaving Frankie to sit across his lap unattended. His boy was absolutely a spoiled princess and was perfect for the role. Too bad he couldn't get him a tiger. 

Frank takes advantage of the situation using his left hand, he carefully pushes up Brock's shirt and places kisses and carefully places nips along his hip and stomach. He trails kisses over his ribs and pausing just below his pecs. He takes the opportunity to gently grind against Brock. "I'm not a spoiled princess… even if I was. It's your fault." 

"My fault, hmm? Yeah I can see that. I do spoil you pretty hard. But that's because I love my pretty spoiled princess," he said, nonchalantly, tucking one hand behind his head. A sigh of pleasure escapes from the attention he was getting on his stomach. A change from their normal routine. His cock begins to stir in interest.

Frank can hear the giggle from the band outside of their room but he ignores it. He knows it will turn into a tour nickname. The relaxed posture annoys him, he was trying to get attention. More affection. Brock had wound him up a little, he wanted more.

"I'm not a princess." He barely lifts his lips from Brock's skin to speak with an almost lust-filled protest. His right-hand slides up Brock's thigh and between his legs until it stops at the button of his pants. His fingers teasing the skin beneath them with the promise of diving in. Frank's mouth finds its way to his nipple, soft lips suck and flicker the tongue over the sensitive skin. He runs teeth over his nipple before moving on. His hand slides a little more into his underwear but stops just before the place he called home as Frank moved over the shirt and to Brock's neck. 

"Please just _touch_ me!" He whispers in a desperately needy tone in his ear before nipping at the lobe and going back to kisses and sucking on his neck. 

The needy whine from Frankie went straight to his cock, making him instantly fully hard. His boyfriend was barely frustrated properly and already he was perfectly needy. Still. He wanted him more frustrated. Sliding his hand out from behind his head, Brock grabbed Frankie by the waist and ran his hands over every inch of skin under his shirt in a loving and caressing manner.

Frank feels like he might have purred but hopes he didn't. It wouldn't help him with the whole 'not a kitten' thing which he'd given up on a while ago but still. He can feel the excitement churning in his stomach as Brock's hands wander his skin. He kisses up his chin and finds his lip. Frank hovers over him for a moment, "You know what I want..." He doesn't give him a chance to respond before kissing him a little deeper than he should, driving home his need. He knows that they are playing a game and he had to push the limits with Brock; it's no fun without push back.

His right hand comes up and cups the back of Frankie's head. His other trails down his back to slip into Frankie's jeans and grab his ass, pulling him against the tent in his pants. A small moan escapes and he raises his hips a little, grinding up against his boy. If they weren't playing a game, he'd be more enthused over the prospect of Frankie riding him in their new bed. Instead, he needs to keep his breathing level and controlled to make sure this doesn't escalate too far. The hand on his ass slips out of his jeans just to swat him hard. He breaks the kiss to nip and kiss Frankie's neck and spanks him again.

Frank lets out a quiet moan into Brock's ear after each hit. Maybe this was working? Maybe Brock broke and called the game off again but didn't tell him? Frank pushes against Brock's confined cock before moving away from his body just enough to move his hand to lightly grip the shaft of Brock's cock before giving him a few lazy strokes. So maybe he is a spoiled kitten. But he sure as fuck isn't a princess.

Sighing a moan, Brock arches into the touch. He can't help it. He's supposed to be teasing Frankie not the other way around! Though… he never said he couldn't come. Just Frankie. He doesn't particularly want to come in his pants though. He's got a better idea, "Fuck baby. Feel so good. Want your sinful mouth on me."

Frank pulls back his hand and sits back and to his thighs, "What are you playing at?" He is suspicious. He knows better. Right? Maybe Brock's too distracted to play their game?

"I want to shove my cock down your throat and mouth fuck you until you gag. Maybe cum on your face. Make my kitten lick the cream. Because you're a good boy and you've earned it."

"Oh, Ok!" Frank was still suspicious but still leans over him with a smirk before kissing him and whispering, "I _am_ a very good boy." He kisses down Brock's neck and quickly moves south before he drops to the floor between his knees.

He leans back and works his fingers under the door to coax it to shut before returning to Brock. Sitting up on his knees he unbuttons and zips the pants before pulling everything down. Placing lazy kisses up Brock's thigh before gripping the shaft and dives in. No point in being sexy, no time. He pushes himself down then back up wrapping lips around the head and sucking before pulling off and going back for more.

Brock moans, hands going to Frankie's head and gently holding him. God Frankie was amazing with his tongue. He loved how tight his throat was around his cock. He whispers, gasping at a particular hard suck, "Holy shit baby." 

Ray leans out of the bunk and looks down and across to the others. He can't help but have a nervous smile on his face.

"They sure didn't waste time." Mike comments not bothering to look up from his book. 

"Princess has to stick around right?" Gerard asks as he turns on his side to face the others, "I mean the protests alone make it a necessity."

"Oh absolutely!" Bob laughs, "Kitten is an interesting choice. He seems more like an eager puppy than a kitten but ok." 

"No. He's definitely a kitten." Gerard's tone is confident with a reassuring smile to back it. 

"Think they're gonna just stop at a quick blowjob? Cause we have about 8 hours left on this trip.," Ray asks.

"I'll just make sure my headphones are readily available. Just in case. I don't need to hear Frank begging to be fucked in the ass by the boss." Bob replies as he rolls his eyes and lifts his headphones.

Gerard knows he's got Linds at home but a part of him misses this part of Frank. Eager to please and willing to do anything. Frank was always wanting to be touched and it didn't matter how either.

_Want your sinful mouth_ echoes in his head and stirs something in his chest. He can't get jealous. "I bet they are done in five minutes tops." He says trying to contribute to the conversation. 

The silence from behind closed doors was the way it felt in a movie as the anticipation built in the scene. He half-heartedly reads his emails on his phone but is focusing on the lack of sound. The sound of Brock's moan breaks the silence, making Ray giggle. Mike gets up from his bunk and heads for the mini-fridge which the label has stocked with snacks and water. And wine. 

Gerard let himself fantasize for a moment. Frankie's mouth on his skin. He nods his head as he watches Bob talk but is playing out the scene in his head. Each moan and curse from behind the door driving him a little deeper into his head.

"Damn," Ray quietly comments at the needy Italian that comes from behind the door, "So good he forgot English."

Gerard pops back to reality as Brock moans Frank's name loud enough that Mike turns and shakes his head as he pulls string cheese from the fridge, "Jesus, Frank." 

Gerard leans over and listens closely with Ray and Bob. The soft murmuring behind the door making the curiosity peak in their heads. The tone changes from soft and gentle sound to sharp. 

"What? No!" Frank's voice now louder. Angry. Gerard looks to Ray and tilts his head to the side. What's going on? The turn of the handle makes them all snap back in their bunks with 'headphones' on and books or phones up like they hadn't been listening.

"Go fuck yourself, Mr. Rumlow!" Frank snaps as he storms out. He can't fucking believe he fell for it. His dick is painful and begging to be touched as he storms out for water and to wash his face.

Gerard glances back casually to see Brock with a shit-eating grin. This is gonna be a shit show and something he can't miss. 

Frank washes his face quickly. The one word ringing in his head, ' _no'_. He fell for it. Brock lured him in with those warm inviting brown eyes made him fall for it. An idea pings in his head that sends him off like a rocket towards Brock. He's pushing back

"That's a rotten thing to do!" He hisses at Brock. He questions himself. _Do I slap him?_

"The game is for you to not come. Never said I couldn't." Brock grins evilly.

"But I earned it! You said! You lied!" He snaps back his body wound tight as the ache between his legs intensifies. 

Gerard slips from his bunk and sits with Ray. The two exchange a look then quietly listen for Brock to respond. He has a good feeling this isn't going to work the way Frank thinks it will. But good on him for trying.

"No. I did not. I said you had earned the right to be mouth fucked. You heard what you wanted to hear," Brock pulls him closer. He doesn't need the others to really hear the potential argument. "I touched you as you asked. You didn't specify _how_." 

"I didn't…" his mouth falls open as he blinks. He pushes him back and points, "Dont!"

"Or else, what. What are you going to do, huh?" Brock challenges lightly. He's interested to see how far his kitten will go before the little furball attacks.

Frank slaps him across the face. Not hard but enough to make a point. His eyes widened at the realization he hit him. "Shit."

"Just for that, you will be sleeping alone without me tonight," Brock says, voice bordering on pissed. It's part of the game and he expected it so he can't fully be angry. But he's fighting to keep from getting there. "You can have the bed. I'll take the couch." 

"No, take _your_ bed. I can sleep in a bunk." Frank growls. He takes a step back. "His highness needs his beauty sleep." 

Brock stands, temper rising. "You will sleep in here because I do not trust you with your band mates. As part of your punishment for that stunt, you are to have no physical contact with _anyone_. Maybe it'll teach you to have respect."

"No physical contact with the band?!" He steps forward. "And you don't trust me?"

It wasn't Frankie he actually didn't trust so much as Gerard. If Frankie was seriously wound up as bad as he was acting, then he wouldn't put it past him to ask Gerard for help. He didn't think Gerard had enough self-control to say no. Not to mention the guys weren't really in on the game itself and may think he's just being cruel. Again, he isn't sure if they would assist or just not tell him if Frankie decided to take matters into his own hand if he slept out on the couch or in a bunk by himself. If Frankie was in the bedroom unattended, he would actually not sleep without himself or someone to occupy him. He can't help but wonder if this is still enjoyable for his boy. He leans over and softly whispers, "You know the magic word to end this. Say it and I'll fuck you hard right here right now for them to see. Or you can take your punishment like a good boy. Either way, it's up to you, _tesoro_."

"I'm not ending this." He hisses, "You don't get to do that!" 

"That's _exactly_ what I get to do. That's the whole fucking point of orgasm denial," Brock spats back. He's not bothering to hide his words. If the whole bus knows than more power to him. "If you can't take it…." 

"Or what? Call it off again cause you get jealous?" Frank narrows his eyes and hisses back. "I'll take my _punishment_. It's fine. Give em hell, _kid_."

The bus falls under a hush as they roll along the highway. Frank grabs his bag and takes a seat upfront. He pulls out his headphones and his Bela guitar. He pulls the headphones into the guitar to tune out the entire bus. He needs to calm down and get centered. He needs to not be such a hothead. 

The hum of the bus is killing Bob to sleep in his bunk as he tries to read his book. Ray spends his time between reading and checking his email. He smiles at Brock as he exits the back of the bus and nods when he walks past again with a wine glass and the binder. 

"If you need help, let me know," He offers with a smile and receives a nod. He watches as Brock opens the notebook and pours a glass of wine, putting on reading glasses. He reads over each page with a laser focus. 

Brock's head shoots up not long after and turns to Ray, "Sunshine?" His voice is quiet as Ray looks up and sits beside him to help. 

Frank leans forward and watches as Brock and Ray sit together. He was supposed to help him but his fucking tantrum ruined it. He looks handsome in his stupid glasses. It makes his heart flutter a little. He needs to apologize. He rises to his feet as the bus eases to a stop with the brakes hissing under his feet.

"Stopping for gas. We have twenty before we are on the road." The driver announces as the door hisses open and he exits. Bob passes him by then Mike. 

"You coming princess?" Bob asks before reaching the front.

Gerard snorts and pats him on the shoulder. "Maybe we can find a nice tiara for you?" 

"Fuck off." Frank grumbles as he moves back to the end of the bus. He stops at the door and waits for a moment to talk to Brock, "You should get up and stretch your legs and get fresh air… babe."

He looks up from his binder for a moment before going back to reading the remainder of the paragraph, "Noted. Thank you." 

"Sorry for being a dick. And a child." Frank frowns before turning around to leave for the front of the bus.

"I expected it." Brock sets aside the binder, marking his spot. He takes off his glasses and grabs his wine before standing and following Frankie.

"You expected it..." Frank smirks even though Brock can't see it. He hesitates at the front of the bus. He looks back at Brock.

"I did. Though the hit was a surprise," Brock moves to exit but is stopped by Frankie's hesitation.

Frank cringes. "I'm really sorry!" He's not a violent guy but his behaviors of late have been the opposite of this. "Can you forgive me?" 

"I will. You have been under a lot of duress so I'll take that into consideration."

Frank nods. He already knows he's sleeping alone. Brock is nothing if not consistent. "Did you want anything?" 

"Are you coming Beauty and the Beast?" Gerard shouts up the stairs at them. 

"I'm the beast, huh?" Brock says softly. "I thought I'd spend my time outside stretching my legs."

"I mean you are the _prince_ so I guess that makes me the beast, Belle." Frank smirks before walking down the stairs.

"Well you are the cute animal, so I guess that works, _gattino,_ " he says lightly, following Frankie down the steps.

"And I have the temper." Frank adds, "Not to mention, you are really pretty." 

"I have a temper too. Remember, Alan tried to insinuate I was physically abusive to you in the meeting so," Brock trails off as he steps into the sunlight. "Damn near worked too." 

"Yeah well, he's the one who tried to get me..." He stops himself. He never told him that story and doesn't feel he should know. "He was awful. And I'm sorry, my love. You're a wonderful and good man."

"I try my best to be nothing like those in your past, _cuore mio._ And if you ever think or feel like I am, you are free to hit me anytime. With a baseball bat or whatever you choose." Brock moves into the grass near the bus and searches for a flat surface to stretch.

"Not going to happen. You're the best thing that's happened to me. " He replies. He wants to stick around but doesn't know if he should. If he's wanted. He hesitates for a moment. He takes a few steps back, his heart hurts. He wants to tackle Brock. And kiss him. Cling to him. But he holds himself back.

Brock moves into some yoga-style stretches for a moment before starting jumping jacks, each word punched out by a clap, "Still. Though. Just. Saying." 

"I know, babe." Frank says before leaving him to do his sports thing. He goes to Ray and Gee by the bus door.

"Hey kid, what's the face for?" Ray asks.

"I'm fine." He bottles up and smiles. 

"You sure about that? That was pretty heated." 

"I'm fine." Frank replies abruptly. He doesn't want to talk about it. 

"So… question." Ray cuts in, "Alan claimed he abuses you? Huh… sounds familiar." Ray glares at Gerard.

"It's not my idea! He never asked about you guys." Gee puts his hands up. 

"He said a lot of dumb shit." Frank shakes his head, "If anything, I'm the abusive one." 

Neither man says a thing to this and both shake their head. Brock moves from jumping jacks to push-ups.

"So, you get to sleep alone huh?" Gee grins. "I'd offer to snuggle but he'd beat my ass."

"I'd help him." Ray raises an eyebrow. 

"I'm going in. I think I'm going to hide in a bunk and nap." Frank steps away and heads into the bus quietly. 

Brock moves from two-handed push-ups to one-handed just to finish off the set he's doing in his head. When he's finished, he stands and looks for Frankie, wanting to see about using him as a weight for the last bit of his brief exercise. Glancing at the boys, he frowns and wonders where he went. He goes over to them. Maybe Frankie was hiding on the other side of the bus or getting something?

"Are you sundowning, boss?" Gerard asks as he tilts his head to the side.

Brock snorts and gives him a little glare, "No, you ass. I'm not that old. Where's Frankie? I wanted his help with something."

"He's inside feeling his feels or himself… whichever happens first," Gerard snickers at his joke. 

"Dork," Brock rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone to check the time. He's not sure if he should even bother to get Frankie or if he should leave him alone. He doesn't have a whole lot of time left to finish his mini-workout. Maybe he should just forget it.

"Can I help?" Gerard asks. 

"Depends. How much do you trust me and how much do you weigh?" Brock gives him a quick once over from top to bottom. If he isn't trying to guesstimate his weight, he's positive it would look like he is checking out the younger man. 

"I trust you. Maybe 130 or 140. 150 max. Why?" 

"I want to lift you. Over my head a few times," Brock says. "Maybe do a few curls."

"Lift? Curl?" Gerard tilts his head to the side. "Just don't drop me. Please don't damage the merch."

"The merch? Seriously?" Brock raises an eyebrow before laughing and moving to pick him up. "Don't move and you'll be fine." 

"Do my best to not move." He says standing still realizing how silly it will look.

Brock picks him up into a cradle hold first, testing weight and to give Gerard a chance to get used to the feeling. If he was going to freak out, now would be the time.

"Is this going to be like Simba? Or dirty dancing or like you’re throwing a bag of clothes off a cliff side?" Gerard jokes.

"I only get two of those references," Brock says, holding Gerard out and curling his arms a few times. He figured he'll start with the easy thing.

"Frankie's never told you about the ex throwing his clothes off the edge at the Grand Canyon?" Gerard asks, trying to keep himself steady. He weighs a hell of a lot more than Frank.

"When was this? Surely before I came along?" 

"It was about three weeks before he met you." Gerard wrinkles his nose as he thinks, "His entire backpack of clothes, gone cause she got jealous."

"The fuck. I swear, everytime I think that I've heard the worst about that bitch someone tells me a story that proves me wrong. Better pray that we don't meet again. It won't end well for her," Brock replies casually as he moves to lift Gerard over his head. He holds him up there for a few seconds before quickly lowering him back down to cradle.

"He. Found out she was sleeping with. Alan and confronted her." Gerard feels a little panic in his stomach, "She flipped it on him and claimed he was cheating. And bye bye to all his clothing."

"Okay one, that's disgusting as fuck. And two, she's mentally insane and needs to be locked up in a box without a key. And three, I can't believe Frankie stayed with her afterwards. I mean, I know why but… "

"She did the awful thing that shitty people like her do. 'I think I'm pregnant.' So of course he won't leave her," Gerard explains to defend his Frank. "Wasn't until Linds caught her in a lie that it fell apart." 

"Figures. Though, if she were fucking Alan I would have just pointed out that clearly any kid was his because she wasn't sleeping with Frankie. Hoebag." Brock has to focus more on his breathing now as he continuously lifts Gerard.

"She was awful. Tried to get him fired. She was bad to my Frank." He says, "No matter how much we all tried to get him to leave her. She had her hooks in him."

Brock stills for a moment, not believing what he just heard. Because surely he misheard. _Surely_ Gerard was meaning his friend. _Surely_ he wasn't trying to start something. _Surely_ he didn't wait until he was literally up in arms before saying something. He's surely going to bust this kid's teeth out if he ain't careful. He gently sets the man down on his feet. They will be going back inside soon anyway.

"Our Frankie deserves better," Gerard nods. He flattens his shirt out and smiles at Brock, unknowing how much he truly ruffled his feathers. "I should check on him." 

"We should be going back inside anyway. Thanks for helping," Brock smiles. He moves towards the bus, expecting Gerard to follow. He's going to need the wine, not for Frankie's dancing skills on the stage but just to keep from killing the not-quite-ex boyfriend. He sighs. It's going to be a long tour.

Gerard follows him, unaware that he's upset Brock. He tries to sidestep the man and move for Frank because he was upset. He knows that his _boy_ has probably already cried or is crying. He'll bottle it up the second he hears people boarding the bus but it isn't hard to tell. "Excuse me." 

Brock pulls up short when Gerard cuts him off from entering the bus. A low growl escapes, already working on a vicious temper from their conversation and now this movement. He is a fucking idiot to think the kid and himself could be pals. He was trying it for Frankie's sake but this motherfucker pissed him off far too many times. How dare he think of Frankie as **his**? And then to worm himself so he's the one to be _right there_ when Frankie needs some attention. This is exactly why he doesn't want Frankie sleeping out on the couch or in a bunk tonight. He doesn't trust Gerard not to make a move. He should've fucking dropped him on his goddamned skull about six or seven times. What's worse is clearly Frankie doesn't trust Brock in the midst of all of this which just pisses Brock off more. He enters the bus and is livid at the sight of Gerard right at where he suspects Frankie to be hiding.

"Frankie?" Gerard's voice is soft as he crouches down to the lowest bunk. "Did you need some water?" 

"I'm fine." Frank replies with a small voice, "Just want the quiet and dark."

"Hey Brock? Can you grab water for Frank?" Gerard asks as Brock was about to reach the fridge. He smiles warmly before turning to Frank and speaking softly, "I think he and I will be cool." 

Grabbing a bottle of water and passing it to Gerard was a lot harder than what it felt like it needed to be. He manages though and as soon as the kid takes the cold drink, Brock turns on his heels and returns to the fridge. It only takes him a second to decide on taking the whole bottle of cold wine back to his "room". He's got a feeling he's going to need it tonight. Frankie won't be the only one miserable sleeping alone.

"Good! Brock's a really good man. He's a good friend to have." Frank gives him a small smile. "Maybe wake me in like an hour. I just wanna nap without disturbing anyone. I've been feeling sour."

"I got you man. Maybe you and lover boy can kiss and makeup after you nap away that bitchy attitude," Gerard teases.

"Yeah we will. Just giving him some space. He's probably in the back with the glasses on reading being cute huh?" He asks without opening his eyes.

"He sure is. Got his wine. He looks a little pissy but I hate reading work shit too." Gerard smiles as he pats the bed, "Take a nap kid. One of us will bug you in a bit." Gerard closes the curtains and quietly moves back to the front with Mike. The bus fills with noise as the group comes back and chatters in the front. 

Brock shuts the door. He doesn't want to be disturbed right now. Doesn't want to hear the others laughing; their chit chat suddenly annoying. He especially doesn't want to see or hear Gerard. He's certain he's going to throw a punch otherwise. Normally speaking, he would have said he was a rather level-headed man. He prided himself on his patience and temperance. He'd dealt with more intense situations often that by now he was a professional. Meeting Frankie changed his world upside down. He needs to finish reading the binder but instead, he's stewing over what happened between him and Gerard. He really needs to check his insecurity. He doesn't understand why it even exists when it comes to Frank. He's never been anything but confident before. Now, here he was, getting ready to drink an entire bottle of wine in one sitting just because he was a jealous bastard. He opens the bottle of wine and drinks. Maybe he'll let himself get drunk tonight. Yeah. That's a good plan. Fuck the binder. Fuck everything.

Frank is curled up with Brock's pillow as he quietly rests his eyes listening to the band laughing and talking with the noticeable absence of Brock's voice. He's formulating an apology in his head that is bigger than the one before. He should just go in and invade his space. Beg him to lay with him. Forget his shitty behavior. He wants to tell him that he loves him and wants him to be happy. He drifts to sleep after the tears dry, the dog tags in his hand, running a finger over the raised letters on the metal. It's not peaceful. It wouldn't even classify as rest. Just blackness around him as he hears everything going on outside of the curtain. He's woken by the curtains pulling back and a soft voice of Ray telling him it's time to get up or he won't sleep tonight. The light spills in and makes him grumble. 

"I'm up. Thanks man." Frank says as he pats Ray's arm. "Is Brock out there?"

"Nope. He's back there." 

"I'll go check on him." Frank smiles, "Give him a kiss and tell him I love him."

"Yeah you're the only one qualified to do that." Ray smiles as he steps back and lets Frank out. He stretches and feels how awful the bunks are to sleep in. He misses their bed. Inhaling as he holds his fist up to knock before tapping three times. "Brock?" 

"Come in," comes a muffled reply after several long moments.

He pulls the door open and straightens his shirt out. His head tilts to the side, "Baby what's wrong?" His eyes notice the nearly empty bottle of wine. His chest tightens, Brock doesn't drink like this… not in his experience. The binder. His face. Frank crouches down and picks the binder's contents up and puts it together again before placing it away from him. He closes the door, wanting to keep some things as private as he can. He sits at his feet and keeps himself together. "Talk to me. Please." 

Red rimmed brown eyes look up at Frankie. He's not drunk enough yet. He despises this feeling but the pain in his chest was worse. He swallows a few times before wetly whispering, "Pineapple." 

Frank doesn't blink. He moves towards Brock and wraps his arms around him. His whole body aches to make him feel better. His head rests on his chest. He doesn't speak right away, he's giving him time to let it out. "When you're ready, I'm all yours." 

Brock clings to Frankie like he was his lifeline on a sinking ship. The wine, his own emotions, and Frankie being there breaks the dam that holds back hot tears. He sobs uncontrollably, unable to put forth words just yet. This was the third time he cried while dating Frankie. He was getting soft. Soft and apparently a jealous, needy, and very broken man. The thoughts only make him sob harder.

Frank moves the wine bottle and places it on the counter to avoid spills. He scoots up the bed and lets Brock rest his head into him. He hates himself a little more for not knowing what to do. He wants to make Brock feel better. He wants to make the pain go away. Instead, he lets him cry. He kisses his head and strokes his hair. 

"Can't do this," he sobs the words but he's trying. "The game. I can't."

"We don't have to do it ever again." Frank's voice is soft as he listens. "We don't have to do anything you don't want."

"No more. Hard limit for me. I can't." There's so much he wants to tell him but there's not enough air in his lungs and he can't seem to stop crying. "How can you like it? You got so angry. And– and sad."

"We don't have to do it ever again." Frank kisses his head, "I'm sorry! I try to keep it bottled up and I let it out…"

Brock is already shaking his head no before the rest of Frank's words are even out. He doesn't want his boyfriend to bottle it up. If he's allowed to lose his cool and cry like a woman or a kid, then so should Frankie. He pulls him closer, needing his comforting touch. He wants to convey that it was mostly the way that Gerard seemed to fill in the void that Brock himself created that made Brock so angry. Frankie being angry was expected over the denial but him going from angry to depressed, making Gerard make a move is what made Brock realize he can't continue the game. He's just too jealous for this. Jealous and insecure that one day he's going to lose Frank over to Gerard because of their history. It took half the bottle of wine to figure that one out. "I'm sorry! I tried. And then Gerard and I can't. Don't leave me. I'm sorry."

"Why in the world would I ever leave you?" Frank's heart hurts even more now. He holds him tighter, his hands push up under his shirt to touch his skin. He leans up and kisses his forehead, "Brock we just had a spat cause I lost my cool. I'm sure as fuck not leaving you for Gerard of all damn people, you silly man. I am in love with you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life." Frank feels his face getting hot and the tears trying to come back to the surface. He kisses him again and again. He doesn't understand why Brock feels like this. He's there until Brock doesn't want him, which doesn't seem like that's going to happen anytime soon. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, "Brock, there is more to this than that silly game. What's going on in your head, _polpetto_? Please, talk to me. I want to fix this." 

Brock takes a shuddering breath and tries to stem the flow of tears. His head is pounding and his face is a disgusting wet mess. His heart still hurts and there's a lot he wants to say but he also is feeling pretty exhausted from all the crying. He wants his koala. And to lie down. Sniffing and using his shirt as a tissue, he nods, "Ok." 

Choosing to not push it, he kisses his cheek. Frank wipes a trail of a tear, "I love you Brock. You and only you." He clings onto him a little tighter. There's a conversation to be had but he's not going to push it. "You wanna lay down with me?" 

Brock nods. "I should clean up. My head is pounding." 

"There's nothing to clean up. I got you, baby. Lay with me, please?" Frank urges, he knows it's the wine and tears. Lord knows he's been there. He wipes Brock's other cheek. 

"My face is a mess. Damn nose is running," he laughs wetly, a few more tears escaping. He's not nearly okay but at least he's starting to calm down. He's reaching the stage of physically exhausted from crying so hard that it's painful to keep going, no matter how much emotional pain was still there. "Need some Tylenol or something and some water."

"if you let me go for a minute, I can bring you things to help. And something sober up too." Frank speaks softly. "I wanna help."

Nodding, he lets Frankie go, albeit reluctantly. He doesn't want to lose his lifeline. His rock. The insecure part of him panics that he's going to leave the room and never come back. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying again. He's a grown-ass man. He should be acting like one and not letting his emotions overtake common reason. 

"I will be right back. I promise." He kisses him and does it once more. 

"Ok. Sorry. Thank you." He has to force himself to let him go for real this time. God, he feels like shit. Sounds worse. 

Frank rushes out of the backroom and picks up a folded hand towel from the bathroom and wets it. He grabs a box of tissues, water, pills and, panicking a little, unsure what to grab, pulls two granola bars and string cheese. It'll have to do until they get to Cleveland. He steps in the room with a small accomplished smile. He hands him the rag first before unloading the rest. "Wash your face, baby." 

Taking the cool wet cloth and placing it over his hot face, Brock sighs with a little bit of relief. The texture feels too much against his overly-sensitive skin at the moment but that's something he can deal with as he wipes his eyes, cheeks, and nose. The coolness is a balm against his headache and he holds it to his forehead before grabbing the bottle of water next. Cool water washes down the pills and soothes his throat. Setting aside the cloth and trading it for tissues, he blows his nose a few times and makes a disgusted face.

Frank closes the door. He grabs the small black wastebasket, moving it closer to the bed and sits beside him. He stays close but doesn't crowd. Instead, he places a hand on Brock's leg and carefully rubs his thumb over the material. He knows he needs to be touched but this is more important. His head is filled with so many questions that he can't get answers for. The biggest one is why? Why the jealousy? He's not going to push. He's going to give him time to center and be waiting for him there.

"Why did you bring snacks?" Brock asks quietly. He's not complaining though, as he takes the cheese and eats it quickly. His brain hurts.

"You remind me when I take pills I need food in my stomach. Just being _nonverbal_ about it." Frank smiles softly.

"Oh," He nods. He's not too thrilled about the granola bars so he picks up one and eats half. Yeah…. This is gross. Nope. He swallows the bite he took and tosses the other half into the trash with his snotty tissues. He's done being upright now. "Wanna lay down now." 

"Okay. Do you want me to lay with you still?" He asks, moving the tissue box to the small table and the trash can back to its spot in the room. 

"Yeah," he replies as he removes his shirt and pants before curling up under the covers. The bed wasn't like back home but it was comfortable enough.

Frank slips under the blanket and clings to Brock. He presses his lips to his skin and waits for his boyfriend to relax a little. He's there for him when he needs to talk or cry more. He's isn't leaving his side.

Pulling Frankie close as remotely possible, he first just takes a few deep breaths. Touching their foreheads together. Just needing to hold and be held. His nuzzling finds his mouth and Brock automatically kisses him, nearly frantic.

He kisses him back. Frank lets his body mold to Brock. His fingers drawing small soft circles into his skin. He breaks the kiss for a moment, "I love you, please don't forget that." He gives him another small kiss and tangles his legs with Brock's.

"Love you too," Brock whispers in their shared space. He sighs and more tears well but he doesn't let them fall. He's ready as he'll ever be to talk and he wants to anyway. It takes him a little bit before he's able to say, "Ok. Ready." 

Frank opens his eyes and looks at Brock. He nods and places a hand on his chest. He would have fiddled with his dog tags but Brock wasn't wearing them anymore. Instead, he chooses to run a finger along his skin. "I'm all ears, baby." 

"I don't like the game of orgasm denial. It's not fun for me. I thought I could, for you. I don't know why you like it. Or maybe one or two times during a session is okay but not for a whole day. I just–" he cuts himself off as his emotional rollercoaster rises.

"That's fine with me. It's something we aren't meant to do. And that's totally ok." He rests his hand and looks up at him. "Breathe. Then let it out." He nods as he keeps his face soft. He is trying to keep his worry from showing. 

Brock takes several deep breaths, in through his mouth and out through his nose, until he feels he has a little bit of a handle on his emotions. "I knew you were gonna be mad. But then you got depressed and Gerard. He said– I got so mad and it's not that I don't trust you, it's him and you don't trust me and he's gonna–"

"Whoa. Hey! Slow down." Frank strokes his face. "Breathe again. Ok?" 

"I got upset because of how _I_ acted. I had no right to hit you. I'm still fighting with my demons about not being like _her_." Frank pauses and kisses him, "I don't know what happened but I think you both had a different experience. You ready to keep going?" 

Brock's thoughts are scrambled. Erratic. He's having trouble focusing. He feels like everything is open and raw inside him and instead of getting grounded, he felt more chaotic. He hates this feeling. Trying for another few deep breaths, he attempts to make some sense of his thoughts. "I wasn't mad that you hit me. Not beyond the punishment. Once I set the consequences I'd moved on. But you didn't and pulled away from me. You don't trust me."

"I was giving you space. I also needed to calm down. I mean yeah, I had to work through some emotions but I didn't want to be a _bother_." Frank feels his head spin a little at the trust comment. "I do trust you. I trust you with my life. Why do you feel like I don't?"

"Everytime I'm mad or upset or you think I'm mad or upset at you, you pull away from me and bottle it up. Or turn to someone else. It tells me you either think I'm going to hurt you or leave you. That's not trust, Frank. That's fear."

"I. I don't mean to do that. Well pull away at least." Frank hesitates for a moment. "I know that I stuff my emotions down but it doesn't mean I don't trust you. No one should have to deal with my emotional issues, it's not their burden. And I _am_ scared of losing you but I didn't relate that to trust…until now." 

"Didn't think you did it on purpose," Brock says quietly. "But we're in this together. Burden shared burden halved, right? We both say it. I'm doing it now."

"This isn't a burden, love…" Frank blinks, slowly making a connection in his head that turns the light on but doesn't say a thing. "If we're being honest, I am afraid if I let my full emotions out that I won't be able to stop. I've always been the 'sit there and look pretty' partner and I'm sorry."

"Can I ask what happened between you and Gerard? You weren't best friends by any means but there was a chance for it." Frank follows that with, "And there is no way in hell that I am going to pick him over you. I'm not sure how to make that clear to you besides tattoo your name on my body or take you to Vegas…" 

"It's just something he said… after you left me and I was doing the jumping jacks, I went to push ups and when I was done I went looking for you. He said you were on the bus, upset, and offered to help me... I wanted to lift you but I figured you werenot wanting me around so I said ok. We got to talking about your ex throwing your clothes over the Grand Canyon and her sleeping with Alan and not being pregnant. Then he said 'she hurt **my** Frank' and I nearly dropped him." Brock pauses to take a few breaths again. "Then he made it a point to go check on you. Cut me off to be first on the bus. Made sure he was there first to talk to you. To comfort you. I only said for you to sleep in the room tonight because I didn't trust him not to make a move to fill my absence and because you have history you'd turn to him. Because you certainly don't seek me out when you aren't okay. But he's always there."

"I don't think that is very fair, this is the first time since we've been together that we have– that I have had to deal with my feelings. I've been happy with you. And I didn't turn to anyone, I pulled a Frank and kept it in until I was alone." Frank keeps an even tone even if he is hurt on the inside, "He's not the one I wanted to check on me. I wanted you. Further, I don't think he meant anything by the ‘my Frank’ comment. Would you be upset if Ray or Bob said it?"

"No. But they weren't sleeping with you either." Brock holds him tighter. "He loves you and you're mine." 

"I am only yours. I only want you. He can fuckin' pine all he wants for me. Which I don't think he is…" Frank snuggles closer, "I think you're making yourself crazy over something that's not happened yet… and it never will. Can I just say. The mental image of you throwing Gerard is quite funny." He adds with a little smile. "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Yes. Anything." 

"Can you call me out if you think I am bottling up? And on the inverse, if you aren't able to help me with my emotions, tell me." 

"Promise," Brock doesn't hesitate. He highly doubted he couldn't help Frankie. So long as they worked it through together. Open communication was extremely important to any relationship and certainly a necessity for him. "I'm sorry for getting jealous. I've never been this insecure before. I think it's because I've never been this afraid of losing anyone before. Losing everything we've got. I can't survive another breakup. Wanna talk about trust. Because apparently my insecurity stems from me not trusting the fact that you'll stay. I want to. It's just a deep seeded fear that what's happened in the past will happen again and every time I think you are pulling away, I worry it's the last. It's why I want us to work on each other together. Like this. Honesty with each other starts with being honest with ourselves. Took me half the damn bottle and the better part of an hour to work through the fact that I have my own trust issues to work through. I'm sorry." Brock closes his eyes, feeling like shit now. Just talking about it made him realize he was projecting a little. And that he was blaming Frankie for a lot of things that he also was responsible for. Seeing things that weren't there.

Frank leans in and kisses him tenderly, his fingers touching his chin. He's never loved someone this much. "Then it's settled. We have to help each other be open. Even if it gets ugly or hurts. I am _terrified_ of fucking this up and losing the first person I can truly say I love more than anything in the world." Frank kisses him again, "I'm going to keep saying this, I'm not leaving until _you_ make me. I'm all in. I am working with my damn landlord to break my lease to not have to leave you. Come hell or high water, I'm here and I'm not leaving. 

"I'm sorry I made you feel like this. I don't want you to ever feel this way again, I trust you with my life. Please don't let those little demons tell you differently." Frank whispers before nuzzling into his neck and enjoying being held.

~~

Gerard feels like a creep for listening. The sound of a sob catches his attention and he's worried it's Frank. He was the youngest in the band and everyone felt the need to protect him. As he listens, he hears that Brock was jealous and his actions had only made it worse. He wanted to be friends with Brock, not the source of distrust. 

"How do I fix this?" Gerard leans over the edge and asks Ray. 

"That's hard to say. I think you're just going to have to build trust with him by your actions. And stop saying that he's our Frank; he's just Frank," Ray offers barely looking up. 

"Also maybe invite Linds to a few tour dates. That will probably help with the whole, I'm not Jolene and I'm not taking your man," Bob replies, turning his head to the side and smiling. 

The bus rolled through Pennsylvania towards their destination, stopping once more just outside of Cleveland for gas. Each of the boys on the board could feel the anxiety of being confined to tight quarters getting to them. This is why they needed to do shows; to burn off the energy and to release tension. 

Gerard knew the schedule and wanted to talk to Brock about the radio program they had to do at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He wanted to explain how it works but didn't think he should be the one to do it. He sends a message to Frank about the interview and asks him to explain it to Brock. He can't wait to get off the bus and meet some new faces. This is the best part of his job.

"Baby, we have an interview at 7pm with XM radio. Did the binder explain how that works?" Frank asks quietly as he strokes his skin.

"I don't think I got that far in the reading. But it's just questions and answers. Right?" he asks, voice soft and faint. He fights a yawn.

"For us. You get to be our buffer I suppose. You tell them off limits questions. You charm the radio people. Also you get to be the hottest man in the building. That's the most important part of your job." Frank grins at him. "Do you think you can do that?" 

"Mmhmm," he nods sleepily. Sighing, he shifts so he's more comfortable and tightens his hold on Frankie. "I'm good." 

"Are you going to just agree to whatever I say as long as I keep touching you?" He teases. 

"Maybe."

"You better octopus hold me, mister." He smiles and kisses his neck. 

"'kay," he sighs and does so before drifting off.

Two hours fly by, the bus eases into the backlot of the venue. The bus erupts into excitement at the idea of getting off and being able to move around. The noise dies quickly and leaves Frank and Brock on the bus alone. He stretches his legs and kisses Brock's chest. "Love. We're here."

Brock stirs with a groaning grumble. Eyes blink open owlishly before they squeeze tightly shut from a large yawn. Legs stretch out and he lets go of Frankie, feeling sleepy but in a good way. Sitting up, he glances over at his love, "Hi." 

"Hi back." He says with a yawn to follow, "Thank you for cuddling me." 

"Best. Cuddles. Ever." Brock yawns and swings his legs over the bed, picking up the discarded half-empty bottle of water and finishing it off.

"I agree." He leans over and kisses his side. "Are you meeting with arena security? And I'm starving." 

"Probably should. And yes, food. And maybe more water for me," Brock runs a hand over his face before standing and making his way to the bathroom first.

"God that's an amazing view." Frank leans far enough over to watch him walk into the main part of the bus. "Want me to text the boys about food before the radio station?" 

"Yeah that'd be great," he calls over his shoulder before going into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his face.

Frank stands and stretches. He folds himself forward and feels every bone in his spine crack. _This damn bed is gonna break me._ As he stands upright he sends a group message to the band suggesting dinner and receiving quick replies in agreement. "They are all in and do not care where we go for dinner. Are you going to be able to have dinner with Gee without... asserting your dominance?"

Brock hesitates for a moment before replying, "Yeah. I should apologize too." 

"Did you do something to him?!" Frank moves closer to him. "You didn't actually throw him, right?" 

"No!" Brock looks at Frankie rather incredulously. He can't believe Frankie would think that! He's a better person than that, he swears. "I only thought about it. I swear. I just meant that I may have been a dick to him. Again."

"I didn't think you did." Frank chuckles as he walks back towards the backroom, "I don't think you need to apologize. If you only thought about being a dick, then you're fine. He probably didn't notice if you did." Brock was so tender but looked so tough and scary. 

"Oh good." Brock finishes up in the bathroom and starts to get dressed. "What do you want for dinner?" 

"I'm not sure. I know there are a lot of great restaurants near the Hall of Fame. Great Lakes Restaurant is really good. They have a little bit of everything. I'll take a look." Frank offers as he watches Brock get dressed. Enjoying the way his muscles flexed with each time he moved. 

He could watch him do anything and would be transfixed. _He could be my dinner…_ His stomach growled in disagreement. 

"Thanks. I'll let you or the others pick. I don't have a preference tonight."

"I'll let them decide." He raises an eyebrow when his reverse strip show is over. Frank follows him out of the bus, his fingers laced with Brock's. He pulls him back and kisses him. "I'm gonna hang out with the guys while you go be the boss. I love you to the moon and back."

"I'll try to be as quick as I can. I'm seriously tempted to just not go do the security thing because I don't want to leave you but my safety OCD says no."

"I would go with you but it might be weird. I'm not far away, babe. I promise." Frank kisses him before wrapping his arms around Brock. 

"About time the lovebirds joined us!" Ray rejoices with a huge smile. The others turn to face them with a welcoming smile.

"What do you idiots want for dinner?" Frank asks, glancing over his shoulder. He turns back to Brock and squeezes his fingers "Go check in at least and then come back." 

Brock nods before moving away and going inside to head up to the security office. He stops and asks for directions from a member of the venue crew.

Frank watches him disappear into the building and joins the band. The guys are chatting and smoking in a circle but go quiet when he joins them. He feels a tightness in his chest at the shift in energy. 

"Hey Frankie!" Ray throws an arm around his shoulder. 

"How much of it did you hear?" 

Silence. 

"All of it." Frank sighs. "You all now know my secrets."

"Dude, I'm not sure how to fix my relationship with Brock," Gerard says rubbing his neck. 

"Give it time." Frank sighs, "He'll come around."

"I'm hungry." Mike groans 

"You guys have to pick a place for dinner. B doesn't care and I just want food. I'm hungry." Frank smiles. His eyes keep darting to the doors waiting to see him exit. The circle chatted about the bus, the ride, and spending the most time on dinner. Frank adds his input when he can but he is distracted. 

_Maybe I should have gone with him. But that would be weird. You're being weird now. Talk to your friends. Be social._

"When are you taking him to meet the parents, Frank?" Ray asks as he snaps fingers close to his face. 

"Oh uh, soon. Mom says hello and she loves you all and to drink water." Frank blinks as he answers. "I'm a little nervous about him meeting my dad."

"Frank Sr. is gonna love him." Mike pats his back, "They can talk about old guy things." 

"Ha. Ha." 

"AARP. Life Alert. 401k. Pension. Plantar fasciitis…" 

"I hate you all." 

"Mmmm… don't forget low back pain and gout," Bob adds with a devilish gleam in his eye.

"I'm telling," Frank grumbles. "You wait until Brock comes out." 

"He loves us," Gerard says with a smile.

After checking in with venue security and going over the plan for the evening, Brock checks over all the other details required for the soundcheck. When he's done he high tails it back outside. He finds the boys right where he left them, thankfully. He goes to Frankie.

Frank brightens when he steps outside and is headed for him. "I'm still shocked that she even agreed to it." Frank grins at Brock as he approaches, "Hey babe!" 

"How's the security team look?" Ray asks. 

"We think we found a pub that we can eat at. It's right near the interview hall and then we have the rest of the night free." Gerard offers a friendly smile towards Brock.

"Sure," he nods, taking Frankie's hand. "Sounds like a good idea. Security is secured. Everything is ready for sound check too."

"I'm glad the security is secured." Frank teases as he wraps Brock's arms around him like a cape. "I would hate to insecure security..." 

"I know, right? That would be a security nightmare." Brock holds him tight and puts his chin on the top of Frankie's head.

"Never realized he was the perfect height for a chin rest." Ray smirks at Frank. 

"Right? He's fun sized," Brock grins.

"I'm not a bag of M&Ms." Frank grumbles and pushes against Brock.

"No, you're right. You're a Twinkie," Brock teases.

"I was gonna say fruit rings." Mike snickers as he glances over at Frank.

"They don't make Twinkies in a fun size…punkin." Frank replies to Brock then glares at Mike.

"Punkin?" Brock asks, surprised. "What are you, a sixty year old black woman from the south? Gonna throw me a few _sugga_ 's in there too? You sound like a southern bell, _gattino_."

"Well bless your heart, _polpetto_." Frank smirks while Brock cracks up into laughter.

"We should record this for the wedding," Gerard says quietly to his brother.

"Let's eat. I'm starving," Brock says, pulling away from his chin rest and taking Frankie's hand. "Come on, fun sized." 

"Fun sized princess?" Ray asks the others.

"No, he's the princess if you overheard right. I'm the street rat." Frank turns back and smiles. 

"Damn right, I'm the Princess," Brock states. "I'm the Jasmine to his Aladdin. And apparently the tour bus is the magic carpet. I still want my tiger."

"He'd be pretty in a tiara and gown!" Mike chuckles.

"Told you. I'd get it tattooed right near Scorpio." Frank grins up at him and bats his lashes.

"Hell no! You leave my Scorpio alone! I'm going to get me a real tiger." 

"I can get you a stuffed animal?" Frank squeezes his fingers. "Though a cool tiger or bear right here. Would be neat." He touches right next to the scorpion tattoo. "Maybe I'll get your name. There." 

"No," Brock bemoans, dragging the syllables out. He looks to the others for backup.

"You're on your own, B. We told him not to get tattoos and then they appear." Ray sighs. "The Halloween tattoo. Begged him not to get it."

"it was my birthday present." Frank defends the tattoo.

"I like the tattoos. Some, I would have disagreed on. But I love the man who got them more than the ink itself."

"Which one?" Frank looks up mischievously. "I love you too!"

"Well I could do without seeing that skank's name on the back of your hand, for one. I'd rather it be mine if you needed a reminder in your old age of who you belonged to. Like one of those 'if found please return to' sort of things."

"I'm not a lost puppy. But I do need to get that covered up." Frank looks up, "I know who I belong to." 

Mike, irritated with others over the lack of progress, pushes ahead of the group and towards the awaiting car. "I'm hungry!" He whines as he opens the door for the others to get in. 

The car takes them to the restaurant. The hostess seats them in a private seating area. Frank chooses to put Brock next to Gerard. The smells of the different foods mix together and smell amazing.

"I'm getting a beer," Frank murmurs to Ray.

"That sounds good."

"Water for me." Gerard smiles at Frank warmly. "What are you thinking Brock?" 

"Depends on the food. Was thinking either a beer or a shot. Maybe even iced tea." Brock shrugs.

"Oh yeah. That's uh. Smart." Gerard nods. 

Frank looks at Brock with a frown. He wants them to be friends. His eyes are screaming "B _e friends_!" 

"Frankie told us that you are spooky good at picking the best tasting meals. Do you agree?" Gerard tries to make small talk.

"He really is!" Frank confirms it as the waitress approaches the table. He's going to have to do something to make the two of them get along. He orders a beer and kisses Brock on the cheek, "I'll be right back babe. Be nice." 

"Okay. Wash your hands!" he hollers after him, grinning as Frank turns back and sticks his tongue out.

Brock looks over the menu and it doesn't take him very long to decide he's never coming back here. None of the food sounds really that great except for a select few. He's also discovered that maybe pubs are not the place for him to be. After deciding on a few things to at least try, he looks over the drink selections. He's ready to leave and they just got here. Next time he needs to add input when asked. Oh well. Here's hoping the food tastes better than it sounds. He waits for Frankie to return.

"The food here is… _interesting._ " Gerard leans over and says with a low tone.

Snorting his agreement, Brock nods, "It all sounds like shit. Who's idea was this anyway?" 

"Bob's." Gerard frowns. "Next pick is Frankie's." 

"I have just discovered I hate pubs. Starting now. This place makes me feel old." Brock sighs. They have to shout just to be heard. That's not dining. That's eating at a rave. The music was far too loud in his opinion if he can't really hear the waitress speaking to them.

"I hate most pubs. West coast pins get it right. They know that right balance." Gerard offers and nods in agreement, "Gimme a bistro any day."

Frank moves casually towards the table smiling at Brock as he moves through the crowded room. He gets stopped by a pretty young lady who asks for an autograph. She touches his arm and hugs him before kissing his cheek. He can't hear what she is saying but her hand grabs his as she tries to drag him away. Frank shakes his head no but it draws more attention to him. A man larger than him asks the girl if Frank is harassing her. Frank denies it and steps back, putting hands up. The guy shoves Frank back and into a table. 

The movement catches Gerard's eye and his head snaps to Frank. He watches as the other man follows Frank and invades his space. Frank puts his hand up as a way to seem not a threat. The music is too loud to hear what's being said but it looks bad. Gerard grabs Brock's thigh and loses his words. "Brock." 

"I'm sorry dude. She grabbed me!" Frank speaks loudly at the guy. The man steps up to him and looks down. The man replies by calling him a piece of shit before shoving him again. Frank shakes his head and turns to walk away but gets yanked back.

Brock jumps a little at the hand on his thigh, more than a little freaked out it was Gerard's hand and not Frankie's. Once he saw the look on his face and followed his line of sight, he was up and out of his seat in a flash. Nobody laid a hand on his Frankie. This day already kicked his ass emotionally and so with a gleeful grin he strides over. He hates this place anyway. He doesn't even hesitate or announce his presence, he just seamlessly moves from walking to throwing a hard punch at the guy.

"Hands off, asshole," he snarls, seeing red at the guy who dared mess with his boyfriend. 

The bar erupts in shouting as the guy's friends see Brock with Ray and Bob behind him. The friends attack Brock surrounding him as another man pulls Frank away and throws a punch in his face. 

The difference between these bar brawlers and himself was that he was a professional fighter and these were just pissed off knuckleheads with too much to drink. The first guy tries to barrel into him like a bull only for him to easily sidestep and deliver an uppercut punch under his jaw and one to his ribs, sending the man careening into a table. A second tries to punch but it's too wide and he catches it. A quick kick to the chest knocking the air out of him followed by a punch to his forehead drops him into unconsciousness. 

He doesn't see the third man manage to get behind him until a hairy arm wraps around his throat and tries to choke him out. For a moment he forgets his training as panic fueled survival instincts overtake his logic. He grasps the arm at his throat, trying to forcibly pull the limb away. A sharp pain followed by radiating heat exploded at his side from the man's fist. The pain actually takes what little air he has left away but it also provided clarity amidst the panic. Quickly jabbing his elbow back and upwards into his attacker's lungs grants him freedom from being choked out. 

The reprieve doesn't last long however as he's suddenly being rushed again. He's bored with this shit and snaps his hand out. Fingers wrap around the guy's throat and Brock uses the momentum of the run and his own muscles to shove the man down to the floor, head making a satisfying thump against the ground. He'll wake up with an egg for Easter. 

A noise to his right alerts him to the douche who thought it was a great idea to drag his boyfriend away and punch him. He goes over, grabbing and tossing a guy away from Ray in the process before slamming the heel of his palm into the guy's nose. The crunch of cartilage breaking was highly satisfying. He turns to face Frankie, who's got a nosebleed and pulls him into a hug. Glaring at anyone who dares approach. He's done with these fools. Next schmuck who tries something will get a face full of metal.

"I'm sorry." Frank sputters out as he wraps his arms around Brock. His nose hurts. He can hear Ray and Bob nearby, "Are you hurt?" 

"We need to go." Bob says with a dark tone to his voice.

"I wanna go." Frank's voice shakes a little, " I hate this place." 

"Agreed. Ray, Bob, take Frankie outside. Where is Mike and Gerard?" Brock's voice is cold and dark. His eyes carefully and constantly check each downed man to ensure they weren't getting back up. He's ready if someone tries anything.

"Mikes out front. Gee is…" Bob says with a nod. Ray takes Frank and moves him along, the need to protect Frank taking over and he moves him along quickly. 

Gerard seeks out Brock. His face is not the same one that Gerard had seen before. It was hardened and hallowed with dangerous dark eyes. He was the kind of man he would avoid. "Where's Frankie?" Gerard asks in a panic.

"Outside. Go on. We're leaving. I need to take care of something first." 

Gee pauses for a moment, "Be careful please. And hurry." He didn't know what in the hell Brock could possibly be taking care of that would require him in the bar but he didn't argue. Brock nods. He waits until Gerard is out the door before turning and heading over to the woman who started all of this. He's trying not to think about how easy it would kill them all.

Holding her phone close to her chest, her eyes meet Brock's and immediately feels a chill run down her back. She didn't know if she should run or hide. She steps to the side and puts the bar chairs in front of her as a precaution.

"You care to explain what the fuck you thought you were doing," Brock snarls at her.

"Just inviting him over to our table..." Her voice is small and fragile. She could feel herself shrinking.

"And you thought it was okay to let him," Brock points to the first guy he punched. The one who dared attack his Frankie. The bar is eerily silent of all ambient chatter so his venom laced voice carries loud. "threaten and assault Frank while you stood by and did _**nothing.**_ "

"I told him… I asked him to stop. It was a misunderstanding. I'm sorry. I didn't." Her voice trembling. She can feel the tears welling in her eye again. "Is he ok?" 

"He will be. I had better not hear about a fucking lawsuit. This whole thing could have been avoided if he hadn't put hands on a member of my band." Brock takes a deep breath to help calm himself. He nearly said boyfriend and he doesn't think that needs to be said here. "All of them will need to be checked out. At least one has a broken nose. Most are just unconscious. I never want to see you or your friends at any of the shows."

The door creaks open and Frank pokes his head in the sounds of the band urging him to come back. "Drop it. We're leaving! Come on B!" Frank hisses at him. His face was a little sore. Well, his nose mostly. 

"Yessir. I'm really sorry." She whimpers out with a fast nod. Her eyes dart to the door and see Frank being pulled away by Ray. 

He nods to her before turning to a member of the wait staff and has them fetch the owner or manager on duty. He gives them a phone number to call to settle repairs and damages to the establishment from the fight itself. Damage control finished, he turns on his heels and stalks out. He needs his Frankie and to make sure he's ok. She calls out one more apology before he leaves the bar. He ignores it.

Frank is waiting with his arms over his chest. He knows he looks visibly anxious but he's worried about Brock getting arrested. Or something else stupid happening. He's gotta make sure Brock's ok. He doesn't care about anything else.

"Your restaurant choice kinda sucked Bob," Ray teases but he was actually serious.

Brock pushes through the door and immediately goes to Frankie, wrapping his arms around him. "Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine, baby. Are you ok?" He clings to Brock. He doesn't give a shit at this point. He knows they have a job to do but he just wants his Brock. 

Brock uses his shirt to try to wipe up Frankie's bloody nose. He tips up his head to check for damage to the cartilage and massage the bridge of his nose to see if he was broken.

"I think I'm fine, babe." Frank gives him a small smile. "Are you ok? I saw them jump you?"

"I'll be fine," he dismissed the question. At most he'll be bruised. "Koala." 

Frank gives a small smile and nods. He wraps his arms around Brock's neck and gives a little hop to wrap his legs around his middle. 

"B. We can do the interview. Maybe go get Frankie checked out. He got hit pretty hard before we could get to him." 

Brock lifts Frankie at the jump and holds him close around his waist, both hands going under to support him. He agrees with his love getting checked out but he'll probably do that himself first before seeking medical attention, having knowledge of basic first aid. First, though, they need to leave and get some proper food into them all.

"I'm really fine. I promise." Frank speaks softly. He can smell the iron. 

"I will check you over and determine if you need medical help. For now, let's leave. We need real food and not that shit they were offering back there." 

The band agrees and makes their way towards the car. 

"It's usually been Gee that starts the riots with the girls. Not Frank," Mike points out as he opens the back door of the waiting SUV. 

"Women don't usually try to drag me to their tables," Frank replies flat. "Am I still bleeding?" He doesn't want to let go of Brock.

"Probably. That's okay though," Brock says softly. He manages to get into the car by folding himself down while still keeping a firm grip on his boyfriend. 

"Didn't wanna bleed on you." He whispers into his neck. "I coulda got down so you could get in..." He kisses his neck and snuggles a little closer.

"No," he replies firmly. "And I don't care about my clothes. I care about you." He shifts in the seat, pressing his back up against the car door in such a way to protect and shield Frankie with his body should they get into an accident. He's not worrying about the seat belts because that would require him letting go and there was no way in hell that was happening. 

"This isn't safe," Frank whispers into his ear.

"Where are we getting food? Are you doing the interview Frank or staying with Brock? B, you sure you're good my dude? How's your hand, Bob?" Ray asks from the passenger seat. 

Brock growls from mild irritation and shifts so he's sitting correctly in the seat. He yanks the seat belt over them both and clicks it into place. Frankie was right, this wasn't by any means safe and secure and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be allowing this unless his brother was driving. Frankie's being injured was not normal circumstances and he needed to hold to his koala dammit.

"I am fine. After I check out Frankie, he should be fine to do the interview. As much as I hate to say this, we should probably get drive-thru to save time so we can focus on tending to injuries and clean up." Brock nuzzles Frankie.

"Sounds good to me." Ray nods and looks at the driver. "Maybe Wendy's if there's one close. It feels less yuck than McDonald's." 

Frank places a kiss on his neck and bends an arm to touch the back of Brock's head. His fingers run through his hair. "Thank you."

"Fine by me," he says to Ray. His fingers tighten around Frankie as he processes what happened. He thought he was going to end up with a more hurt Frankie than what he has. For that, he's thankful. He should have been paying more attention. This is why he was security. He was supposed to protect and prevent this from happening. What good is he if he can't even keep a stupid fan's boyfriend from his boys? What kind of stupid soldier is he if he couldn't even dispatch the guys fast enough to keep Frankie from being punched in the first place?

"Are you listening to me, Rumlow?" Frank teases as he pulls back slightly. "Are you letting those gremlins chat your ear off?" 

He blinks at Frankie. He was talking? He didn't hear a word of anything said. Embarrassment floods him. "Sorry." 

"It's okay." He strokes his cheek. "Just asked you if you wanted ice for your hand and I needed to tell you I love you." He could see it in his eyes that Brock was dipping into the pool of gremlins and bad thoughts. "Shit happens. Worse thing to happen is you broke a couple chairs. Ok?"

"I broke a nose. At least one."

"He had it coming." Gerard adds quietly.

"Exactly. Don't attack a stranger if you aren't willing to get hit." Frank nods. He leans in next to Brock's ear and whispers, "Stop beating yourself up over this. Okay?" 

He shakes his head. He can't. He can't not. This was his responsibility. What's worse, is there is a small part of him that is steadily growing. The part of him that wishes he had killed them all. It should scare him. He really didn't want to be the type of person that ended everything with bloodshed. Didn't want to necessarily follow in his father's footsteps. And yet he knew that with a well-placed phone call, every single man who joined in that fight would find themselves in a fatal accident. 

"Don't tell me no. As your official stage 5 clinger, I voted and you lost. No more beating up on the man I love." Frank tries to pull him out of his head. He knows it's like fighting an uphill battle but he's not going to stop. He kisses him a little more forceful than he usually would. 

"Decide what you want. We are here." 

"The Asiago crispy chicken club," Brock says without even looking. He's staring at Frankie. He kisses his cheek before whispering darkly in his ear, "I want to go back. Kill them all for daring to touch you."

"But we aren't. You're going to hold me. Tell me you love me and let me give you kisses." Frank whispers back, the dangerous words give him a chill down his spine. He shouldn't find it as hot as he does. "You're not going to harm them. Or have Jack harm them either. Okay?" 

"Fine."

"And later you're going to fuck me, hard." He whispers a little louder before kissing him.

"Yes," he croaks out before returning to kissing him hard. His body sings its call for blood making him need to find another way to get his aggression out.

"Good." Frank smiles happily. He knows that he doesn't have to give his order because Ray knows what he eats. "I want you to think about that in the meantime." He nods.

The band eats quickly as they head toward the interview. Frank sits, skeptical of Brock's ability to clear him medically. "How are you going to check me over?" He asks before taking a drink. 

"My unit was cross trained in field medical. I can already tell you don't have a concussion. How's your nose?" Brock munches on fries.

"Hurts but I can breathe and smell with it," He replies. "So I'm not concussed…" he gives him a small smile. He notices Brock's reddening knuckles. "Those look bad." He feels silly pointing it out but oh well.

"I've had worse. They don't even hurt. Professional, remember? I've got a high pain tolerance," Brock says with a smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

He frowns. "Fine." He plans to watch his hands as much as he can. The car slows and parks as it is cleared for security. 

"Ready to do this, boys?" Brock asks. "What's the banned questions they can't be asking? Besides the super personal?"

"Frerard."

"I'm sorry what the fuck is that?" 

"Frank and Gerard uh… as a couple." Ray hesitates and gives a weak smile 

"The fans _know_ about that?" Brock asks, more than a little weirded out by that.

"They _think_ they know that." Frank grumbles.

"Ok. What else?"

"No personal questions like partners or things of that nature." Gerard replies. "Lindsey has gotten some hate recently for being out with me." 

"I think that's it. We are easy going." 

"Okay. Sounds good." Brock gets out of the car and helps with the trash cleanup before taking Frankie's hand and pulling him close. "Let me look at your nose. Then we can go inside." 

Frank crawls into his lap and gives him a little devilish grin. "See it's right here on my face." He leans forward and kisses him. 

The band stretches and throws all of the trash away. Gerard, curious, tries his hardest not to watch them but can't help it. 

"Give em privacy." Ray pulls him along and throws his arm around his shoulder. "When's Linds coming down?" 

"San Diego and Vegas." Gerard sighs. "You think he is happy with Frankie?"

"He wouldn't stay around if he wasn't." 

Mike and Bob take stupid selfies with the red Long Live Rock sign. Ray forces Gee to join the guys and leave Frank alone. The guard for the property smiling at their silliness offers to take a band photo. Ray leads the group towards the entrance for a smoke break before the interview.

After Frank excitedly leads Brock through the small part of the museum showcasing artifacts from different artists honored there, he and the band take the elevators to the studio doors. The group is chattering about the different things on display. Frank turns to Brock with a small smile as they enter the doors of the studio, "I'm gonna have something in the hall of fame some day." 

A man about the same height as Frank with a slender build wearing a band tee greets them with a huge smile. He offers his hand to Brock, "You must be the manager. Im Josiah." 

Brock shakes his hand and nods, "Brock Rumlow. Nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you sir. Right this way. Did we have a list of things we do want to be asked? The show is mostly fan questions but we have some that are sent from the record company." The younger man asks Brock with a bright white smile.

"Just the standard of avoiding questions related to the band's personal love lives. Including but not limited to partners and spouses. And interpersonal dating such as the relationship between Frank and Gerard."

Frank tries hard not to glare at the clean-cut guy. He was close to him in build and height but cleaner looking. Less like he might steal your wallet. It's a good thing he swallows that jealousy down and reminds himself that he loves Brock. And he wouldn't change his mind about loving Frank. But he can't help but hate the kid.

"Are you enjoying your time in Cleveland?" He asks warmly. 

Frank and Ray snort at the same time. Brock gives them both a quick questionable look but smiles at Josiah, "Other than a less than pleasant time at a restaurant, it's not so bad from what I've seen. A noticeable difference from New York."

"I loved New York. I went for a radio conference and had a blast. I assume you live there?" He asks as he finishes writing Brock's answers. 

"It's cleaner here than Jersey," Frank quietly says under his breath. 

Josiah gives him a look with a raised brow and ignores Frank. "The band is going to be here." He points to the recording studio filled with tech, mics, headsets, and soundboards. "We will be here." He motions to a nicely furnished green room. "Would you like a drink, Mr. Rumlow?" 

The boys file into the recording studio and crowd around the table. Frank looks back to Brock just before the door closes. 

"I'd love a drink, thank you. So how does this work? I'm assuming we'll be able to hear their conversation and add input if needed?" Brock looks over the equipment curiously.

"Oh. You actually… We uh, we were under the impression that you…" Josiah looks visibly uncomfortable. "I can absolutely get you patched into the interview. We were informed you had an _alternative_ lifestyle. And required the trapping of that life."

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused. What does my sexuality have to do with the interview?" Brock's brows furrowed, totally lost.

"We uh, were informed before your arrival that you liked to party… we had that prepared for you." The young man looked visibly confused, "Good for you for getting sober?" 

"Sober? I don't have a– oh." Brock finally gets some clarity. "The tour manager you are referring to is no longer employed by the record label precisely for his… lifestyle and I am his replacement. I would imagine you were expecting Alan Turner. I am not that kind of man, sir."

"I am so sorry." Josiah's face reddens as he sputters out words at a rapid pace, "I am sorry. Let's get you a headset… do you want to join the band?" 

"Hey, relax, kid. It's alright. I should have expected this considering the previous manager had set this up in advance."

"Please don't tell my station manager. She will kill me." He looks up at his face with a wrinkled forehead.

"I won't. I do have a few concerns though. What exactly did you have prepared for him? And please don't hesitate to be straight up with me. I know what he was into," Brock asks. He mentally sighs and hates Alan Turner more.

The kid opens the door and invites Brock on before closing the door behind them. "Coke. And the pleasure of a few ladies willing to _do_ what it takes to meet the band." He sighs, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not blaming you, kid. Not even by a longshot. I'm a little concerned about the drugs. Not sure where you got them and it's probably a good thing legally if I don't know. I want it all flushed. Not used. I don't like drugs. Don't want them anywhere near the band."

"Yessir! Understood." He nods quickly, "Did you… still want something to drink? Or to join the band in the studio?" 

"Yes to both," Brock smiles. "The, uh, ladies… they can be dismissed. Do they… fuck, do they need to be paid? I'm willing to do so just so they can leave. I'm not… " Brock rubs his forehead. 

"No. But they would like to meet your band. Maybe. If not, I can get rid of them." 

"I'm good with them getting autographs. Just not doing their… Working thing." 

"Excellent. Yes! Let's get you in the studio! God I could hug you!" Josiah exclaims with a wide smile, "Right this way sir!" He opens the door and looks up at the light above the door then opens it for Brock. 

"Thank you." Brock enters and grins wide at his boys, even giving a wink at Frankie. He takes an empty seat that was pointed out to him and puts on headphones.

Frank grins at Brock and gives him an encouraging nod as the DJ brings them back in for more questions. 

"We are back with My Chemical Romance. We're taking fan questions and we have one from a fan for Frank… this is from Jesslyn from Newark: you have so many tattoos, what is the next one you plan to get? And where are you thinking of putting it?"

Frank looks right at Brock and smiles, "Oh that's easy. I'm getting a bear maybe on my neck. Near the scorpion."

The DJ takes a few more questions before sending the station to music. The band chats and interacts politely but the events of the evening shows through their smiles. Frank makes googly eyes at Brock from across the table. The interview takes an hour of their time with the band playing a stupid radio game of guessing the names of random music by the three-second opening of the songs. The boys autograph stock photos for listeners to win and the special ladies hired by Alan. Frank lifts a photo for Brock to see with a smile on his face.

"That tie looks good on me huh, Gee?" Frank smiles suggestively.

"You do look nice in red Frankie." He agrees not understanding the context.

"Don't you agree, _boss_?" Frank asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, Frank. I agree." Brock gives him a look. He feels a thrill of arousal trail down his spine. He _really_ likes that shirt and tie combo.

"I should wear that tomorrow night." Frank smirks at Brock as he signs the photo and passes it along. "I'll have to hang it dry after the show." 

"Maybe make sure you use an extra whitening Tide," Brock teases.

Gerard snorts to which Frank glares as he rises from his seat and stretches, showing a sliver of skin and tattoos just above the belt. He casually approaches Brock, his nose still a little tender but overall he is fine. He looks at Brock's knuckles. "They are swollen." 

"They're fine, _tesoro_. But if it's something you are worried about, I'll ice it when we get back to the bus. Okay?" Brock has to refrain from pulling Frankie into his lap or kissing him.

"Yes please and thank you." Frank leans up but stops himself. He's gotten so used to expressing his love that it's second nature. "I think we are all done here.. I'm ready to go back to the bus." 

Standing he ushers the band out of the studio and towards the buses. Josiah opens the office doors for Brock and touches his arm, "If you were looking for a good place to get a drink with someone. I can give you a recommendation or I can show you." 

Frank gives Ray a small smile. He's curious to see how Brock responds.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. I could use a place to take my boyfriend. Unfortunately, we're not staying long here in Ohio and I have too much work to do with the band to allow me personal time. I'm sorry. I hope everything worked out in regards to the party favors?" he asks.

Frank tilts his head to the side as the other man blushes. 

"Yes, they have been _handled_ in the agreed upon manner." Josiah nods visibly embarrassed, "Please don't be strangers to the rock hall guys. Thanks for the great evening!" 

"Thank you for hosting us. Take care," Brock says, kind of pushing the band out. He's so ready to leave. The band hurries to the car and relaxes the second the doors close. 

"Party Favors?" Ray asks, turning to face Brock. 

"Did you see the crimson he turned!" Gerard comments, "It was cute."

"Bob got embarrassed and clammed up." Mike giggles as he relaxes back.

Frank tunes his friends out and kisses Brock on the cheek. "You're a good man, Mr. Rumlow." 

"Thanks, baby," Brock says absently as he pulls out his cell phone and texts Lauren all about the party. "The party favors were set up by Alan. In fact, the kid thought I was the one who requested his 'alternative lifestyle'. Because they were informed the tour manager required the trappings of such. I told the kid to dump the drugs and let the Ladies have their autographs so he could keep his job. My concern now is Alan clearly set this up and probably the same across all of the events we do." He sighs, already so done from Alan's bullshit. As soon as he gets some work time on the bus, he's doing to call every venue, hotel, and public event to ensure that whatever Alan had set up was no more.

"He was such a piece of shit," Ray grumbles. 

"I hope he gets gang raped in jail," Brock grumbles. "One for every person he's ever fucked over himself. Starting with you five."

"Or just shanked in prison." Frank replies with no emotions behind his words as he rests his head on Brock. 

The car ride quiets down as they drive through the streets until they arrive at the arena. The boys thank the driver and slowly enter the bus and quietly wind down for the evening. Frank quietly disappears into the arena to find ice before he boards the bus. He's humming along as he explores the halls until he finds a machine and fills a plastic bag with ice. He's hoping he's not been noticed for slipping off but he highly doubts it as he slinks on to the bus.

He moves between Ray and Bob as they stand talking about something he couldn't understand. He dodges Gerard and nods to Mike who is resting in his bunk before stopping in the doorway of the back of the bus and watches Brock for a split second. 

"Delivery for Mr. Rumlow." Frank says with a goofy smile.

Grinning, Brock looks up from reading the binder to see his love with the ice bags. "Wondered where you wandered off to." 

"Ice. For that hand." Frank hands him the bag. "Whatcha reading?" 

"Information on the radio stations and other PR events. After what happened back at the hall, I want to check up on what normally goes down before I start making phone calls." Brock closes the binder and sets it aside, for now, taking the ice bag and putting it over his knuckles. "You're so cute." 

"Why did you stop reading?" He tilts his head to the side before sitting beside him, "Not sure why I'm cute but thank you baby. You look quite handsome with your glasses on."

"Thank you. They're just for reading, thankfully. And even then only for long periods of time. And you're always cute. Especially when you dote on me. I stopped reading because something more important than that came along, being so adorable and bringing me an ice bag. That's why."

"I gotta take care of you. I love you and worry." Frank kisses his cheek, "You sure that your hand doesn't hurt? It looks angry." He kisses the top of the opposite hand.

"I'm sure, though if you wanna kiss it better I wouldn't mind that. If it'll ease your worry. I didn't even hit hard enough to split the skin. That's when you need to worry, love."

Frank blinks at him. "Maybe let's not do that… I like your hands just the way they are."

"See? This is why you are so cute," Brock leans over and kisses him.

"What, you're the love of my life… I gotta take care of you." Frank leans up and kisses him again. "Are you feeling ok? Like no more storm clouds?" He crawls across his lap and kisses his forehead, "Cause I can be your little storm chaser… that sounded way cuter in my head." 

"You know what, that's actually really cute. I like that."

"Well good cause that's what I'm here to do." He kisses him again and strokes his cheek. "Because I love and adore you."

"Love you more," Brock kisses him lightly.

"I love you the mostest." He's already kicked his shoes off and tucks his feet behind Brock's knees to anchor himself a little more. 

"Love you to infinity and beyond," Brock says with a grin. He absently traces random patterns on Frankie's legs. "You'd look great in short shorts. Just when we're in private. Maybe some cotton sleep ones or something."

"You want to see my pale chicken legs?" Frank smiles, "I have those 70s style running shorts. Would those work? Or are you thinking shorter."

"I just want the skin contact," he admits quietly.

"Maybe use your words and I can lock the door and give you what you need, baby." He whispers before kissing his nose. He's more than willing to just take his damn pants off and let Brock touch him. He needs it just as much as Brock does. 

"I… I, uh, wasn't meaning sex," he flushes. Though he _is_ alwaysup for that.

"I wasn't either unless that's what you want." He quietly laughs, "I mean I take my jeans off and we can cuddle. Or you can do work and I can be a _kitten_ in your lap." He hates to admit the kitten part but it's what he wants to do. Just being with him and doing anything is perfect for him. He crawls off Brock's lap, shuts the door and locks it. He strips down to his underwear and crawls back into Brock's lap. "Like this silly." 

"Yeah," he whispers. He pulls him close and across his lap, hands running lines up and down Frankie's thighs and calves. "You plan on dropping pants every time we aren't in public?"

"Yeah especially if that's ok with you. I have actual shorts too." Frank grins, "I can put my pants on…" he leans back pretending to reach for them.

Strong hands grip him tight to keep him right where he was. "Nope. Kitten stay here." 

"I can do that." He says softly as he leans forward. He places kisses on his neck enjoying Brock's hands on his skin, "I just wanna take care of you." 

"You do, baby. You do," he murmurs softly. He grabs the binder and pulls it over to him, keeping one hand around Frankie and using his other to open the binder to where he was reading. "Off the top of your head, do you know if we have any more PR events?"

"As far as I know, not until we hit the west coast. I think we have an event with South by Southwest in Austin next month. I'll send you the email I got from Alan. Please disregard the _colorful_ language if I can't delete it." Frank kissed his neck again. 

"I have a copy of the tour schedule here somewhere but I'm feeling too lazy to check. I just didn't want to make phone calls if I didn't have to. I'm going to start with the next two venues and hotels once I finish reading up on my knowledge."

"You are doing great, baby." Frank runs his fingers across Brock's back. "I think that's a really good idea to call and talk with someone but what are you going to say?"

"Hadn't really thought about that beyond the general pleasantries and please don't provide drugs or women? Albeit much more diplomatic."

"Hi yes. We don't want your nose candy and hookers when we come through." Frank quietly giggles, "or _ladies of the night."_

"Pretty much. Kid today about had a heart attack when I said I wanted to listen in on the interview. I'd rather not have any more surprises like that." His fingertips lightly trail through Frankie's leg hair, tracing little figure eights and circles from ankle to underwear line.

"How much did you end up hearing?" Frank asks with a devilish grin. 

"Nothing before I joined you guys. Why?" Brock is suddenly suspicious. "Did they ask something they shouldn't have?" 

"Relax, they asked about the tour and about new music we were listening to lately. I just happened to mention one of your favorite operas you listen to in the car. And I got some strange looks." Frank beams. 

"You know your relationship is successful when it appears weird to others," he chuckles. "Hashtag relationship goals…. Did I say that right? Yeah I'm totally right."

"Oh _polpetto,_ you are perfect." Frank sighs and hugs him a little tighter, "You said it right and I love it."

"Then I'll let you Twit it." He says, tongue in cheek.

"Tweet." Frank corrects casually, "Twit is what people who say 'twit it' are."

He laughs and nuzzles him, kissing his cheek. "It just makes more sense than 'tweet'. It's called Twitter. And you can be twittering. Ergo, the present tense verb should be 'to twit'." 

"Tweeting." 

"Now I am certain I heard it called twittering. Or can be called that. Like an interchangeable verb."

"From Jack?" Frank can't tell if he's being played with or not, "It's Twitter, you send tweets or can be tweeting something. Not twits or twittering."

"Then why the hell is it not called Tweeter? Slang is confusing as hell." Brock shook his head. They were getting off on a tangent.

"I'm not sure baby." Frank chuckles and nuzzles his neck. "I'm not the one to ask about slang." 

"Fair enough. I should make those phone calls now…"

"Did you want me to move?" His fingers finding their way under his shirt and curling softly into his skin.

"Not a chance." 

~~

The roar of the crowd thundered in his ears. The hammering of the kick drum hitting hard in his chest making it feel like his heart was offbeat. He watched Brock's eyes scan the stage crew moving around and the fans moving like the ocean. Frank straightens his tie and pulls the picks from his pocket. He was particularly excited about the new picks because they had little cartoon penises on them, making them dick picks. He steps back from the view of the crowd and touches Brock's arm to get his attention. He leans up and kisses him, "Don't start a fight." he teases Brock.

"Don't get hurt." Brock growls back at him. Frank kisses him once more before following the boys on stage. He picks his guitar up and plugs in. The intensity of the crowd grows as Gerard steps on stage and greets them. The songs blend together and feel natural. He bounces around getting more into it as he plays harder. His confidence grows with each note he hits.

Frank tries his best to keep the interaction between himself and Gerard as innocent as possible but by the third song it was impossible. The singer comes up behind him and snakes his arms up and around his chest. He sings and takes a pause to pull his head back as his other hand slips behind his guitar and his body. Frank makes an 'O' face as he spins away from Gerard. Grinning, he approaches Bob, stepping up on his platform and spinning off and going back towards the crowd.

Frank knows the next song and he's dreading it. Frank moves along the stage but can see Gerard approaching him with that look in his eye. Frank glances towards the last place he saw Brock. He hopes he isn't watching. Gee grabs his tie and yanks him forward and plants a kiss on his lips before Frank screams the lyric into the mic. 

The two men _flirt_ on stage, moving around each other with careful movement. He is covered in sweat and pumped as the band crowds off stage. He wants to see Brock. He wants to check with him. He pulls a bottle of water and chugs it. 

"Where's Brock?" He pants out. He has less than a minute before he has to do the encore. 

"Stop fuckin' around Iero!" Ray grumbles as he does a side stretch. "B is fine." 

Ray pushes him back on stage for the encore. Frank feels his stomach clench. Something'ss wrong. He pushes it to the back of his head until the encore songs finish. Gee throws his arm over his shoulder as they hurry off stage. 

"You were on fucking fire tonight!" Gee compliments him. 

"I fucked up seconds into Helena; thank God for Ray!" Frank says looking around for Brock. 

Mike pats him on the back and steers him towards the green room. "He will find you, relax." Mike reassures him.

"No he ain't," Bob shouts as he flops onto the couch.

"I gotta find him." Frank turns on his heels and heads for the door. He pauses at the doorway and says hurriedly, "Maybe give me sometime. This might be a fight..." 

He rushes out the door and heads right for the security office. He moves past the door quickly scanning inside and not seeing Brock. 

"Fuck." He feels a little more panicky. He rushes through the halls and heads towards the bus area. He pushes the doors open and steps outside. _He might be on the bus_. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He repeats as the cool air immediately gives him the goosebumps.

Brock works on worrying down the soles of his shoes. He's counting his steps and matching it to his breathing in a poor attempt to calm down the rage bubbling beneath his skin. Each step takes him closer to the end of the bus before he does an about-face turn and works his way back towards the front. He halts in his tracks when a noise stops him just before the door slams open and Frankie bursts out. He's on him in a second, pulling him away from the door and up against a wall before locking him into a bruising, searing kiss.

Frank gasps as he thuds against the wall. The kiss takes his breath away and forces out a moan that vibrates in his chest. His fingers hold Brock's shirt. A kiss was not what he was expecting.

Brock groans into the kiss, frantically running his hands down Frankie's hips to cup his ass, lifting him up and grinding hard against him, aching for relief. He's got so many conflicting emotions running through him. He breaks the kiss only for a second before he's kissing him again.

Frank moans at the pressure against his body. A sweaty arm wraps around his neck as he lets his body relax just a little under Brock. Maybe it was the moving around on stage that caused this. The interaction between him and Gee was missed? This could be a good thing but he's gotta tell him. His hips respond to Brock's, pushing back against him with a sigh.

Brock moans and rolls his hips hard into Frankie, relishing the friction against his cock. A knee comes up to brace under Frankie's ass so his hands can grab at his shirt. He balls it in two fists. He snarls in Frankie's ear, ripping the shirt at his words, "Do you have _any_ fucking idea how pissed off I am right now?" 

Frank feels his insides twist in a confusing way. The sound of his shirt tearing sends a chill down his spine. His knees shaking a little as he takes a breath in, "I didn't know" is all he can squeak out. He's scared to look at his face. He knows that his eyes are going to be painted dark and filled with storm clouds. "Baby… it's nothing." 

"Nothing? _Nothing?!_ " Brock seethes. With a frustrated growl, he moves both his hands back down to Frankie's ass so he can grind against Frankie's body hard again. He doesn't stop anymore. "How **dare** you. How dare you say it's nothing. It's _something_ to **me."**

"I… It. I'm. Brock." He sputters, he wants to tell him it's not what it seems but the words catch in his throat. "It's the… fun. A...Show." His eyes are wide. His heart hammers in his chest. Don't panic. Not. Yet. He naturally pushes against Brock, harder than before. The feeling of his jeans rubbing against his confusing fear boner and then Brock pushing against him makes him whimper out softly. 

A palm slaps the concrete right next to Frankie's other ear. "Fun?! You think I find this fun!? Why didn't you tell me?" 

He flinches at Brock hitting the wall. "It's not something that happens a lot.I didn't know.i'm sorry.it's acting.its for the show.not for real.im sorry.please don't be mad.please!" Frank blurts out with wide eyes as his knees shake violently. His skin is warm under his damp shirt forcing his goosebumps to rise and fall. "It's nothing. Baby I promise. Please." This time his voice shakes with his trembling muscles. His words cause Brock's hips to thrust into him harder. He lets out a low moan at the sensation as it lands in his low belly.

"For show?" It was fake. Something for the stage. The conflicting emotions of rage and lust war within him. Both seeking a way out. It has him giving a harsh and ragged yell. Relief floods him. It was fake. He's angry he wasn't told in advance. Hurt that this was kept secret. And yet the show itself and his jealousy both fed right to his dick. He needed him **now**. He'd have to deal with his emotions later.

"It's a thing we did before you and I. I didn't know it was going to happen." Frank moans out. "Didn't know he was going to kiss me."

In one quick move, Brock shoves their mouths together, teeth clicking bruisingly, at the same time he yanks them away from the unforgiving concrete wall and marches them towards the bus. He doesn't give a shit about the others or privacy or anything other than taking what's rightfully his. He kicks his foot into the door and wedges it open, boarding the steps carefully before using his foot to shut it behind him. 

"B. I'm sorry!" Frank pants out as he pulls his lips away from Brock's. He's not totally confident what he's going to get but he knows that it's going to be good. "Brock?" The silence makes his stomach tighten.

He carries him all the way to their bed and drops him onto the mattress, his own body following until he's kneeling. Frenzied hands forcibly take off the ripped fabric of Frankie's shirt then begin tugging at his belt. It's not fast enough for him though and a growl escapes. He stands and begins to go through their things. "Jeans off before I fucking shred them. Now." 

Frank nods as he quickly unbuckles, buttons and pulls them off his legs. Tossing them to the floor he finds himself scooting up the mattress a little. He bites his lip and watches Brock. "Baby." His voice is small as he looks up at him. He is so fuckin hot like this. He bends his knees and leans back on the mattress. _He's going to make me scream._

Finding what he wants is not easy but he is rewarded with the bag he was looking for. Grabbing a tee of his that was a solid red and easily replaceable, Brock returns to the bed. He dumps the items on the bed with a growl before removing his shirt, "Off or I rip them, too." 

Frank lifts his hips and pulls his underwear off and drops them to the floor. He relaxes back to the bed and glances down at the items at his feet. His eyes dart to Brock. He wrinkles his forehead and opens his mouth slightly pausing on how to ask him the question in his head.

Opening the bag and grabbing the Edge, Brock tears into the packaging, thankful it's at least half charged. After a quick glance at the instructions, he tears open one of the new lubes and inserts the toy in Frankie slowly.

"Oh my fuck!" Frank groans, grabbing the mattress as he struggles to stay still. He was expecting to get fucked. Not this. His heart kicking up in speed as he stretches and adjusts around the toy inside of him. "Babe?" 

"Don't fuckin' come," Brock says harshly before turning it on to the lowest setting. He stands and grabs the red tee shirt. He begins ripping it into strips.

"But." Frank sputters as the vibrations cause his thighs to tighten inadvertently. He holds his breath and tries to relax but he can't ignore the feeling that was building inside of him as he watches Brock shred the crimson shirt. "Fuck." He whimpers as he looks at Brock's face.

Strips finished, Brock leans over and ups the speed by two notches before stepping away to shed his pants and underwear. He keeps eye contact with Frank the entire time. "Arms up. Now." 

His head falls back as the increased intensity makes him groan. He isn't listening, he's trying not to cum. He's trying not to move from the mattress. His cock throbs painfully as he shifts slightly. He breaks eye contact as he closes his eyes and curses under his breath.

"I said arms up!" Brock barks loudly. One of his hands whips out and slaps one of Frankie's thighs. He kneels on the inside of Frankie's legs and grabs one of the strips of fabric. His other hand changes the solid vibration of the toy shoved inside Frankie to a patterned one.

"B. Oh fuck!" He snaps back to the moment, at the slap of his skin. His arm shoots up as the vibration changes inside of him. His body slinks down the mattress as he begs, "Brock. I need to come please!" He nods quickly hoping to influence Brock to let him.

"No," he replies. A finger presses the button to change the speed to a higher one before he leans over and begins to tie Frankie's hands together.

His hips lift from the mattress as he whines. He needs to come. "Oh fuck. Oh please." He tries to move away from Brock. "I'm… I need. Baby!" He holds his breath and tries to keep his focus. He's on the edge and about to spill. His hips rock forward pushing a cry from his lips. "Brock. Please! I need to come!" He whines as his body trembles. He's fighting what he needs to do with another whine. "Please!" 

"No." The knot at Frankie's wrist tightens. Satisfied, he checks the give with a single finger to make sure there's still circulation. He arches his back so that Frankie's squirmings don't push his cock into Brock's stomach. His boy doesn't get to be touched.

Frank tries to move with Brock. He knows any more movement will throw him over the edge but he can't help it. His hips buck up as he cries out, "I can't. Brock, please I wanna come on your cock! I need you!" His legs clench tight as he twists his hand to grab at the bed.

"No." 

"I'm gonna come. Oh fuck! Baby. Please!" He cries out as he squirms. He lowers his hands to touch himself. It's worth it, if he can get off, maybe the toy will ease up. 

Brock lashes out and shoves his hands hard into the mattress, his voice growling the deep and dark commanding tone of authority, "I fucking said no, you goddamn needy little slut. You will lie here and take it."

"I can't!" He cries out and pushes himself away from Brock. He whines as he arches his back off the mattress. His body is screaming for release. Every inch of him needs to be touched. Kissed and nipped. The tension in his stomach is reaching the point of breaking. "I'm close please! I can't! Brock!" He cries out. 

Instead of answering he watches Frankie move and arch as he tries to obey his command. Brock moves away from his lover's body to sit next to him. He needed to be ready for his next phase in his plan. Frankie was doing better than Brock suspected he thought he was doing. Even though he's said he couldn't, he's managed to hold on longer and longer. So, clearly, Frankie _can._ He decides to check out the remote to the toy. Play with the buttons as it were. Ignoring his own raging hard-on. For now.

Frank hears the change in his own voice as he gives in. His cries and pleas turn into pure lust filled moans, his hips thrust up as his leg muscles tighten. He pants hard, shifting his body to the side. A voice in his head tells him to roll on his stomach and use the mattress to get off. The change in position causes the chain reaction inside of him. "Fuck. Oh fuck!" He cries while he loses control and comes with a whine.

The sight of Frankie losing control and coming all over the bed and himself was by far definitely one of the hottest things he ever saw. Didn't do so bad on the timing either, having gone from insert to finish in less than twenty minutes. It'll be perfect for when he's on the stage next time. Leaning over, Brock rips the toy out and gives him a moment to breathe while he sets it aside. He's not done and he's still pissed off.

Frank exhales as he feels his body shaking. A warm feeling of satisfaction washes over his skin. It's followed by something needy. An aching and clawing feeling to be touched. He shifts as his shaking legs relax. "Please touch me…" he asks in a quiet voice. His cheeks flushing as he asks. He's needy. He sits forward a little putting his hands on his chest. 

A thunderous murderous look crosses over Brock's eyes. The remote and toy get set aside in favor of grabbing the knot at Frankie's hands and forcibly yanking him forward and across his knees. His hand comes down hard across his ass, uncaring of the wetness of Frank's dick in the crevice of his closed legs. He spanks him in time with his words, "I told you not to come! And you fucking disobeyed me?!" 

Frank gasps at the first strike. The swift movement doesn't give him a moment to protest. Each following hit makes him cry out. He squirms in Brock's lap. The sensation of being spanked awakened a new need. A devilish idea tells him to move and he listens, trying his luck at moving forward as he fakes like he's trying to flee. His legs kick out slightly as he lets a moan out, the pain twisting into a pleasured feeling that travels down his legs and back.

"Stop moving!" Brock spanks him harder and faster with the words. His voice is still that of his Commander days since he knows it only adds to the pleasure for Frank. "I gave you a direct fucking order. This is your punishment goddammit and you will stay. the. fuck. here."

He lets out a whine as he gets harder. That booming voice makes him melt just a little. The pain that follows forces him to get harder. Forces him to moan out for more. He's a needy little thing but he's ever more when he's being spanked. He doesn't flee but he can't stop himself from moving. The feeling of his own skin again Brock causes him to moan out. That overwhelming need to touch himself again crashes hard in his head, he lifts his torso slightly and pauses to see Brock's reaction. He's surprised he isn't using something besides his hand. 

The hand gripping Frankie's bound hands moves to his back, holding him down. A brief caresses of his thumb across his skin is the only comfort to remind Frankie that it's just a scene. He shoves Frankie's upper body and head back down onto his thighs and keeps his arms there. His spanking moves Frankie's ass to where the curve of the globes met his upper thighs, "Stay down, bitch." 

Frank jumps a little but lets out a deep groan as the strikes move a little lower. "I can't. " He pants out after another hit, his back arching, "I'm a bad little whore." His hips roll into Brock's lap giving him a little of the needed friction, but it's not enough. 

"Yes you are. I should flogg you for your disobedience."

"I'm very bad." He whines as a voice in his head mocks him for sounding like bad porn, "Don't listen..." His words get lost as he writhes in his lap, he lightly pushes into Brock's hand. He whines a little louder.

"You deserve this. Such a little tease. Toying with my emotions. Knowing I'd be pissed. Bet you wanted him to touch you. You liked it. Because you are a needy, greedy, slut," Brock growls out, slamming his hand down hard on Frank's bright red and tender ass.

"Need to be touched." He moans out, he can't stop himself from moving his hips into Brock's lap. The friction of skin on skin with the burning of his angered flesh made his head spin a little as he moans out, "I like making you jealous." The words make his eyes shoot open as the thought escapes. "You look good in green." 

"And you look good in red. Goddamn fucking whore," Brock spats out, the words laced with venom. 

"Please don't stop. I'm a dirty little slut." He whimpers as he feels a shift in his groin, his cock aches for relief. He grinds harder against Brock's lap. "Wanna come, please?" His thigh muscles tighten as he shifts a little.

"Gonna come all over yourself like the filthy fucking whore you are?" His hand on Frank's back moves to grip his hair tightly, nails digging into his scalp. He grabs his ass for a moment; his thumb scraping his nail over his tight hole in a moment of reprieve before bringing his hand down as hard as he can, the force making the body in his lap jerk.

The final hit broke him. A deep, needy moan is followed by a stream of praise that falls from his lips as he comes into Brock's closed legs. The mixed pleasure and pain lights him up and burns him down just as quickly. As he jerks against Brock's lap a flood of emotions and thoughts fill his head. He's embarrassed for coming all over Brock. But pleased that he did. He loves him. He hates how they got here but is happy about the results. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'll be good." Murmurs out as he relaxes into Brock.

"You are always good," Brock murmurs softly, pulling his boy up and into his arms, kissing him. 

"No." He drops his arms around Brock. He kisses him a little harder. Guilt hits him hard, Brock hasn't come. He's rock hard and weeping for release. His husband deserves to come more than he ever did. He kisses him harder. 

"Yes. Always. Even when you are being my little hellcat, you are good. Even when you are pushing my buttons or you make a mistake you are good. But we aren't done," he says lowly. His hands come up and stroke along Frankie's arms to his wrists, pulling them back over his head and in between their bodies. He unties him.

He watches Brock's face as he unties his wrists. "You need to get off." He says softly before kissing him again. "I didn't deserve to come. You do. And I upset you. I'm sorry." He feels like an idiot for babbling. He doesn't understand where this is coming from.

“Sweetheart, we will talk about this after I’ve had my way with you. I love you. We are okay. You're okay.” Brock tightens his arms around Frankie so he can stand up and turn them around, dropping Frankie onto the mattress and forcing him to his stomach. Grabbing both wrists again, he reties them together at the small of Frankie’s back. He rubs from his shoulders down to his wrists and up again, stroking up the center of his spine and hips.

Frank turns his head to watch Brock the best he can. His skin tingling at Brock's touch. He is trying to keep the ghosts from filling his head as he waits. The skin on his ass throbs and aches from being spanked. Anticipation builds in his stomach as he whispers, "I love you." 

“I love you too, _tesoro_. No matter what.” Brock caresses over his hips and gently over his ass before kneeling down and kissing each globe. Pulling Frankie to the edge of the bed so he’s in the perfect L shape. It’s perfect for his tongue to swipe over his hole. 

Frank's back arches as he lets out an unexpected moan, "Oh god Brock!" His fists clench. He whines and pushes back into Brock.

Brock moans at his boy’s eagerness. He's licking hard with the flat part of his tongue several times. Nipping gently at the cheek. He licks a few more times then slips his tongue past the rings of muscle. The simple pantomimed act sends a thrill through him. One of his hands goes down to ease the ache in his cock.

"Oh please baby!" Frank whines as a foot raises from the floor. The feeling makes his insides twist. He needs Brock to fuck him. He wants to get him off. "Please fuck me! I wanna make you feel so good!" 

Brock stands and grabs the lube, moving to Frankie’s line of sight. Squirting a generous amount into this hand he keeps watching Frankie while he slowly makes a show of stroking himself. He asks softly, “You want this?”

"Please! I want you to fill me up with your big cock!" He whimpers before biting down on his lip.

“Yeah, you need it don’t you? Need to be fucked properly. Remind yourself that you belong to me. Only me. Gonna make you mine,” Brock pants as he strokes himself faster. A little moan escapes when he scrapes the top of his cock. Licking his lips he moves back behind Frankie and grabs the long-forgotten strips of fabric left on the bed to wrap one strip around Frankie’s eyes. Two more strips get tied together and the longer one goes around his throat to make a makeshift collar and leash. Giving himself one more stroke and lining up, Brock shoves forward as hard as he can, wrapping the leash around his palm. His other hand has a death grip on the knot of Frankie’s tied hands. He uses them both to force his boy back to meet his hard thrusts.

Frank wants to shout, not expecting the rough start. His body is made for him. He is wound up again. If Brock is too rough he's going to fall apart. Each thrust from Brock forces his body to react. His muscles ache from the strain. He pushes back trying to keep with Brock's rhythm. He's surprised that besides the sore ass that Brock's not bitten him. Yet. He knows that Brock wants to claim what's his. That he wants to not only worship but possess him. He wants it too. He's more than willing to be kept.

Shoving into the smaller body beneath him sends electric thrills through Brock and it spurs him on. He yanks hard on Frankie’s wrists, using the springs of the mattress to keep up the momentum of pulling him hard back onto his cock. Moans rip out of him as he pants near Frankie’s ear. The blindfold looks good on him. He kisses his cheek hard before working his way to his neck. The need to mark and claim rises in his chest. Fingers grip the strip of cloth that is controlling Frankie’s neck tighter, knowing how much his boy loves to be choked. 

Frank moans the best he can as a bolt of electricity runs through his body. The feeling of Brock's lips on his skin and the tingle of the human instinct to keep breathing blend and send him closer to the edge. He's not going to last any longer at this pace. His cock is aching. Begging for release. He clenches tighter around Brock. His eyes flutter as he loses control, whining, and whimpering. 

“Come for me,” Brock moans out. “Come on my cock. Need you baby.” He turns his head and bites down hard on his shoulder, hips still pounding into him. The word _MINE_ chants in his head.

Frank breaks. He loses the beat of the hard and heavy thrusts. He comes with a muted cry. His fists clench behind his back as he tightens down around Brock's thick cock. He needs Brock to come inside of him. He wants to beg and praise him. To touch him and kiss his perfect mouth. 

~~

"Fuck it. They haven’t responded but I'm hungry " Gerard grumbles as he pushes the bus door open and boards the bus. The distinct aroma hits him in the face as he reaches the top of the stairs. Ray and Bob follow him but get bombarded as well. The three take cautious and quiet steps towards the back. 

Gerard pokes his head forward to see two bodies tangled. The pale familiar skin contrasts against the tan skin. The sight of Brock pounding into Frank flips something in his head. The long lean muscles flexing under his skin. The groans and moans trigger a chain reaction in his chest that finds its way to his groin. Is this… it can't be? But holy fuck it's hot. 

Releasing the abused flesh Brock gasps for air, the chanting in his head spilling across his lips with each thrust of his hips, as he chases his own orgasm. The tightly wound coil in his groin grows impossibly tighter as his body prepares for release. The intensity of the feelings brings his forehead to rest on Frankie’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. With a muffled cry into the skin, Brock’s hips finally still as he comes hard. His heart pounding faster than he ever could. A shaking hand removes the makeshift collar around Frankie's neck before going to his wrists and doing the same. The blindfold is last to come off and he tosses the strips to the floor before pushing through the physical exhaustion to move off of Frankie and pull them both up to the pillows and cuddle. He’s breathing hard and tries not to pant too much when he pulls his love into his arms. 

Frank kisses his skin. He's trying to slow his breathing as his body shakes softly. "I love you." His fingers push into his chest before the one hand snakes up and runs his fingers into Brock's hair. He wants to apologize. Frank's body is aching to make him understand.

“I love you. So much. Was it too much? Are you in pain?” Brock frets, pulling him in a tight embrace. He feels the need to check over every inch of his love to ensure there was no damage. He hushes the feeling, for now, instead choosing to hold him tight. He’s slightly trembling from pushing himself.

"No. It was perfect. You're perfect." He kisses him again. His ass is stinging but he knows it will pass. Hopefully. He can feel something inside him change. "I'm really sorry." His voice was quiet and thin. He can feel emotions bubbling up in the back of his mind. He pushes them back and takes a deep breath.

Rolling them so he blanketed Frankie’s body with his own a little while still on their sides, Brock wraps a leg over and pulls him in as tight as he can. Then uses the blankets to tuck them in, making a little cocoon for them both. He peppers kisses all over his face before whispering, “We’re okay. I’m still upset but not mad _at you_. We will be–” Brock frowns. His instincts tell him something in the room has changed.

"Dude, just shut the door!" Ray hisses seeing the clothing on the floor. The shredded shirt makes him raise an eyebrow. Gerard blinks coming back from a place in his head that he didn't know existed. He closes the door and steps back. His own cock aching a little at the sights and the intoxicating sounds.

"Be ok?" Frank asks, confused. The noise in his head is loud enough to drown out anything other than Brock. His heart is heavy in his chest. 

“Yeah, baby. We’re gonna be okay,” Brock smiles and kisses Frankie lightly before poking his head over the covers to look at the room with a frown. He checks over everything and it all looks the same but something… he just knows something has changed. “Did we… shut the door?”

"What?" Frank blinks at him, "Maybe?" For a moment he's out of his head. "You sure you're ok?"

“Yeah, just felt like something was different. Guess it’s just me.” Brock shakes his head and returns to what was more important to him. Nuzzling him and going back to pressing butterfly kisses everywhere he can reach, “Talk to me baby love.”

"It's the ghost in my head." He speaks softly. He closes his eyes. He is struggling with the words. "I feel like the worst. I should have told you and I'm sorry." He kisses Brock's chest and slowly looks at his face.

“Yes, you should have. Before the show. It is not something I am comfortable with. And you know that. I do not want him touching you like that. Knowing now that it is part of an act does help some,” Brock says, level and gentle.

Gee slides into his bunk and closes the curtains. He calls Lindsey and feels anxious as the phone trills in his ear. He needs her here. When voicemail picks up he hangs up and throws his phone. He quietly unzips. He will take care of the situation on his own. _This will be a one-time thing._ He grips himself and starts stroking.

"I tried to keep my distance during the show. I didn't know he would kiss me." Frank feels a little panic bubble in his chest, tears roll from his eyes, "Then when you weren't backstage or in the greenroom, I knew I fucked up. I was scared you left. Because you didn't know. Because it looks like what it's not!"

“Breathe, love. Breathe. I left only because I was too angry to be around anyone. I needed some air and to be left alone for other people’s safety. I will say that I did lose track of time in my pacing to burn off the excess energy.” Brock rubs his back and holds him tight.

"I am just not good with my feelings. And it frustrates the hell out of me." Tears roll down his cheek. "I didn't deserve to get off." 

“Is that what you truly feel or is that something you were taught?” Brock asks, pecking the tip of his nose. “Because I promise you, you deserve everything good in the world. It’s one of the things I don’t like about orgasm denial. I like a little teasing but I love seeing you come undone for me more. I don’t belive in withholding human rights like food, shelter, water, or sex from anybody. It’s a form of immoral torture in my book. I’d rather use other methods instead.”

"I think that the UN might disagree with you on the definition of human rights babe." Frank smiles before kissing his lips, "I do think it is a learned _guilt_? Maybe?" He dips his chin to his own chest and rests his forehead on Brock. "You deserve the orgasm more than me."

“Everyone deserves to get off. And sex is totally a human right. It’s crucial to relationships. It’s a way to build intimacy and trust. It’s a bonding moment; brings people closer. The orgasm itself is healthy to the brain and the body. The flood of all the happy chemicals have been proven to be healthy. I will fight anyone who says otherwise,” he chuckles.

"Can I ask if it was the kiss that pushed you to anger?" Frank asks quietly, "It's part of the show so I'm trying to be good to you and the band." 

“Yes. It’s too intimate,” Brock whispers, feeling a little bit resigned to just having to ignore this part. Now that he knows it will be there and it’s coming, he can brace himself or not watch it. “Knowing how I feel about the both of you together in any intimate situation, knowing that he has tried to get you back in his bed. Knowing that heknows how I feel and he still chose to do that…” Brock has to stop and take a breath to keep himself from getting angry again. “Now that I know it’s just something that is expected on the stage as part of the show, I will be fine. I can just not watch for a few moments.”

"I know that I said it before but I don't want Gerard. I only want my Brock. My big teddy bear." Frank touches his face, "He can try all he wants but it's never gonna happen, _polpetto._ If you chose to not watch, I can tell you how the song begins." He offers with a wrinkled forehead. 

“Huh?” 

"I'll explain at the next sound check." He chuckles before kissing him. The sound of someone on the other side of the door moaning makes his head lift then turn back to Brock.

Gee is trying to stay quiet. He’s kept the noises quiet and behind tight lips but the images in his head push him to climax and a moan bursts through his lips. He enjoys the feeling before realizing that he is moaning again. 

“What was that?” Brock asks, sitting up and throwing the covers off. He gets up and grabs his underwear and a gun. He moves to the door. “I told you something was off…”

"Brock Enzo. You don't need a damn gun." Frank hisses as he sits up. 

“Someone is here and they shouldn’t be. The boys would have said something if it were them.” He moves to open the door, flicking the safety off the gun and raising it up.

"Ray!" Frank shouts defiantly against Brock's instinct. He stands up uncaring that he's naked. He moves closer to Brock and touches his back.

"Yeah?" Ray replies from inside his bunk.

"See!" Frank hisses again. The sound of another quiet moan fills the air. _Oh. That's a noise I know._

“Yeah okay fine,” Brock hisses back sassily. “But it could have been someone else and for all you know could have tried to rob us or some shit. It’s not like I woulda killed them…. At first.”

"Who? Are there bad guys I'm unaware of?" Frank wraps his arms around Brock's stomach. The cool air makes his butt ache. "Come back to bed and give me some octopus."

"Octopus?" Mike chuckles, "Y'all like your animals."

"Hush little Way!" Frank growls.

“Sorry, guys,” Brock calls through the door. “We didn’t mean to leave you alone after the show. And for…. this.”

"It's all good my dude!" Bob shouts from the front of the bus.

"As long as y'all aren't fighting. We aren't worried," Ray says from his bunk.

"Bed. Now, Rumlow." Frank growls in his ear as his hand slips inside of Brock's underwear. "Don't make me lead you."

"What about dinner," Brock asks with a cocky grin, following after Frankie. 

"Fine. I suppose." He whispers in Brock's ear as he strokes the skin on his low belly.

"Someone say dinner?" Ray pokes his head from the bunk.

"I could eat." Gerard clears his throat and pokes his head from the bunk. He's a little pale and looks _out of it._

"How the fuck did he hear that from the closed door," Brock mutters, turning away and grabbing shorts and a tee to throw on. He stows the gun in its holster.

"Cause the noise is only muffled," Ray replies, "and I'm literally up against your space."

"Suppose I should get dressed." Frank groans. He picks up his undies and slides them on then his jeans. He sits with a small wince at the tenderness of his skin as he pulls a new shirt from his duffle.

"Did I break skin?" Brock goes over to him and checks over the bite. 

"I don't _think_ so," Frank says softly. "My ass is reminding me to be a good boy too." 

"Fuck," he replies, equally soft. He moves behind Frank and takes a look at the bright red bite mark. "I'm going to have to clean it. Make sure you don't get it infected. We gotta keep our first aid kit…. Sex aid kit? Is fully stocked with antiseptic cleaners and Neosporin. Or I just got to be gentler with you."

"How badly did you break skin?" Frank snorts, "l'll buy anything we need to keep that kit stocked." He doesn't want to be gentle all the time. It's got a time and place. He enjoys the attention even if it's aftercare.

"Not a lot, but it still needs to be looked at. Leave your shirt off. I need to wash it first. Come on," Brock grabs his hand and takes them into the kitchen.

Frank follows him and waits patiently. Bob is sitting on the bench seat and looks up at the two of them. 

"What's going on?" He asks curiously.

"Just a little aftercare." Frank gives him a small smile. 

"Gonna be a good bruise, Iero." He says softly. His words make the little weirdo grin. 

Brock grabs some paper towels from the kitchen. "Is there an actual first aid kit?" 

"Cabinet above the fridge" Ray shouts.

"Thanks Sunshine." 

"Got you, B!" Ray replies. "Peroxide and alcohol in the bathroom."

"Love you, Ray-Ban," Brock grins and heads to the bathroom after getting the first aid kit down. He sing-songs, "I've got a pocketful of sunshine!" 

Frank covers his face and shakes his head. 

"Ohh ooo-woah-o!" Ray calls back.

"You are the biggest dork." Frank laughs.

"You love it. And besides I'm totally mature. When I have to be." 

"And that's why I'm gonna marry you someday." Frank smiles up at him. "You are the _sunshine_ of my life." 

"You are my sunshine! My only sunshine! You make me happy… when skies are grey," Brock belts out before breaking into laughter.

"Love you so much, Brock." Frank says quietly as he looks up with starry eyes.

"I love you, Frank," Brock says, sobering up and pulling him in for a kiss.

Frank melts into his arms. He leans into the counter. He watches as Brock opens the medical kit. 

“Are we thinking of a sit down place or take-out?” Mike asks as he slides out of his bunk.

Opening up the peroxide, Brock pours some onto the paper towel before gently turning Frankie around and dabbing it on the bite mark. "I was thinking take-out. Not really much feeling like going out."

“What are we not in the mood for? Also mexican is off the table cause we are confined to the bus.” Ray says as he makes his way from the back towards Brock.

Frank gives Brock a small side smile. He doesn't ask much about his time in the military but he is curious to know how he knows so much about medical things. His fingers touch Brock's thighs as he stands in front of him. “When I was a kid, I used to love peroxide. Thought it was the coolest thing ever.” Frank speaks with a soft voice like he was telling a secret, “My mom would yell at me for letting my brother hurt me so I could get to play with it. Which, now that I say this out loud makes my brother sound like a sociopath.” 

“Thai food?” Mike offers.

“We could send a runner to get pizza," Gerard adds as he walks from the back. He avoids Brock completely. Dirty thoughts enter his head and they all end with Brock's groan echoing in his ears. “Maybe we could find a place that serves like spaghetti and meatballs or some carby goodness?”

"You in the mood for some Italian tonight, Gerard?" Brock asks, grinning. He's always happy to eat his home cuisine. 

“I'm always in the mood for Italian.” Frank mumbles to himself.

Gerard blushes and looks to the floor immediately. “It was uh, just an idea.”

“Not a bad idea. I could go for some actual food. That doesn't come from a window.” Ray sighs. It's the one downside to being on the road. The food choices are limited. 

Gerard has to leave the area. He feels himself checking Brock out. Then seeing how Frankie looks up at him with big honey-colored eyes. He's in love with Brock. Even a blind man can see this. But fuck, he would let that man do anything to him. He quickly leaves the bunks and quickly heads for the front sitting as far up as he can to avoid Brock.

"I'm always down for noodles and balls," Brock has to bite a grin. 

“Aren't you always in the mood for balls?” Bob snorts as he pulls a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Of course," he says with a little snicker. "Meatballs are my mother's speciality though, so I'm happy to eat spaghetti and meatballs anytime."

“You are my favorite person.” Frank laughs then gives a little sigh of contentment. “Pizza is fine with me. Or a salad.”

“Frank's vote is pizza.” Ray contributes to the group, “Two for pizza.”

"Oh damn now I have to get dressed. I really want Italian." Brock groans. He also didn't want to leave the bus and lounge around in his sleepwear. But the call of great meatballs was too great to ignore.

“You can always have something delivered baby.” Frank reminds him softly. “No pants required. Or maybe we could find a place that does Italian dishes to your specifications and pizza? Or not.. but I can go with you.” 

Brock nods. "What do you guys think? Delivery or me putting on pants and we go find some nice restaurant to eat- and not a pub, Bob- to eat Italian?

“I said I was sorry about the pub. I didn't know that it would be the restaurant equivalent of a mosh pit at a metal show,” Bob grumbles out. 

The silence that fills the bus tells Frank that Brock will be wearing pants this evening. The quiet murmur of the boys outside of the bathroom was a clear indication of this as well. 

“Pants it up, Brock.” Ray chuckles as he walks past the bathroom and pokes his head in, “The patient going to make it?

"Yeah. He's going to be a little sore for a few days but otherwise he'll be just fine. Maybe avoiding some select erratic movements across a stage for a while?" Brock teases.

“Probably not gonna happen, good looking.” Frank says without looking at him. He knows that those big brown eyes will get him to agree to be tame on stage. “Nice try…”

“Good. Means big guy here can put real pants on and we can find some place to eat as a group,” Ray says before disappearing from the bathroom doorway.

"Yeah okay I'm coming. I'm coming. Relax, Sunshine," Brock teases, pecking Frankie on the lips before moving to the bedroom and leaving the door open while he takes off the sleepwear and begins to put on jeans and a less wrinkly and more form-fitting tee shirt.

Gerards leans forward and watches casually. “Wouldn't mind coming too.” he murmurs to himself. He feels a twist in his stomach as Brock dresses. He cusses at himself as he wonders what Brock tastes like. How much he would be ruined by letting Brock rail into him… he shudders and stands up. He needs fresh air. He needs to not think about this… or him. He gets up as Brock moves from the back towards the front and quickly exits the bus. Maybe the cool air will soften a hardening issue for himself.

"Alright. I'm here, I'm queer, and ready 'n dressed. Let's get the show on the road. I'm hungry." Brock strides out with a black leather jacket from his duffle to hide the gun at his back.

Frank stands close to Ray, “Gee is being weird right? Like weirder than normal…” He asks, trying to not draw Brock's attention.

“A little…” Ray replies with a concerned face. He quickly turns it around and cheerfully announces, “I think all of us are ready!” Ray throws his arm over Frank's shoulder, “Don't stress it too much kid. It's probably nothing but I just hope it's not drugs.”

Brock exits the bus first, a sudden excitement overtaking him. Maybe this place they will go to will have great meatballs and breadsticks. With garlic. And butter. Extra garlic. Frankie won't mind garlic kisses. He spots Gerard and goes over.

"Thanks for suggesting pizza. I'm excited. Do you know of where we can go? Someplace that's not a franchise or corporate owned. The best place to get real good pizza and such is at a Mom 'n Pop," he can't help the grin.

"I, uh. I think that Ray has it picked out. He's the one who does the looking up. I was just coming-er going along for the ride." Gerard feels his face reddening. He's being weird. He knows this. He needs to relax but he can't. The way the shirt hugged his body… oh fuck. Frank is out of the bus staring at him suspiciously, he knows. "I'm gonna see if the car is ready." He rubs his neck and quickly gets away from Brock.

Brock watches him go with a frown. He wonders what's going on and is concerned. Perhaps this was Gerard's way of avoiding him for the stunt he pulled on stage.

"He's being weird," Ray comments quietly as he stands beside Brock. 

"He's avoiding me," he states. "I think it's because he knows he's crossed a line with me with the stunt on stage and he's afraid."

"Maybe. Did you want me to talk to him?" Ray offers as Frank stands between them and laces his fingers with Brock.

"You sure you cleared his bags of drugs, Ray?" Frank asks.

Ray nods. "The one bag I found got dumped in the toilet on the last bus." 

The moment the drugs are mentioned, Brock feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had such high hopes for Gerard to kick the habit but he was foolish to think that he could quit cold turkey. This wasn't a simple addiction that went away overnight. He should've known better.

Frank squeezes his hand. "Baby?" He looks up at him concerned, "Where did you go?" The group was moving towards the black SUV. He pulls his hand and nods towards them. "I know you're hungry." 

He gives him a smile though it's tainted with a shadow. He pulls him in close with an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple, "So hungry. Can't imagine why, though. I did recently eat." 

Frank feels his cheeks redden. "It was more like an appetizer…" he buried his face in his chest. He looks up and knows something is really wrong but he doesn't push it yet. Brock chuckles quietly and they both join the others in the SUV and head to the restaurant. The drive is just as pleasantly awkward as it can be. Brock is happy though, especially when they arrive at a little place called Bruno's Ristorante. His eyes light up like a kid at a candy store. They get a table towards the back and look over the menus that were both in Italian and English.

"Okay I already love this place," Brock gushes while reading the choices. He already knows what he wants but he might even get a few things for later. Midnight snack. Tomorrow's breakfast. Lunch. 

Gerard shifts in his seat. He's uncomfortable and sitting across from Brock who is grinning ear to ear. He scans the menu and picks the first thing that he thinks he can digest. He needs a drink. Or three.

The table fills with chatter and laughs as they decide and wait for the server. Ray and Mike joke about the show while Bob joins each conversation. Frank rests his hand on Brock's thigh. He turns Brock's chin and kisses him. Gerard shifts in his seat as he can't peel his eyes away from them. 

The server comes over and takes their order, a rather robust middle-aged man wearing a dough covered apron over his equally covered tee and slacks. Ray, the first one to order, eager to get the food in his belly picks manicotti. Bob goes with fettuccine as does Mike. Gerard picks a random chicken dish, the marsala. Frank thinks Brock might grumble but goes with the wedding soup. It sounds delish and makes him miss his mom a little. He leans against Brock and smiles up at him.

Brock can't help but grin. He's been listening to the server, who's name badge reads 'Carl', speak and he's certain he heard a hint of something familiar. He's confident then, that when he orders his spaghetti and meatballs with extra meatballs in his native tongue, it would be properly received.

Sure enough, Carl breaks into a grin, replying in Italian, " _You're from the homeland, then?_ " 

" _Yes. Capri. You?_ " Brock asks. It's not often he meets others from his first home and it's always a familiar comfort to speak his first language with others.

" _Coreno. I've never visited Capri but I hear it's beautiful. Oh, wait. Hang on_ ," Carl replies happily. He then turns around and calls into the kitchen, " _Mama! Come here! Quick, woman!"_

Frank tilts his head with a smile. A short and equally round woman comes out from the kitchen, clearly in the middle of either baking bread or dressing pizza. At the sight of Brock, she gives a little noise of delight and surprise, going over to him. He quickly stands and embraces her. And when she pulls away, she's patting his cheeks with a goofy grin. They chat for a moment, all hand movements, and rapid speech. The mother, who turns out to be Mrs. Bruno herself, frequently touches Brock's hand and arm as they chat over-familiar and shared things. 

Gerard shifts in his seat. He needs to leave the table. Now. He stands up and moves quickly to the bathroom. Everything is a blur as he slams the bathroom stall door shut as he leans against the wall. He lets out a quiet moan as he struggles to unzip his jeans to relieve the ache between his legs.

Frank gives Ray a look and raises an eyebrow. _Drugs._ He frowns and sits quietly, enamored with Brock as he joyfully speaks and laughs with these people. His voice is clear and bright. _I love you so much it hurts._

Gerard's head was filled with the sound of Brock. His body. The sound of his voice as he speaks Italian. His brain fills with the images of being pinned to the bed and Brock taking advantage of him. The way his hands would feel on his skin forces a moan from his mouth. He inhales as he works himself faster with a tighter fist. He has forgotten where he had trapped himself but fuck he doesn't care. His head drops to the wall as another moan of Brock's name quietly slips out. He picks up pace as the fantasy gets more intense. The idea of making Frank watch as he is ravaged by Brock sends him into a tailspin. He comes at the idea of strong hands gripping his hips and pounding into him. He pants as his knees shake. "Oh fuck." He moans, "That's amazing." 

After his chat with Mrs. Bruno, Brock sits back down only to notice that Gerard was missing. He decides to go check in on him under the pretense of needing to wash his hands, concern and worry filling him. He pushes open the door, quietly calling into the room, "Gerard?" 

"Mmmm." He moans out as he lets go then quickly realizes that his name was called inside the bathroom, not in his head. He panics, what does he do? Shit! He flushes the toilet. Fuck! He opens the bathroom door. He can feel the fear on his face as he steps out. He moves to the sink and washes his hands quickly. Twice. He avoids Brock's gaze, "Can I help you?" He sounds defensive hoping it might help.

"Actually I was hoping to help you," Brock replies, gently. He moves closer, resting his hip on the sink next to Gerard. He wants to help. Regardless of their rivalry over Frankie, Gerard was still a member of his team and he was in trouble. He took care of his own. "And I want you to know I'm here for you. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Gerard turns to him and blinks. "Is it Frank's idea?" He tilts his head to the side. Did he know? How much had he heard? What does he do? Excitement bubbles in his chest. His cheeks are flushed as he bites down on his lower lip.

"That I'm offering to help you? No. Though I'm sure he'd be pleased. He's been wanting us to bond," Brock replies. He's so happy for Gerard to admit he needs help for his addiction. It was the first step to healing.

Fuck it, if Frank was okay with this he was too. He takes a leap and goes forward. He pulls Brock into his space and kisses him passionately, wrapping his arms around his neck. He should have waited but how could he know? He pulls back and smiles eagerly. "I've been wanting to do that since we sat down…"

Brock gently pushes him away, very much confused and not at all comfortable with this. This isn't what he meant! What the fuck!? Where was this coming from? Heart racing, he moves to the furthest part of the bathroom he can, wiping his mouth. His chest contracts. He can't breathe. He hisses loudly, "What are you doing?!

"I thought… I just couldn't." He blinks confused, "But _our_ Frankie is okay with this… it's fine? Right?" 

"I meant about the drugs!" he shouts in a whisper, voice going up an octave. "What are _you_ talking about?!?" 

"Drugs?! What!" Gerard snaps, "Frank being okay if we fucked. Shit, he can join." His head fills with a new idea. 

"I'm. I'm. Not. He's not. This was never," Brock sputters. "There is no _**we**_! You've been acting weird since the show! They thought maybe it was 'cause of the drugs. I just wanted to help you get clean! As your manager and friend. Not. Not. Oh my god. No. Just no."

"No! I quit! I wasn't an addict. I mean I could have been but no!" Gerard shakes his head. His cheeks are bright red, "I've been 'weird' cause I get it… I caught a glimpse of you and him–! It's not drugs! Fuck!" 

"Get _what?_ What are you–" he cuts himself off. He's not sure he wants to know. His skin is crawling and he needs to get out of there. He feels incredibly raw and violated with the unwelcome kiss. "Nevermind. I don't want to know." He heads for the door and shoves it open. 

"I get why Frank is attracted to you." 

Brock freezes in the doorway. This line of talk is dangerous. And he's not sure what's happened. Where it's coming from or what's going to happen. He needs to be out now. He looks up and sees the band just a few feet away. Frankie's face is soothing but he can't go over there just yet. He needs air. 

"Like yeah you're a good dude. You're attractive. Whatever but," he hesitates for a moment. "The way you can command an entire room's attention. Watching you _ravage_ Frank's small body. I fuckin' get it. You're safety but also danger. And I just can't help it. Also the Italian is fucking sexy as hell." 

Instead of responding Brock strides out of the bathroom, out of the restaurant, and into the street. He walks across the parking lot and heads for the SUV, leaning against it and trying to quell the rising panic attack. He drops into a squat and covers his head, putting his face in between his knees and doing some deep breathing.

Frank watches Brock storm out of the bathroom and out the front door. "Ray. Bathroom." He snaps his fingers as he gets up. He's thinking the worst. He follows behind Brock. His throat is tight as he feels the cold air hit his face. He crosses into the street. "Baby?" Frank asks as he approaches, running once he watches Brock drop into the crouch. Something is really wrong. He drops in front of Brock, "Honey what is it?!" He can't hide the fear in his voice as he wraps his arms around Brock. 

Ray enters the bathroom and sees Gerard leaning against the sink. _Okay, this is odd._ "What just happened?" Ray tries to not lose his cool but he's on the verge.

"I think I have a crush on Brock. And I admitted it and he thought I was on drugs- which the fuck?!" Gerard babbles his voice a little wavering, "So I kissed him and he bolted." 

"You're clean though?!" Ray hugs him.

"Yes you ass!" He snaps as he hugs his friend back. 

"Come on you gotta talk to the others. Explain what's going on."

"No! I can't do that. Frank's my friend and I am awful. I'm a horrible man." Gerard looks up at Ray.

"You gotta own it man. Confess to Frank and the band. Maybe, if you feel any kinda guilt, it will be easier to forgive yourself," Ray offers. "I can't believe you watched them fuck. That's creepy Gerard." 

"You don't get it. It was… intoxicating." 

"Yeah, ok, I'll take your word for it." Ray pulls him back to the others. "You don't get to do that to people. Especially bandmates."

"What did you do Gee!" Mike snaps the second he sits down. 

"A lot of things. But it's not drugs." Gerard sighs. He explains in the briefest manner possible without the extras aside from the kiss. 

"Kinda cold there Gee..." Bob shakes his head once he's finished. 

Mike crosses his arms and glares. He's more upset that this is a friend. Someone they all care about. 

"I should go apologize!"

"No!" The table shouts.

~~

Brock clings to Frank in such a way that that was less about cuddles and more about comfort. For once he wished he was the smaller of the two. He buries his face in Frankie's chest. He tries to keep his breathing under control and lower his heart rate, aware that he was trembling a little. 

"Hey it's okay! I'm here!" Frank says softly as he strokes the back of Brock's head. He is confused and equally upset to see Brock like this but he keeps it to himself. This isn't just drugs. This is something worse. Was Gee dead? This is not what Brock needs. Cool and collected, he says, "You're ok. But you gotta slow your breathing, baby."

"Trying," he whispers, voice a little shaky. He doesn't know why he's feeling like this. That in itself is scaring him.

"When you're ready, talk to me. Okay? I can't help if you don't." Frank kisses the top of his head and runs his fingers in his hair. 

"It's not drugs." No. And Brock was certain it would be easier to deal with if it had. 

"But that's a good thing?" He asks confused, "How about we sit down, ok? Like on your butt." He strokes his hair and kisses his head again.

It's not a big drop from his squat position to sit on the pavement and he does so, kicking his legs out and pulling Frankie into his lap. The contact is helping him. Especially the kisses and gentle touches. He doesn't understand why he's feeling like this.

"That's a good thing though, baby," Frank says with a small careful voice. He kisses him again as his fingers massage his scalp. He doesn't understand what is going on.

"He's got… found… something else to, uh, focus on." 

"Ok. What's that?" Frank wraps his legs around Brock's waist. 

"Me." His voice is soft and quiet. "He kissed me." 

"You? Like he's got a crush?" Frank smirks, "Like kissed you innocently? Or how I would kiss you?"

"How you would."

"Is that all he did?" Frank's pushing back the small trace of anger in his throat. It's not needed now.

Brock swallows and nods. Then he shakes his head. He nods again. "Pulled me in, arms around my neck, type of passionate kiss. He thought… I was in there to offer help with his addiction. And he thought I was talking about him and I. He wants me to fuck him. And you to join? He says he gets why you like me now." Brock shudders a little. He's far too shocked and confused and panicking to even begin to think rationally over what happened in the bathroom.

Frank takes a second to compose himself. The next answer- he's fairly certain he knows the answer but he's got to be sure- will be the difference between his reactions. "What did you say to him?" 

"Before or after?" 

"After he confessed his attraction to you, silly." Frank replies. 

"After the kiss, I told him no. After he confessed… well I pretty much ran out of there." Brock says softly, embarrassed by the way he acted. 

"So, you told him no. Then that's it… right? Unless you feel the same way." Frank pauses, "You can't control how someone else feels about you. Just how you react."

"I just wanted meatballs," he mutters.

"Then let's go get you some. It's like the kid at the Rock Hall. He can have a crush but it's your reaction, and if he pursues it further, that we have a problem."

He nods and pulls Frankie in closer. The talk and the comforting contact calming him down. He sighs, knowing he has to get up and face the music so to speak. Shifting a little and nudging Frankie to move, they stand and brush off the gravel before he takes his hand tightly. "I don't get why I panicked. It's stupid."

"Because you weren't prepared for him to kiss you." Frank smiles softly. "Never imagined that you would be man candy for someone other than me, huh?" 

"Never imagined it would be _him_. Considering our rocky history. Also, he watched us on the bus. It was he who closed the door. Said it was hot. And apparently he likes the Italian too." Brock rubs his face, now putting together what he heard in the bathroom when he entered and Gerard's statement. "I think he was jerking it in the bathroom now that I think about it. Oh my god."

"He watched us?" He raises his eyebrow and smirks. "Also you kinda made his fantasy happen by showing up in the bathroom…"

"You're taking this very well," Brock comments with a side-eye glance, heading back inside the restaurant. The need for comfort food now overtaking his steadily decreasing panic. "Far better than what I would have done." 

"It's _your_ reaction that matters. I can't control how he feels. " He nods, "Besides it's kinda hot he watched..." 

"Oh right, you like that. Well. Thanks for reminding me that I've got a mean jealous streak which apparently means I'm immature," Brock chuckles, a little sarcastically and a little teasing. "And it only took a kiss to get you hot and bothered; knowing that someone got off on watching us fuck. You'd let him do it again. Wouldn't you?"

"It's not immature. You were in the situation. I wasn't. It's easy for me to not have heightened emotions, Silly." Frank smiles as he grabs the door to the restaurant, "And I absolutely would let him watch us fuck again. He can't touch but watch." A devilish smile crawls his face. "Can we?"

They enter the restaurant and Brock feels his face heat up and his chest tightens at the sight of the band. "Can we talk about this later? Maybe after I've had wine and food and we're back in bed?"

"Yes baby. Just breathe, ok. We got this." Frank squeezes his hand, "I love you to the moon and back. Let's get some food in you for sure." 

"I'm good. We're good." He nods and goes to the table, taking his seat and discovers his wine had been delivered. He's grateful and takes several large drinks.

Frank moves his chair a little closer to Brock. There was a trace of jealousy in him. There's no denying that but, he also knows that Brock loves him and only wants him. He feels the same.

"Feeling better?" Frank asks Gerard with a grin and a wink. He loves the reaction from Gerard. Red face and wide eyes as he takes a drink from his beer. The table, aside from Brock, hides their amusement, poorly but they're still trying.

"I'm fine." Gerard says blinking twice then looking down. What nightmare is he living in?

"Yeah, I bet _you are,"_ Frank snickers.

"Well, awkward," Mike says quietly.

"I was going to say that as a group we could be tourists in the next city, maybe," Ray asks the table. 

Frank leans into Brock and kisses his arm. "I love you." 

"Love you too," he murmurs back. He's still more than a little uncomfortable but it's bearable. He wonders when the food will arrive before focusing on what Ray was talking about.

"At least just going shopping." Ray adds.

"I'm in," Bob replies. 

"Sure. Sounds like fun. Anything to get us off the bus and stretch our legs is good," Brock says. See, he can still be social even when he's awkward as hell.

Carl, the owner's son and their server, comes out with their food on a large tray and sets it down on a bench before distributing the plates. Mrs. Bruno returns from the kitchen with Brock's plate in hand, setting it down in front of him and kissing his cheek. She chats with him in Italian, telling him that he's a good son and that she made extra special meatballs for him. Extra-large ones too because all good boys need to put some meat on their bones. He's far too thin. Brock grins and appreciates the motherly feeling from Mrs. Bruno. It reminds him of his own mom and he makes a mental note to call her later. He begins to respond to her but pauses, remembering that Gerard found it to be attractive. He hesitates but pushes through it. He doesn't want to be rude to her. He thanks her and promises to take some home. The meatballs looked really good. She and her son leave them to their meal and Brock quickly shoves one of the balls into his mouth. The spices are perfect. The meat is cooked perfectly. The sauce is perfect. He groans with mouth-watering appreciation. He's definitely taking some home. Err… the bus.

Frank can feel the change in Brock as he talks to her in Italian. He strokes Brock's thigh under the table. He takes a drink of Brock's wine. He glares at Gerard for a moment then pays attention to his food. 

The band chatters quietly as they eat and drink. The mood lightens as the glasses and plates empty. Soon they are laughing and talking loudly. It feels good to Frank as he relaxes back. "See. All's well baby." He leans up to whisper in Brock's ear. 

Smiling, he nods. The food and wine doing wonders for his mood to push away the shadow of thoughts. He orders more meatballs to go and pays for the meal, leaving a generous tip. After he finishes his wine, they all head towards the SUV. The warm fuzzy feelings in him are keeping him calm. He even got a cannoli for dessert. He feels as stuffed at the meatballs he gorged himself on.

Frank sits quietly beside him. He holds his hand and kisses his cheek. "I'm ready for bed." He snuggles closer and sighs. 

"Me too. I'm stuffed," Brock groans quietly at his overly full stomach.

"You ate your weight in meatballs and wine, _polpetto._ " Frank leans up and kisses him on the cheek. "I'm excited to wake up in a new city with you." 

"Mmhmm. Here's hoping the bed and the roads will be kind to us tonight. And that we sleep well. Tomorrow is going to be busy with touristy stuff and preparing for another show. I want a real shower so I will be hitting the gym to work off my meatball fat and get an excuse to clean up properly."

"A shower sounds amazing. Also a real bed with you." Frank smiles.

"Better sleep the whole night then, because as soon as we arrive in the morning I'm going. Early morning will be here before you know it, love."

"I hope so. I just need my teddy to snuggle." Frank pauses and looks at him, "Wait, am I going with you?"

"You said you wanted a shower so I assumed yes. And we both know you liked watching me fight," Brock purrs suggestively.

"Oh I do love watching you fight..." he grins wide. Dirty thoughts flood his head. "You know I am a stickler for form." 

"Oh I know. Might need you to keep a close eye on me. Make sure I'm doing it right."

"Oh yeah, definitely a close eye." 

"What do you mean fight? Like boxing?" Gerard asks looking back at them. He knows this is more than it seems. He tries to keep his smile in but the idea of Brock working up a sweat makes him shift in his seat. 

"Yeah, boxing. Working up a sweat is like my only real hobby. I do know a little MMA though."

"Oh that's cool! That's a great way to stay in shape. How does Frank help? He can barely run without getting winded." Gerard smirks. He wouldn't mind helping him. 

"He helps by glaring down the other guys to make sure no one bothers me. And moral support. And then helps me shower afterwards," Brock grins at Frank. He nods in response and leans up to kiss him. 

"The shower is the most important part." Frank adds. 

"I could help with the showering." Gerard mumbles with a Cheshire smile. "Safety is important." 

Brock doesn't say anything. He's too uncomfortable with this to do so. Instead, he shifts a little in his seat, anxious to get back on the bus. He wants things to go back to normal now. What's worse was it seemed that Frankie was not only interested in this new development but seemed to encourage it. Which makes his jealousy spin words of doubt in his head– that maybe Frank still does want Gerard. 

"Yeah, I think we have that covered." Frank grumbles as his fingers curl into Brock's skin. Just because he likes to be watched doesn't mean he can join. Brock is his. Only his. Maybe he needed to make a point that this was a _closed_ relationship. 

As the band rolled into the parking lot, Frank lets Brock go ahead, reassuring him that everything is fine as he pulls Gerard to the side. "We gotta talk." His face is stern.

Boarding the bus, Brock puts his meatballs into the fridge and grabs a glass of wine before heading to the bedroom. He shuts the door, taking a few deep breaths as he does so. Why did every day feel overwhelming all of a sudden? What changed? He thought about his life and all the things he'd dealt with over the years as he stripped down to nude. The only difference he could think of was Frankie's appearance in his life. Made him feel things he wasn't used to. Brock slips under the covers. Sitting up in the bed and sipping on chilled wine while he reads some emails. He sends a text to a family group chat letting them know he missed them. He was excited to hopefully have Frankie meet the other half of the family. He's positive they would love him. Despite several changes in his life such as the jealousness and underlying insecurity, he couldn't deny that Frank was still the best that ever happened to him. He was the happiest he'd ever been in his entire adult life and there was nothing that was going to change that. He couldn't wait to get married and spend the rest of his life with him.

Frank herds Gerard to the back of the bus. Frank touches his wrist and opens the door entering the room first with Gerard close behind. "Babe. We're all having a talk." Gerard grins at shirtless Brock.

Brock looks up at Frank with an adoring smile that quickly morphs into one of seriousness at the sight of Gerard and Frank's words. He sets the glass of wine down on the little side table, thankful the blankets covered his nudity.

"Okay," Brock says, rather confused about what's going on. 

Frank crawls up the bed and kisses him. "It's fine, baby. Okay?" 

"Sure," Brock murmurs, kissing him back. Frank kisses him again and turns back to Gee. His chest hurts from anxiety. He doesn't want this to end badly, he crawls off the bed and stands.

"First of all, Brock isn't up to share. He's mine alone so get it out of your head. I don't appreciate you kissing him and he's **not** okay with you kissing me on stage." Frank starts with a frown. "You can have a crush on him. Lord knows, I have a huge one. You can look. Do. Not. Touch. I will hurt you and your feelings."

"Look at your new found confidence." Gerard smiles as he watches Brock. The blanket pulls down as Frank crawls from the bed. The tanned skin of Brock's side and bare hip gives away that Brock is naked. He feels a tingle in his stomach at the thought of the things he could do to him. He can't help it. He's magnetic. He pulls his eyes away and looks at Frank.

"Don't be an ass." Frank rolls his eyes. "Long story short, leave Brock alone, please. Don't push it."

"Frankie always had confidence. He just needed to see it. And not have it oppressed by some skank hoebag with a god complex. Frankie is right. I was not happy that you were all over him on the stage tonight, pissed that you had the nerve to kiss him. Until he told me it was an act and relatively normal." Brock sighs. "While not thrilled, I'm not going to make you change your normal routine. Especially if it's expected. I'd rather you not kiss at all. But the other physical stuff is fine."

"There is also a fine line there, too. Maybe don't put your hand in my pants," Frank sighs. 

"Excuse me?" Brock says, blinking. Surely he'd heard that incorrectly.

"It's not like I am jerking you off." Gerard defends the action.

"Anything in my pants is a no. Unless your name is Brock." Frank grumbles as he sits beside Brock and leans forward. His shirt lifts up as he moves. He can feel the cool air roll over the bare skin of his low back. "Why the hell did you watch us have sex? Is it a thing you like to do?" he looks at Brock.

"I mean it's not like I had plans to pop popcorn and make a movie night of it. It just kinda happened. He was… it was something I couldn't look away from." Gerard leans against the small table across from the bed, "I'm usually not into _watching_ but I'd watch Br– him do the dishes."

Brock flushes; his hand inching over to Frank. He needs to be grounded. Fingers brush soft skin and his whole hand and wrist eagerly seek more contact across the lower back of his love. Just the skin contact eases the embarrassment and spike of anxiety in him.

Frank scoots his butt closer to Brock. "I have an idea." He leans back into Brock and pulls his hands around to his front under his shirt. He turns his head and kisses him speaking softly to Brock, "What if… he _watches_ us?" 

A noise escapes Brock that surprises even him. He's both interested and afraid of this. There's zero interest in him for Gerard. And yet he knows he'd be willing to try anything for Frankie. 

"Look but no touch? And if it's too much we call it off," Frank offers.

"Do… Do _you_ want this, _tesoro_? I know you like the thrill of the idea of being watched," Brock murmurs.

"I do." Frank says, feeling like he is pressuring him. He rubs his neck, hating the conflict inside of him that he's feeling. "I like the idea of being watched." 

"Okay," Brock nods. He's feeling really awkward about this. Maybe if Gerard was a stranger or something of a mere random happenstance, he would be more confident. Anyone but Gerard. Still, he supposes, it's probably better for them to try it in a controlled setting versus in someplace they could get arrested. "We'll try it. Maybe go over some rules?"

"Yes. We have to have rules," Frank agrees. "Brock is in control at all times." 

"What do you mean? In control?" Gerard asks with a tilted head.

"In control… like what he says goes. That's like the number one. Above anything rule." Frank looks at Brock for confirmation.

He nods. "If I tell you not to say or do something, you stop. No questions asked. No hesitation. I don't care if you are three fingers deep in your own ass and ready to blow, if I say get the fuck out, I expect you to do so immediately."

"Frank abides by this? What you say, he does?" Gerard asks, highly skeptical. "Frank's the most headstrong asshole I know."

"I listen very well." Frank nods and looks at Brock again.

"Frank submits to me perfectly. He has never disobeyed me and I praise and encourage him often. He knows I am thankful for his willingness to submit to me," Brock states, watching Gerard carefully.

Gerard raises an eyebrow. That's not Frank, he's always been reckless and headstrong. "Okay, so Brock has control. What else?" 

"Obviously, you're only watching. Not participating." Frank's voice is cool as he stares at Gerard, "Babe?" 

"I reserve the right to change the rules at any given time. You will not be viewing all of our times together and nothing that is…" he trails off and looks to Frank. "Overly intimate?" 

"Yes. Brock's right. This is a trial basis deal." Frank nods, "You can watch us fuck, but not make love." He feels corny for saying it but there's not another way to put it.

Brock smiles at Frank and leans over, kissing his cheek softly. "That's exactly what I meant. Thank you, _gattino._ " He turns back to Gerard. "Next rule is simple. You clean yourself and up after yourself. I won't do aftercare for you. I don't think I have a problem with what you do to get off but your safety and cleanliness is your responsibility. We rarely plan our sessions so I'm a little unsure how to incorporate you. Thoughts?"

"Depending on the hotel set up, I might have an idea." Frank offers. 

"Adjoining rooms?" Brock asks, smirking.

"That could work," Gee nods. 

"Or he can watch from the bathroom. Most hotels have a full length mirror on the wall outside of the bathroom that can see the bed." Frank shrugs. "Adjoining is really smart baby." 

"I guess if your room is next to ours just know you can come over by the sound of the bed hitting the wall?" Before the words are even out of his mouth, Brock is already bringing up his palm to his face. That was a terrible thing to say. Embarrassment at the stupid crappy words makes him flush more. This is so far out of his comfort zone it's making him say stupid shit.

Frank is unphased by what Brock has said. He glances back and tilts his head to the side. He looks to Gee with a wrinkled forehead. "What? Did I miss something?" Frank scoots back and leans on Brock. 

"Just saying stupid shit. I realized as I said it that it was kind of dumb sounding and then I mentally tripped over the whole _come_ over part. I don't know. Please ignore me. It's the wine," Brock chuckles and grabs the glass, taking a drink. "As in I need more." 

Frank leans up and kisses him after he takes a drink. "I didn't think anything of it _polpetto_." Frank speaks softly before kissing him again. 

"Thanks. Though, when I said incorporate I should have said notify. I like the idea of the bathroom mirrors by the way. Then it's kind of adjacent," Brock says, nodding. "How are you supposed to know? Do we just text you or something?"

"Am I just watching you fuck or the whole thing?" 

Brock shrugs and looks at Frank. "I don't know. I mean… what _is_ the whole thing? Foreplay? Cuddles after? What do you actually want, Gerard?"

"Just sex." Frank cuts them both off. "Before and after is between us. You're going to either hear the bed hit the wall or a text." The before and after is too personal. Their banter and sometimes tenderness is not for anyone but them.

"There's the confidence." Gee smirks again. "Also, you said to clean myself. Like I have to shower?" His tone is flirty as he bites his lip.

Forehead wrinkling in confusion, Brock silently asks Frank for help with a glance. Why wouldn't he shower if he was covered in spunk? Or at least used wipes to clean up any spill on the floor or whatever. He can't imagine the man to use a condom to jerk off. It has to go _somewhere_. He doesn't want to be responsible for a mess that he or Frank didn't make. In fact, Gerard had better use respect for them when spanking the bank in their space. He was a guest. Not a live-in.

"He's not asking you to shower before you join us, though it would be nice. He's saying don't make a mess in our room and leave it. And go home and shower." Frank slides his fingers between Brock's.

"Gotcha. I thought you expected me to be like fresh from a shower clean." Gerard nods. "So far I'm fine with these rules." 

"Anything you want to add? Anything you aren't comfortable with seeing?" Brock asks Gerard.

"I don't know what you two are into but nothing crazy." Gee pauses, "I suppose keeping it vanilla is fine. Oh do I have to be like silent?" 

"Vanilla," Brock states. Yeah, he's not sure that's even possible for him. Sure they had a few missionary positions but even then he wouldn't consider that to be boring vanilla. Unless they were making love.

"I don't want to see you beat the shit out of Frank. Or like fist him." He replies with a frown, "He's still my friend and I don't know if I can be passive in that."

"Contrary to what you or Mr. Turner believed, I have _**never**_ hit Frankie," Brock hisses, voice taking on a sharp edge to it. That was a line for him and Gerard just crossed it. He is not an abuser. He despises those that do. He only hurts Frankie so long as they both like it and it's not dangerous. "And I don't enjoy fisting. But I am not a fucking abuser."

"Hey!" Frank shifts his body to face Brock. He strokes his neck and chest with the pads of his fingers. "Relax. I think you are on edge. I don't think he meant like you being abusive." 

"I mean yeah, don't punch _our_ _Frankie_ in the face but I'm not into spanking… that's what I meant."

" **Mine** ," Brock growls quietly. One arm wrapping around Frankie and holding him close. "He's not yours and never will be. Stop saying that. And I spanked him so hard he came all over us before you walked in and watched. He loves it. We both do. But your preferences are noted."

Frank can feel his face getting hot. He's not sure why Brock talking about him coming triggered it. "I am yours."

"But, he's our Frank. He's the baby on the bus…" Gerard questions. He might be pushing it. "He used to be _my Frank._ " 

"I suggest you be very careful, Gerard," Brock says lowly, fingers digging into Frank. 

"Not trying to push you Brock, just stating a fact." Gerard stands.

"What he means is that I have a past, like you…" Frank looks between both men. He's trying to smooth this over before it goes any further.

"Sensitive and handsome." Gerard smirks, "Maybe if I play my cards right, he can be ours." 

"Get out," Brock growls.

Frank gives Gerard a frown. He always gotta push buttons. He scoots almost on top of Brock. He already knows he is going to soothe the beast. Brock pulls him the rest of the way into his arms and blocks his view of Gerard. He probably just fucked up Frankie's fantasy but he can't tolerate this sort of talk from Gerard. He's not there yet. And the other man refused to show him some respect.

"I'm only yours." He whispers. "We don't have to do this." 

Gerard sighs as he walks out of the room and closes the door. He may have fucked this up but he can't help but rile Brock up a little. He crawls into his bunk and calls his girlfriend.

Touching their foreheads together, Brock closed his eyes, one hand around the back of Frankie's neck. He mouths the words _I'm sorry_ against his lips before pressing them together in a chaste kiss. "I don't think I would have as much as a problem if it were someone I didn't see as a rival just a few days ago. A stranger is one thing. An accidental chance encounter, even better. I think that my only hang up is that it's Gerard. However… that doesn't mean I'm not willing to do this. It's just. He doesn't respect my feelings. He knows how I feel and still chooses to say shit like that. I can't let that go. I'm not there yet, baby."

"That's ok!" Frank hugs him tight. "I don't want you to do anything that you aren't comfortable with. And really it doesn't have to be a thing. I am the happiest I have ever been just being with you.

"Can I get in bed with you?" He asks softly as his fingers draw into Brock's skin. 

"We already are, silly." Brock tries to give a grin but it doesn't last very long. "I want to try it. I said I would. But he's got to stop pushing me and saying shit like that."

"I think you need to sit down and have a conversation without me. Maybe have Ray mediate. I've told him to stop pushing you but he doesn't listen to me. Let's hold off on this until this can be resolved." Frank's fingers trace a scar on his back.

"Funny, I was going to suggest the same thing and have you talk to him without me." He sighs. Holding off was probably smart. "If he won't listen to you then there's very little chance he'll listen to me. Maybe he'll learn the hard way. He's not allowed with us until he agrees and actually apologizes. What do you think?"

"I think that is a good plan. If he can't do something as simple as that, then no play." Frank nods. "You gonna undress me for bed or am I sleeping in jeans?" 

Brock kisses him and grins. "It would be my absolute pleasure, _tesoro,_ " 


	12. The Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linda Iero makes her appearance and Gerard gets in on the action- with some restrictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Per usual the standard disclaimer applies: We make no money from this as this is a work of fiction and purely for the enjoyment of ourselves and others. Also please remember all mistakes are our own Feedback is more than welcome, it is encouraged. Hope you enjoy!  
> 

Frank wakes up at 5am, Brock's body draped over him with his legs trapping Frank's at the knees. He must have been tossing and turning for Brock to pin him down. He knows Brock is going to be excited to finally hit the gym. He's excited to watch him work out and what comes after. He pulls the blanket over himself as he kisses Brock's arm, his movement causing his body to be hugged tighter. He closes his eyes and waits for the alarm to go off in a few hours. He dozes for what feels like hours but isn't more than two. He wakes to the sound and motion of the bus easing to a stop. He knows that Brock has to wake up and be the boss soon. The hotel will be waiting for them since his smart and perfect husband arranged for them to be pre-checked in so all they have to do is pick up keys.

Frank turns to face Brock. He kisses him and touches his face. " _Polpetto._ You gotta wake up." He uses a louder but sweet voice. He doesn't want to spook him. "Brock, baby. Rise and shine." 

"I heard," Brock mumbles, still not moving. He shifts, pulling Frankie closer before cracking open one eye and kissing him, uncaring about morning breath. "Mor'ing." 

"Morning," he says kissing him again and resting his head on Brock's chest, "Did you sleep ok?" 

"Yeah," his voice was thick with sleep. He turns his head and yawns with a little groan before stretching. "Hard, too. Feels like I slept like a rock. How'd you sleep Mr. Traveler?"

"Meh. Sorry for moving so much." Frank replies, "I'm sure I got a couple minutes of good sleep. Can't wait for a real bed." He's half-joking but puts on a sleepy grin to cover it up. 

"You ready to get up and be the boss?" He lightly runs a finger over Brock's skin. "And go to the gym."

"Yeah I suppose. Even though I'd rather just snuggle with you all day… but then I really would be a meatball. And miserable." He grins, nuzzling Frankie's neck, fingers trailing up and down his back and hip.

"You'd be my meatball though and I highly doubt, I'd let you be miserable." Frank kisses him. "There are more ways than the gym to get a work out, my love.

"Over the fourth of July break, we should spend a day doing nothing. In bed or on the couch. Clothing optional." Frank grins up at him.

"I do like the sound of that..." he grins and kisses Frankie's neck.

"I like anything as long as you're there." Frank smirks and lets out a soft sigh, "You trying to start me up cause you're making the right moves."

"Maybe just a little. Give you something to look forward to for later. Though… I wouldn't mind giving you a little something."

"Mmm...like a present?" Frank grins. He doesn't need much to be warmed up. His hands on Brock's skin could probably at least start the engine. He lets a hand move carefully down Brock's chest and over his stomach, stopping just below the belly button before diverting over his hip and stopping in his low back.

"Haven't had the pleasure of tasting you in a while," Brock whispers, a hand mirroring the movements of Frankie then trailing down and cupping him.

"Oh." Frank smiles a little wider, "You know I would never deprive you of anything. I am here to please. Though I had a similar thought," He kisses him "but I think… I'll keep that thought for later. Maybe something a little less private." 

"Good, because I find that waiting until after a workout makes it a little more mind-blowing. Are you going to make me wait even then?" he asks, rolling over on top of Frankie to say good morning to Scorpio.

Frank moans a little with his hips pushing up a little. "You know I like being a tease..." 

Brock hums in agreement. He does know and finds it tantalizing. He rolls his hips a little, hands stroking down Frankie's sides. Nipping along his jaw. He works his way down his neck, nipping along his collarbone before licking his nipples.

Frank lets out a soft moan, aware of their lack of privacy. A hand moves to rest between Brock's shoulders as he arches his back a little then melts. "I fuckin' love you." He sighs.

Frank has an idea of where this is going and he approves. Anytime he can be touched is fine by him. But a little flicker in his head twists his first thought into something possibly better… or something fun for him at least. He hates himself for what he's about to do. "But… we should get up." He struggles to keep the moan in. 

"Things can wait," Brock mutters against Frankie's ribs as he works his way down, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. By the time he gets to his hips and the start of the peach fuzz treasure trail, Brock's mouth is watering with desire. His lips pucker and latch onto the soft patch of skin between hip joint and groin, determined to leave a little hickey.

Frank knows that he can't tell him no as he watches Brock move down his body. _This plan might be ruined_. The feeling of his lips on such a tender place sends fire through his chest to meet the lips at his hip. He whimpers a little but it turns to a real moan that he dampens by biting his lip. 

Ghosting his hot breath over Frankie's hard length, Brock takes a hesitant little lick across the head. Teasing. He looks up and grins at Frankie with a wink.

The soft pants turn into a louder moan as he watches Brock's tongue touch him. His stomach muscle tightens as he adjusts himself up on his elbows. Excitement bubbles in the back of his head at the anticipation. His legs move a little further apart for Brock. "Please?" He whimpers as he struggles to keep his voice quiet. 

Not one to say no, Brock hooks his hands under Frankie's knees, pulling him close. Blowing gently just to watch Frankie's gorgeously hard dick twitch, he lightly brushes his lips across the sides. He doesn't want begging this time. "Frankie." 

"Yeah?" He sits up concerned. He pushes the hair from his eyes. 

"I want you to mouth fuck me." Dark brown eyes made darker with lust looked up at him, willing him to say yes. "I want my little hellcat this morning. Not kitten. Think you can do that for me, baby?"

The words force goosebumps to rise as he grins. "I can do that." A little ping of fear runs through his head. He is unsure what to do for a split second as he nods. He's winging it as he sits up a little further to have a better grip on Brock. "Are you sure?" He asks with a devilish grin. Not giving him a chance to answer, his fingers curl around Brock's head pulling his mouth to his cock. He watches as Brock's mouth covers the head, feeling his tongue working the sensitive skin eagerly. 

Moaning low, he sucks just the tip, tongue dancing over the slit. He's fighting himself. He wants to deep throat him and make Frankie moan. But he wants Frankie to make him do it. Wants his hellcat to demand and pull his hair. His fingers randomly draw little circles on the back of Frank's thighs. His own length, trapped between the mattress and himself, twitches in interest. An image of him humping the bed while deep throating enters his mind. He shoves it aside. He wants to wait until he showers.

Frank lets out a groan and presses the pads of his fingers into Brock's scalp. He takes a deep breath trying to shake the feeling that he was doing something he shouldn't. The moan from Brock flips a switch in his brain and turns off the voice in his head. He pushes Brock down carefully at first, groaning at the feeling. His hips jerk up wanting more as he grips his hair.

Eyes fluttering, Brock moans again and allows himself to be needy. He lunges forward, loving the feeling of Frankie sliding into his mouth and down his throat. He doesn't stop until his lips touch the base of his groin, prickly new hair tickling his mouth. He swallows a few times around his length before pulling up a little.

"Oh fuck baby." 

Encouraged by the whispered praise, Brock pulls all the way to the top, sucking hard and hollowing his cheeks before shoving his face down fast. He'd rather have Frankie taking lead here, fucking up into him. But he's impatient today.

"Shit!" Frank hisses as he bucks his hips up into Brock's mouth. Using a firmer grip he cradles the back of his head as he fucks into him. The sound of his cock sliding into his mouth is hot. He slows his eager hips as he forces Brock all the down until his nose is touching him. "Your fucking mouth is like God damned perfection." He growls as he releases him.

"Then use it," Brock says roughly, licking his lips and breathing hard. "Give me all you got. Make me choke on your cum. I want it. I want your cum."

Frank grins at the words as he forces Brock back down. Letting him eagerly work at his own pace for a few strokes before roughly gripping his skin and thrusting deeper into his throat. He holds Brock in place understanding just how intoxicating it was to have the control of his love. 

Groaning low at the feeling of Frankie forcing himself down his throat, Brock can't help the slow circles his hips were making into the mattress. As a teenager, he used to think it was weird that he found giving head to be just as arousing as receiving. Now he felt very different. If he didn't already have plans and wanted to wait, he would have already humped the bed until he came. The little circles were just enough to take the edge off and nothing more. His right hand moved from its spot where he was holding Frankie's glute to tease at his hole, slipping one digit in and rubbing against his prostate.

"Oh my god." Frank groans and thrusts up harder. He pushes himself against the finger inside of him. The feeling of Brock's throat tensing as he fucks his throat and the pressure against his prostate push his body harder. Building the tension in his low belly as he groans deep in his chest. He picks up the pace behind his thrusts, as he pants and groans. He's close. Too close. "Fuck. Fuck Brock, I'm coming." 

Brock moans as his mouth floods with the amazing flavor of Frankie's cum. He swallows it all, greedily and starving. His head slows his bobbing, tongue, and finger turning gentle. 

Frank groans and strokes Brock's hair. The rolling his hips with waves of his orgasm. "I love you." Frank moans as he lets Brock swallow every drop of him enthusiastic as he slows his pace. He loves Brock so much. His body is buzzing and warm. He is growing impatient to kiss and touch Brock. He carefully pulls Brock up by his throat to his lips as he leans forward.

Crawling up Frankie’s body and kissing him, Brock carefully kept his body angled away so he didn’t have any physical contact with the lower half, both for Frankie’s sensitivity and his own hard length that is slowly going down. Laying down on his side and never breaking the kiss, he runs his hand all over Frankie’s body. Pulling away, he whispers against his lips with a grin, “I love you too, my perfect _tesoro_. Thank you.”

"No, thank you baby." Frank strokes his cheek and kisses him again. His hands run down Brock's back. "I wanna make you come." He whispers as he kisses along his neck.

“You will,” he mutters. “After I work out and I fuck you in the showers.”

Frank smiles before kissing him again. Devilish ideas flutter through his head as he moves his kisses towards Brock's chest and shoulders. Resting his hand on Brock's waist and the other on his chest, he carefully runs the tip of his tongue over his nipple. Meanwhile, the hand that had been waiting on his waist moves across his hip and follows the natural V-line towards his beautiful cock, taking a good grip of him and giving him a pretty decent stroke to state his intentions.

Chuckling low in his chest, his hand moves to rest atop of Frankie’s at his cock and stop him. Kissing him playfully, he pulls away with a wide grin, “Do you not want me to fuck you hard later? Play nice, _gattino_.”

"What if… I want it all?" He beams up at him. He rests his chin on Brock and bats his lashes at him. Maybe cute would work? He might be pushing it but it's worth a shot. 

“Unlike you, I don’t really have the teenager libido anymore. Yes, I can go again but the, uh, force behind it won’t be as powerful. And hush, I can see the wheels in your pretty little head laughing at me.” Brock grins and shakes his head, the whole excuse now sounding ridiculous out loud. “It just makes it better with a little waiting.”

"I mean…" Frank hesitates remembering that he's naked and on a bus. Also, Brock does outweigh him and can easily overpower him, not that he'd put up the fight. "Your doctor seemed to be pretty chill… we can always make a phone call for some _help_?" 

With a bark of a laugh, Brock pushes Frankie onto his back, smothering him with his weight and with kisses. Fingers dance down his sides tickling him. “I don’t need help, you little hellion!”

Frank tries to move away from the tickling fingers, twisting and squirming under Brock as he laughs, "It's natural! Happens to men of a certain age!" He knows that Brock is just fine when it comes to this but he's gotta be a little shit.

“You little motherfucker!” Brock laughs, tickling him harder. One hand swats his behind. Or tries to anyway. Frankie’s squirming makes it land on his upper thighs instead. Doesn’t mean he stops though. A chance glance has him noticing the time and he flops onto his back with a groan. His heart is still racing from the fun and a small giggle escapes. If he wants to go to the gym he has to go now or never. And he’s certain at least one of the other boys is awake. So much for slipping off and letting the kids sleep. Rolling over, he sits up and starts to get dressed. “Shit. I’m going to miss my window of opportunity. I need to get going.”

"Fiinnee." Frank groans as he sits up and watches Brock dress. Still believing that he is a much better workout than any punching bag or Steve around. "You'd be a gym rat if I let you, huh?" He lazily fishes around for his bag blindly until he finds the strap and pulls it out to grab whatever he can find to wear. Finding the right pants for a gym setting and a thin, old misfits shirt.

"Yeah probably." Brock grabs his compression shirt, gym shorts, and gym shoes from his gym duffle. "I mean, it's both a necessity and a hobby. So you can't tell me it's not important. So there." Brock blows him a little raspberry.

"I'm not saying that. Nor am I saying that I'm not appreciative of the work you put into it." Frank scans his body, he grins and replies playfully, "But if you need a _real_ hobby, I can teach you how to play guitar. Or paint. Or knit." Frank pulls on the black cotton pants and shirt. He feels like an obsessed teenager. 

"You know how to paint and knit?" he asked, surprised.

"I do. My knitting skills aren't the greatest but they are passable. I can also sew." Frank pauses and chuckles, "I really am the wife in our relationship." 

"This is why you wear the tags," Brock reaches out and runs a finger along the ball chain that was just barely peeking out from under the shirt collar. He smiles softly, opening the door and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. "And why I'm the _polpetto_. Ooh….breakfast meatballs. Too bad I don't think I'm going to have time for a real breakfast."

"Breakfast meatballs are not a thing, love." 

"It is if I say so," he whispers, trying to keep his voice down so they don't wake the others. He grabs a bottle of water and a cold meatball from his leftovers, popping it into his mouth and eating it. Hopefully, there's a car they can use. Heading to the front of the bus, he pulls up Maps to figure out where the nearest gym even is and get a taxi.

"Did you want me to get a car from the hotel?" He asks as he loops his arm around his waist. "Does your gym at home have other branches?" 

"Car would be great," he says, exiting the bus and stepping into a bright day. "The gym is owned by a local guy. It's not a franchise which is why I love going to them. I like small businesses and keeping things in the community. If you think about it, it's not much different than what my family does. They support small businesses all the time."

Frank gets the car headed their way, "Yeah, that's true! Anytime you can help the little guy it's better. I'd rather spend a little more and get better quality. Car will be here in 5." Frank pauses with a thought, "You have a gym schedule right?"

"You mean getting up every morning and going to the gym for two hours then coming back and eating a huge meal? No. Not at all." He's being a shithead and he knows it. His grin says it too. "Or did you mean a routine where I kick someone's ass for the last hour after doing weights and cardio?"

"I mean like Tuesday, Thursday and Friday kinda schedule. Shithead." Frank gives him a fake annoyed face then smiles. "I mean I suppose yes to all of those answers. I was thinking of asking Lauren to maybe arrange for you to have a car on gym days." Frank smiles up at him, "Make it easier on you"

"If I had my way, every day would be gym day. If I can't I'd prefer it at the bare minimum twice a week. Doesn't matter what days do long as they aren't back to back. Anything less than that and I start to…. Decrease in function. I guess."

Frank blinks. His question's not truly answered but nods. "So I'll see what she says about getting you a car as much as we can."

The car arrives. He beams at Frank, taking his hand. "Thanks, babe! And I promise you don't have to come with me every time. I know you don't like early mornings. Though today you are doing great."

"I am actually in a good mood. Even before the morning service." Frank smiles, "Who knows maybe I'll disappear in the gym and actually participate in the sport activities." 

Brock cracks up as they pile into the car. The image of Frankie, his perfect little Twinkie, trying to lift weights or jog on the treadmill fills his head. It was nearly comical. Cute though.

"What?! I was a member of the track team in highschool. I can do the sport stuff." He gives him a side glance. "I just found dating easier in the band and theater circles. Easier to date both…"

Brock frowns hard. He never thought he would hear Frankie make a reference to Gerard like that. He's not really sure how to take this information. Unless… No. That was impossible. There was no way he would know about that. Right? 

"Did Jack tell you?" he asked with some trepidation.

"Tell me?" 

"..... That I did theater in high school," he admits quietly.

"Oh yeah he did! It makes my heart happy and makes me love you even more!" Frank leans up and kisses his cheek. "Are you embarrassed about that?" 

"A little, yeah. On the one hand, it was the steppingstone for me to excel at undercover work. On the flip side, it wasn't exactly conducive to not getting my ass kicked by the older kids."

"Well yeah. That's true. But I think you being a theater nerd is really sexy. Smart, handsome, strong and creative. You're the perfect man." Frank leans against him, "I would have crushed on you hard as fuck." 

"No you wouldn't." Brock watches out the window.

Frank frowns as he sits up. "Glad I can kill the mood like an assassin." He says quietly as he fishes his phone from his pocket. Might as well email Lauren. He isn't sure what he said that turned it sour.

"You didn't. I did. I'm sorry," Brock replies softly. He squeezes his hand tightly. "I am nothing like I used to be in high school. Not like I am today. I _was_ nothing."

Frank wrinkles his forehead but doesn't push it. He gives him a smile. "I love you." 

"Love you more, _tesoro,_ " he replies softly. 

Frank lifts his arm and wraps it around himself. "Can I tell you something?" 

"Always." 

"I love you the most." He snickers and rests his head into Brock's chest.

The gym is one of the smaller ones from some stupidly purple franchise he'd normally avoid. It's one of those types of gyms that require a membership and he argues a little with the recruiter. He doesn't want to pay for a full year. He's only going to be here once. No, he didn't need to hear all the benefits, he's only here for the heavyweight bag because there isn't a real gym anywhere nearby. Finally, he gets an idea and grabs a random person, a woman, entering the gym and asks her if she wants a free year premium membership to the "great" gym, provided he gets to use it for the day. She agreed and they finished the paperwork and signed off on it. As soon as he has the pass in hand, he heads for the lockers, Brock dragging Frank away. He'll give the lady her pass later.

~~

Gerard had been woken up by the sound of Frank's moans and listened close to the sounds as he imagined what was happening inside that door. He struggled to keep himself in bed as they fooled around. He ached to be touched. By both of them. It was a strange feeling. He listened to their cute banter as they quietly made their way out of the bus and was overcome by the silence. He listens to Ray on the phone bitching about feeling tired and needing to start working out again.

"I'll go with you." Gerard pokes his head out of the bunk with a smile. Maybe a little exercise will get this out of his system.

Gerard changes into shorts and t-shirt and follows Ray out of the bus and into an Uber. The two men chat about looking forward to hotel rooms as the car stops in front of the gym. As they entered the gym, a familiar face exited the locker room. Gerard smiles wide. S _o much for getting it out of my system._

"You should have just kept the membership," Frank tries not to snicker.

"I. Am. Never. Coming. Back. Here," Brock says under his breath, grumpily hating this place. Unfortunately, it was the only place that called itself a "gym", nearby.

"It's not that bad. You're just crabby she didn't give in." 

"What? That? No. I don't give a shit about that. Not really. I hate this place and all the other franchises like it. The only reason I'm here is because there isn't an actual real boxing gym nearby and I need the heavyweight bag." Brock moves to one of the thousands of machines and checks it over, scowling. 

Frank snickers as he steps on a treadmill, and turns it on to a walking pace. "Grumble, Grumble, Grumble." Frank says loud enough for him to hear.

"Brock?" A familiar cheerful voice calls out as poofy hair and a smile approaches.

"Oh my god, you actually voluntarily come to this putrid purple shit hole that calls itself a gym? Oh Sunshine. I had better hopes for you." Brock shakes his head in disappointment.

"Brock Enzo." Frank laughs as he pauses the machine as Ray hugs him.

"Hey man, it's the only place that the band could not only workout and shower when we were on the road." Ray laughs and gives Brock a side hug, "It's not the gym back home but it will do.

"It's not a gym at all but sure we can use that term for references," Brock grumbles as he starts up the treadmill next to Frankie.

Gerard slinks by and finds a machine to work on. Keeping a close eye on _him_.

"Besides, they are all over the country." Ray grins as he starts the machine up, "You and I can go to the gym together. If Frankie decides to sleep in." 

"While I'm all for us going together, I'm never stepping foot in a knockoff purple people eater again. You can come with me to the boxing gym though," Brock huffs as he starts a light jog.

"I'm getting you a sweatshirt before we leave." Frank chuckles.

"Fuck you. You do that and not only will I burn it but I'll scatter its ashes in a guitar case. With one of your girls inside."

"You leave my ladies out of your tantrum. You're more of a t-shirt guy. Huh, Ray?" Frank leans forward and grins at Ray. His eyes scan and land on Gee. "You brought _Gee_ with you?" 

"He wanted to come along. I think he has pent up energy." 

"Cool." Frank immediately feels anxious. The overhead radio pipes out the song singing about going in the danger zone, making him snort.

Brock notices but as much as he hates to admit it, he was grumpy. He really didn't want to be in this place as a whole. It wasn't what he really needed- not just the space or its stupid memberships. The equipment he wanted and the ring were missing. And he really wanted to fight today. It was the only way he kept his skills in shape and gave him the hard work out he needed. Which meant today was going to suck. 

"Hey." Frank says softly.

"What?" The word comes out a little harsher than he wanted. Not because of his mood so much as because he was slowly increasing his speed from a light jog to a run.

"Nevermind." Frank replies as he slows his machine to a stop. He was less than thrilled about the attitude. "Have fun." He gets off the machine and wanders away. 

"Don't get soft on me Rumlow." Ray says upping his machine.

He looks after Frankie leaving, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He didn't mean to snap at him. He stops the machine and debates going after him. He's such an ass. He sighs and rubs his face, feeling like shit.

"Dude, he's fine." Ray says.

"I snapped at him and he's leaving me to go do whatever. Clearly he's not fine or he would have stayed," He looks at Ray, brows furrowed. "I had no right to take my frustration out on him."

"Maybe. He's taking himself out of the moment to not pick a fight. Because he knows you're agitated." Ray replies looking at him. "He's over there. Probably where you're going next." 

Ray pauses his machine. Pausing to catch his breath, "You're looking for giants in a field of windmills my friend. Come on, let's finish this and then you can worry. Okay?"

"I always worry," he replies under his breath. He turns the treadmill back on, increasing the speed again. He won't be able to fight today so he's going to need to exhaust himself in other ways. By the time the machine has reached full speed, Brock is flat out running. His mind blanks, sound and thought gradually disappearing until he's lost in his head.

Frank takes the machine next to Gerard. "Why are you here?" He grumbles at him. He can't pick a fight with Brock but he can with Gee.

"It's a public space. I can be here." Gerard looks over and smiles, "Why are you here?"

"Because it's a public space." Frank shoots back sarcastically. "I'd avoid him. He's not in a good mood." 

"Seems like he's always in a mood."

"Maybe if you actually treated him with respect he'd be happy, friendly Brock," Frank shoots back, he raises his voice slightly. 

"I am trying."

Frank snorts, "Stop pushing his buttons, please. Last time I ask." 

"But seriously, why are you here?"

"I'm here to help him." Frank says softly. _And to get fucked in the showers._

"Oh. I know why you are here..." Gerard smirks, "He's gonna take it out on you…"

Frank's cheeks flush. "No. Even if he was, you're not invited."

"Hmmm sounds like it's not a couples decision."

"Step in the shower and you'll see stars." Frank smirks and rolls his eyes, "Give it time. Be nice. Don't say stupid shit."

"I should go ask him… "

Frank gets up and walks away, rolling his eyes and choosing to sit near Brock.

"See. Told you he'd be back," Ray pants out.

Brock offers a smile instead of replying. He's running at his full speed plus a little extra. He's thinking about nothing thankfully- not really paying much attention to the crowd around. His lungs burn and his ribs ache the way that only feels good after a hard workout. With a press of a few buttons, the machine begins to slow down and eventually comes to a complete stop.

Frank looks up at the sound of a machine slowing. He gives Brock a smile and watches him closely. He scans the room for _danger_ of the stranger kind. He's also watching for Gerard.

Panting hard, Brock does feel a little less crowded in his own head. A little less tight. A lot more calmer and a whole lot more pleased. Grabbing his water bottle as Frankie approaches, a smile on his lips.

Frank hands him a towel. "Better?" 

"Yeah," he said, taking the towel and wiping his drenched face. "I'm sorry." 

"For what?" Frank touches his stomach as he looks at him with those damn heart eyes. "Earlier?" 

He nods. "I was an ass and I didn't mean to be. Especially not to you. Didn't mean to make you leave."

"Baby. You are totally fine. You're unhappy about the situation. I was just going to say something that wouldn't have helped. I'm not mad or hurt. I'm okay." Frank's voice softens before pulling in his shirt to kiss him, "Better or worse my love." 

"In sickness and in health. Even in stupid gyms," he gives a small smile and nuzzling him a little. Stepping off the machine and giving it a quick wipe down, he moves over to the weights. 

"Even in stupid purple no grunting gyms." Frank follows as he leans on the mirror next to the weights. His eyes follow Gerard as he moves close to the two of them. "A little grumpy gill isn't going to make me stop loving my husband." 

"Even when I'm being more than a little bitchy?" He smirks. He's thankful that this place has a weight lifting bench and he adds a hundred pounds to start with.

"That's when you need more love. And patience. Or a really good blow job." Frank looks to Ray and nods. "Do you want an actual spotter? I'm way under qualified but Ray can help."

"Sure! Are you going to stay though or go wander again?"

Frank nods him over. "I'm not leaving. Last time I had to fight off predators from my vulnerable Brock." 

He snickers softly as he straddles the bench and lies down. Looking for Ray, he notices Gerard. He frowns. How did he not notice him earlier?

"You ready?" Ray asks looking down at him. "Or are you gonna flirt some more?" 

"Awww, are you jealous, Sunshine?" He gives him an easy smile. 

"Oh I already know I got your heart, BrocknRoll!" Ray winks with a big goofy grin.

"Oh that's a good one!" Frank blurts.

Brock's forehead wrinkles. He's not sure about that as a nickname. Or anything as a nickname really. "I suppose… it's better than Broccoli. Nice pun, I'll give you that. Just not sure it's me."

"Who calls you broccoli?" Frank smirks, praying it's Brooke.

"It was a nickname in high school," he says tensely.

"Oh."

"They called me muppet or Kermit." Ray offers. "Cause my mouth is large."

"With all due respect, Sunshine, your lips are perfect for blow jobs so I don't see why anyone would hate on them. I'm sure your wife is a happy lady," Brock says. He lifts the bar up off the rack and begins a set.

"As long as he doesn't set her dryer on fire, she is." Frank snickers.

"You know what. Thank you Brock. I appreciate the compliment." Ray nods with a grin. 

"Glad you took it as it was intended." 

"Anytime a hot dude can compliment me, I'll take it." Ray nods, "I was talking to her earlier and she would like to meet you. She adores Frankie."

"I'd love to. I bet she's amazing. And you don't have to worry, I've got plenty of compliments for you anytime you need a pick me up."

"Good to know." Ray winks at him, "You really did find a winner, Frankie."

"Are you flirting with my husband?" Frank snickers as he watches Gerard who was watching them. A part of him felt bad for excluding his friend. Frank sighs and pushes off the mirror without saying a word and moves towards Gee.

"Instead of moping, come over and chat with us." Frank offers with a smile, "You're still my friend… dummy."

Gee brightens a little. "He won't be mad."

"Nah he's trying to not be crushed by the weights."

"Hey kinky kurls, think you can add forty on each side?" Brock lifts the bar back onto the rack.

"Sure can!" Ray replies with a nod and smile as Frank and Gee approach. 

Frank leans over Brock and kisses him. "Don't push yourself too hard, baby." 

"But I like it hard," he snickers. All he can see is up Frankie's nose and the one ceiling tile with a water stain. "Come sit with me, babe?" 

"Is that safe?" Frank questions him. 

"Sure. Just don't sit on my chest." 

"Well shit, there goes my plan." Frank snorts before carefully sitting between his knees making sure not to hinder anything.

"Well you do belong in my lap but lap adjacent will have to do." He can feel his shorts have ridden up a little from his position and he's never been more thankful. With Frankie sitting between his legs, the weight was a familiar comfort. Ray adds the extra weights and he begins to lift, a little wobbly at first. This was a little over his max, trying to push it and himself. He's thankful for Ray to keep his form right and to keep him from dropping the two hundred twenty pounds onto his throat or chest.

Ray quietly gives Brock words of encouragement as Frank sits silently listening to them. He looks up to see Gerard leaning where once stood. "I'd ask you if you were talking to your boyfriend on your phone but since he's right behind you, who else would make you smile like that?" 

"Lauren, actually," Frank replies. "Babe have you talked to Jack lately?" 

"No," comes the short grunt of a reply. 

"According to Lauren, things are going _swimmingly_. And she is able to get you a car, she just needs to know when." Frank smiles. Hell yeah, little matchmaker.

"A car for what?" Gerard asks.

"The gym, errands, or for him to handle other business or get away from us dorks," Frank replies, fighting his urge to lean back into Brock. 

"Nice. I suppose it's the perks of being in charge." Gerard speaks quietly, "Also perks for you to be sleeping with the boss." He gives Frank a smile that indicates he's kidding.

"Actually," Brock says strained. He's almost done with the set and he's starting to struggle. His words are slow and only when he's lowering the bar to his chest. "It's probably due to my brother banging Lauren less than me."

"Hey, still a perk for you though." Gerard adds as he glances around, "Lauren is a cute girl, so good for your brother."

"She is pretty," Ray adds without looking up. "Last one Brock cause you're almost spent." 

"Fuck," he exhales. Almost isn't cutting it. He already is. He's certain he can see the trembling in his muscles that he feels. The bar comes down easily enough but it's a hard fight to push it back up. He gets it about halfway, the bar not as fluid and even, and a ping in his brain has him gasping out, "Ray." 

He's there already taking hold of the bar. "He's gonna grumble." Ray groans quietly as he can to Brock as he brings it up, "I can see it in his little face." 

Frank is watching closely. His leg starts to bounce a little as he keeps it inside his head for the time being. "We don't have a meet and greet so that will by us more time to fuck around today. Thank God too." He makes small talk to Gerard.

"Good! I would like to work on a project a little more. I've been considerably distracted." He smiles at Frank.

Once the bar is back on the rack, Brock's arms drop down onto his chest like dead weights. He's soaked with sweat and panting. He wasn't planning on doing the full set with the max weight but he's glad he did, even if he did miss the last rep. Sitting up, he looks around for his water bottle, one arm subconsciously going around Frankie's waist and under his shirt.

"Hi." Frank speaks softly as he turns his head and hands him the bottle of water. "Do I need to grumble? Or can you fill in the blanks?" 

He takes the bottle of water and downs the whole thing in one shot before he answers, "I wasn't going to do the whole set, maybe just half but… I'm sorry? I'm supposed to push myself a little. I did four more than what I did last time so that's good. The last one was probably too much. But Sunshine saved the day so… yeah. I love you."

"I trust your judgement. Mostly. So no sorry needed." Frank rests into his chest a little, "I love you too. Just be careful." 

"I _am_ careful. I wouldn't have added the extra weight if I didn't have or trust Sunshine. The bull's got my back, love. I'll be okay. I need more water though." He hugs Frankie closer, only a little sorry about his soaked body

"The bull?" Frank smirks as he absorbs all the affection he can from Brock, "Maybe if you ask nicely someone can get you water." 

"May I pretty please have a refill of water, sir?" he asks in his best impersonation of Tiny Tim.

"I can do it." Gerard offers quietly. He's gotta start smoothing things over with Brock. Frank's kinda right. It also doesn't appear that Brock's going anywhere anytime soon. He extends his hand for the bottle.

"'preciate it," he pants quietly, handing over his empty bottle. "I probably should really invest in a reusable bottle and not a plastic disposable one. I hate them though. I prefer to kill the planet."

"I can get you a very nice metal one." Frank offers, kinda teasing but also kind of not. "Maybe one with flowers on it. Or something shiny like glitter."

"They do make cool hydro flasks B." Ray adds. He watches Gee take the bottle and move to the fountain to refill the bottle for him.

"Yeah but then I'd have to wash it. And I like to be able to just throw it away."

"If you asked, maybe your adorable husband would wash it for you." Frank offers, "And what about the sea turtles..." 

"Besides, plastic bottles can make you sick." Gerard says coming back and handing it over to Brock. 

Shaking his head with a laugh, he takes the bottle from Gerard with a smile. Drinking half, he decides that he's good enough to move on to the next thing. Forcing himself to stand up and stretch, his back cracking a little from being on the bench, he heads over to his duffle and pulls out his boxing gloves.

"This would usually be the part where he and his gym boyfriend talk a lot of shit to each other then do their angry man dance," Frank says softly to Gerard. 

"While I know it's boxing, I just imagine him doing a waltz but with a really angry face and cussing." Gerard snickers.

Just to be a goof, Brock moves away from everything and does a few waltz steps with his best "stank face" he can muster, glaring at his invisible partner and audience. He stops and laughs, "Like that?" 

"Exactly!" Gerard chuckles. 

"I'd pay Steve to recreate this." Frank grins as he sits in the chair and crosses his legs in the seat. 

"Steve is his gym friend?" Ray asks. 

"I like to call him the gym boyfriend but someone doesn't understand that it's a joke. So yes, it's his friend. Steve's a cool guy. Dorito-shaped and a bit corny but he's cool." Frank realizes he might be babbling from being tired but meh, at least he's being friendly.

"I understand it's a joke. I just don't want it misunderstood by others. I don't want to be accused of something I'm not doing by someone who wants to start trouble within our group. All it takes is a reporter or disgruntled employee to overhear something and spin it." Brock slips the gloves on, tightening the laces with his teeth. 

"I could help you." Ray offers. "Stubborn ass, just like him."

"Nah, thanks though. I do this all the time. Quit checking out my ass though," he winks as he finishes.

"It's hard not too. It is a bubble butt." Ray grins, "And I am an ass man."

"So is Brock." Frank replies without missing a beat. Brock can't contain a snort of laughter.

"It's why we get along so well." Ray replies.

"Okay I take back what I said. Sunshine can check out my ass anytime," he gives a wide grin and a little shake of his bubble butt. 

"It is a pretty cute butt," Frank smirks. 

"It's more than cute," he says lightly before going over to the heavyweight bag and throwing a few weak punches to get the feel for it.

 _It's pretty sexy_. Gerard smirks to himself. 

"I'll be back, boys." Ray says as his eyes scan the gym for a new machine to tire himself with. 

Gerard watches him go. "I should find something to do..." He mutters as he rubs his neck. His head fills with ideas and he knows he should keep them inside. 

"Ok?" Frank says with a wrinkled forehead. He turns his attention to Brock. 

"He's just disappointed that there won't be a fight. Just like me. Not as fun watching me hit a bag." Brock moves into position and takes a centering breath before striking the bag like a snake.

"Maybe the next city we go to we can get you into an actual boxing gym." Frank says with a pause, "Are you gonna be… worked out enough for your plans?"

"Hope so. Mostly based on you though." He hits the bag a little harder.

"Me?" Frank's head tilts.

"Mmhmm. The visual effects are different for you." He knows it's cryptic but he really didn't want to say something to the extent of _this only works if you get turned on by me fighting as much as I do._

"Okay..." Frank looks as lost as he sounds. He sits quietly and appreciates Brock. Gerard catches his eye in the mirror and he nearly trips over a rowing machine. He sees a few ladies on the treadmills quietly talking and leaning on their machines, also watching Brock. "You've got an audience." He's got a feeling he's gonna have to be mean to Gee, he's not gonna take the hint.

Brock doesn't answer as he loses himself into the sparring with the bag. It's not Steve but it's still satisfying. His strikes turn from loose and playful to tight and controlled. His head fades away everything but the sound and feel of the bag beneath his fists, the shifting of his weight on the balls of his feet. He's imagining an actual fight, ducking and dodging imaginary hits, using the motions to commit it to muscle memory. His knee comes up and strikes the bag hard, causing the several hundred-pound bag to swing. A cry of pumped-up adrenaline forces its way through his lips and he attacks the bag harder and faster. The blood roars in his ears.

"Jesus. He could pound me like that." A woman from behind Frank says loud enough for Brock to hear it. He can feel that jealous streak burning a little brighter. He turns and glares at her. It's bad enough he has to combat Gerard now he's going to have to fight off horny housewives with a dumbbell. He turns his attention back to Brock.

"Don't go for older men usually but hot damn," says another voice from behind him. 

He tries to ignore it. He tells himself not to feed the green beast as it gnashes at the back of his brain. He doesn't hear Gerard approach from the side.

"Is that the kinda focus he has in bed?" Gee asks with a smile. 

"Drop it." Frank growls back. He tells himself he shouldn't be so jealous.

"Hey man. Can't help it. I'm living vicariously through you." Gerard adds, "And I just get to stare at the hot piece of ass."

"Go away." 

"What?" 

"Go back to the bus and leave him alone." Frank snaps as he puts his feet on the ground. 

"Fine… fine. Just wanted a sneak peek. That's all." Gerard puts his hands up.

With a hard cry, Brock throws the final punch before turning to Frankie with a wild look like his eyes and panting hard. He rips off one of the gloves seconds before grabbing Frankie's shirt and pulling him into a brutal kiss. He knows he's tenting in his shorts and doesn't give a shit. He needs him. Now.

Frank inhales sharply from the intensity of the kiss. Expecting hunger but not this. Moaning a little as he pushes his fingers into sweaty hair, he half expects to be picked up and carried away. He hears the women groan in disappointment. He pulls back and grins, "Now?" 

"Now," Brock growls against his lips before ripping off the other glove. A sound catches his ear and he glances up, noticing the women for the first time. It's enough of a distraction that he actually has enough of a presence of mind to pack away the gloves in his duffle, palming the lube. He can feel his body coming down from its adrenaline high and it irritates him.

Frank stands a little breathless waiting for Brock. He can't think of anything other than Brock. His mind thinks to the showers, remembering the open-air showers or the stalls and excitedly debating in his head which one he's gonna choose.

"The good ones are always gay." A woman mutters as she turns her machine back on. 

Standing, he gives the women a cold glare for ruining his moment, even if it did give him a chance to not kill Frankie's ass. He grabs his hand and drags him to the showers, uncaring about Gerard. His plan to not let him watch is a thing of the past with the raging hard-on he's got.

Frank follows eagerly with a huge grin. He knows and can't wait for the next part. Brock's grip on his hand tightens as they pass by the offending ladies. _He's going to tear me in half if he gets interrupted one more time._

Ray herds Gerard and gets him moving out the door. He can tell that Gee wasn't ready to leave but he was. He was ready to shower and eat food. Then call his girl all before the show. "Frank and B will get back to the hotel on their own. Leave them be." 

Gerard, not wanting to admit the reason for not wanting to go, watches as Brock drags _their_ Frankie away. The women who had been watching frowning and talking with disappointment all over their faces. He wonders how shower sex is going to work at a place like this, as he sits in the Uber, still staring inside. 

As they enter the purple locker room, Frank can feel something building in his chest. He's excited and nervous. The pressure on his hand from Brock could be seen as aggressive to an outsider except for the stupid grin on his face proves otherwise as does the un-hideable erection.

Brock shoves Frankie up against the wall of one of the showers and kisses him hungrily. Hands frantically divulge them of their clothing until they were both naked. Turning the water on, Brock turns back to capture Frankie into another hungry kiss. He opens the lube in his hand.

Frank moans against Brock's lips as his own hands wander his skin. His entire body buzzes with excitement. He makes himself pliable to Brock. Taking a hand away from Brock's back, he grips his own cock giving it lazy tugs that push a groan from his lips. It was a sign that he isn't going to wait. He may be pushing his limits with Brock. The fire behind his eyes was dangerous and threatened to burn Frank but he was more than willing to play. "You gonna fuck me good?" He questions him with a serious face.

"Gonna fuck you dry if you don't turn around and give me that ass," Brock growls, putting lube on his fingers. He might just fuck him against the wall anyway.

Frank smirks before turning to face the wall. He turns his head and bites his lips, the growl from Brock sends a tingle down his spine. "You gonna keep me quiet?" He already knows Brock wants him to be noisy. Scream if he can. In here it's probably not smart.

"I might," he growls in Frankie's ear before roughly shoving in two fingers, scissoring.

"Oh fuck!" He shouts before covering his own mouth. His knees buckle slightly as Brock's fingers work inside of him. Frank moans and presses his forehead to the tile. If he is like this now, Frank's coming in seconds.

"Keep that pretty mouth covered," Brock growls out, quickly removing his fingers and replacing it with his already-lubed up cock. He slams himself in before starting a hard and rapid pace that has Frank's body sliding up the tile. One hand digs itself into Frankie's hip while his other buries itself in his hair. He groans in relief at the too-tight ass clamping down on his cock.

The brutal pace Brocks set punches out the moans in a staccato rhythm. He struggles to hold on. The thrill of being caught fills his head and makes him moan louder. "Oh god! Yes! Fuck me!" bursts out from behind his hand as his head bobs wildly. He whimpers as he tightens around Brock. 

The muffled words sent a thrill straight down to his cock, making him jackrabbit into Frankie, needing it harder. More. He leans forward, hips never stopping their relentless punishing pace, and snarls in his ear, "Someone's gonna hear you begging for my cock like some whore. You like that, yeah? Want someone to catch us. Bet it gets you hard as fuck and needy. Scream then so they can hear you."

Frank lets out a loud moan at the growl in his ear. "Oh fuck please! Make me come like your little whore!" His hands grip the wall as he tries to pull himself away. He's going to come faster than he expected, he can't stop it as Brock slams into him. He tries to relax his body hoping it will slow him down. Frank tries to slow his breathing but each punch steals the air from him.

"I'm gonna come!" Frank whines out as he tries to pull up. He doesn't want to, he wants to enjoy this. He wants to kiss him. He wants teeth and hands on his body. He wants tenderness. He wants it all. He clenched down as hard as he can as he groans louder, his legs are shaking as they try to clench together.

"Then come for me, _puttana_. Come on my cock," Brock says darkly, his fingers on both his hands tightening, nails digging in. He's nowhere near done with his boy but he wants him to come. Needs to see the waves of rapture on Frankie's flushed body when he comes. Needs to feel his body tighten like a vice grip.

The pressure and sharpness of his nails mixing with the permissive words from Brock cause the weight and tension that pressed against his groin to snap. A hard gasp escapes as he lets go. He comes hard, feeling his entire body shaking. He arches back and tightens down on Brock. "Baby, please come inside me!" Frank whines out, his fingers pressing into the tiles.

With a long, drawn-out moan, Brock's hips stutter before pleasure bursts inside and he comes. He blankets his body with his own, hands moving around and across Frankie's chest to hug him, planting open mouth kisses on his shoulder and neck. He pulls out gently. He's still hard but he knows _his_ Frankie has to be at least a little sore. He'll take care of himself later. "I love you." 

"I love you so much." Frank replies. His own hands grip Brock's arms. His body slowly coming down as he leans his head back onto his shoulder. 

"Love you more, _tesoro_ ," Brock murmurs softly against the shell of his ear. He sighs, hands roaming over Frankie's chest. Needing to touch. He _needs_ him again. He doesn't want to hurt his boy though.

Frank pushes back into him and feels Brock is still hard. His head fills with concern. "Baby…" 

"Frankie..." Brock softly moans, rolling his hips against the center of his boy's ass. "Fuck… I'm sorry."

"Why'd you stop?" He whispers. He leans back and kisses his cheek. "You're not done." 

"Need you again, baby. But I don't want to hurt you. Let's just go back to the hotel. See if I can make you scream for me again." 

Frank nods in agreement. "You gonna be ok until we get back?" His hand reaches up and strokes his neck softly with his fingertips. The water flickering between warm and cool sends chills across his skin. 

"Guess we'll just have to hurry." 

"Better get dressed quickly then, Commander." Frank pushes his ass into his Brock with that hellcat smile he's gotten more than comfortable wearing.

"Keep teasing me like that and I think I'll be just fine," Brock says low with another roll of his hips. He groans quietly. 

"Don't make me get bossy." Frank pushes the words out, fighting back a moan. He reaches back and playfully pats Brock's ass as he looks up at him.

"Sounds like fun. Demanding little hellcat." Brock steps away and turns off the water. They can shower properly at the hotel. His cock is angry and demanding attention but he ignores it in favor of toweling off and getting redressed in his previous clothes. No point in putting on fresh clothes if he's not clean and just going to get dirty in the next hour.

Frank dresses quickly and waits anxiously for him to be ready. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages from Ray and Gerard.

_Ray: We took off. Have fun. Don't let him get arrested for insulting the gym people. See you back at the hotel._

_Gerard: Ray made me leave before the fun started._ ☹️ _Buncha bullshit if you ask me… watching him move. Holy shit. Let me know when you get to the hotel. I am always willing to play._

His eyes only glance up when Brock approaches. He quickly orders the car and fully looks up at him. "Car will be here in 5 minutes." He leans up and kisses him again. 

Brock groans into the kiss. He didn't want to wait. Sometimes he wished magic was real just so he could poof them to the hotel room and fuck Frankie senseless. Pulling away and taking his hand, they head out to the front doors. They can kill at least two minutes from that, right?

"I've decided something," he says softly.

"Yeah, what's that?" 

"When we get married and have our own house, I'm building a home gym so I can hit the heavy weight bag and then fuck you on the floor right there. Or drag you to the bedroom and not have to steal away to the showers or some hotel. Shit I might just install one in our apartment _now_." 

The _our_ and _we_ talk makes Frank feel fuzzy and fluttery. "We don't have room in the apartment. You need your office for work." Frank smiles big, "But when we get our home, where are we going to live?" 

"Until then, fuckit, I'll just install it above us and use an elevator. Where do you want to live?" This conversation is good. It's distracting from the slightly uncomfortable feeling in his shorts when he walks. Thankfully none of the women he saw earlier seemed to be still in the gym itself. He's gonna find the one lady he got the membership for, he supposes. Oh well. He's just going to leave the pass on the counter as they leave.

"Brock it's a roof above us, you nerd." Frank laughs, "It's better than you buying the floor below us, I suppose. But… do you wanna stay on the east coast?"

"It seems natural to do so. Either New York or Jersey. If we are staying in America, that is. Which I assume is important to you considering the band is here. And touring with your friends is kind of your job," Brock replies as they make it outside and wait for the car. 

"I mean, there are airplanes. And I'm not committed to the US." Frank raises an eyebrow, he hadn't considered Italy. Or Europe. "Would you want to live in Italy again?" 

"Yes. If I decide to take over the business, I will have to. It's my home and I can't defend it living someplace else. At some point in my life, I wish to return and stay there before my time ends," Brock moves and hugs Frankie from behind, both to hide the obvious erection and to plant kisses on his cheek.

"Italy it is. I can be your kept American husband." Frank smiles and turns his face to steal an actual kiss, "If you get a gym, can I have a practice space… sound proofed of course?"

"Prince Frank," he whispers and kisses him again, pressing up against him for some relief. "I'll build you anything you want, my love. You can have anything you want. Yes, you can have the best soundproof practice space you can ever want."

"I'll go anywhere you go." Frank replies then laughs, "That's the most corn ball thing I have ever said… but I mean it."

"I don't think it's that bad. "

"I don't care where we go. Just take me with you." 

"Always," Brock says as he slides into the back seat. He resists the urge to pull Frankie into his lap.

Frank scoots as close to Brock as he can. His fingers drawing small circles into Brock's skin as they talk more about building their lives together. He doesn't realize that they have arrived until Brock is pulling him out of the car and into the hotel. 

The walk inside and towards the front desk is quick and easy as Frank stays close to Brock, keeping their fingers laced tightly as he stands quietly next to him. The place is pretty. The clean and empty lobby gives the place a hollow feeling. He always felt like the lobby of a hotel in the early morning felt like another dimension. The same way that the halls of any venue before the audience feels hollowed out and like he stepped foot into a different place. 

Frank listens quietly as Brock puts on his best customer service voice, more warm and cordial than his regular pleasant tone. It seemed more saccharine. Being a little rotten hellion that he is, slips his hand into the front pocket of Brock's pants as he waits for the woman in front of him to click on her keyboard and answer whatever questions he had. 

Frank knew it had deeper pockets and used the silky smooth fabric covered fingers to lightly touch the shaft of Brock's cock. He enjoyed watching his back stiffen slightly. Getting the key to the room, Frank innocently walks beside his love towards the elevator. He has a suspicion that he's about to get _jumped_ as the doors open and a pleasant chime fills the air, he steps in turning to face Brock. "This place is nice..." 

As soon as the doors close, Brock's crowding Frank's space. He feels like he's going crazy with need. He's rock hard and desperate for relief. Pushing Frankie up against the wall, he frantically kisses him, needing to feel the lithe body against his own. A moan rips out of him and his hands lift his boy up, allowing him to rub against him. "Oh god, need to fuck you, please baby." 

The elevator door dings and slowly opens to their floor. Frank moans and runs fingers in his hair, "We are here." He manages to get out before kissing him again. The urgency in Brock starts to cause a stir within himself. 

Carrying him down the hall, Brock has to stop kissing Frankie long enough to actually look at the damn room numbers. He's got no idea where to go; the only thing on his mind is fucking Frankie and how he can get it. If the elevator had lasted longer… maybe the hallway here on the floor….

Frank takes the room keys and looks at the number. He points the opposite direction, "That way." He holds the packet in his hand as he goes back to kissing Brock's neck and ear. He quietly whispers, "I need your cock inside of me," before going back to kissing his neck.

"Fuck," Brock curses at himself for still not reaching the door. And because he got goosebumps from his boy's hot words. He power walks back down the hall, just short of running. Clothing will be shredded as soon as he can find the fucking goddamned door. He snarls out, "What's the cockblocking sonofabitch number? I swear to God, I'm going to fuck you here if I don't find the damn thing in the next two blasted seconds."

"414." Frank's voice is soft as a whisper while his fingers run up the back of Brock's neck and into his hair, "I can't want to make you come." He kisses his cheek. Then his lips as he sees 414 on the silver placard embedded in the wall and pulls his mouth from Brock's skin, "Here." 

Finally. Brock's nearly shaking with need and anticipation, fingers fumbling with the key and struggling to get the door open while still holding Frankie with one arm. The barrier gives way and he kicks the door open, carrying Frankie to the bed. Uncaring about anything else other than stripping them down and burying himself inside. A knee on the bed is the only indicator before he's body-slamming Frank down onto the mattress and frantically trying to strip them down.

Frank pulls off his shirt and helps to shimmy out of his pants by wiggling his hips. He wants to kiss Brock. Touch his skin. "Touch me." Frank sits up and reaches for his perfect husband. He pulls him down to his lips and kisses him harder this time. Pulling away for a second to beg, "Please, fuck me." 

Groaning with relief at the feeling of skin against his own, Brock grinds against Frankie's matching erection, needing the friction to take the edge off. He can't seem to stop touching Frankie either with his hands or his body. Nipping and licking his neck and collarbone. He can't focus enough to do a whole lot of foreplay. He pulls away a little, cursing at himself for forgetting the lube again. "Lube. Fuck…" 

"Backpack. Front pouch." Frank sits up with a sliver of a smile on his lips. "Or your gym bag." 

Grumbling colorfully in Italian, Brock gets up and grabs his stupid fucking gym bag with its stupid amount of zippers and pouches and digs through it, looking for the ridiculous bottle. Once he finds it, he grins and hurries back to the bed, quickly coating his cock and pushing in. A moan rips through him, "Oh, fuck, yes!" 

Without hesitation, he lets out a loud moan in response. His heels hook around Brock's waist and urge him closer to his own chest. A deeper push from Brock momentarily makes him forget what he was doing as he moans out his name begging for more. He pulls him close enough to touch his face with his fingers tips. "I fucking love you." He can feel himself getting sappy as he leans up a little to kiss him. 

~~

Laying on his bed with his phone over his face, Gerard exhales. He's annoyed and horny. Ray is a fuckin' cockblock. Brock is a weird mix of a jealous horny prude. His girl wasn't going to be able to make it until a week from today. The sound of the door next to his room slamming against the wall jolts him and he drops his phone on his face. _What the_ _actual fuck?!_

He sits up and rubs his forehead, he listens to the murmurs through the wall and the sound of rustling inside. It wasn't until the distinct sound of a man's moan that it clicked in his head. _Brock._

He stands up at the reply from Frank and feels his stomach clench. He had requested a room adjoining to theirs for this reason. His hand reaches for the handle and quietly turns it. He's shocked for a second then he finds the door moves open for him. He peers in through the small space the door creates so that he's got a perfect view of the bed and the two bodies intertwined. _Do I watch and not say anything? I'm gonna at least get a preview…_ he pushes the door a little further to get a better view.

Gerard hesitates for a moment as the two men become more involved. Each push from Brock is met with a moan or praise from Frank and it goes right to his dick. His eyes scan the room and find the chair that sits just outside of their view potentially. He's not prepared this but decides he will just figure it the fuck out because he's here now and it might not happen again. Slowly and carefully he pushes the door open, making quick and quiet steps to the chair. _He's in._ Thankfully he never took his gym clothes off. A hand slides inside his pants and grips his dick that had been begging to be touched. The sound of _his_ Frankie begging and praising is just what he needs to start it off right and working slowly until he finds that pace that is going to get him there faster.

~~

"Oh fuck Brock!" Frank cries out. A hand that had been cupping his cheek now grabs his neck. "Fuck baby that's perfect! Fuck you're perfect!" He tightens around Brock. He kisses his throat and collarbone before returning to his lips.

Moaning low, Brock's hands rake nails down Frankie's outer thighs. He needs a different angle. Pushing up and onto his knees, he pushes Frankie's legs to his shoulders, bending him in half. One leg stays on his own chest so he can wrap his hand back around Frank's perfect throat. His hips return to ramming back into the perfectly tight heat. "Fuck Frankie. So fucking tight. Scream for me baby. Fight for that air, little slut."

"Oh god!" Frank cries out as he grips Brock's wrist. "Fuck me harder like a dirty little whore deserves!" If he's getting fucked then he wants more, "Choke me like a slut." 

Brock snarls as his rails into Frankie, chasing his high that's just out of reach. His hand tightens around his throat, adding more pressure to cut off his air. He needs his boy to come soon, not wanting to choke him for too long. "Gonna cum on my cock, slut? Paint yourself like a wanton whore. Cumming untouched just from this. Filthy fucking bitch."

Gee was close. He forces his head forward and eyes open to not miss a second. The sight of his strong hang around Frank's throat was delicious. The words at first didn't hit him. Until the small gasp for air came from Frank. The harshness in Brock's tone was brutal just like the thrusts into Frankie. _Is this how it always is?_ He feels a trace of guilt and anger roll up his spine but he bites his lip and keeps the much-needed moan inside. 

Frank can feel his body giving in. His eyes water as he gasps for air. Brock knows how to get him to come quickly to the point it could be embarrassing. His free hand grips the blanket beneath him and twists it up. He's done for, the brutal pace hitting the right spot over and over again forcing him to come all over himself.

Fuck Brock'll never get tired of seeing Frankie come. Of feeling his body clamping down on him in just the way he needs. He moves his hand away from his husband's throat and to his shoulder, pushing him down to meet the last few rapid and frantic thrusts before he, too, comes with a moaning cry of Frankie's name.

Gerard loved the sound of Frankie's moan. But watching him struggle to breathe and come was far more intoxicating. But Brock, he was a force of nature. His control and focus on Frank, that deep in his chest groan as Frank came, is what finished him off. He strokes through his orgasm and sits for a moment. He knows he needs to get up and get out now before they finish. Brock's increased pace and the heavy groans push him from the chair and out of the room as silent as he came in. Leaning against the door frame to hear Brock come and feel a shiver up his spine as his imagination runs away with him. 

"Oh god oh god holy shit baby," he pants as exhausting pleasure rolls through him over and over. He pants hard and struggles to breathe properly and not crush Frankie beneath his body weight. After a beat and without looking, "Next time knock first." 

Frank shoots up and looks around. "What?" His face turns to Brock with a wrinkled forehead and a frown. "What are you talking about?" 

Gerard leans against the wall and nearly crumbles to the floor. _How did he…_ he was sure he was silent. Even with the concern filling his head, he still was pleased. This was something he could get into doing regularly… maybe more even. _Maybe even joining in._

Brock rolls onto his back, too exhausted to really do much at the moment. He looks at Gerard beforehand motioning him to return and sit back in the chair. "Enjoy yourself?" 

He stops dead in his tracks and backtracks to the chair. "I uh, yeah. It was hot." He sputters. His face reddens as he looks up to see all of Brock and he looks down. "I tried to be quiet." 

"What? How did you?" Frank blinks looking at his friend's reddened face. He's irritated by the whole thing and glances at his partner. He throws the blanket over Brock's middle to cover _**his**_ cock then slides under them himself.

"You were. I'm surprised at that, actually. I could feel you more than hear you. Just like I knew you were there when you first saw us. I just didn't know it was you specifically." Brock curls his body around Frankie, needing the cuddles. He's surprised about how he feels about this. The lack of anger or jealousy. Probably related to post-sex bliss.

Frank runs his fingers through Brock's hair before leaning down and kissing his head. "I did tell you to wait." Frank's voice masks the unhappiness with a sugary tone. Using a finger he traces a scar along Brock's skin. He leans down and kisses him again, "You better, my love?" 

"I'm sorry. I just…" Gerard pauses, "I made a choice and I'm sorry, Frankie." 

"It is what it is." Frank's reply is colder than he expected. He leans down and kisses Brock. "But Brock's right, you shoulda knocked." 

"How do you feel now that you know we had an audience, _tesoro_?" Brock purrs softly. He wraps his arms and legs around his love and pulls him in tight, nuzzling him.

"I haven't…. I mean it was pretty fantastic sex, so. I guess it's pretty hot now." Frank hasn't given it the thought. He did like the idea and he will always have feelings for Gerard but he was worried about Brock. That is his love. The center of his universe. "What about _you?_ How do you feel knowing we had a _guest_?"

"Not nearly as bad as I expected it to be. I'm glad it was him and not a stranger," he says, looking at Gerard. "If I hadn't noticed it was you the moment I felt there was a change in the room, I would have turned and attacked you. Possibly killed you. It doesn't take me but less than ten seconds to dive for my gun and aim it. Do you understand that?"

"I understand." He nods like a child being chastised. "I didn't think about it. I know better too." 

"Yup you sure didn't." Frank grumbles as he cuddles him closer, he kisses the top of his head. He doesn't want to stop touching him. Or kissing him. "His PTSD is managed but unpredictable can be dangerous, Gee." 

"If we want to add the element of surprise and the feeling of being caught for Frankie and yourself, that is fine with me. I understand that. But I need to know, for _me_. I can play along just fine, but I don't want to accidentally hurt you. Either of you." 

"I'm sorry, Brock." Gerard speaks confident and genuine. "If this happens again, I'll be sure to talk with you. I had no ill intentions. Just dumb decisions."

Frank snorts. He doesn't give anything more to it. He's not happy. Instead, he focuses on Brock. 

"I think you misunderstand. I can't have this happen again. There might not be a next time that ends okay. I hate to say it but I'm dangerous, in a way I don't want to be." He looks to Frankie, unsure of how to address the fact that they had agreed to not let him in their room until Gerard could stop calling Frankie his. Because he wasn't. No matter what, Frankie didn't belong to Gerard. He was Brock's. He hesitates a little, "There's also the matter of Frankie and you…. "

Frank nods and smiles at Brock, "You aren't invited into any part of this until you can respect his wishes and I told you the same shit." 

"I understand." Gee nods, he can feel that Frank is unhappy. "Is there anything else that I can do to build your trust? Both of you."

"Be respectful of Brock." Frank says without hesitation.

Brock nods. "Are you in love with Frank? You still have feelings for him."

"I'm not." Gerard says looking directly at Brock, "I _love_ him but I'm not in love with him. But I am still attracted to him." 

"But I am also attracted to you too." Gee adds with a small smile.

"Help me understand then. Why do you call him _yours_? Knowing I have a jealous streak. Knowing that every time I hear it, it makes me feel that you are trying to take him from me. I don't like that even though you two are supposed to be a finished relationship, you have already twice tried to take him from me. And now this attraction to me. All of it makes me very uncomfortable. None of it encourages me to trust you. If it weren't for Frankie, you wouldn't be here and I would still see you as a rival," Brock does his best to keep his voice level, calm, and light. He's not attacking Gerard. He can't if he wants to make this work for Frank's sake. And for their relationship.

"I did want to get in between you guys at first. But Frank really is truly in love with you." Gerard answers honestly, "However, when I say our Frank. It's not really meant to be like… my Frank." He doesn't know how to explain it but takes a second to think it over giving Brock a chance to reply.

"I'm going to marry him. As soon as I have my parent's blessing. I am in love with him just as much as he is with me. I don't want to ever think he is _yours_. I don't want to feel like I have to fight you for him. Do you understand that? Because it sounds like you believe you have some claim to him. Is it not?" he tilts his head, hands rubbing along Frankie's body.

"Frank is the baby of the band. We have always kinda called him _our_ Frank but I will admit that I did use _my_ Frank as a weapon against you. I don't want to fight you for him." Gerard leans forward, "I already know that he doesn't want me. I never had a 'claim' to Frank. What we had is in the past. He's a new person since you have been in his life."

"I have never been this happy before." Frank wiggles down the bed to be littler than Brock. He kisses him and grins. 

"It shows." Gerard smiles at him, "I will not say _my_ Frank any longer." 

"That's all I ask. Thank you," Brock says, heartfelt and genuine. 

"Anything else?"

"Stop hitting on _my_ Brock." Frank says with a little glare over Brock's body.

"Oh relax. He doesn't want me. I'm not a fuckin' threat, Frank." Gerard tries not to roll his eyes but it happens.

"I can't speak for Frankie himself, but I think perhaps he's mostly defending me," he looks to him to verify. "It makes me feel very uncomfortable that you have been so forward. I… I appreciate your feelings towards me and I realize you can't change how you feel and I'm not asking you to. But please don't hit on me."

Frank nods. "And I don't like it." He snuggles into Brock's chest. He just wants quiet time with Brock. 

"I won't hit on you either. I apologise for making you uncomfortable. _Anything else?"_

He gets the feeling Gerard is done with them and probably feels more than irritated at them for this. He shakes his head no and sighs, pressing his head against Frankie, "No. You can leave." 

"Sorry again." Gerard stands up and slumps over. He can feel his cheeks flushing again, it's the weirdest walk of shame he's ever done. He looks back saying softly "I didn't mean to bring down the mood."

"You didn't," Brock says softly. He feels a sudden urge to hug the other man. He never wanted to hurt his feelings, just come to an understanding.

"See you at sound check, Frank." Gee says as he closes the door. 

Frank kisses his skin, "Why did that make me feel like an ass?"

"Me too. And I think it's because it felt like I was chastising him like a kid? Or something. Either way, we hurt his feelings. I could see it when he left. For a split second I wanted to give him a hug and tell him it would be okay. Gentle redirection doesn't have to mean that we are pushing him away. He's still your friend. I'm still working on that." He sighs again. He's ready for a nap or just some quiet cuddle time. His brain hurts from the conversation and stress of everything. 

"I thought it was 'cause I was an ass. On purpose." Frank draws along his skin with a gentle finger. "I don't know. I just wanna snuggle with you and maybe feed you after a nap."

Brock shifts and snuggles down, getting comfy. "I think you just read my mind, my love. I could use some private time with you. Just hold my little koala. I love you. I adore you. I cherish you. I treasure you." He peppers him with kisses with each sentence.

"I would like to do the exact same thing to you." Frank smiles but it turns into a small laugh. "I do have to call my mom and check in. I've been a bad son and not called her in like _a week_ …"

"Shame on you," Brock laughs softly. "You should call her now."

"I usually do when you are sleeping." Frank smiles, "I don't wanna kill our cuddles..." 

"While I'm sleeping? You mean at night when you get up and wander? Or during naps?" Brock teases. He's not sure how he feels about Frank calling his mom in secret.

"Yes while you're sleeping… think of it like a perimeter check?" Frank gives a small smile, "She sleeps like I do." 

"Terrible and sporadic? That's gotta suck. Didn't realize this was a genetic trait. You tell her about me?" Brock nuzzles Frankie's hair and kisses his temple.

"All the time! She really wants to meet you." Frank grins, "She's nagging at me to bring you home." 

He pauses and does a mock voice of his mom, "Frankie, bring him home. I wanna meet this man. I'll bring out the baby pictures. If he doesn't run, then he's a keeper."

Laughing softly, Brock tightens his hold on Frankie before kissing him lightly. "I'd love to see your baby photos. And meet your family. I'm not running, I promise." He kisses him again, this time deeper and a little more sensual. "Did you want to call her… or video call her?" 

"We can try to video call her. She should be off work. Her name's Linda."

"Are you worried about me meeting her like this? Or should I wait for a more formal visit, face to face sort of thing? We still need to do a proper dinner and all." Brock realizes he's going to have to at least put a shirt on. Damn.

"It's not you my love. It's her." Frank smiles before kissing him, "She's my mom and I love her but she uh, loves to tell Mom jokes. And overshare…"

"Have you not heard my terrible dad jokes, babe?" he chuckles. "I love you. And I think I'll be fine with her mom jokes. Guess we should at least put on shirts. What does she know about me?"

"What exactly are you asking because I have a feeling what it is but I want to make sure?" Frank sits up and leans over the bed for his shirt and bag. He sits up and looks back at Brock.

"There are only a few things a parent worries about when it comes to their child and dating. Their stability; the type of job is very important because they don't want their child to marry a deadbeat. Their age because most parents believe their kids should date within a five year difference due to life experiences. And their gender though I don't think I have to worry about that one." He slips out of the bed and grabs a clean tee out of his duffle, putting it on but nothing else. He returns and slides in next to Frankie.

"She knows that you are ex military and worked in private security. She knows you are older than me, she was a little leery about that but you're still here and I'm happy. So she's happy. She knows you live in New York which got me grumbled at for not bringing you home sooner." Frank holds his phone in his hand with her contact info on the screen, "she's going to love you." 

"How's my hair? Do we both look like we just had hot spicy sex? I don't want to give the not-quite-wrong impression we literally are naked from the waist down," he laughs a little, wrapping his arm around Frank's waist.

"She will not care. She..." Frank pauses, "She's a blunt lady and had uh, asked if you have a big dick like on my third or fourth night at your house. So, yeah. Sex hair isn't an issue."

Brock laughs hard. He can't imagine how that conversation went and wishes he had been there to see the look on Frankie's face. His beautiful little twinkie, all red-faced and sexy. "She sounds like my mother. We're going to get along wonderfully if that's the case. What did you tell her?"

"Well yeah you have a big dick. And she laughed at me for getting embarrassed," Frank smiles.

"Let's see how many shades of red you'll get during this. Call her," Brock leans over and kisses him before pulling away and gently moving Frank's hands closer. "Keep me secret at first." 

Frank gives him a playful glare and presses the button on his phone to dial her. The butterflies fill his stomach as his face fills the screen. His mother's face fills the screen, her hazel eyes look relieved to see him.

"Frank Anthony Iero! Where the fuck have you been?" Her voice has the same rasp to it that Frank does as she glares. "A week! Entire week and no message or call!"

"Ma! I'm on the road. Sometimes I can't call you." Frank sighs, "Besides, you have been pulling doubles at the hospital."

"Doesn't matter. You call your mother." She relaxes with a warm smile, "How's the road?"

"It's tiring."

"Did your big Italian dreamboat come with you? I know you were so worried he wouldn't stay with you." She asks and makes his cheeks turn a little pink. 

"He is still with me on the road." He says softly.

"Is he sleeping? Or are you just hiding cause you're embarrassed of your mother?" She asks him as she leans in closer to her phone. 

"He's not sleeping and I'm not embarrassed by you." He sighs and shakes his head. 

"You look like you're in bed." She squints, "You look like you've been freshly fucked…" 

"Mother! Jesus!" Frank changes color again. He sees Brock's mouth widen in shock and feels his neck heating up. This is what he warned him about.

"Fine, you look like you've had your feathers ruffled." She sighs and shakes her head.

"Where's dad?" Frank asks, rubbing his neck. 

"Pete's." She replies, "So you never answered my question young man. Where is he?"

"He's beside me." Frank smirks. "Why?"

"Wake him up. Frank Anthony. Don't make me drive to Ohio to do this in person." She uses her mom's voice. 

"He's not asleep." Frank grins wide as he glances over at him. 

"Don't give me that face, Frankie!" She gives him the same face back, "I want to meet him, child."

"Yeah? I dunno… you sure?" Frank teases her.

"I'm getting the keys now, Frankfurter." She says picking up her car keys. 

He looks over at Brock to see his stupid goofy smile, "I don't think it's safe of an old lady to drive all the way here alone, do you?" 

"Oh of course not. It's far too long of a drive especially at night. But your mother isn't old, _tesoro_ ," Brock grins.

"IS THAT HIM?!" Her voice raises an octave and borders on a shout. 

"Yes mom, that's Brock." Frank says turning the screen slightly but not showing Brock yet, "Behave, ma."

"Damn it Frank." She grumbles and pouts.

Frank looks at Brock and tilts the phone towards him. "Linda, this is Brock. Brock, my mother Linda."

"Ma'am," Brock smiles and nods at her. "Nice to finally, albeit unofficially, meet you." 

"It's nice to finally meet you too! Frank has told me a lot about you." She grins. "You are right, baby. He is really handsome." 

"Ma." 

"How are you liking being on the road with my son and his friends?" She asks, ignoring Frank.

"It's good. Stressful but exciting too," Brock grins. 

"Are you still being his bodyguard? Is that shithead Alan still around? I swear to God." She starts but stops and listens to Brock.

"No ma'am. I'm pleased to say that with Frank and a little help, we have dispatched Mr. Turner into a jail cell. I am his replacement." 

"Oh thank God! That man was a fucking monster." She exclaims then softens, "I hated him but Frank refused to let me handle that man."

"I can assure you, ma'am, he will never be around Frankie or the band ever again. My lawyers will see to that." Brock's voice is neutral at first then turns a little darker, "He will _never_ touch Frankie again. You have my word." 

"Good. He didn't tell me everything but I know that man was evil." Her voice gets quiet. "So tell me something Brock, do you celebrate the fourth of July?"

"Mom."

"Quiet you." She shushes Frank.

"Yeah. Sometimes. It really depends on the year- the day, really- and how I'm feeling. Most years, I'm okay though. It's not as if it's unexpected and I can take steps of precaution if I wake up and it's not a good day for me." Brock's hand around Frankie's waist begins to stroke his flesh.

"I was going to extend an invite to our fourth of July party. It's during the day, so you boys can be back in New York before dark." She offers with a kind smile.

"I think I can do that, sure." At least during the day time, there was very little risk of random fireworks going off.

"We would love it if you could come. I know Frank Sr. wants to meet you too." She rests her head on her chin. "Question for you Mr. Rumlow." 

"You seem to have a lot for me," teases Brock. "When is Frankie going to get one in this game? Do I get a grand prize? I don't want him to feel left out."

"Oh I see why he loves you." She grins wide, "He is the baby in the family, it's about time he gets second place for once." 

"Keep it PG mother." Frank warns her.

"Relax Frank. I'm not going to ask him anything to embarrass you…"

"You can ask me anything, ma'am. I will answer most everything." Brock looks at Frankie with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

"Are you being safe with my baby?" She asks with a straight face. 

"This is where the nurse comes out." Frank groans.

"I made it very clear when we started dating, we were using condoms until we both got tested and the results came back clean. It did for the both of us," he nods. He's proud he practices safe sex. "I don't hurt him in any way that's dangerous."

"Good. I can't tell you how happy I was when he told me that he found a new partner." She smiles warmly, "Frankie has questionable taste in women. I worried that it was the same for men." 

He chuckles, thinking of his own terrible choices in the past. "He isn't the only one. I've had a fair share of mistakes myself before finding the perfect one. The last one."

"I'll be honest with you Brock, I thought you weren't going to be real. Or as handsome as he said. I am glad that you are both."

"Mom." 

"I'll pull out the baby photos Frankfurt– Frank." She grumbles at him. 

"I can't wait to see those. Especially if he's embarrassed by them. And I'm stealing Frankfurt. I like that," Brock grins wide at his husband.

"It's actually Frankfurter." She corrects him. "Frankie was the fattest and grumpiest baby. I didn't get a photo of him smiling until he was at least two."

"Really?" Brock asked, surprised. "I can't imagine _any_ part of him…chubby. Except the usual baby cuteness."

Frank's face is red now. "Can we not with Frankfurter?" He asks quietly.

"Oh yeah! He was a little chunky boy!" Linda beams, "Would you like to know where Frankfurter came from?"

"Hell yeah!" Brock is totally enjoying the many shades of red his boy is turning. The nickname is cute. But then again everything about Frankie was cute.

"His dad called him that when he was little cause he looked like an overstuffed sausage." She chuckles."We called him pork loin too."

Frank covers his face with one hand and shakes his head. He can feel how hot the skin is. "Anyway… is _James_ coming to the fourth?" 

"I don't know. His wife isn't happy with me. But this is not the conversation to have with your handsome fella beside you, Frank." His mom dismisses him.

"Mom."

"Don't have a stick up your ass, Frank. I'm only having a little fun. I don't get to embarrass you anymore. 

"I'm not going to lie, I am enjoying every shade of red he's turning," he chuckles at Frankie. He wants to make a joke about _his_ stick up Frankie's ass but not a good idea.

"Yeah he does look nice in red." Linda chuckles, "Any chance you kids are coming this way on your tour?"

"No mom. We are headed west." 

"You mean I gotta wait til July to see you and Brock here?" She asks.

"Yes mom. Have Chris bring the kids over. That's like having me in your house again." Frank says before resting his head on Brock's shoulder.

"What; do you mean loud and chaotic?" She asks with a smile, "She's coming over in a little while. She takes care of your mother and her needs."

"Chris?" Brock asks. It's not a name he recognizes. He turns and presses a kiss to Frankie's head before taking the phone from him and holding it. He's sure his arms have to be tired. Or maybe it's just nap time. Though he is enjoying the conversation quite a bit.

"My sister, Christine." he says softly as his hand rests on Brock's stomach. 

"Oh." Yeah, Brock's pretty positive that Frankie was crashing now. He smiles fondly at him before turning back to Linda. "I think it's nap time before we head to sound check. He's about ready to pass out."

"He looks exhausted." She says with tenderness to her voice, "My poor baby. Is he sleeping ok?"

"I'm still awake and can hear you."

"Hush you," She says to Frank.

"We've had maybe one or two nights in which he slept the whole night. Or at least, stayed in the bed. My little wanderer," his arm around his waist tightens its hold and pulls Frankie closer, tracing little shapes in his skin.

"Thank you for taking care of my son. He's a pain in the ass sometimes but he's a good boy." She smiles warmly, "He sleeps horribly because of me. So my apologies there."

"Still can hear you." Frank opens his eyes.

"Aw nice to know you still get crabby when you're tired, Frankie." She tries to not laugh.

"I'm not crabby," he grumbles.

"This isn't crabby in my book. Just cute fussiness. He is a good boy though. And I'm happy to take care of him. But don't blame yourself for his insomnia. I don't think it's genetically passed on. Unless you meant his overly active mind?" Brock tilts his head a little.

"Not usually. This was a learned behavior. I worked at the hospital graveyard shifts and Frank being the momma's boy he _is_ , would stay up because he was worried about me. Then be up with me in the morning until I had to sleep. So it's a little learned." 

"Ah, okay. Yeah, I've been trying to get him either so exhausted he crashes and sleeps the whole night, or find ways to reduce his anxiety. I think his stress and anxiety are the root causes and we've been working on figuring out the why's and how's of getting to a place where he's sleeping through the whole night and balanced." He plants another soft kiss on Frank's head.

"That little bitch before you-"

"Ma." Frank interrupts her.

"No. Don't you censor me." Linda corrects him with that mom voice, "She was awful. And you never listened to me."

"She was. I had the displeasure of meeting her before I kidnapped him," he chuckles at the memory. He loves talking about their first date like this. Always surprised people when they heard there was a kidnapping involved. Made them wonder if Frankie was being held against his will and Brock found that funny.

"If you didn't I'm sure he'd be skinnier and smoking like a chimney stack. That girl didn't know what a fuckin' canoli was… fuck sakes. I'll hit her with my car if I see her sniffling around again." The Jersey accent comes out at the end of her sentence.

"Mom, that is vehicular assault." 

"More like vehicular homicide," Brock grins. "Accidental of course."

"It would be premeditated." Frank opens his eyes again. He leans up and kisses Brock's cheek, "Let's not get the love of my life and mother arrested." 

"Let 'em take me. They'll get a helluva fight before they do." 

"I see where Frankie gets his feistiness from," he turns to his love, "Spitfire just like you, _gattino_."

"... did you just call him kitten?" She squints at the phone. "Frankie said you were Italian. Are you like New York Italian or the real deal?" 

"Mom, he's from Italy. You know this. I told you this months ago." Frank groans as he slips his hand under the blanket and rests on Brock's low stomach.

"I'm the real deal that just so happens to live in New York as well. And yes, I called him kitten. One of my many pet names for him."

"My mother was born and raised in Turin." She replies, "Moved here when I was three. I understand Italian but can't speak it for nothin'."

"That's awesome. It's my first language though I was raised learning both at the same time. I didn't move here until I was an adult."

"Finally Frankie, you're bringing one home that is worthy of your time and attention!" She says with a wide grin.

"He is pretty great." Frank can hear his exhaustion. 

"Thanks. I do try to do right by him every day. Make him proud."

"Still right here," Frank grumbles again. 

"We'll have to let you go, ma'am. I think I need to tuck him into bed before he hisses at me," he laughs softly. "This was fun. I look forward to meeting you in person in July."

"Yeah he looks like he's had a _hard_ day." She grins wickedly, "But I'm glad that you are a real person and I cannot wait to meet you. Take care of my baby." 

"Love you momma." Frank rolls his eyes, "See you in a few weeks."

"Oh I take good care of him on a daily basis," he smiles at Frank. He means the double entendre but mostly is just happy to take care of his love. 

"He is an Iero. They stay that way until they are in their fifties." She replies casually. 

"Both of you! Really?!" Frank looks up with a deep red across his cheeks. 

"Fifties, huh. Plenty of time for fun." He doesn't want to think about the fact that he might not live to see Frank in his fifties. Or be too old to do a lot of fun things. It's too late though and it kills his mood. He tries to smile again and say goodbye, "Take care, ma'am. See you soon." 

As soon as the phone hangs up, Frank pops his head up, "Stop it. I can feel it in your body you are doing a thing. You're making yourself sad." 

"I already did," he replies sadly.

"I know you did. It's why as your husband it's my job to make sure you stop it" Frank says softly, "I love you and request that you step out of your head or I will have to resort to some questionable methods."

"While I'm curious to know what the questionable methods could be, I think we just need to cuddle and nap."

"I agree. I need some octopus time." Frank replies with a small smile. "I love you Brock."

"I love you Frank," he replies, scooting down and wraps his body around Frankie's. He peppers butterfly kisses everywhere he can reach before sighing deep and closing his eyes. 

The afternoon noon bleeds into the evening. The band follows the routine that Brock has subconsciously begun crafting to his liking. Each member slowly walks off stage feeling the adrenaline fading and exhaustion setting in from another good show. Frank is especially pleased that not only was Gee good, but he also kept himself _kinda_ in check and did not get hurt. The car ride to the hotel is quiet at first as reflection turns to laughter and jokes about the fuck ups they made on stage. Frank forces his fingers in between Brock's while he is distracted by his phone. He's ready for a shower. And food. And sleep. In that order. 

"What are we eating?" Frank asks as his stomach aches for food. He frowns as the group's response is a collective shrug. 

"You mean beef jerky and a Coors isn't dinner," Mike jokes, knowing it would get Brock's attention. 

"Don't forget the M&Ms for dessert." Ray grins as he pulls his hair back.

"That's disgusting," Brock teases. He sets aside his phone for a second, turning it off. "Don't even get me started on what you call beef jerky. Please. Why don't we just grab a pizza or get some sandwiches at a deli and call it a night? You can drink your disgusting piss you call beer away from me. I'll stick with my wine thanks."

"We all know Brock is a PBR fan." Frank snickers. He notices the phone screen off and realizes it must be _home_ stuff. "Only the best for my baby." 

"I'd take him for a Corona and lime man but I don't judge," Gerard snorts from the front seat.

"I can't stand any beer. Hard liquor or wine for me. Beer is just alcohol flavored piss in a can or bottle." He shakes his head at the fact that they can even stand beer.

"Pizza is always a good idea to me." Ray quickly pivots the conversation away from Brock back to food. "And like actually getting pizza this time, not pasta." 

"I'm in for almost anything." Frank says softly. 

"Pizza," Bob nods. "But I'll eat anything." 

The car slows as the lights from the hotel fill the interior, highlighting the state the band members were in. Disheveled and tired, the band scoots out and through the lobby quietly. Frank sticks close to Brock. Each member trickles to their rooms to shower and change for dinner.

Before the door to his room shuts he hears Gerard's panicky shouting from next door. Frank looks at Brock with wide eyes. His stomach drops at the sound. "Gee!" Frank calls out without hesitation. He can hear movement on the other side of the wall. 

"Stay here. I'm going to get him. Make sure he's safe," Brock orders Frank, one hand on his gun and the other on the doorknob. He opens the adjoining door carefully peeking through the crack.

Gerard is backed to the wall between the bed and desk. "You need to leave!" He snaps, looking up at the sound of the door opening. He feels relief hit him at the sight of Brock, as the small black-haired girl crowds him. Her small voice begs him to let her stay as she drops to the floor, "B! I don't. I didn't..." He knows how it looks. It's not good. It's quite pedo looking and he isn't. Fuck. Shit. 

Sonofabitch how the _hell_ did she get in? Brock doesn't think twice before he's fully in the room and striding over. "Hey! Out! Now! Get the fuck out!" 

"But I just..." She sputters as Gerard jumps on the bed and moves towards the adjoining door. 

"Get. Up. And. Get. Out," he snarls at her, moving towards her. "Security will have you escorted off the premises. Move before I call the cops instead."

"I'm moving, you fascist pig. I didn't even do anything!" She snaps back as she turns to face him and glares. "You're in my way."

He moves so he's blocking the adjoining door and points at the front door. "Grow up and get a life. Now get the fuck out and leave my band alone." 

"Calm down Hitler, I'm moving!" She hisses as she moves past him, " Love you Gerard!" She shouts into the air hoping that he would hear it. She pulls the door open and slams it against the wall before attempting to slam it louder.

Brock goes to the room's phone and calls security, explaining what happened and makes sure that it will be handled. He tells them he will call them back after ensuring the band was safe, to speak about changing rooms. When he's done, he heads back to his own to deal with the aftermath.

Gerard is sitting in the chair he'd been in what felt like hours ago, sitting across from Frank. He is dead silent. Frank looks to the door and back to his friend. "What happened, Gee?" 

"There was a girl in my room." He blinks as he stares forward.

"What? How?" Frank wrinkles his forehead.

"I have no idea. She was young. Like 15 maybe. I didn't..." He trails off.

Brock enters his room and shuts the door softly, radiating anger at the girl. He's livid for not being able to figure out how she got in. He'll check the room over later, first, he needs to check in with his team. He glances at Gerard, "Hey, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm ok. I didn't want her there, you know that right?!" He asks him nervously that he would even think that he could. Or would.

"Yeah, I know. Just breathe, okay? You aren't in any trouble," he replies soothingly.

"How?" Frank asks quietly.

"I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out. I've already called security. You'll get a new room, I'll make sure of that." Brock sits next to Frankie on the bed.

"Thank you." His face's still pale. "She fuckin' jumped me the second I stepped in the room."

"Hang out with me until they get this figured out, okay?" Frank offers as he puts a hand on Brock's knee. "B will get it figured out and then we can get your things." 

Brock nods. "You boys order pizza, okay? Shower and I'm going to see if I can figure out what happened. One of you let the others know they need to pack up everything. I'll arrange for all of us to be on a different floor. Okay?"

"Okay baby. Thank you." Frank says with a soft smile. "You need to eat still too, please." 

"Yeah thanks, Brock." Gerard says leaning back in the chair. His face scrunches as he tries to figure it all out.

Brock kisses Frankie before patting Gerard on the shoulder as he exits his room and goes back into the adjoining one. After a quick scouring of the room itself and finding nothing, Brock heads down to the security office itself to find out what the hell happened.

"Go shower. I'll order food," Frank says softly with a nod. He feels bad for Gee. He texts the boys and tells them to gather their things and come to his room. He rubs his face, any excitement gone from his body.

Gee nods and stands up but stops and looks at Frank. "I am sorry." Gee offers with a frown.

"Not your fault." Frank smiles, "Go. Now, before he gets back." 

He dials a pizza place and orders enough pizza for everyone. He waits anxiously to know what happened, he focuses his energy to pack their things. Once Gee comes back, he showers in time for the pizza to arrive along with the band members. Frank lines all their things along the wall, Brock's tidiness rubbing off on him. He sits on the bed and rubs his shoulder. He should eat but his stomach hurts. Maybe he will tell Brock he ate. His phone buzzes twice. 

_Brock: Got us new rooms a few floors up. Upgraded to a suite. Still no word on the security breach._

_Brock: One of the rooms isn't available. One of us needs to share. Security breach due to employee misconduct. It's been handled. See you in five._

"Brock got us new rooms but someone has gotta share." Frank puts his hand on his stomach. 

"Eat. It will make you feel better," Ray urges, pushing the cheese pizza at him. 

"I will. Who is sleeping with who?" 

Gerard pulls his phone out and sends a message to Brock asking if he could share a room with him and Frank. A second later he gets a response.

_Brock: busy atm… we'll talk when I get there. Ok?_

He pockets his phone and sits quietly. Gerard watches Frank sit cross-legged with his fingers touching his phone as if he would miss something if he didn't touch it. He listens to the group talk quietly about what happened and what their next hotel visit would be like. He assumes that Lauren would be calling him in the morning. 

Brock returns to the group a few minutes later, entering the room. "Hey guys." 

"Hey Brock!" Ray says cheerfully, before the others. 

"Hey Sunshine," he grins at Ray before patting Gerard on the shoulder in greeting and going to Frankie, giving him a kiss and sitting next to him. "Thanks for ordering pizza." 

"You guys all need to eat." Frank gives a small smile. He reaches over and touches his hand to check-in, to make sure he's ok.

"You do too Iero," Ray grumbles. 

Frank glares at Ray.

"What did you find out?" Gerard asks.

"Was it Alan?" Mike asks, sounding nervous.

"Little Miss Muffett sat on one of the employee's tuffet and he gave her the key. He's been released from employment and into the custody of St. Louis police."

Frank snorts. 

"Wait! She was like 13?!" Gerard raises his voice. 

"What the actual fuck?!" Bob says covering his mouth. 

"I didn't catch her age, but security told me that he was 16. Pretty promises and the stupidity of youth got him into a lot of trouble," he sighs before snagging a piece of pizza.

"Dumb kid," Ray sighs. 

"What does this mean in the future for us in hotels?" Frank asks. 

"Well. What I can do is book the hotel rooms under my name so it's not associated with the band and see if that makes a difference. I'll do the check in process and give you guys the keys in person. Anything to minimize you from being noticed by the staff. We can also use the larger suites that are like mini apartments and share. I'll have to speak with Lauren and go from there." He pulls out new key cards and sets them on the bed. "These are for our new rooms upstairs. They are ready; we just need to move out."

"You should also keep spares for the rooms too," Frank suggests.

"All our things are over against the wall. Frank fretted over that," Bob says with a half-smile. 

"Good idea," Brock puts one arm around Frankie while he eats mostly cold pizza. "Thanks baby. I'm ready to go whenever you guys are."

The boys look between each other and nod. "I think we are ready." Ray says with a smile. "You should eat, I'll help with your stuff." 

"I can get the bags." Frank says with a head tilt.

"Cause you are going to eat too." Ray replies as he stands up. "Don't think I don't see you, Iero." 

Frank rolls his eyes and takes the smallest piece he can and picks up his bag. "Chill, Toro." He probably needs to eat but he's not a kid. 

"Actually, love. Sit with me for a bit? We can eat together while the guys grab the dollies they have."

Frank wrinkles his forehead but sits down. He crosses his legs. He waits for the boys to leave the room, Gerard lingering. "Everything ok baby?" 

"I. Uh, I asked Brock if I could stay with you guys." Gerard says quietly. He needs to plead his case with Brock. He's not sure how to word it so he's just going to go with it. 

"Yeah no one else wanted to share a room." Frank responds as he folds over his legs.

"I think they gave us a rollaway," Brock says around a mouthful of pizza.

"Thank you. I don't feel comfortable here. I'd rather be mugged." Gerard says with a frown.

"I get it. Being mugged isn't so bad." Frank agrees. 

"We really need to work on your scale of what's bad and not," Brock says.

"He's never been mugged." Gerard says with a look to Frank. "I mean, I wouldn't try it with him. He'd break me in thirds." 

"Car jacked?" Frank looks at Gerard with a smile, "That's like mid-range ok?"

"Frankie's been mugged. Told me so on our first date when we were at his place. Because my car might have gotten jacked and he was worried." Brock gives him a side-eye glance. "Anyway… moving on." 

"He meant you, lover. He was with me when I got mugged." Frank chuckles, leans over, and kisses his cheek. "You okay?" 

"Oh. Yeah," he snorts. "I'm smart." 

"You're very smart." Frank nods. "And handsome, brave, sexy, funny and perfect." 

"Sorry that you had to deal with that." Gerard looks at Brock. "And missed eating with the group." 

"Not your fault that women love you," Brock teases.

"Yeah… let's stick with that!" He chuckles.

"Okay boys, let's go. I'm ready for this night to be relaxing." He tosses the cold pizza he was eating back into the box and grabs it, standing. 

Frank gets up and picks up bags. "Ready." He's ready for cuddles in bed with Brock. He's ready for alone time but that's not happening tonight.

Brock grabs the remainder of the bags, motioning to Gerard to get the door. He makes a mental note to order room service when they get upstairs. The cold pizza had sucked and he knew Frankie didn't eat. Maybe they'll get something light and comforting for tonight. Snuggles were definitely in order. 

Gee chucks the pizza in the trash as he follows behind Brock and Frank toward the elevator making sure the door closes behind them. He can hear the boys laughing at the end of the hall. He can see Mike and Bob horsing around with the luggage cart. 

"Guys, quit goofing for a second and help us add these bags to the cart please," Brock says.

"Yessir!" Bob steps away from the cart and wheels it to Brock.

"Where are we going? Up or down?" Mike asks at the call buttons. 

"Y'all got a second wind, huh?" Gerard asks, shaking his head. 

"We're going up, Mikey. 11th floor," he says, loading up the cart with the remainder of the bags.

"Moving on up!" Ray says in a sing-song voice, "You doing ok B? You look weary." 

"You sound like a commercial ringtone for hemorrhoids or banking, Sunshine. And I'm fine. Just tired."

"Frankie, rub your man's shoulders when you get to your room." Ray teases him then hugs him. 

"If he'd ask, I would happily do that but his bullheaded ass doesn't." 

"Wait. I have to _ask_? No wonder. Damn," Brock replies sarcastically. "Been doing this all wrong."

"Frank! Show this man some attention above the waist!" Ray says with a big grin. 

"I do though. He usually is laying on his shoulders…" he replies, thinking about the head and neck rubs he's given him. "I'm always willing to touch him." 

"He knows me so well. One of you kids push this damn thing." 

"I got it Brock," Bob says, pushing the cart. Mike leads it from the front. 

"Can he even reach your shoulders?" Gerard teases as he steps into the elevator. "He really is koala sized." 

"He is pocket sized. So that is fair," Mike adds.

"I'm not pocket sized," Frank grumbles as he takes Brock's hand. 

"You are too, _gattino_. And that's okay. You know I love how small you are. Sunshine could reach my shoulders," he grins at the joyous floof in question.

"I am tall enough. Perks of being the big one in the band. Plus I can reach the tall cabinet for ya, Frankie." Ray chuckles. 

"Better than them calling you fun sized, Frankie," Bob teases as the elevator door dings as it opens the new hallway.

"I wanted to make a joke of having a pocketful of sunshine and then I realized that wouldn't go over well," Brock laughs.

"Instead you get a pocket full of hellfire." Frank beams up at him. 

"It's the spice of life," he replies.

"What rooms are we in?" Bob asks.

"Yeah what's our room?" Mike asks as he looks down the hallway towards the window where the St. Louis arch is illuminated.

"1122 through 1125," Brock says, checking the numbers of the placards. "They are all the same so take your pick." 

"Gimme a number Brockabilly!" Ray says as he puts his arm across Brock's shoulder.

"Fine. I'll assign you rooms. I'll take 1122. Sunshine you can have 1124," Brock melts and resists the urge to wrap his arm around Ray's waist. He points to Mikey, "Life, you get 1123. Bobby gets 1125. There." 

"Perfect!" Ray says with a wide smile, he gives Brock a side hug, "Thanks B."

"Anytime, Sunshine." 

Frank grins up at Brock. He can tell by the face that Brock is making that he's feeling all squishy on the inside. He watches as Bob opens his door and steps in. 

"Dude! This is a nice ass room," Bob shouts before coming back to the hall. "Thank you." He hesitates then gives Brock a big hug. 

"Brock. This is too nice for us!" Mike shouts from inside his room. He steps to the doorway with a shocked look. He hesitates for a minute. Then joins the hug. 

Brock hugs Bob tightly and is fairly certain he's in heaven. He still feels Ray's arm around him and it's amazing. Then he realizes that Mike is also hugging him and now he's positive he died and went into touch heaven. He's clutching them tightly and trying not to melt into the floor.

"I love you guys," he says softly. "Do anything for you." 

Frank smiles softly and leans his back against the door. He can see just how happy Brock is. 

"He means that huh?" Gerard asks Frankie. 

"Very much so." Frank gives him a smile, "Even your stubborn complicated butt." 

"Nah. He dislikes me." 

"Go look at the room and hug him. He really does care about you, Gee." Frank says handing him their room key. He lets the group hug happen as he pulls their bags from the cart quietly. He gets all the Brock loves he wants, he can share him for now. 

"We don't deserve this!" Gerard says after looking around the room. 

"He thinks we do." Frank puts Brock's duffle bag on their bed. "Go hug him and say thanks."

Gerard does. He wraps arms around Brock's back. "Thank you Brock. We don't deserve this!" 

Brock feels his knees weaken a little and his chest tighten in such a way that isn't related to his secret. He doesn't want this to stop. To let them go. A large panic-stricken part of him in his head is screaming at him to pull away before they notice because that would be bad. The other, more desperate part, wants him to take off his shirt. To feel their skin against his. He can't remember the last time anyone actually held him in such a way that he was the smaller one; a full all-encompassing hug. Frank was perfect but he was the small kitten and perfect for being the little spoon. He couldn't be like that. A whimper escapes and the sound snaps him back to reality, immediately breaking the hug before anyone thought it weird. They can't know. Nobody except Frank knew he was a freak.

"You guys deserve the best," Brock clears his throat and tries to hide the slight misting in his eyes.

"Are you boys stealing my boyfriend?" Frank teases from the door. 

"Nah! We just love the big guy!" Ray says patting Brock's shoulder then rubbing his upper back, "He's a keeper Frankie." 

He can't help it. The moment Ray started rubbing his shoulders, he melted. Sunshine had minor skills but since he could reach, that was a perfect ten in his book. A pleased moan escapes when Ray hits a knot and manages to work it out. "Holy shit, Sunshine. I might need to hire you as a massage therapist. Frankie, can we keep him?"

"Well he is on the road with us and everyone can use some sunshine." Frank says softly. 

He stretches and arches his back, feeling it crack a little and he's now a happy puddle of squish. He turns to Ray and beams. "Thanks man, owe you one. You kids sleep well. Enjoy the rooms."

"You dont owe me a thing, Brock." Ray smiles, "See you in the morning and thanks for the rooms."

Frank stands patiently while Brock finishes up with the boys. Gerard passes by him and pats his shoulder. He grins at Brock once he turns to face him, he bites his lip and tries to pull himself together and keep a straight face.

Going to Frankie, he wraps his arms around him and hugs him tightly before entering the room. He's feeling much like a puddle of goo from both the back rub and the best damn group hug he has ever gotten. Stomach growling, he grabs his bags and heads to the bed, setting his things next to it before sitting and laying on his back. "I'm hungry. That cold pizza sucked. I'm ordering room service. Either of you boys want something?"

"Nah! I'm good!" Gerard says as he sets his things down in the small sitting room.

"I should be fine." Frank says sitting beside him on the bed.

Scooting so that his head was in Frank's lap, Brock wrapped one arm around his boy's waist, fingers finding their way under his shirt, "Sunshine said you barely ate. You need to eat, love. I know you were nervous but things are okay now. Eat dinner with me. Please?"

"I will eat something, relax love." Frank says with a soft voice. He strokes his cheek. "On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you?"

"Mmmm… seven or eight. I can think of a few things that would make me a ten but it would involve less clothes."

"Oh really? Like naked painting?" Frank teases. "What can I do to make you a ten, _polpetto?"_

Sitting up on one arm, Brock kisses him lightly before whispering to him, shooting a worried glance at Gerard before admitting, "Naked cuddles. With like, everybody. Which is _stupid as fuck_. Not doing that. Damn hug. Tricking my brain into thinking it's okay to like that."

"Was gonna say, there's a couple who would be interested in that naked cuddle," Frank whispers. "I'm interested in that."

"Yeah, you know I need naked cuddles all the damn time," he grins and kisses him again. Brock's positive that the more he gets touched the more he needs it. He shouldn't have let the hug go for as long as it did. He can't afford himself to enjoy that again. "First, food. And a bath. Then we cuddle." 

"Oh I get a bath like a good little puppy?" Frank smirks before kissing him. "I think that sounds like a perfect night with you." 

Gerard looks over at the two on the bed, he can see the intimacy between them and leans back. He sits on the couch and texts Lindsey telling her that he misses her. He lays on the couch and exhales, thankful that Brock let him stay with them even if it did make him feel lonely.

"Don't forget to get a bed for Gerard, baby." Frank kisses him again.

"I won't. I'll tell them when I order the food. Separate baths? The sooner we get them done the quicker we can cuddle." Brock moves and looks at the menus by the phone.

"I already showered, baby. But yes the quicker the better," Frank nods with a pleased smile. 

"Okay." Brock glances over the menu quickly, not really in the mood for something heavy or a lot. "Don't suppose you are in the mood for something specific?" 

"No?" Frank wrinkles his forehead, "Should I be?" 

"Guess not. We could do sandwiches? Soup? Salads. Though a good grilled cheese and tomato soup does sound pretty good right about now."

"I can do soup." 

"They've got… French onion, tomato, minestrone, vegetable or potato." Brock reads off the laminated menu card.

"Minestrone." Frank nods. It's the easiest thing to consume. 

After placing their food order, Brock calls down to the front desk and lets them know which room to send the bed to. When he's finished, he goes into the bathroom to shower. Roughly five minutes later he returns with wet hair brushed back and only wearing his normal boxer briefs. It's not quite full-on naked cuddles but it will have to do with their guest.

Frank curls up to Brock. His fingers pressing into his skin as he relaxes. He could go without food. He just wants this. He looks back and whispers, "He looks sad." 

"He does. Very mopey. Do you want to go sit by him on the couch?"

"I'm an awful friend but no." Frank presses his nose into Brock's chest, "I want my Brock." 

"I need my Frankie," he says softly, wrapping his body around his love. He's certain he could stay like this all the time.

As soon as they both were comfortable, the soft courteous knock at the door disrupts the quiet of their room. He feels Brock flinch ever so slightly but settles himself before moving a little. Frank stops Brock and kisses him. The soft voice of a woman sounds more like a coo from a dove as she spoke to Brock. 

Frank shimmied out of his sleep pants as fast as he can leaving the tight bright blue underwear and Brock's shirt on. He sprawls across the bed. 

A long dark-haired woman with tan skin in khakis and a polo wheeled in the folded up bed. He listens to Gerard thank her. She turns and nods at Frank before exiting the room. Brock returns with food, his bright smile was the only thing Frank could focus on. They sat in bed and quietly watched the television, talking about the day. Frank confessed his worries about fans and being inappropriate like that. His love reassuring him that he's safe was what he needed from Brock. He knows that promises would be kept and he'd be safe no matter what but the what-ifs take over.

After their meal, clean teeth, and back in bed, Frank snuggles close to Brock. Choosing to face him. Easier to kiss him and listen to his heartbeat. As he listened to Brock's breathing deepen, his mind wanders from sleep. He doesn't understand how he ever deserves Brock. He was the best man he'd ever met. He wasn't perfect but he was damn close to it. It made him hurt to think that someone would ever want to hurt him. It made him angry to think that he was alone for so long. Brock deserved happiness long before he ever came along. He should have been married with a cat in Italy. However selfish it was, he was also thankful that Brock was his. He wishes he'd been born sooner. Or Brock born later. But no sense in dwelling on the past, it's things that he can't control.

He can't wait for his parents to meet him, to get their approval. He can't wait to meet his family, the unknown of his parents worries him. More what-ifs fill him. What happens then? Brock can't give up everything for him. He wouldn't let him. He feels that bad twist in his guts again. His chest feels heavy as he tries to calm himself down. He hears Brock tell him to relax in the mumbled Italian before he pulls him tighter into his arms. 

He takes steadying breaths in and lets himself be swept under by the warmth and protection of Brock's arms that crashes into him like a wave to shore. 

~~

Frank stretches long as he opens his eyes. The world is still a blur but the familiar smell of Brock's skin and the weight of his arms around him bring him back to earth. It's the first night in a while that he slept without waking up. He squeezes and worms his way up to Brock's chin and places soft kisses on his neck and jawline. He's decided, it's gonna be a good damn day so why not wake his love up sweetly. Maybe if he plays his cards right, this could be a _very_ good morning. 

Stirring with a soft exhale of a groan, Brock shifts and cracks open his eyes to see beautiful hazel ones looking back at him. He grins, happy to see Frankie looking awake and adorably happy. He whispers, "Morning, _tesoro_." 

"Hi sleepy head." He grins back at him with a soft reply. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mmm, good. How about you?" Brock kisses him softly.

"Pretty damn good." He squirms a little further up to be level with Brock, "I'm glad we don't have to get up and go. I like mornings with you like this."

"Just think… This could be everyday." Grinning, he kisses him again, moving up Frankie's jawline and to his neck. Saying good morning to his Scorpio with nips and light suction. He loves to make his tail stand out more against the bright red skin.

Frank gives a soft moan at the suction. "I want that so very much." He pushes his hips against Brock feeling the material of his undies rubbing against his cock. He wants skin to skin, no barriers. This man's turned him into a fiend. "I want you very much." Once Brock's mouth has moved from the scorpion he lets his hand slide over Brock's stomach. Going over the underwear, he gropes Brock's cock. 

Shivering a little as goosebumps break over his skin, Brock pushes his hips into Frankie's hand. "I hate this. The underwear. I hate not feeling every inch of you. Need it so much."

Frank moves up Brock's body and kisses his lips hard as his hands move to the elastic of his waistband. "I can help with that." His fingers curl inside and pull them down slightly. Frank pulls his lips away with a grin on his lips. Quickly he moves down Brock's chest kissing and nipping at his skin, a devilish idea comes into his mind. He stops moving just below his belly button sucking on the skin and looks up at him, "Unless..."

"No. Please… don't," Brock whimpers softly. He wraps his arms and legs around Frankie and rolls them over so he's on his back. He _needs_ to be touched. There's a tightness in his chest. He can't begin to describe the feeling of desperately needing contact. "Please..." 

His tongue trails down a little further before pulling back, he ghosts his lips over Brock's hip as he pulls his underwear down further. "Oh I like this… needy and whiny side." Frank whispers against the soft skin. He grips his shaft before wrapping his lips around the head creating suction then going a little further down.

"Oh god Frankie," Brock gasps and whines at the feeling. This isn't wholly what he had in mind but with Frankie's perfect mouth, he's quickly getting on board. He'll take what he can get and sex has always fed the insatiable hunger. 

He pulls back before going down a little deeper. He doesn't linger long pulling back and letting his hand follow with a firm grip. He takes him deeper in his throat, looking up to Brock and giving him a wink before going back to work. Sucking and stroking in time. He wants a moan. Fingers in his hair. On his skin. Everything he can get from him. 

"Oh Jesus," Brock breathes. His hands drop down and find their way into Frankie's hair and grip the black locks tightly. His hips arch a little, needing to be touched too. More goosebumps break out over his skin and he squirms a little. Another whine escapes, he wants this. He always needs Frankie. Needs to make his boy feel good. Needs to make love to him. Or fuck him so much they both see stars. To feel so good they both cum but he also desperately wants to make the frantic neediness to go away. He also needs to be blanketed with his body. And be held. He's torn between two needs that are blending together like wet paint.

Frank moans around his cock and works himself down as fast as he can go. He pulls off and strokes him. His forehead wrinkles as he looks up to Brock's face, "Baby, you good?" Frank keeps his voice soft. He kisses the top of his thigh. He can feel the conflict all over his beautiful face. 

"Touch me. Please… just… _touch_ me," he pleads into the quietness of the room, staring at the ceiling in hopes that if he doesn't see Frankie it won't be so bad.

Something inside of his body tells him something's off. Maybe not wrong but _off_. He takes precaution to move up Brock's body until he is at eye level with him, his knees straddling his chest. With a hand on his chest, he leans forward and carefully touches Brock's face kissing him before speaking. " _Polpetto…_ _"_

He doesn't have the words to describe what's wrong or how he feels or what to say other than, "Touch me. Please I need it. Please." 

"I am, baby…" Frank feels his own voice shake a little, "Sit up with your back against the headboard, please?" 

Nodding, Brock moves and carefully sits up against the headboard. He doesn't know what's going on but he's on board.

Frank kisses him softly as he sits on his thighs. "I don't know how to help…" he pauses as he looks around the floor for his bag, "I know you want me to touch you. And I am. Do you want sex or cuddles or me to lay on you? Simple words are fine. I don't need poetry, my love. If you want sex, I need lube so I'll have to get up for a minute."

“I… Don’t. Know. I need,” Brock sputters. A hand comes up and rubs across his face. He didn’t know how to explain it. “Need… everything. Please. I’m sorry. It… it hurts. Not like literally but…” he trails off in Italian as if even that would be able to help him explain what he’s feeling. 

Frank touches his face softly. "Don't be sorry baby." He kisses him again and hugs him tight. A hand snake up the back of his neck and into his hair. "Will you make love to me?" He leans back and looks Brock in the face with a soft smile. 

He hesitates for a second, trying to figure out how he can do that and still get the skin contact he needs. Then he smiles, an idea coming to him. “We need lube then.”

Frank nods and kisses him again before slipping off his lap and moves for his bag. He pulls his bottle of lube and moves back to Brock. Kissing him as if he hadn't left him. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help." 

“Sorry I can’t word,” Brock whispers before wrapping his arms around Frankie and pulling him closer, kissing him deeply. His hands stroking over every inch of skin he can reach. He buries his face in Frankie’s neck and kisses both sides, nipping gently. A whimper peeks out in his throat. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. And if he hadn’t had the group hug, he wouldn’t be this desperate. Fuck.

Frank keeps the lube in hand as he strokes the back of Brock's neck and into his hair. He whispers as he wraps his legs around his waist, "I love you Brock." He drops the lube beside Brock's leg and runs his hand over his back. He kisses his neck and shoulder as his fingers dig into Brock's skin.

“I love you _so_ much, Frank. So, so much,” he murmurs in Frankie’s ear. He can feel his needs adjust with every sweep of Frankie’s hand over his own body. Every soft kiss of lips against his skin. He needs more of it. He wants to feel the caresses like a warm blanket pressed up to cold skin, soothing the need. His fingers press down harder into pale skin, keeping thighs around his hips so tight that there was no space within the line of their bodies. Strong arms tense, the muscles jumping from the movement just before he scoots them down and flips them both, pinning Frankie into the mattress. His movements turn frenzied. Kissing and nipping every inch of perfectly pale inked skin from his Scorpio to the doves, Brock can’t get enough of the contact. He resists the urge to rub his body like a cat against Frankie and instead focuses on driving them both wild with lust and love. 

Frank keeps his legs around Brock as he kisses him and caresses his arms, shoulders, and back going between gentle touches with the pads of his fingers to raking nails over the skin, just enough to awaken the senses. He lets a soft moan out at the feeling of Brock's teeth on his skin. He can't tell if it is making this better or not. 

“I _need_ you,” Brock groans against Frank’s skin. Turning his head, he nips at Frank’s soft and more squishy love handles before giving in and rubbing his cheeks across the flesh like a cat. He rarely gets to lavish the soft parts of his favorite twink and he’s enjoying the chance. He scoots further down, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down Frank’s treasure trail all the way down to his hip. He skips over that and moves to his inner thigh. 

Frank lets out soft moans as Brock moves along his skin. The sensation of Brock brushing his cheek across his skin with anyone else would feel strange or uncomfortable but this was different. Everything about this moment was different. He can feel the need radiating from Brock and each touch and kiss makes it even more apparent. As his mouth reaches his hips, the excitement begins to build faster in his body. The tenderness of his lips on the vulnerable skin of his thighs and the heat of his breath sends chills up his spine. “I wanna make you feel good. I just want you.”

Gerard had woken too early for his liking. The tiny bed was uncomfortable and he abandoned it in the middle of the night only to find the couch was just as awful but at least he didn't have a spring jamming into his shoulder. He stares at the ceiling until he hears rustling from just beyond the half wall. He can hear the familiar rasp of Frank’s morning voice, it was a sound he’d become used to and even missed. Then, the reply from Brock, this is what made him pay attention. 

The quiet conversation became even more interesting as the noise from Frank disappeared and whines and moans from Brock filled the room. He scoots up the couch and sneaks a glance at what was going on. The need in Brock made his inner thigh ache ever so slightly. _This was going to be an interesting morning_. He shifts to his side and quietly watches.

“Please don’t stop touching me,” Brock pleads again. He kisses Frank’s inner thigh once more before switching to his other side and working his way upwards. Again he skips over the very prominent length begging for attention in its cotton confines in favor of licking little circles over Frank’s right nipple.

Frank’s hands find Brock’s skin, he pulls Brock up to his lips and kisses him deeply. One hand rests on his shoulder while the other runs along his ribs until he finds the right grooves and traces the muscle until he finds a scar. His hips push up against Brock. The cotton teasing the possibility of more but stopping it from happening making him groan. Frustrated and turned on, the passion in the kiss turns rough as Frank pulls Brock's lip as he breaks away from him. He turns his attention to Brock’s neck kissing then raking his teeth over his skin. He's anxious for more.

His hands roam up and over Frankie’s hips, fingers slipping inside the waistband and begin to slide the fabric down. All the attention his little needy _gattino_ has so graciously been giving him has incited his own lustful need. It’s enough to push back the frenzied feeling, perhaps even filling the need. He strips the fabric off and tosses it onto the floor somewhere before pressing their bodies together, eliciting a deep moan of relief at the contact. He can’t help but rub their hard lengths together. Another moan escapes; this one less _skin hunger_ and more _arousal_.

Frank groans and digs his fingernails into Brock's side at the feeling of their skin touching. His hips jerk up slightly making the need in himself grow stronger. “I wanna make you come.” Frank whispers in his ear before nipping at his ear. Dropping his mouth to Brock's shoulder to kiss him again and grind against him. A small voice in the back of his head warns him to pull back, not follow through on the action he had planned. He ignores his voice turning the kiss sharper as he runs his teeth over his shoulder.

A shudder runs through him, followed by a very needy whimper, hips rolling forward. Every second his skin hunger was washed away by his now-more-demanding arousal. He needed to consume and be consumed by Frankie. The pads of his fingertips ghost over Frankie’s sides and worm their way in between his skin and the mattress. “Then move, baby. Flutter for me, little _passerotto_.”

Frank squirms a little at first. As the fingers work their way down his sides, he can't help but move his body. Jerking between each of Brock's hands he lets out a giggle. He moves down the bed to keep him from hitting the spot. That sweet spot that Brock loves to hit each time. His butt hits Brock's legs and realizes he has nowhere to go but up. He scoots up slightly and tries to kiss him as a distraction to ‘escape’.

Grinning, Brock dances his fingers all across Frankie’s waist, especially near his ribs and lower back area. The giggles were so fucking cute and changed how he responded to the flutter squirm beneath him. Instead of going straight to his dick, it made him laugh playfully. He loved to hear Frank’s laugh. “Just where do you think you are going, _passerotto_?”

Frank bites his lip and smiles before leaning up to kiss him. “Away from the sweet spot.” 

He chuckles low, “No. You are mine, _passerotto_. I’m going to make you squirm oh so nicely for me. Gonna make you dance.”

“Oh yeah? You think so?” Frank bites the tip of his tongue. He already knows he can't fight this. He leans up and pecks his cheek. His hips shift a little to the left and then to the right trying to get Brock worked up.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Keep it up," Brock moans softly, fingers searching for his sweet spot. Tickling him just because. The movements are starting to work their magic and Brock feels his body respond. 

Frank wiggles and moves as fingers work along his skin. Brock is inches from the spot, he can feel the ticklish feelings edging on something more every time. He rolls his hips into Brock's, moving himself into that special spot. He lets a small moan from his lips. 

Gerard couldn't peel his eyes away from them. The tenderness between them made a pain in his chest for a moment. His brain flashes a thought to home and _her_. As soon as Brock flips Frank's small body onto the mattress that pain disappears, their tenderness melts away. Watching the undies hit the floor, his hand slides into his sleep pants. This is what he's here for. The words _move for me_ sounds weird. It's not until the giggling does he scoot even more upright. 

_They aren't using… that's not a thing?!_ He blinks hard and shakes his head. A confirmation comes with a moan from Brock. 

He lies back on the couch. He needs to know how the fuck this works. He coughs accidentally on purpose. It wasn't the way that he wanted to do it but it was too late now.

Brock stills and has a moment of panic. Who was in his room and why? Where's his gun? Too far away. If he waits, the intruder may move close enough for him to attack. His body tenses and subconsciously shifts to protect Frankie better. It isn't until he here's a soft sigh from beneath him that he begins to relax 

_Gerard. Fuck. He's gonna get his ass pistol-whipped if not shot._ "Baby. Relax. We're ok." Frank sighs as he strokes Brock's sides. He's unconcerned with his cockblocking bastard of a friend but soothing his rattled husband. He moves his hands from Brock's sides to his face, "It's just Gerard's stupid ass. I'm ok. You're ok." He nods wanting to have Brock copy the action.

He nods, slowly relaxing. Mild irritation sets in. "We're okay. Gerard…?" 

"Yes. Gerard." Frank gives him a tender smile. He leans up and kisses him.

"What the hell are you two doing?" He asks with a curious smile.

"Why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?" Brock grumbles quietly. He was in the zone and his bubble of focus was popped.

"Cause it sounds like tickling… but also sex." 

"Wow. He got it, babe!" Frank replies looking at Brock trying to hide his irritation.

The sarcasm draws a flicker of a half-smile from Brock and a huff of a laugh. He tries to focus on getting back into the zone he was in and less on their previously forgotten-about guest. A thumb draws little circles.

"That's not a thing. Tickle sex is not real," Gerard fires back at Frank.

"It is too," Brock lightly snaps at Gerard. "Cause I say so."

"Bullshit. I have never seen tickle sex… like ever." 

"It's a very real and _delicious_ thing." Frank says running his hands up Brock's chest. He pushes his hips against Brock in a slow side to side movement. 

"It can't work."

"Says you," Brock bites back.

"I call bullshit. It's not possible." Gerard shakes his head as he stands up and moves into the main room, leaning against the dresser, "You don't have to lie to me and make up some strange ass kink like tickle sex."

Brock has to look away from the space where he hears Gerard approaching. He knows he can't control his face right now nor the hot feeling that's slowly spreading from his cheeks to his neck. Echoes of the past ring in his head and fill him with shame and embarrassment. Between this and his other secret, he knew he was a freak. Gerard was just speaking the truth.

"First off, it's not weird. And it is a thing, don't be a prick." Frank snaps and twists to face him. His anger bubbles up in his chest. He is protective of Brock and what they have.

"Ok, if tickle sex is real, what the fuck is this and more importantly how does it work?" Gerard refuses to believe it's a thing, "Better yet, prove me fuckin' wrong. I wanna see _tickle sex_." 

"It's not… I mean, it's… it's something I made up," Brock tries to explain. He's still not meeting Gerard's eyes.

"Prove. It." Gerard says flatly.

"You wouldn't get it. It only works for me because it's what _I like_ ," Brock grits out, a little harder than intended. He's defensive and he knows it. "I like the movement. The tickling helps Frankie do that."

"He wants to watch us have sex." Frank says with a smile before kissing Brock, "He wants a show." 

"Yeah but that's normal now. He asked about semantics. And is essentially telling me my kink is fake," Brock finally turns a little, facing Frankie more and keeping Gerard out of the corner of his eye.

"I apologize for kink shaming you." Gerard says quietly, "Yeah, I know my kink is weird."

Frank frowns as he strokes Brock's side. "I love what we do. Especially tickle sex. That's my favorite."

"Me too," he replies, softly.

Frank leans up and whispers in his ear, "I also like it when you make me come untouched. Or when you spank me and I come."

A shudder makes his body tremble and a low groan escape. The words go right to his dick. It throbs and demands for relief. Brock arches his hips into Frankie, eliciting a whispered, "Fuck, yeah. Especially our first time. So fucking hot. Love making you come all over yourself like some filthy slut."

"Or sucking your dick in that gorgeous car." Frank grins as he speaks with a low voice. The memories flooding him and making him harder. Needing to be relieved. Needing to come.

"Love it when you come in your pants. Soaking your little panties. So fucking hot. I love watching you come." Brock's fingers trailed lightly up and down Frankie's sides. His focus is slowly shifting from Gerard back to the mood and moment of Frankie beneath him. 

"I like making you come. Especially when you come inside of me." Frank's voice is no longer a whisper. He shifts and dances a little between Brock's fingers with a grin spreading wider on his face. "I like when you fuck me like I'm your favorite toy." 

"That's because you are, _passerotto_. _Un uccellino._ " Brock's breath hitches with each shift in movement from Frank. He's more than ready. A hand reaches out and digs for the lube. Sitting back on his knees, he looks down at Frankie, all spread out so nicely for him. He especially loves the fact that both his knees stretch apart Frankie's legs so wide it gives the appearance of him doing a split. The image makes his dick twitch as he lubes himself up.

"I love when you talk dirty to me in Italian."

“I wasn’t but I also know I could rattle off a menu in Italian and make you moan. Should we try that? See if I can get you hard in public? Make your dick leak in your tight little undies? Watch you squirm in your seat with need. Might get so hot myself I drag your sexy twink ass to the bathroom and fuck you up against the stall door. Gag that pretty mouth so nobody hears you begging me to go harder.” Brock’s hand strokes himself faster as his own words. He knows how it will affect Frankie.

"You can make me cum any time." He grins as he leans up on his elbows and watches Brock stroke himself. He bites his lip, he twirls his lip ring. "Want you to whisper in my ear and make me come in public."

“Yeah,” Brock pants out, pushing Frankie back onto the bed before covering the slim body with his own. He kisses him hard and needy, his free hand going to Frankie’s hair with the other lining him up. A nudging thought in the back of his head berates him for again not prepping him. He pushes it away at the same time his hips push forward. As much as he is about safety, he _**really**_ likes the tightness that comes from not stretching his boy. Guilt threatens to surface but he reasons it away with extra aftercare and less aggressive drilling.

"Oh fuck yes!" Frank groans while his hands grab Brock's skin. The fullness makes his cock throb as excitement vibrates through his groin and thighs. He gives up on making love, he wants to be fucked properly. He wants to be ruined. Left shaking, messy, and full of cum.

Gerard has gone quiet. He was forgotten about but it wasn't going to complain. This is what he wanted. He wanted to watch Brock ravage Frank. His brain had been keeping score. He knew that all of the dirty talk while he's surprised that Frank likes it, are things he is aching to do. He knew he was built like Frankie. A little softer maybe. He ached to be a part of it. He wanted to touch Brock's skin. Kiss them both. The idea forces a groan from his chest out but is caught by tightened lips. His hand slips into his pants as he watches the hot scene unfolding in front of him. 

“Fuck you are so tight, baby,” Brock moans out. The tightness was intoxicating. He takes a moment to breathe against Frankie’s neck, planting soft kisses there. A huge part of him wants to wreck him right out of the gate but the end result isn’t something he wants. So he waits. Waits until Frankie starts to squirm, to demand with his hips and his voice that he needs more. He will wait for as long as he needs to wait. 

Frank feels his body molding around Brock. His forehead wrinkles as he expects for hard and fast thrusts but gets nothing. "Baby?" Frank tightens around him then rolls his hips into Brock which makes himself moan. _That's not the goal, Iero._ He wants to be fucked. 

Gerard wants to move. He wants to see how full Frank is. He wants to _feel_ how split open Frank is. He opens his mouth to moan but the words spill out, "I wanna see him split open and full." He bites his lip at the idea of making Frank watch him get fucked like he was a cheap whore. Hearing the quiet and desperate tone in Frank's voice makes his knees buckle a little as he makes slow lazy strokes. He needs to carry lube with him. 

"Maybe," Brock grounds out. He's not unopposed but he's got an agenda going. His hands caressing over Frankie's waist, trying to find the best spots to make him writhe. Fingers twist and dance over the spots he can reach, trying to work his way to The Magic Spot.

Frank moans at the feeling of Brock's fingers moving along his skin. He writhes and squirms at the touch. The pressure of how full he was mixed with the need to move changes the need to laugh into pleasure. He lets out another loud needy moan, "Oh god baby! It feels so good!"

The feeling of Frankie trapped beneath him, squirming and shifting, causes Brock to thrust hard into him. It was perfect and exactly what he wanted. He moans out, "Dance on my dick, baby. _Move_." 

Frank shouts out at the slam into him from Brock's hips. His fingers find the spot and make him squirm and struggle hard to move away from his hands. "Fuck Brock, your cock feel so good inside of me." He tightens around the cock in his ass trying to get the relief he desperately wants from his husband.

There is a reason he calls the place on Frank's back hip The Magic Spot. If he could find a way to keep touching that spot and still pin his love's arms above his head and rail into him, he would. Now that he's found it, he fights to keep hitting it every time as his hips find the right rhythm and begin to fuck into Frankie hard.

"Brock, please, fuck me!" Frank pleads. He squirms as Brock's fingers move into the sweet spot again, dancing away but never straying far enough. Trying to pull away slightly to fuck himself on Brock's cock as he moans and arches his back, he gazes at Gerard who locks eyes with him for a split second. A weird twist in his gut distracts him for a second. A new wave of arousal burns through him. _Should I put on a show?_

Gerard swears he saw a shift in Frank's face. It makes his heart flutter seeing Frank move like that under Brock. He dick aches for relief as he strokes himself a little faster. The voice in his head quiets at the sight of tickle sex and he finds it remotely hot. He groans deep as he watches Frank arch his back as he squirms and tries to fuck himself on Brock's big thick cock.

“Don’t stop,” Brock demands. His hands move from Frankie’s waist, trusting him that he knows the movements that will get them both off, to gripping the pillows and the headboard above them. Rolling his hips to test the position, he moves from slow and gentle to hard and fast. “Fuck yourself on my cock, little slut.”

Frank grins wide as he moves himself to find the right position that allows him to find the perfect pace. "Wanna make you come, like your good little slut," Frank moans out. 

Pumping his hips, Brock feels like something was missing. Maybe it was the position or the bed. Maybe it was the change in tone from Frank. Something was off, even though he’s sure they are enjoying the physical aspect of the sex. Perhaps it was Gerard being so close to him that was making him distracted. A side glance grants him the image of Gerard’s hand shoved down his pants, the fabric moving in a tell-tale way. It’s certainly distracting in and of itself. He’s not sure how he feels about it. It does however bring back the request that Gerard made, about seeing firsthand just how stuffed Frank was. The idea of Gerard getting close to them to see was more than a little unnerving but perhaps he could provide. Frank loved to be on display; to be watched. That was the whole point of the kink. He wants Frankie to squirm and move on his dick. Frankie wants to be seen. Gerard wants to watch and fantasize. With a groan, Brock lets go of the headboard and returns to the moment, hands moving back down to grip Frankie’s waist. He leans down and captures his lips in a passionate kiss, hips never stopping their assault.

Frank kisses back hungrily. His hand slides to Brock's wrist as his hips push back against the thrusts. He can hear himself begging but he isn't sure if it's out loud.

Gerard's hips push into his fist. His legs shake as he keeps his attention on Brock as he fucks into Frankie. "Fuck." He quietly whispers over and over again. He can feel the building in his body getting stronger as he increases his pace. He can feel Brock's eyes on him making him conscious of his actions and sounds but he can't stop the quiet moan from pouring out.

Wrapping his arms around Frankie, Brock nips hard on Scorpio before flipping them over. If Gerard wants to watch Frank being stuffed, then he can watch Frankie ride Brock’s dick. Brock gets comfortable in the pillows, raking his hands over Frankie’s gorgeous body before he grips each ass cheek tightly and spreads them. His hips push up in deeper, a moan ripping out of his throat.

"Oh holy fuck!" Gerard groans loudly as the change of position provides the most porn worthy view of Frank being impaled on Brock's cock. The sound of Frank's moans turns into a needy cry out for more. The hard thrusts make it hard for him to stay upright. He needs to sit as his fucks faster into his fist. Legs move, shaking as he finds the desk chair that he scoots towards the end of the bed. He's not going to last long. 

Frank whines out as Brock fucks into him. His back arches as the hands pull him open. The rapid and deep thrusts push his body faster to coming. "Please! Oh god Brock I'm gonna come! I wanna come on your cock baby!" He moans out. His head dips down as his body bounces from the force of Brock's hips fucking into him.

Strong fingers dig hard into Frankie’s hips as Brock forcibly shoves his lover hard onto his cock, hips jerking up into the tight heat. Watching Frank ride his cock, watching him move, made something tighten low in his groin. It makes his cock grow harder. He’s already close, too close and too fast. “Then come for me, baby. Come on my hard cock, you fucking wanton _whore_.”

The words from Brock's lips break the thin barrier that had been keeping Gerard from coming. The sounds and sights stored in his memory for later. Every single thrust makes his blood rush through his veins. He bucks up slightly from the chair as he spills into his hand. He drops his head back and loudly groans, “Holy fuck!” 

Frank grins down at Brock at the sounds of Gerard's climax. His mouth softens as Brock's thrust hits the right spot and forces him to cry out, “Yes! That's it! I'm there!” He grabs the strong arms keeping him steady. Knowing that giving Gee a show he arches his back and lifts himself a little higher then slides back down again. This makes his body tremble at the sensation of the rise and fall but it’s Brock's face that breaks him. The hungry wild look in his eyes that makes him feel like he was going to be consumed by his lover. The idea that he was the star in this strange porn was intoxicating. He could do this again. He _could_ share. He can't stop himself from coming, whining Brock's name and digging his nails into his love's forearms.

Brock’s said it before and he will say it again a hundred times. He loves watching Frankie come. He will never get enough of watching the blissful waves roll across Frankie’s face nor the way his entire body spasmed and tightened during release. It was more than enough for Brock to jerk once before coming with a loud and harsh cry. He pumps up a few more times, drawing out his pleasure before going boneless. He pants out, “Oh fuck.”

Frank falls forward onto Brock's chest. He tries to slow his breathing as he places a few soft kisses on his skin. He forgets about their guest in the room for a moment as the warm fuzzy feelings flood his body. He touches his face with soft fingers to turn his head. Frank leans a little further up to kiss his neck then his lips. He whispers with a soft sleepy smile, “I love you, _polpetto_.”

“I love you, _tesoro_ ,” Brock whispers back. As his heart slowly works its way back to baseline, he can feel other needs rising. Hunger was one. As was the need to go to the bathroom. Beneath all of that, however, was the ever-present need for physical contact. He can feel it bubbling underneath the surface. His arms come up and wrap themselves around Frankie, holding him close to his chest. He glances around to find Gerard, equally blissed out and boneless. A stray thought of wondering what it would feel like to have Gerard in their bed, touching him, enters his head that sends a spike of fear through him, causing him to tighten his hold on Frankie. He has to bury his face in Frankie’s neck and close his eyes. He doesn’t understand. Usually sex, no matter what kind, eased the skin hunger. It had to be because of Gerard’s presence. He was the only new variable.

Gerard was lost in his head. He knew it. He could feel it. His eyes open, trying to focus on the ceiling. Enjoying the floating feeling, he lets out a small sigh. That was the hottest thing he’d been involved in. He drops his gaze to the bed. The two men still tangled around each other in an embrace that felt too personal to be involved with. He needed to leave. At least the room. Or their space. Something feels wrong about the embrace. He quietly scoots away from the bed, he's making plans to get out. Maybe Ray or Mike. Once he hits a certain place in the room he rises to his feet and heads to the small half room. 

Frank feels himself melting into Brock. His embrace was comfort mixed with a trace of something deeper than a need. He loves needy Brock but this was a step further. He knows exactly what he needs and he is more than willing to give it to him. He places kisses along his neck before settling down to give his love a little longer to catch his breath. He can't contain himself, he loves Brock especially now.

Wrapping his legs around Frankie, Brock sighs and nuzzles him. He holds him tight against his chest, enjoying him like he was his own personal weighted blanket. A Frankie blanket. A… blankie? The thought makes a small giggle bubble in his chest and escape. A part of him wanted to press himself up against Frankie and rub his body all over him like a cat. Or maybe try a massage. Could Gerard do a massage like Sunshine? Could he be okay with letting the other man into their bed, if only for cuddles? He's not sure how he feels about that and chalks it up to post-coital bliss making him think things he wouldn't ever consider. The thought of extra cuddles does sound good though. He grabs the blanket and pulls it over him and Frank, tucking them in like a cocoon, then re-wrapping his limbs around Frank in what his husband likes to call _octopus mode._ "Bundled & bound. Just the way I like you, _tesoro_." 

"Oh yeah?" Frank says with a soft small voice. "I don't think I have even been either?" He's only teasing. He grins as he rests his chin onto Brock's chest and looks up at him. He hears the sound of shifting and rustling across the room. The soft familiar hesitant steps moving across the floor and past their bed. Gee is leaving. They made his friend uncomfortable. Frank chooses to not say anything until he hears the door clicking, the whoosh, and the inevitable loud hit with the mechanical gears turning the lock. "We made him uncomfortable." 

Brock nods in agreement. He's still not sure how _he_ feels at the moment to even begin to address Gerard's. His arms tighten again, clutching Frankie harder. He buries his face in Frank's neck and takes a deep breath to help ground him again. He doesn't know how to fix this.

Frank sighs, "He'll get over it. Intimacy always freaks him out." He assumes that is what the problem is, with Gee it was hard to tell.

"Why?" Brock thinks it over and wonders if it was perhaps due to guilt that Gerard felt uncomfortable. He's not sure if Lindsey knew or is okay with all of this. 

"He's always been like this. On stage he has all this bravado but in real life he's quiet and bookish." Frank shrugs, "I guess it's just his weak point. Everyone has one."

He gives a rather non-committal hum in response. Frank isn't wrong but Brock has a bit of a feeling that might indicate that Gerard is uncomfortable for a different reason. He takes a moment and puts himself in the other man's shoes, closing his eyes and imagining what he must be going through. To be on the outside and looking in. To want what he can't have. He isn't sure if he would be able to handle something like this if the roles were reversed. His own chest tightens again with anxiety. He can't lose Frankie. He can't. 

Frank strokes Brock's skin with the pads of his fingertips. "Did you know… that today's been cancelled?" He asks with a playful voice.

"Cancelled?" This brings Brock back to business and his mind races. He should check his phone and see if there were notifications regarding the cancellation of the show. Then he needed to reschedule for another tour date at the end. And then figure out what to do with the invalid tickets.

"Yup, I officially cancelled it." Frank smirks.

"You did? Why? Does the band know? Did you call Lauren? When was this?" asks Brock.

"I did. Just now, because I would much rather spend an entire day in a comfy bed than on a stupid bus and doing stupid press things." Frank smiles at Brock, he knows he isn't getting it but he's too cute to not mess with just a little. 

"Yeah I agree but what are we going to do about the show?" Brock was really concerned about this. Again, the steps to inform others and deal with the change in schedule enter his head.

"I'm sure the kids will figure it out when the band doesn't show… think of it like a life lesson. Sometimes dad goes out to get smokes and doesn't come back, kinda thing." Frank says keeping the best straight face he can before laughing. "Right? It's just Emo Death Metal music…"

Finally, it clicks and Brock just stares at Frank for a solid minute before he just starts spanking Frankie's pert ass for the stunt. He laughs, "You little shit!" 

Frank laughs louder "Sorry not sorry!" He tries to squirm away. "You actually believed me!' 

"Yes, I actually believed you! You little twit!" His spankings are half-assed and playful. One of his hands moves to tickle Frank's waist just to torture him a little.

"Oh no!" Frank laughs harder as he tries to get away feeling the legs tighten around him. "I can't believe you fell for that! You know Santa and the Easter Bunny aren't real right?"

"Shut up you lying shit head," Brock laughs, trying to spank and tickle him harder. He's mostly successful more so with the tickles than with the spanking.

"I'm sorry! I give! Pineapples! Peaches! Pears!" He laughs as he tries to worm away. Deep down he knew his plan would work if he could get Brock out if his head for a moment that things would be ok. "I'll be good! I promise! I'm a good boy!"

"That's not how this works, you heathen!" Brock laughs and continues to tickle and spank him, keeping his firm grip on Frankie.

"Then you do know the moon isn't made of cheese, right? And the earth isn't FLAT!?" He shouts out the last word as Brock's hand hits his skin. He takes a deep breath and tries to shift a little while being tickled. Brock's response was just to hit him harder, forgoing the tickling.

The hits from Brock's hand stinging now. Is he trying to turn him on? Should he keep going? "Tooth fairy was a lie." he blurts out. He wants to keep going.

"Be quiet you little pain in my ass," Brock, laughing, punctuates each word with a smack on Frank's tight and squirmy ass. 

"Aren't _you_ the pain in my ass, Mr. Rumlow?" Frank laughs as he looks back at Brock and bites his lip. He can feel stirring in his low stomach. "Unless you wanna switch?" 

Brock pauses for a moment, giving him a look of incredulity, temporarily stunned at the outrageousness of Frankie's question. It doesn't take long before he's back to tickling him. "No!" 

"Never been a top before but I'll give it a college try!" He says laughing as he folds to the side. His body switches gears and refocuses the arousal from pain to this.

"Heathen!" His ribs and cheeks hurt so much from laughing, but Brock doesn't care. Frankie's words then click in his head. He pauses to ask, "Wait? Never? Don't suppose Julia counted huh?" 

"Who?" He plays dumb. He didn't count her. Though if he wanted to get technical he might actually be a decent top then. "You know what I mean, old man!" 

"I am not old!" shrieks Brock, returning to spanking him harder and faster just for that rude ass comment. How dare his boy even think that! Little shithead. He should do more than spank him. Teach him a real lesson.

The laughter stops as a moan pours from his mouth. It was not supposed to but Frank's brain betrays him. "Hit a nerve, did I?" he tries to recover as he clears his throat but the strikes on his skin cause his voice to wobble. 

"Not as much, I think," Brock licks his lips, eyes turning from playful to sinful. Play now discarded, he wants to see Frankie come all over them both. He strikes him hard, once. "As you." 

"Oh!" Frank moans softly but recovers with his sass, "Just trying to make you feel good about yourself. _You_ tops are a sensitive bunch…" He struggles through the sentence as the delightful sting runs through his legs.

"Not _nearly_ as sensitive as your dick is. So _receptive_ to my touch. So _easy_ to make you cum. And you will cum from this," purrs Brock, his hands now grabbing and rubbing over the sensitive flesh of Frankie's ass cheeks. A second later, he spanks him hard, with his whole palm. "Won't you?" "

The conflict in his head on the response, does he sass a little more and work Brock up or should he give him the purr that he is dying to let out. He can't stop the moaning but he can control his own words for Brock. "I dunno..." He inhales before finishing his sentence with a slight hiss, "your hand _might_ get tired first." 

"Good thing I have two then," Brock growls out, his other hand swatting him as well.

"Oh fuck." Frank moans again. He pushes his hips back into Brock's hand wanting more. "I don't think I've learned my lesson. "

"Yeah, I don't think so either," Brock moans out. He kicks the covers off of them both, the cool air feeling amazing against his heated flesh.

"I don't think you can get me to be a good boy." Frank practically purrs out. He knows exactly what he _wants_ and what he's _doing_. "You might get too tired..." 

Meanwhile, Gerard steps off the elevator with a cardboard drink carrier and a small brown bag full of muffins. It's the least he can do for them after they not only let him stay in their room but also gave them the hottest show he's seen in a long time. He inserts the room key and pushes the door open. He steps into the room, "Hey guys, I brought you coffee and muff- oh my god..."

"No, just Brock," Brock grins, swatting Frankie again. "Thanks for the coffee. Have a seat." 

"Do you guys ever stop?" Gerard sputters out at the sound of Frank's moans. "What… why?" 

"That's all you got?" Frank provokes him to respond, choosing to ignore Gerard.

"Of course not, my little pain slut. This is just a warm up, baby. Get you all needy and squirmy," Brock purrs. His fingers trail up and down Frank's red ass cheeks teasingly.

Frank moans at the touch, "Please, I want more!" 

Gerard sits down in the chair. _Holy fuck, they fuck like rabbits._

"Oh do you now?" Brock purrs. His nails rake lightly over the curves of Frankie's ass. "I don't think you are asking me the right way, kitten."

"I **want** more. **Now."** Frank demands as a groan pulls from his chest as the nails across the sensitive skin create goosebumps all over his body.

"There's my little hellcat. So demanding. Such a feisty sexy twink." Brock brings both his hands down hard, one on each cheek, enjoying the way Frankie's body jerks from the force.

"Please! Don't stop!" Frank whines as his body jerks on Brock's body. 

"You want it harder?" Brock asks, spanking him quicker but not very hard.

"Pretty please! Please baby!" Frank begs.

"Say it!" Brock demands and adds a little more force to his spanking, his hips arching up to rub against Frankie's hard length that was trapped between their bodies. "Say it you need it harder!" 

"Please spank me harder! I need it so badly!" Frank cries out as his body presses into Brock. His cock throbbing at the pain that burns through him. "Please make me come!"

Brock quickly complies, raining down blows on Frankie's ass as hard and as fast as he can. His boy was going to be very sore later, but that was the fun of it. He loves the way Frankie hasn't moved off his body, instead still laying down on top of him, both turning him on at the sexiness of the scene and making his skin hunger very happy.

Gerard's body is confused. The sounds and the writhing on top of Brock make it appear that Frank is loving it. The hard hits and the deepening red of his ass scream abuse. _There is no way that Frank likes this._

Frank presses his face into Brock's chest as he moans and pants. His hips buck at each slap. One hand clutching the sheets below Brock and the other holds onto his back, digging his fingernails into the skin. He can feel the tension across his low belly building faster. He raises his mouth and moans out, "I need it! Please don't stop! Spank me like a bad little slut!"

 _You are going to hurt him!_ Is all that Gerard's brain screams as he watches Frank's ass turns a darker red. He struggles with the arousal and the anger. The look of pure bliss on Brock's face every time he strikes Frank turns his stomach. Every whine and cry from Frank visibly drives Brock wild with lust and he hits him harder. He _was_ right about Brock. He watches Frank grinds and rolls his hips into Brock. He can hear the moans and pants from Frankie that tell him just how close he is to cumming. How, _how_ can he come from this?

"Then come for me pain slut," Brock moans out.

Frank lets out a hard cry. The nails digging into his shoulder now drag across Brock's skin, "Oh god, Brock!" His hips jerk and drag his cock against his husband's skin is what he needs to come. He whimpers into Brock's skin before pressing his lips into the same spot. "I love you so much. Thank you baby. I love you." he babbles out.

The moment Frankie spills across their stomachs, Brock's hand stops their movements. Instead of slapping his skin, he turns to gently massaging and caressing his husband. He peppers kisses all over Frankie's face, hugging him close and rubbing him down from head to thigh to soothe the ache. "You are such a good boy. I love you. You did so good, baby. So perfect. So proud of you, my love."

Frank snuggles closer to him. He's practically purring against Brock's skin. His body is covered in goosebumps as the gentle touch of Brock's hands pairs nicely with the burn across his ass. "Are your hands okay?" 

"Just a little sting. How are you feeling? Physically? Emotionally?" he asks. Checking in was the first and foremost important thing to do during aftercare. He didn't care how awkward it was or weird to ask.

"I'm good. Stings and throbby but I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." Frank replies as he runs his fingers over Brock's skin.

"Emotionally?" Brock asks quietly. "Did I go too far? Not far enough?" 

"I am fine baby. You were perfect!" Frank strokes his cheek, "This was exactly what I needed." 

"Good," he murmurs, lightly kissing Frankie's fingers and whispering more praises in Italian. He's still gently caressing and running his fingers everywhere he can reach. Sighing deeply, he turns to Gerard to check in with their unwitting audience. "How are you feeling? Physically and emotional." 

"I'm fine. Confused." Gerard's voice is harder than he intended. 

"What are you confused about? How can I help?" Brock asks, genuinely concerned about him.

"How is any of that enjoyable? It shouldn't be hot. That's..." Gerard trails off, he's trying to keep his judgment to a minimum. He doesn't want to be _that_ guy but Brock literally beat his friend. "I need time to process..." 

Brock looks at Frankie. As the one who was on the receiving end of the spanking, he should be the one to clarify and explain. Brock enjoys it mostly because Frankie did. Not to mention that Gerard would probably feel better knowing that his friend was in a safe, sane, and consensual relationship. He speaks gently to Frankie, "I think you need to explain this one, love."

"I know that Brock wouldn't hurt me so I need to put that out there first. But I like it because I enjoy _submitting to him."_ Frank speaks confidently, "It is the right amount of pain from the burning skin and pleasure. It's hard to explain. I just like it."

Gerard nods, he doesn't know how he feels about this. "Alright. I'm fine then." 

"Promise that I like it a lot and that Brock doesn't hurt me." Frank nods at him. "He doesn't hurt me more than I ask for. Actually less if I'm honest."

Brock nuzzles Frankie lovingly, feeling pretty damn lazy good considering what just happened is foreplay for him. Sure he's a little hard but it's nothing he cares about at the moment, choosing instead to octopus cuddle his boyfriend. He gives him a lazy kiss before turning to Gerard. "Frank also needs to be in the right headspace, already worked up a little to enjoy the feeling of being spanked. He's not afraid of me and I'm not hitting him with malicious intent. Under any other circumstances, I would never _ever_ raise my hand to him. I never hurt him beyond what he can take and it's consensual. We both find pleasure from it. Does this help?"

"Yeah. It does." Gerard nods. "I brought coffee and muffins… as a thanks for letting me stay. I didn't mean to intrude _again."_

"Thank you, Gee!" Frank grins. 

"Yeah...no problem my dude." He nods. 

"You didn't intrude. I told you to stay. I thought you would enjoy it. Even though you had said it was a hard limit for you, you also didn't bolt or attack me when you came in so I figured you didn't mind too much. I'm sorry," Brock says. He bites his lip a little before continuing. "I don't think I mind as much as I thought I would that you are here and… enjoying yourself. It's Frank's kink. Far more than mine, but... I'm ok with this."

"Oh." Gerard says, raising an eyebrow. _This is an improvement._ He replies with a small smile, "I thought it was a hard limit but… he sold me on it." 

Frank strokes Brock's cheek then kisses him softly. "Thank you for trying it out. I appreciate and adore you." 

"I love you, _vita mio._ I'd do anything for you." Brock hugs him tight. "Now we both need showers, coffee and I want that muffin Gerard was so kind to bring us."

"There's one of each. I didn't know what you'd both want." Gerard shrugs as he rubs his neck, "I told Mike that we call Mom together. I should probably do that."

"Thank you for the coffee." Frank says with a smile at Gerard. He turns to Brock, "We should probably sit up…" 

"Can we though?" he asks, amused. "Or are we now weird conjoined twins?"

"And.. that's my cue to go!" Gerard stands up and stretches as he laughs, "Text me if you need us to peel you apart. If not, I'll see you guys down stairs about one."

"See you later, Gerard," replies Brock with a smile.

Before Gerard leaves, he pauses "Don't have too much fun, pervs." 

"Takes one to know one, Gee!" Frank laughs.


	13. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A living nightmare sparks a confession and a therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The special guest for today is Sam Wilson. And a surprise cameo from two other Avengers. One's pretty obvious and the other not so much.  
> Warning for this chapter: Depressive themes, PTSD, Anxiety, and all of its subsequent elements appear in this chapter and will be over the course of several following chapters. The exact amount is TBD. Heavy themes could possibly be triggering. We don't try to write something explicitly dark or anything and it's not extremely heavy but we still need to give fair warning.  
> Per usual, all mistakes are our own and this is a not-for-profit work of fiction. Screw timelines, we do what we want. Enjoy.

"We're gonna die," Brock says for the tenth or hundredth time in the last hour. His hands dig into the armrests of his too small and too cramped seat next to the aisle. He's thankful he has an aisle seat on this godforsaken plane. Because they're going to die. He's sure of it. Another bit of turbulence shakes the cabin and Brock is certain his stomach dropped like an anvil. He groans low and tries to keep his breathing from escalating.

Frank can hear Brock's panic but refuses to feed his fear. His eyes are closed and he is relaxed. He touches the tightened hand on the armrest. "Hold my hand." he says quietly, "We are fine." 

Brock takes Frank's hand and squeezes it tightly. Logically, he knows they are on a decent plane and the statistics show that they should be fine. But he doesn't trust commercial flights. No plane should ever be this bumpy or this cramped. How many of these people were safe? Every sound that he couldn't see coming makes him jump. This is _exactly_ why he only flew on the family plane.

Frank opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Brock. He takes a steadying breath before speaking with a soothing voice, "You need to breathe. You're making yourself more freaked out."

The overhead speaker announces the plane's arrival at JFK as the plane groans and the mechanical sounds rumble around them.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," Brock exhales shakily. His throat attempts to swallow around his heart. He can feel the sweat on his brow run a drop down his temple. His stomach twists at the sound and his heart rate picks up. A shift in his seat only further makes him feel shoved into a tight space that was only enhancing the rising panic, even with the aisle seat. He never had this problem in the military. 

"Brock," Frank says as he watches him spiral. "We are fine. How are you going to manage a flight to Italy?"

"B, you gotta breathe my dude cause you're turning green." Ray leans over the aisle and says with a wrinkled forehead, "We got this!" 

"The worst of it's over." Gerard says as he sits stiffly beside Frank. He hates flying too. He hates it so much.

"I have a private plane," Brock's voice rises up a few octaves. He knows he should be focusing on his breathing but he can't seem to focus on anything other than groaning and shifting of metal when the turbulence hits. 

"Hey. Tell me about the plan for the week?" Frank asks, trying to distract him. 

He heaves a few breaths and swallows hard before he's able to respond. He can't look at Frankie yet; every time he moves his head, he's certain he's going to vomit with the way his head tilts and spins. "Um. Meet the, uh, the parents. And…." He can't remember. How much longer was this flight? He can't last much longer.

"Aren't you having dinner with Jack? And gym dates with Steve?" Frank offers as he strokes the top of Brock's hand with his thumb.

Brock nods and immediately regrets it as another wave of turbulence rocks the plane more. Instinctively, he falls forward into his seat, hands covering the top of his head to protect himself from falling debris. The sky outside was no longer bright and blue but dark with thick smoke from the fires that burned beneath them. The pilot was shouting orders and coordinates at them but Brock could barely hear him, even with the headphones on. Another rumble shook the quinjet and Brock is sure this time the mortar will hit them. At least he'll die with his brother and one of his best agents next to him. Metal creaks beneath their feet and somehow Agent Williams still seems more alive after being shot at and nearly blown up twice in the last twenty hours. Across the seats on the quinjet, his third in command, Agent Benoit was curled up in the fetal position. Brock didn't blame him in the slightest. Another whistle that eerily sounded like a train screamed through the sky before striking the plane on its tail. Jack! Someone grabs him, shaking him. More hands hold him, pin him down. No! He fights them. He's screaming for Jack. He can't find his brother. Jack! The world is spinning and they are falling. He has to save his brother!

It happens quickly, the heave and groan of the plane makes Frank's stomach clench. He turns to say something to Brock but he's gone. The cabin soon erupts in a canned hell he's never imagined being in. He's on his knees beside Brock as he screams out for his brother. The Air Marshall and another flight attendant try to keep him restrained while Frank is shouting at them to stop touching Brock, that they are making it worse. 

No one is listening. He's been told how to handle this by Jack but it's different now. His mind is blank. He can hear himself babbling over and over again that Brock won't hurt anyone. He can feel the entire plane's focus on them. He needs space. He needs to be as close to Brock as he can be. The air cop says something about putting restraints on him makes something snap inside Frank's head.

"Stop fucking touching him now." He growls at the female flight attendant. His attention turns to the Air Marshall, "Stop touching my husband now!" He doesn't give either of them a chance to respond, "Stop fucking touching him! He's got PTSD from his military service. This is just a flashback. Back the fuck off and let me handle it." He snaps his fingers at the and points away from him at them both.

As soon as they give him space, Frank carefully touches his forearm to test the water, "Brock. We're ok." When he gets no response, he decides his next actions. Putting a hand on Brock's chest and using a soft voice he scoots closer, "Baby, you are safe. Come back to me please, you're not _there_ anymore." He's thankful the plane cop got his husband out of the tiny ass seat onto the floor and against the half-wall that separates the body of the plane from the galley where the crew greeted them when they boarded, it gives him room to move. He straddles a tensed thigh and touches Brock's shoulders, "Jack is safe and at home. We're headed home now. You gotta hear me, _polpetto_." He waits for a response, even a small one. 

Brock stares at nothing, eyes not really seeing the still intact cabin or the people that were there. His brain shut down, unable to process the flashback and reality at the same time. The words of softness did not match the image of carnage and sounds of screaming metal in his head. There's a solid feeling behind him and he presses up against it, the solidity helping the flight response. The realities blur in his head again and he curls up to minimize injury for the impending crash at the same time his arm wraps around a familiar body for security. Instincts tell him that if he just holds on, he'll be ok.

"It's okay, Brock." Frank says quietly as he adjusts his body in the new position that Brock had pulled him in, "It's not real. You're not there anymore. You're with me." He uses his hand and carefully pushes Brock's leg down and in so it allows him to sit on his lap. He carefully touches his neck then shoulders before wrapping around his middle. He rests his head on Brock's shoulder and kisses him carefully on the neck before reassuring him that he's safe. 

"Bud, the plane is going to land. He might hurt you, you should get back in your seat." The plane cop says to Frank with a trace of compassion in his voice. 

"I'm not going to do that, sir." Frank's voice is harder than his words. Even if he does hurt Frank, he'd deal with it. He has to take care of him. It's his responsibility as his husband to protect Brock even if it's from himself. He turns his attention to Brock. Before he can speak to warn him, the wheels touch down and jolt the plane hard. "We're fine Brock. It's just the plane landing. You're safe. I got you, baby." Frank says gently but raises the volume of his a little. 

"We're going down! Strap up and hold on!" Brock shouts, his entire body tensing and hanging on tight. 

Frank groans at the increased pressure. If he's not careful Brock might actually break him. "Hey, it's okay. We aren't crashing. You're okay." Frank pushes out. He strokes the back of Brock's head trying to think about anything other than the fingers that might be crushing his kidney. The plane lurches forward then comes to a stop. He's never been more thankful in his entire life to be back on the ground. "My love, baby. We're on the ground. We're safe. You can come back to earth." 

Ray looks to Gerard and nods. He wants them to stay. Just in case Frankie needs them. "Frankie. We're sticking around until he's at least _present._ We can help you if you need."

"Thanks guys." Frank says using his regular voice. He kisses Brock's cheek again while stroking his head. "We're safe, Brock." 

"Mike can you and Bob play human shield so passengers don't gawk and stare. He's a person not a sideshow attraction," Ray asks. Mike nods and takes a spot blocking Brock in with Bob beside him. 

"Has this happened before?" Gerard asks Frank with a shaky voice. 

"Only twice and not this bad." 

"You're doing a great job, Frankie." Ray reassures him with a tender voice.

"Yeah. You're bringing him down kid," The Marshall says as he waves people past.

A soft breeze of a touch caresses his cheek and Brock frowns, confused at the feeling that should not be there. It feels good though and he turns his head towards it, seeking more. The world has stopped shifting; did they crash? Is he dead? Where is… "Jack?" 

"Jack's at home, _polpetto_." Frank says softly. He has chosen to rest his head on Brock's shoulder, his fingers stroking the back of his husband's neck.

" _Polpetto_?" he asks, soft and confused. His soldiers never called him that. Jack wouldn't call him that. He frowns, trying to figure out where the word came from. Another brush of something soft at his neck has him relaxing. It's comforting somehow. 

"Yes, _polpetto_ is right _._ " Frank says as his head slowly raises. There's a flicker of hope. "Yes you're my _meatball_. Remember, baby." 

"Not fat," Brock mumbles under his breath rather petulantly. He's exhausted. Sighing he hugs Frankie close, because who else would possibly call him meatball and be this soft?

"Hi baby." Frank says with a smile, his chest relaxes and he can finally breathe. "Can we get a water, please?" 

"Don't feel good." Brock's stomach twists in knots.

"You need to breathe, baby." Frank says calmly. 

Nausea waves over him and again his stomach lurches. He swallows, trying to keep his stomach from upending. He gently shoves Frankie away needing him off his lap just in case. He doesn't remember him getting into his lap in the first place. Or him leaving his seat…. Another wave of nausea hits. He's going to lose the fight soon.

"Why don't you… can you get up?" Frank tries to be as tender as he can. He looks to Ray and then Mike, "Maybe someone get a bag for him please?" Before he can turn around three puke bags are in his face, he sighs as he takes one. _Wimps, afraid of a little puke._ He hands it to Brock.

The moment Brock takes the bag, it's like a signal to his stomach that it's _ok_ _to let go_. He has just enough time to bring it to his mouth before he's losing everything he ate for breakfast.

"There it is. Just like Jack said." Frank whispers, "Take it easy, love." He strokes his leg and sits patiently for him to finish. The flight attendant hands over two cups of water; he knows Brock will take both. He's expecting a million questions from Brock any time after his stomach settles.

"Oh god," Gerard says quietly sitting back in his seat. He can't handle his own vomit, let alone another person's.

Spitting into the bag a few times, Brock really regrets getting onto this plane. Actually, he's regretting all of his life choices at the moment. Including his underwear that seems to be riding up his butt. When did he get on the floor? He swallows and makes a face, regretting that too. He's not sure what to do with...the ick. He needs water. And a toothbrush.

The Air Marshall offers him a garbage bag to drop his used barf bag. "I'm gonna have to get some information when you two are ready. No rush." 

"Drink." Frank puts the water in the now empty hand, "I have gum in my bag."

The flight attendant looks mildly irritated at Frank as she takes the trash bag and disappears again.

"We are gonna wait for you guys in the terminal." Ray says with his usual chipper voice. He nods to the three other men and motions for the door. 

"Thanks for watching over us." Frank replies without peeling his eyes from Brock.

Glancing up at the others, Brock gives them _I'm sorry_ eyes as shame fills him. He ruined the flight. Scared people. He doesn't remember any of it but he just _knows_ he did. He sips the water and prays he didn't hurt anyone. This time. "Thank you," he whispers.

"I got your back, love." Frank says, still keeping contact with him but shifting to sit cross-legged. "One to ten with ten the worst, how do you feel?" 

"Somewhere about a four. Drained. Tired. But okay," replies Brock as he sips on some more water. The disgusting taste in his mouth is finally dissipating. They should move. He's probably holding up the plane. Making people late for their flight. His stomach has seemed to have settled so he drinks more of the water before capping it.

"A four is good. Do you think you can get up?" 

Nodding, he shifts and stands. Every fiber of his being feels depleted. Sweat has soaked through his shirt at the underarms, his back, and neck. He wants nothing more to lay down and see his brother. Not together, preferably. Actually he wouldn't mind that if he were being truly honest with himself. But that's a bad, dangerous thought and one that he adamantly shoves down. "We're good. I'm good." 

Frank pulls his phone out of his bag then his pack of gum. He hands it to Brock, "Take a piece." He sends a message to Jack asking if he was busy. 

"Yes sir," Brock says quietly. He takes the gum and slips it into his mouth, the cool mint bursting with freshness.

_Jack: What's wrong?_

He laughs out loud before replying. 

_Frank: We had a small situation at the airport. We don't have a ride that I want to make him endure… wanna take a drive to JFK? You know that I am going to casually text you. Just to talk to you in a non-Brock conversation._

_Jack: When pigs fly, little brother. LOL. I'll be there ASAP. Just the two of you? Or did you bring more luggage from the bus?_

_Frank: I appreciate you, Jack! it's just us and two duffle bags. Brock hasn't had the chance to shop yet. Maybe after the holidays, you'll need a U-Haul to get us home._

_Jack: WILCO. See you in a bit._

Brock looks over Frankie's shoulder curiously, still sipping the water. One hand rests on the low of his back, under the shirt. Jack's coming. Something in his chest releases that he didn't realize was there. He gets to go home and see his brother. Sighing, he rests his head on Frank's shoulder for a moment.

"Jack's giving us a ride home." Frank pushes his shoulders into Brock's chest. "What the hell is WILCO?" 

"Words will and comply shoved together. It's a confirmation thing."

"I had to fall in love with a military man. All that lingo." Frank teases with a smile, "But we, well you have to sign a waiver saying you don't need medical treatment and then we can go home once Jack gets here. Is that okay?" 

"Yeah, ok." Brock turns to the Air Marshall and gives him an apologetic smile. "Sorry." 

"No need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong." The Marshall nods and gives him a knowing look.

As they walk through the terminal to enter the airport waiting area, Frank is overcome with noise. He glances up to see a TSA agent has the band pushed back with arms wide, allowing for a wheelchair to be pushed past them. Frank can hear Ray arguing that they need to go with them because they are all family. 

"Aw look babe, they even brought you a wheelchair." Frank turns his head and gives him a small smile. "We're absolutely not going to need this. He is fine and rather stubborn."

"We are all adopted! Let me go!" Ray snaps, "Let me see my brothers!" 

His heart aches and Brock detours straight for them. He'll do the wheelchair if it will let them come with him. They're his team. His boys. The fact that they even brought him a wheelchair is stupid and embarrassing and only adds into the guilt but it's worth it to be able to have the others with him. He ignores the lady with the chair and goes up to the TSA agent keeping his Sunshine away. Without a word, he ducks under the man's outstretched arm and pulls Sunshine into a tight hug. They're his family too.

"We were worried, B!" Ray squeezes him back. He gives the TSA agent a glare. "You good, _brother_?" 

"We don't need this. He can walk. He's ok." Frank quietly says to the airport employee who looks a little petrified. He turns to Brock who is squeezing Ray, "Where's your passport, babe? So I can give it to him for your information." 

Releasing Ray, Brock turns and grabs his wallet out of his pocket, taking out his state driver's license and passport card, handing them over to Frankie. As an afterthought, he also provides his concealed carry permit and his retired military information.

"Carry on with the hugs. I got this." Frank takes the cards and nods. _This is our first police report together as a couple. Aw milestones!_ He passes them to the Marshall. He watches the man jot down the information. 

Keeping an eye on the Marshall, Brock hugs the rest of his boys one by one before going back to Frankie. He aches with fatigue on so many levels. "Are we good?" 

"Just about." The Marshall nods at Brock. He passes a piece of paper for both of them to sign, "The VA has some great resources for you and your husband available. I can get you information for you if you'd like." He looks directly at Frank then looks at Brock. He's trying to convey sympathy without seeming condescending.

The corners of Brock's mouth raise slightly at the Marshall's attempt to help. He's appreciative. With a nod, he signs the paper and passes it back to him, "Thank you. I appreciate that. I do have a counselor that I see on a regular basis. This was my first time on a plane and I didn't expect this to happen. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry or embarrassed. You can't control it. It will creep up on you. Your husband seemed to know what to do." The Air Marshall smiles and takes the paperback, "It's always scary when it happens."

"Yeah, he's the best," Brock beams at Frankie. He's not going to bother to correct him that they weren't married yet. It was close enough. And as much as he was ready to leave, there was still one thing that bothered him. He turns back to the Marshall. "Did I hurt anyone?" 

"No. You didn't. We got you on the floor and he pretty rudely took over from there." The Marshall spares the details and nods at Frank.

"You held on to me and I'm fine." Frank confirms with a smile. 

"Okay. Good. May we go home now?" Hopefully, there wasn't any more paperwork or things to finish before leaving. He's so done.

"You two are free to go. Sorry this happened to you." Nodding at Brock the Marshall hands Frank his ID, "Make sure he eats something." 

"I don't have to worry about that." Frank smiles and wraps his arm around Brock. He looks up and smiles, "Lets go home, baby." 

The band waits eagerly for them to return. They want to claim their luggage and make sure that Brock is ok. As they walk through the airport and to the baggage claim, Frank breaks the news they aren't riding with them back to the city. Before parting ways with each other, each boy hugs Brock hard. 

Ray crosses the street towards the van but stops then comes back towards Brock, "Question." 

"Sure," he says, with a head tilt. "What's up, Sunshine?"

"Why does he call you meatball?"

Flushing hard and a bright red, Brock has to take a moment to compose himself before he can answer. "It's… _polpetto_ … It's a term of endearment for husbands in my country." 

"Oh okay! That's kinda _cute_!" Ray grins wide as he replies. 

"Yeah, he is my big meatball." Frank beams up at Brock and hugs him.

He swears his blush just turned redder but he hugs Ray again, tight. He may have lingered into the hug more than acceptable, but Sunshine gave really satisfying hugs and smelled nice. Or maybe he's just feeling low and in need of cuddles. Probably. He pulls back and goes to sit on a bench and waits for Jack. He's tired.

"If...you are okay with it, B. Maybe the guys could come over?" Frank asks. 

Without hesitation, Brock nods. Having his people close sounds perfect, so long as they don't mind him possibly passing out at some point. And cuddles. He wants cuddles. "Yes please." 

"I can text you the address?" Frank smiles and pulls his phone out. 

"Finally we get to see Wayne Manor." Ray gives a sly smile with a chuckle behind his words.

"Jack should be here soon. You can wait in the lobby for us if you beat us there." Frank hugs him with a chipper tone to his voice. Ray nods and gives Brock a smile before returning to the van. 

Frank sits beside Brock as close as he can without crawling into his lap. "I love you babe." 

Leaning over and resting his head on Frank's shoulder, he whispers, "I love you, too." 

~~

"So we are going to their house?" Gerard asks. 

"Yeah. Frank had a look on his face like he needs us," Ray says as he plugs in the address to the GPS.

"I bet he's got a fetish room." Mike jokes as he elbows Bob. 

"No, he's got like a weapon closet at least." Gerard laughs.

"I hope he has an amazing kitchen." Ray relaxes in the seat. He watches the road as they enter the city. It's a quick trip and soon enough they are outside of his building. 

~~

Not too long after the band left, a shiny black Lamborghini shows up in front of them with the top down. Windblown curly mass of hair turns to them, a hand coming up to swipe it away to reveal Jack's face. He grins, "Need a ride?" 

"Hey handsome!" Frank beams at him with a huge smile. He didn't realize he missed Jack.

"Hey yourself. How's it going? Hop in," Jack grins. 

Standing, Brock feels his heart rate increase at the sight of his brother. Instead of getting into the car, he walks around and goes to the driver's side, opens the door, and urges Jack out. "Out. Please. Out." 

Jack gets out, laughing at first because he thinks that Brock just wants to drive. He didn't expect the hulk of his brother to pull him into the biggest bear hug he has ever felt. He's shocked at first but then his hands feel the slight tremble in Brock's body and he hugs him back just as hard. Brock gives a choked off noise in his shoulder before he realizes that his older brother is crying.

"Brock? Hey, it's okay," Jack's voice is soft and gentle. He rubs circles in his back. He looks around for Frank. "What happened?" 

"We had pretty bad turbulence and it triggered something. I felt awful cause I couldn't help...more." He trails off, he can feel his heart break over the sound of Brock crying. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. Ain't nobody's fault. But unfortunately, we can't stand here in the pick up zone, big brother. Let's get you home and we can deal okay?" Jack's arms tighten around Brock before pulling away. "Get into the backseat. I'll drive us home. Cuddle your Frank."

Nodding, Brock steps away and wipes his eyes. Seeing Jack had brought back the fear and memory of him dying mixed with relief that he was okay. He gets into the backseat and waits for Frank.

Frank hands him a bag. He feels awful all over again. He glances at Brock and puts on a happy face. Frank says with a trace of relief in his voice, "Thank you, Jack." He helps him load the bags before climbing into the backseat. He touches the side of Brock's face, " _Polpetto..."_

Jack gets back into the car and drives them home while Brock curls up with Frank in the back seat. After a moment, he raises the top so he could see properly and so Brock didn't have to feel like he was stuck in a vacuum. He wants to ask what happened, outside of it being a trigger day, to make Brock look like he'd seen a ghost. Instead, he puts on his brother's CD though as low as he can. He may or may not have been speeding to them back home but he really didn't care. Soon enough though, their building comes into view and Jack sighs in relief. He really didn't like opera.

Frank runs his fingers through Brock's hair. "We're home baby," he whispers in Brock's ear. He kisses his cheek, "You ready to go in?" 

"Yeah," Brock nods. He sits up from where he had his head in Frankie's lap. "Where's the others?" 

"Probably in the lobby, my love. You and Jack can go up and I'll go get them, if you want?" Frank says softly as he strokes his arm.

Jack gets out and pops open the trunk, grabbing both duffle bags and blowing his mop of hair out of his face. Stepping around to their door, he grins as Frank and Brock exit. "So I finally get to see the merry band of misfits again."

"Yeah! You absolutely do!"

Giving a happy but still tired smile, Brock nods at Jack while taking Frank's hand as they head inside. He's feeling much better after resting in the car with Frank and knowing his little brother was safe. "It'll be great having them here. Weird having a full house though."

"They love Jack!" Frank nods as he opens the door for Jack. "Did you want me to go get the boys?"

"Thanks," he replies, as he steps inside, with a grin. "We can all go up together. I promise I won't toss them out a widow or anything. Yet. Unless they pee on the carpet."

"Maybe… just don't throw my friends out the window." Frank laughs as he lets his hand soften in Brock's hand preparing to let go of him.

"Yet. I said yet!" Jack cracks up with laughter. "I make no major promises, bärchen."

Brock laughs softly at his two favorite men in the whole world being goofballs. He wishes it could be like this every day. His family, safe and sound, and right where he can keep an eye on them at all times. And no public planes.

"Bless you." Frank replies to Jack with a straight face. 

"No, it's not," Jack says in between laughter. "I didn't sneeze you doof. Go get the guys and I'll explain later. These bags are getting heavier by the second and I'm sure your friends are bored and tired of waiting."

Frank winks at Jack then hurries to get the boys. He can hear them chatting loudly in the lobby. The laugh of Gerard echoing off the marble floors. "Excuse me, who let the riff raff in?" Frank asks as he approaches the group. They quickly hug him and check-in that Brock's ok. Frank reassures them that he's fine and slowly leads them to the elevator bay where Jack is with Brock. 

"Hey, old guy, the least you can do is call the elevator. Geeze. Here I am holding the luggage. Doing all the hard work. As usual," Jack teases Brock. His back is turned to the group as he nudges Brock to engage with him. "This is why Frank loves me more, lazy butt."

"Lazy butt? Is that the best you've got? I mean, what are you, a teenage girl? Especially with your new-whatever you call that-hairstyle. I already pushed the button, Jack-ass," Brock grins and nudges Jack back with his foot. He may be physically drained but he can still play with some banter. It's familiar and _home_.

"Gang's all here." Glancing between Brock and Jack, Frank squints as he asks a purposely vague question, "Are you picking on your brother?" 

"Yes," replies both Jack and Brock at the same time. Brock grins at Frankie while Jack turns to meet the band, setting down one of the duffles.

Ray steps up and offers his hand, "Hey Jack! Nice to see you again!" After shaking Jack's hand. He looks to Brock and hugs him, "You okay, B?" 

He's not sure when he turned into that funny snowman from the Disney movie but the phrase _I love warm hugs_ enters his mind when Ray hugs him tight and he agrees. Sunshine was warmth and joy personified and he gave pretty damn good hugs. Of course, it also helped that he was the same height as Jack. And had curls like Jack. And whatever cologne or shampoo Sunshine used, smells good. Sunshine reminded him of Jack in all the ways that counted. He melts into the hug a little. It feels good to not be the biggest guy in the room. He slowly pulls back and gives a smile to hide the fact that he really didn't want to break the contact. "I'll be okay Sunshine. Just give me a few hours and l'll be alright."

"Alright. We worry." Ray rubs his arms before backing off at the sound of the elevator arriving. During their exchange, the band had greeted Jack and were waiting for them in the elevator car. 

Frank takes Brock's hand and looks up at him with a smile, "I missed our house." 

"Me too," he says as they enter the elevator and head up. He's starting to get a headache, and he rubs his temple. Thankfully the ride is quick because just as he is wondering if his house is ever going to come quick enough, the doors are opening and they are all milling out to his door. Since Jack has their bags, he reaches over and places his hand on the biometric lock to let them inside. Finally, he's home.

"You need to get some food in you and Tylenol." Frank reminds his husband before turning to his friends and smiling wide, "Guys, this is our home." 

The band steps in quietly behind them. 

"This is a gorgeous apartment, Brock." Mike says as he spins looking around.

"It really is, dude." Gerard says with a smile.

Ray grins, "Where's your sex dungeon?" 

Without thinking, because he's tired, Brock says as he heads to the refrigerator, "In the guest bedroom. But it's a box because I don't have space." 

Frank's jaw opens wide. He's speechless. He can feel his face turning bright red. He's got a **box**?! He's got a **box** because he doesn't have space?! His friends now know. His brother knows. Oh my god! His face burns hotter. _Who_ was he using it with?!

The band laughs as they awkwardly stand in the entryway. Frank's cherry-red face is highlighted by the invitation as he leads them to the living room. "Please sit. Get comfortable!" Frank says with a nervous smile. He follows his friends and sits on the couch. 

"Yeah guys, get as comfortable as you'd like," Jack says after dropping the duffles into Brock's bedroom. "I'll cook something for you guys. Any requests?" 

Brock takes a bottle of water and downs it with some Tylenol before disappearing into the bedroom for a moment. He strips down from his sweaty clothing and takes a quick shower.

"I can order us food, Jack. As a thank you." Frank doesn't offer, he's adamant. Jack has gone out of his way for them. "Kick back. Relax." 

"I don't mind cooking. Besides, I'm sure you guys are already done with take out, right? Or is my brother dragging you boys to restaurants?" 

"Surprisingly, it's been more take-out." Ray says chuckling, "The last restaurant we tried was eventful. And the time before that Frankie got punched in the face." 

"Punched?!" Jack says, shocked. "And Brock isn't in jail? I'm impressed." 

"I got jumped by a fan's boyfriend. Brock and Ray _and_ Bob came to my rescue." Frank laughs.

Shutting the shower off, Brock dries with a fluffy towel and slips on his boxer shorts. He rubs his face and pads out into the living room. He's cold. He doesn't feel well.

Frank looks up and smiles, "Hi." He realizes that Brock is over half-naked but he doesn't care. He's still just as twitterpated as he was the first day he met him, "Sit?"

Ray pats the seat between him and Frank, "Yes, come sit!" 

Gerard squirms in his seat. The lack of clothing and the presence of the other band members makes his body feel the need to move. His brain floods with each time he's been in the room with them. Each time he's fantasized about being in bed with them. His neck gets hot as the room gets quiet. All he can think about is stripping Brock down and giving everyone a show.

Brock sits down between the two of them. After a moment of hesitation, he turns his body slightly and lays his head down in Frankie's lap. He shivers a little and tucks himself in tight.

Frank runs his fingers into Brock's hair. "Do you feel a little better?" 

"A little," Brock whispers.

"How can I help you feel better?" He speaks softly to Brock as Frank traces his hairline behind his ear.

Ray leans back on the couch and rests an arm on Brock as he asks him, "Jack mentioned food. What sounds good to you?"

Mike and Bob are chatting quietly about an online video game. Unaware of Brock's semi-nudity. Truly uncaring. They would see it eventually sharing a bus together. They'd been exposed to Frank's naked little ass before. At least Brock wasn't so blindingly pale.

Jack comes around the couch and faces them, concerned about Brock and his quiet melancholy. He kneels in front of them and places a hand on Brock's arm, rubbing the chilled flesh. He speaks softly to him in German, " _Do you need me to call Mom and make you soup? Bring you blankets?_ "

With a small shake of his head, Brock mumbles back in German, " _Nein_." Not yet anyway. And he doesn't like soup, generally speaking. Though, Jack's soup was very good. He's not sure what he wants. He just knows that he's very tired and cold. Achy. Drained. He tries to press closer to Frankie

"I'm calling bullshit on you," Jack says with a little smile. He stands and meets eyes with Frank, worry evident in them before turning back to Brock. "You are calling Mom tonight. Or I will. You need to eat. I suggest something warm and comforting. I don't have meatballs. I'm sorry."

"You need to eat, I'm not saying it again." Frank tries to sound firm but it quickly disappears, "You should at least have a blanket over you cause I know clothes are a no go, love." 

Jack turns to the others, "Did you guys have something planned to eat? Or wanted to order?"

"We rarely plan anything. It's a wonder how we made an album." Gerard jokes. 

"How are you alive? I feel like Brock would have killed you for the disorganization," Jack laughs, moving back to the kitchen to find _something_ to feed these people.

"He thinks he is sneaky but he is trying to get us on a schedule." Frank says to Jack before leaning down to speak into Brock's ear, "I'm getting you a blanket." 

"You should have seen him the first night he was in charge of us, I think his soul left his body at how disorganized we are." Ray says as he casually strokes Brock's skin.

A noise escapes Brock in protest. He doesn't want a blanket. A shiver rumbles through him at both the gentle touch from Sunshine and his coldness. He sits up, pulling Frankie into his arms like a teddy bear, burying his face in his neck. He's still not comfortable. Still cold on the inside.

"Gerard, can you go into the closet by the front door, there's a navy blue throw on the shelf and bring it back?" Frank asks, defiant of Brock's disinterest in the blanket.

"Yeah of course, Frankie." Gerard replies as he stands quickly. He moves quickly to the closet and pulls the soft blanket out then returns. He hands the blanket to Frankie. 

"I've been buying little things to add to his… our apartment to make it feel a little more like a home since Brock had been working so much that it wasn't worth cozying up. So, I bought these before we went on the road." Frank says as Gee unfolds the thin soft blanket and drapes it over them, "Thanks dude!" 

Brock knows what he wants but he's afraid. Afraid of so many things. What if they laugh at him? Or tell him no. What if they call him– he can't even _think_ of the word without his face burning. What if they hate him? What if they shun him? Refuse to be in the same room. Mock him. What if they don't want to be his friend anymore? He glances at Ray. He likes Ray. He's his Sunshine. Reminds him of Jack. He gives really good hugs. But they are both grown men and not children. He needed to forget about this. Shove it down far enough and it will go away. Build the walls, if needed. He can't let them know. He can't take the risk. It's not normal. _Freak_ screams loud in his head anyway.

Men who were not in a relationship with each other did not, under no circumstances, _cuddle._

Ray extends his arm over the back of the couch. He makes eye contact with Frank who gives him a small nod. He rests his arm on top of Brock's shoulders and lets his fingers relax against his skin. Gerard takes Frank's former seat and moves closer to Brock.

A wave of tremors ran through him at the moment Sunshine's arm went around him. He could feel the other man's body heat radiating into his own and the relief is palpable. His arms tighten around Frankie, fighting to react from the skin contact he's been craving more than normal. A soft whimper escapes, hot tears spilling onto the back of Frankie's neck and he moves so nobody can see him cry.

Ever since Frankie entered his life, things that normally were kept up under lock and key were slowly falling apart and unraveling. It was both a healing experience and a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He hated it. Hated the feeling of losing control. Hated that he was a freak and stupid for needing hugs like some child with a boo-boo. Hated that his skin would crawl and ache at the barest of touches when he was out in public. The holding of a door and the brush of fingers, or a firm handshake when meeting someone new had become his only source of contact for several years. He thought it would be forever. Now, he's afraid of letting it go.

"I love you so very much, _polpetto."_ Frank whispers into his ear, "They love you too." The hand closest to Gee grabs his shirt and pulls it closer to Brock. He feels the body complying with his request. He's kind of orchestrated this but Ray was a welcomed surprise. "You don't have to be afraid to ask for what you need. They love you. No one will mock you or hate you. You are the strongest man I have ever met." 

He clings to Frank, even more, to stave off the impending dam of emotional turmoil. The words were something he'd always wanted to hear; to believe. But fear gripped his heart and kept him from saying something. He's afraid if he does, the words will never stop. The tears will never stop. 

"Brock, you are safe with all of us. No one will judge you. Please tell me. Tell us what you need. We want to help you. We all love you." Frank speaks louder. 

"I wouldn't judge you, Brock." Gerard says as he shifts his weight on his hip closest to Brock. _Well, now that I'm sober._

"What would we judge him for? We love you, Brock. What's going on B?" Ray says with a wrinkled forehead and a worried tone to his voice.

"See. I'm sure Tweedledee and Tweedledum would agree." Frank jokes as he strokes Brock's skin. "Please?" 

The words are there on the tip of his tongue but he just can't. He'd rather fight a hundred men than say the words. His chest and stomach are in knots. He bites his tongue, the pain giving some clarity through the overwhelming emotions. His eyes can't seem to stop leaking hot water. He shakes his head. He can't do it. The fear is too strong. People always said one thing until they knew the truth and then their hearts changed. It happened to him every time.

"Yes. What's going on? We can't help if we don't know," Gerard says.

"Please don't shut me out, baby?" Frank says softly before running fingers in his hair, "For better or worse." 

Ray leans in as close as he feels he can and speaks soft enough for Frank and Brock to hear, "I _know_ what you need and I'm here for you anytime, no matter what. It's okay, I promise. No judgement. Just ask and I'm there."

Stomach dropping and feeling himself go pale, Brock feels his body freeze with fear from the knowledge that Ray _knew._ Before his brain even has time to catastrophize, the rest of the words sink in. Not only did Sunshine _know_ but was telling him it was okay, that he was prepared to give him what he needed so long as he asked. Relief washed over him. Like a balm, it soothed heated flesh at the same time the dam broke. With a broken, wet, and utterly miserable sob, he turns to Ray, his Sunshine, and finally let's go with the first thing he can think of, "Touch me. _Please_." 

Frank stays put while Ray silently snakes his arm behind Brock's back and turns to face him curling his fingers into his skin. Gerard copies the motion without thinking. Each man scooting as close as they physically as they can to Brock. 

"I am so proud of you, Brock." Frank whispers in his ear before kissing him. 

A hand comes up from Frankie to cover his mouth from the now uncontrollable sobs that wrecked his body. Nobody screamed at him. Nobody called him _disgusting_ or _freak_. Nobody left him. Nobody hated him? 

"It's okay. Let it out, love." Frank says softly, "You are so brave, and wonderful and amazing." 

"Mike. Come here. Sit." Gerard uses his big brother's voice to get Mike's attention, pointing to Brock's legs. Mike nods and scoots to sit between Brock's knees. Just happy to help.

~~

Jack decided to make hot paninis with a variety of toppings and was pressing the bread together when he heard the first sound of his brother crying. He waits a moment before deciding to do something rash. When silence ensues, he returns to making more paninis of random flavor combinations. Then does a few grilled cheese sandwiches just because. When the sounds of continuous sobbing echo through the apartment, Jack has to step away from the silverware. He exits the kitchen to investigate the reason why his brother was crying and to figure out whose bones were getting crunched tonight. He goes to the couch and sees the pile of boys, his brother at the center of it all. A coldness begins to seep into him.

"What happened?" Jack asks.

"Your brother is starving to be touched. He's too scared to ask for it. He's afraid we'll reject him. Including you. And once he confessed; here we are." Frank wipes a few stray tears, seeing Brock cry triggered it in him.

"Touch… starved?" Jack asks, in shock. He can't believe it. How did Brock not say anything? Why didn't he come to him if he was feeling this lonely? He was his _brother_. Best friend. Second in command. He was supposed to be the most trusted out of everyone and yet here he was, the last to know.

"Sorry babe, but this has been going on for years," Frank adds.

Brock can only nod in agreement. He's still crying though it's beginning to slow as his face becomes more and more swollen from within. He didn't mean to lie. He just didn't think it was a major issue.

"You never have to feel that way, B. We are willing to help. You just gotta say something." Ray says with a tenderness he hadn't expected to come from his own mouth.

Kneeling next to Mike, Jack reaches up and places a hand on Brock's cheek. He's angry, but it's not something that needs to be dealt with at the moment. He needs to be there for his brother when he wasn't before. He whispers softly to Brock, "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything? After all we've been through. After all we've seen. All you had to do was say something. I would have cuddled with you every night for however long you needed me to. I would have shared the bed. God knows we've been through worse. Done worse. All you had to do was _say something_." 

Frank sighs as he cups Brock's cheek, "Someone at some point poisoned the well and made him feel bad for it. Then he was isolated. And it got worse and worse." Frank says trailing off. He places small kisses on Brock's cheeks and lips, "But we made a promise to get better and keep each other honest, and that is what's happening." 

Nodding, Jack leans forward and places a soft kiss on Brock's temple before stepping away. "Thank you, bärchen. For looking after him when I so clearly haven't. I have, however, made paninis and grilled cheese sandwiches. Tomato soup is available to be heated if someone wants some. Will you guys be staying the night?" 

"Not tonight, right?" Frank asks the group who nod and murmur their agreements. "They have wives and girlfriends to attend to. They don't get the luxury of sleeping with the boss." 

"But they are more than willing to come back during the break and hangout, right?!" Frank adds. He is going to have to have a serious conversation with Jack about all of this. In private.

"Hell yeah! We are like bad pennies and you just brought home four more, Brock." Ray says with that familiar happiness to his tone.

"You know Linds will bully me to bring her over. She adores you." Gerard says warmly.

"See. You aren't going to be lonely again, Brock. Never again." Frank whispers in his ear. 

Crying harder, Brock nods. His tears are slowly turning from fear and shame to relief and joy. He didn't think this would ever be possible. He didn't have to hide anymore. They still wanted him. They didn't hate him. Eventually, his ugly crying begins to slow down. He takes several deep breaths. The outburst of emotion made him feel better on the inside but only added to his drained state. He wants to cuddle, eat, and then nap. He needs a towel for his face and Frankie. He looks at his husband's shirt and grimaces at the residue. Oh, that's gross.

Jack gives him a sad smile before getting him a box of tissues and some water with even more Tylenol. "Here. Frank, you might want to throw your shirt into the laundry. If Brock will let you up."

"Thank you I'm sorry," Brock says wetly. He's a mess both on the inside and out. His body aches. "I'm sorry." 

"Thanks Jack." Frank gives him a smile that he prays comes off as grateful. He turns back to Brock, "He doesn't have to let me go anytime, it's just a little tears. I'll dry. " 

"Yeah it's not just tears, my dude," Jack grimaces. He looks at Gerard, who was closest to the snot streak. "Don't touch that. Fairly certain my brother just let his nose leak all over his boyfriend. Rude."

With a wet huff of a laugh, Brock pulls away just enough to blow his very clogged nose. Jack was right. Poor Frankie's shirt had indeed become a giant tissue during his ugly sob. Crying was both cathartic and disgusting. He's even got wet trails down his own chest. He wipes that up too.

"Will you help me pull my shirt off, love?" Frank asks with a small grin. Remove the shirt, remove the gross factor. Plus it's more skin contact for Brock, which is never a problem for him.

"Give me those snot rags, before you drag Ray and Gerard into your gross," Jack gently teases with an outstretched hand. Brock does so and Jack gives a dramatic grimace and ups the teasing. "Ain't nobody wants that. I'm gonna start calling you snot monster. _Now_ you can strip off Frank's shirt. Which was probably your secret goal this whole time." 

Frank snorts. "Snot monster is pretty cute. You feeling a little better?"

"Yeah." He's tired and the exhaustion is evident in his voice. Everything hurts. The Tylenol didn't seem to be helping. Jack being his goofy self did make him laugh though. He slips his hands under Frankie's shirt and tugs it off of him, handing it to Jack as well. He hugs Frankie closer to his chest without the evil barrier of cotton blend and a little sigh-groan of relief escapes. If he was honest with himself, he wants them all shirtless and wrapped around him. Even though it's not plausible.

"Let's get a sandwich and soup into you and maybe get you in bed? It's been a pretty awful day." Frank nods encouragingly. He wraps his arms around Brock's neck.

"Soup will do you good." Gerard says softly, "My grandma used to make the best wedding soup, I swear it warmed your soul."

"She did make the best food." Frank replies into Brock's skin, "You would have loved her. She liked to feed us boys before we left her house. Like Tupperware filled with good food. She always said I was too skinny."

"My Twinkie," he mutters, putting his head down on Frank's shoulder and holding him tighter. He was the meatball and Frankie was the bean pole. "I like Wedding soup but have to be in the mood for it." 

"I used to be smaller. Like a year ago I weighed 40 pounds less." Frank runs his fingers over Brock's hair. He lets his body soften a little more before quietly whispering in Brock's ear, "Does this mean I can call you my meatball in English?" 

He's hoping his red face from crying will hide his slight flush from Frankie's question and the mental image of his love being smaller. He pushes that away before answering in an equally soft voice though he's not trying to hide his words from the other boys, "It's not the same as _polpetto_ though. But okay."

"I could call you my cupcakes? Or punkin butt…" Frank offers.

"No," Brock drags the syllables out and shakes his head with a little huff of a laugh. One of his hands slowly and hesitantly reaches out and pets Mikey's hair. It had been calling him since he started to calm down. "That's terrible." 

"Guess I'll stick with _polpetto_ then. Maybe punkin butt on special occasions." He winks at Brock. 

"Not a punkin butt," he grumbles.

"I mean you do have a bubble butt… punkin butt is only fitting," Ray teases.

"Better than being called his ding dong, right?" Mike offers with a big grin on his face.

"There is not a way to make any Hostess snack not sound dirty. His ding dong, his big zinger, his tiger tail… it's all middle school dirty," Gerard snickers. 

"I do like his big ding dong." Frank says playfully with a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" Mike snorts. 

"Better than him calling you his favorite snowball…" Bob says having moved closer to the group now sitting beside Mike. 

"Snowballs are kind of like meatballs," Brock offers. If he's going to be named after a food group of snacks, at least maybe he'll get one that's equally round. A little spark of happiness lights up inside when Bob joins them. He's got all of his boys cuddling him. This is probably the happiest he's ever been in his entire life in America, second to meeting Frankie.

Jack returns with two plates full of sandwiches, enough for each of them to eat two apiece, and sets them down on the coffee table in front of the gang. He points out which platter of food was which, "These are straight up grilled cheese. These are pressed paninis with half of them being turkey and swiss. And the other half being chicken and cheddar. Does anyone want tomato soup or toppings?"

"I want soup, please," Brock says quietly.

"Yeah I wasn't asking you. You eat what I tell you to eat."

"What are these toppings that you speak of?" Ray inquires.

"I can find a movie we can watch." Frank offers.

"Sounds perfect, Frank," Jack nods. He turns to Ray, "I've got half a garden in toppings and a variety of sauces and spreads for whatever you want on your sandwiches or in soup."

"What do you wanna watch, babe?" Frank asks the most important person 

"You can watch whatever but nothing that will cause you to feel worse. I suggest something light and nothing you have to think about." Jack goes back into the kitchen and returns with a small bowl filled with tomato soup for Brock.

"Maybe a comedy. Something light hearted?" Frank asks. "I also will have to not be on your lap in order for you to eat your soup." 

"He can sit right next to you and still be touching you." Ray adds trying to help.

Brock looks around and tries to work out how he can still cuddle all of his people at once and eat. If Frankie sat next to him then he'd lose contact with either Sunshine, which is a hard no, or Gerard, whom he's just now starting to bond with. The logistics made his brain hurt. 

"He's not actually going to eat the soup. This weirdo has adopted the American way of dipping the grilled cheese in the soup," Jack says with a little shudder of disgust and sets the bowl down on the table. "Not my thing." 

"It's not weird. You're just European." teasing him Frank gives him a stupid grin.

"You're weird for being American," Jack retorts, wearing an equally stupid grin.

"What if Frank takes my seat. I sit at his feet by your legs and Mike stops hogging the floor?" Gerard offers. 

Brock considers this and nods, feeling a little guilty that his team is doing this for him. He doesn't deserve this. They were far too kind and giving to him. There was no way they actually were comfortable with this. With him. He has to hug Frankie again to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

"You ok?" Frank cups his face before kissing him. His words are hushed. He's worried now.

He waits a long moment. Debating. He wants to cry again. He doesn't know why. Finally, he admits, "No." 

"Hey it's ok that you aren't ok. That's why we are going to have an early night." Frank runs his thumbs over Brock's cheeks, "I need to take care of my big cuddle bear. I'll sit here and keep my legs on you too. Okay, _polpetto?_ "

"It's been a rough couple months. But after the break it will be better and a hell of a lot more fun." Ray says between bites of his sandwich.

"Yeah! South by Southwest is next! That is always fun!" Mike says enthusiastically.

"I bet Jack would have fun… maybe Lauren and he should come along…" Frank smirks. 

"I'm not flying back commercially," Brock says, adamant.

"I was going to make a call or two. See what we can do about that not happening again. Even if we rent a car and drive. I can't let my _husband_ go through that again." Frank's voice is firm. He's been working things out in his head since they got home, "my sweet cinnamon roll doesn't need any more stress."

"I said commercial." Brock looks at Jack.

"I'll call Brooke." Jack nods.

"Okay." Frank shakes his head while the song 'Rich Girl' by Hall and Oates plays in his head. 

"Linds and I talked about driving to Austin. Cute couple's trip is what she called it." Gerard says between bites. He's moved himself to the floor, his side still touching Brock.

"Yeah. My ass is flying down there. Hate road trips." Mike grumbles. 

"As long as we all show up, I don't think it matters." Frank says as he slides off his lap and onto the cushion but keeps his legs draped over Brock's thigh. 

"You guys will like our plane. Nice couches, mini bar, and a bed and shower combo. Perfect for long trips for my brother and his little harem of emos," Jack says good-naturedly, eating a panini. He brushes his hair out of his face. "I should take a picture. You guys are cute. " 

"New band name. Brock and the harem of Emos" Bob snickers.

Brock manages to eat a slice of grilled cheese and most of the soup before he's full. He sets down the bowl and watches some weird movie with Heath Ledger swooning over a girl in high school. He's not really paying attention. He idly plays with Frankie's leg hair while his love eats until Brock gets sleepy. Sighing heavily he decides to let Frankie finish eating and lays down in Ray's lap. 

Ray softly brushes Brock's hair in the same way he'd seen Frank do it earlier. He quietly enjoys the calm that overtakes the room. He's worried about Brock and is willing to help as much as he can.

Frank keeps a close eye on Brock as he eats. He knows that Jack is doing the same thing but it makes him feel good. He eats more than he expected too so that's a bonus.

"You need a haircut Jack," Brock whispers, so soft it's barely audible. "You look like Cousin It." 

Jack snorts but he's happy to engage with his brother over something as silly as his hair. His brother was clearly entering into depression if he hadn't already, and he was thankful the older sibling was still willing to socialize. It was normal and normal was good. "It's like 3 inches longer. Only comes down to my eyes. Bite me."

"This is why I love Sunshine. All those curls. So cute," Brock teases, knowing how much Jack hated his curly hair. He practically purrs when he feels Ray's hand in his hair. A purr that turns immediately into a yawn.

"Glad you like them." Ray grins down, "The wife is always trying to get me to put products in my hair. Curls are good."

Jack scowls, only half playing, "I hate you." 

With a sleepy giggle and a snuggle closer to Ray, Brock shakes his head in Ray's lap. "Curls are very good. Jack hates them. Yours are like his. I like them very much. Jack needs a headband to see though. Or a hair tie. Maybe we get you one, Jack? Since you like living in the hippie era?"

"Bobby pins to pin the bangs back." Frank adds.

Jack's only response was to give all three of them the middle finger and a scowl. He rises from his spot and begins to take up the dishes. The movie playing, long forgotten. Then he realizes the last thing Brock had said. "Fuck you, I wasn't even born then, old man." 

"Jack's hair is fine, ya bully." Frank teases as he leans forward and kisses him. 

"Are not," comes the sleepy protest as Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and forces him to lay down and be the little spoon with him on the couch. He heaves another heavy and content sigh.

"No, he's right. I need a haircut," Jack says from the kitchen, again shoving errant hair out of his face.

Frank sighs and chuckles, "Fuckin' Rumlows." 

"To be fair, I'm an _honorary_ Rumlow. Want to cut it for me, brother?" Jack asks. Maybe the task will help him.

"Sure," Brock's voice was muffled, having been buried in Frankie's neck. "I'll get the shaver tomorrow." 

"Woah, hey now. I said cut, not shave me bald!"

"I can make little designs and everything. You'll be hip," Brock sleepy-giggles.

"The only thing you know how to do is rainbows. Hell no," Jack snorts as he sits back down.

"Was that a gay joke? Cause it sucked," Brock yawns again. He's warm here, with Sunshine rubbing his hair and arm and Frankie as his little spoon. 

"You suck," Jack retorts.

"Not for free," comes the sleepy reply before Brock drifts off to sleep, snoring lightly.

"Actually, he _does_ for free." Frank says quietly.

Ray snorts.

"Is he out?" Frank asks quietly.

"Yeah. I think so." Ray says quietly back to Frank. 

"Once the movie is over, I will run him to bed. Are all you guys going to head out and go home?" Frank asks the boys.

"Probably. Ray mentioned getting a drink before heading home." Gerard says from the floor where he's laid down. 

Jack watches Brock's chest rise and fall, soft snores with each breath, for a while before speaking softly, "How long has he been like this?" 

"Touch starved or sleeping?" Frank asks in return.

"Depressed."

"I. Didn't. I didn't know. He's been clingy more than usual for a while now. Since shortly after Tyler. But I honestly chalked it up to his touch deprivation." Frank sputters a little feeling caught off by this revelation. He feels awful for not knowing that Brock was hurting. He was supposed to protect him and he couldn't even do that. He wanted to turn around and hold his love hard.

"Yeah I'm a little pissed about that." 

"How… how do you know that he's depressed?" Frank asks, trying to keep this voice steady and low.

"This isn't my first rodeo, bärchen. And I highly doubt the touch starvation and his depression are cause and effect. Though perhaps they are linked. The last time I saw you guys, he wasn't depressed. It must have been recent," Jack says 

"I don't know." His voice is brittle as the words come out of Frank's mouth shakily. 

"Frankie. Sometimes people hide it really well." Gerard says, sitting up at the sound of pain in his friend's voice.

"Bärchen, _he_ might not even know. The only reason I do is because I noticed it tonight. And I know what I'm looking for. This isn't his first time. Though it has been a while. It's probably just stress. Take it easier on yourself."

Frank nods but can't help listen to the ghosts in his head. He pulls Brock's arm around him tighter. He can feel a new weight pressing down on him as he takes to heart the idea that he's not a good partner. 

"How do you know?" Ray asks the question that's been on his tongue since Jack asked about his depression. "We are going to be spending a lot of time with him, it would be nice to know what to look for and how to help too."

"For starters, I've never seen him do _that,_ " Jack points to Brock in Ray's lap. "He's clingy, sure, let's say that's the touch starvation. But he would be all over just you, Frank. Never seen him cuddle another person that wasn't his boyfriend. However, he does turn into a giant baby when he's not feeling well. Less likely to protest someone else taking care of him. He hates soup as a whole. But he didn't protest when I gave him the tomato. He didn't want to call Mom and he tends to withdraw from that when he's not feeling well. Has he been complaining of aches and pains? Tired all the time?" 

"Not really. Headaches the last day or two. Just mainly that he's tired. He complained that he needed to get back to the gym."

Jack nods. "I saw him check out twice tonight. That's another thing I picked up on. Trigger Days don't make him this down. Again, the touch starvation is new for me so I don't know how it's affecting him now. I could be wrong. For all I know this whole thing could be touch related."

"He and I had a long conversation one night about his touch starvation . He said it started to be noticable when he joined the military. Aside from you, he didn't have anyone else and it's gotten worse but he's learned how to bottle it up and not let it out." Frank's voice hushed, he feels like a horrible person for sharing this information without Brock being awake. He takes a moment to process and an idea pops into his head. "Do you think that…" Frank trails off, he's not sure how to word this question. He shakes his head, how could that even work? 

"Think what," Jack asks gently.

"We had a fan incident at the last hotel we stayed at and Brock got us new and nicer rooms. The guys gave him a big hug in the hallway… but it can't be from that. Right?"

"I can't see how a hug caused him to be depressed but you Americans have a terrible culture of assuming that contact equals sexual desire. Or being mentally different from social norms." Jack shrugs. He's making a lot of assumptions.

"I think the only person who can give us the answers we need is passed out in my lap right now." Ray says quietly as he rests a hand on Brock's shoulder, "I hate to say this but you two are gonna have to talk to him when he wakes up. It's just like the first time Gee was pushing the limits. We all had to talk to him."

"I agree," Jack nods. "Thank you for taking care of him." 

"We love Brock. Some of us fought it. But your brother is a wonderful human and good soul." Ray says with a smile, "We just want to help keep him happy and healthy."

"He is a good man. And that was the slogan to the Cheerios ad but that's good too," Jack grins.

"He _is_ magically delicious." Frank says softly.

"You just like his Lucky Charms," Jack laughs quietly, wagging his eyebrows before striking the pose of Tony the Tiger. "But he is GRRREAT!"

"I can never eat Lucky charms. Cause now all I will think of is Frank chasing Brock around." Bob chuckles.

"Yeah that doesn't happen often. But it's usually the other way around." Frank smirks.

"He did tend to snap, crackle, and pop in the early mornings when we lived together. Sometimes the pops were joints. Sometimes it was his ass. Either way, I was greeted," Jack giggles. He's so telling Brooke about this later. Brock, the walking cereal advertisement.

"I am willing to put money on it that you creak and crack too, sir." Frank grins.

"I don't do drugs and I'm the baby in the family," Jack sticks out his tongue. "Until you that is. Unless Brock adopted all you weirdos? Lovable weirdos, I might add. Especially you, Ray. He seems to really like you because we're hair bros. Maybe."

"He's the baby still." Ray and Gee say in unison. Frank groans. 

"Anyway, all you old dudes didn't answer an important question asked… how do we help Brock when he's depressed?" Frank grumbles and pouts a little. He's not a baby. 

"Just by being there. Apparently he's in need of cuddles so encourage that. Don't leave him alone for very long, doesn't need to be some high energy activity but stuff like this. Movie, comfort food, group quiet time and cuddles. Oh and he's got a weakness for chocolate. Last time, we sat around the house and relaxed. Keep him from getting to the point where he's not taking care of himself though. Uh, let's see… less wine. He may or may not fight you on that. He should because he drinks wine like it's water. But he might not because he's too down to care." Jack rubs his forehead and cards his hand through his hair, trying to think of all the possible things his brother could need when they return to the road. Deep down, he knows that being on the road probably isn't helping so much if it's as stressful as he thinks it is. But he also knows Brock wouldn't quit for anything.

"We will take care of him while he's with us on the road." Ray nods, "We will also make it a point to not let him get so stressed out. I know that Gee and I can for sure help there." 

"There's two types of depression. Situational and chemical imbalance. Brock is not the latter. He tends to help others a lot or take on a lot and it slowly just adds up. Stress and something like today was just probably too much. This will go away once he does some self care with you guy's help." Jack says. He gets an idea, "When do you guys leave? Brock should stop by the VA and see Sam. He might benefit from seeing a professional and Sam has been his counselor since we left the military. He's a good man."

"He's already got an appointment before the 4th." Frank said firmly. He listens to the words Jack is saying and making his own plans. Escape routes and detours for himself in order to protect Brock. 

"Awesome," Jack nods his approval. "Hopefully this will be a good vacation for him. Bounce him back. Especially since he pretty much got rid of the heavy weight he's been carrying around. Maybe today will be cathartic for him. Seems I need to step up my hugging game though."

"We all do." Ray says as he nods in agreement. 

"So, since the movie is close to over. Please come back and hang out with us. Please. I know he needs it. Maybe I can _talk_ him into doing like a family dinner with wives and girlfriends. Come over or we can go to you and have dinner." Frank pauses, "But I want to put him to bed unless Jack makes him call home tonight."

"No. Not tonight. But, dinner is a good idea. You know, one of Brock's favorite restaurants is nearby. We could all go there for dinner. Bring everybody. Or at least just the partners. My treat?" Jack offers.

"That sounds like the perfect plan." Gerard nods as he slowly gets up to a standing position and stretches wide, "Lindsey misses Brock." 

"Maybe make it like a Sunday family night." Mike offers as he follows the same action as his brother. 

"Exactly!" Frank says. He'd stand but Brock's got a hold of him and he can't move, "I'd walk you out but uh, I'm stuck… if I move he tightens." 

"Really?" Ray asks.

"Watch." Frank twists and Brock pulls him back and tightens his grip on Frank's chest. "He's like a boa constrictor."

"Why?" Ray asks with a smile.

"I have sleep... _issues_ and he got, I don't wanna say annoyed but he got annoyed with my 'up and down' all night. So he does this to make me sleep. I can't reach my phone or remote for the TV so it's just sleep." Frank explains.

Just as Ray slowly tries to get up, Jack's eyes widen. He can just imagine what would happen if Brock woke incorrectly. He warns, "Ray, wait. Don't move yet. He might startle and react wrong. You or Frank needs to nudge him gently and make him move."

Frank rolls and turns himself to face Brock inside the tight grip, he touches Brock's face and kisses him. "Brock, babe. Wake up, we gotta go to bed." he says softly in a whisper. 

Ray sits quietly and watches Frank try to wake Brock. Brock stirs a little but otherwise remains asleep.

" _Polpetto._ You gotta sit up." Frank raises the volume of his voice but keeps the tone gentle. He carefully shakes him.

Brock groans and stirs, mumbling something sleepily in Italian before rubbing his face on his pillow. It's kind of a hard pillow and he may have drooled a little. He cracks open one eye. 

"Hi sleepyhead." A small smile runs across his lips, " You were sleeping hard. But Ray's gotta go home, baby." 

"You were snoring like Chewbacca in a woodchipper." Ray teases.

Brock frowns and tries to comprehend what's going on. He's warm and comfy and just wants to go back to sleep. What is Frankie doing awake? And what about Ray going on? He mumbles sleepily, "No Ray is home sleep'n' our bed." 

Jack silently pulls out his phone and records this. He's going to lord it over Brock for the rest of his life. Plus, he's certain the boys will get a kick out of this later.

"No baby. We're on the couch at home. He wants to go to his home and see his wife." Frank chuckles, "You fell asleep in his lap, my love." 

"Oh. Kay. She can come home too," Brock yawns and stretches. 

"No baby, Ray _already_ has a home." Frank tries not to laugh. "He _can't_ stay." 

Frowning hard Brock wonders why Frank is telling him this. "Okay bye bye." 

"Honey. You're laying on him." 

"Oh." Brock turns a little onto his back and looks around and up, eyes not really focused just yet. A hand rubs his eyes and wipes away drool. "Hi." 

"Hey B." Ray chuckles. 

"You ready to go to our bed?" Frank asks softly. 

"Are you coming to bed?" Ray asks, looking at Frank then to Jack. Jack has to cover his mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. He holds the phone as steady as he can.

Brock nods. He's getting cold. And just wants to go back to sleep. He's comfy here. He begins to drift off again.

"You gotta let me up, if we're going to bed." 

"Okay, 'shiny," Brock groans and let's go of Frankie before sitting up. He yawns wide and closes his eyes.

"Do I get to be the big spoon?" Ray teases.

Brock nods. He likes that his Sunshine is taller than him. And is a good pillow. Maybe the wife will be here later. Is he the wife? The bed is big enough. What happened to their home? They are home. 

Frank rolls off the couch and stands up. "Brock give me your hand, old man." Frank grumbles.

Brock snorts himself awake at the sound of Frank's voice and gives him his hand. He stands and looks at Ray expectantly. Then at Jack and wonders when he got there and if he was coming to bed too.

"Thank you guys for coming over. I appreciate it very much," Frank says to the boys and Jack as he begins to pull Brock towards their bedroom. "Say good night Brock." 

"Night. Sunshine pillow come?" he asks, trailing after Frank and looking at Ray. Are Bob and Gerard staying too? 

Ray gives him a hug. "I'm coming, you go ahead and get comfortable with _our_ Frankie."

Brock nods. He likes hugs. "Bobby and Gerard can stay in the other room. Cause our bed only for us four us."

"Yup." Gee nods with a smirk, "No room in the bed for us." 

"You guys are gonna get your butts kicked." Frank hisses at them, "Brock come on. Let's go get you naked." 

"I like naked cuddles. Ray's big spoon," Brock yawns as they walk down the hallway to bed. 

"Let's keep the meat and two veg for Frankie." Ray laughs as Gerard holds the door open for him. 

As soon as they enter the bedroom, Brock climbs into the bed and gets comfortable, curling up under the blankets. He gets into the middle as to make room for Frankie, Sunshine, and the maybe-wife. A minute or two later, he's snoring softly again, out cold.

Frank pauses for a moment then turns the light off and heads back to the group. He gives them a smile, "He sleeps hard."

Jack cuts off the recording, smirking at Frank. He then sends the video to all the boys in the band. He laughs, "Yeah, he likes it hard. And apparently is now open to sharing? That's new."

"Yeah. He likes it hard but he is not about sharing _usually._ He really loves Ray." Frank shakes his head.

"Sent you the video, Mr. Homeless. Hope the wife gets a kick out of it as I did watching. He's gonna die when I show him," Jack laughs. "I'm never letting him live this down." 

"Oh, she is gonna love it…" Ray chuckles, "We were thinking of getting a drink. Did you want to join us?"

"I don't know… I don't wanna leave him alone too long." Frank says running his neck. 

"There's a bar two blocks down. Just a drink and then you're back." Bob says with a nod.

"If it's a really big issue, I can stay here, Frank? Guest room used to be mine at one point. Or maybe I can take the place of the human pillow here," Jack chuckles. With his longer hair maybe Brock will think he's Ray. He now has to cut it tomorrow. "Work on my cuddle game. If you want to go, go. You can't be glued at the hip with your man all the time."

Frank is conflicted. He stands there with a straight face. He wouldn't mind going out with the guys for a drink but he also doesn't want to be a pain for Jack. "You sure you don't mind?" 

"If I did, I wouldn't have offered. Though I'm gonna tell you now, if he tries to jump me, thinking I'm Ray, I'm gonna punch him in the balls. And then shave my head."

"Fair. He's not a middle of the night guy. First thing in the morning is his time." Frank laughs and shakes his head, "I owe you. A lot. Just for today. What, I don't know. Thank you again for the hundredth time, Jack."

"I know. We've shared beds before. And you don't owe me anything," Jack grins. He points to Ray, jokingly, "He does." 

"I'll send you a fruit basket." Ray winks, "And some curl cream."

"Hell no. He can have your curls. Mine's going first thing in the morning. Besides, Frank. Just think of it as me making up for the fact that I missed the fact that my brother was in need and I didn't notice. We've shared death and life and been in worse conditions neither he nor I ever want to talk about. Naked cuddles with my big brother for the night is child's play and I've got no problem with it. And I'd do it every night if he asked. I just wish he'd actually asked," Jack takes a shuddering breath and swallows hard.

"Don't be hard on yourself. He's done a lot of bottling it up and pushing it down so no one knows. He was ashamed. Who made him feel that way is lucky I don't know their name." Frank's voice goes cold for a moment then warms quickly, "I won't be out late." 

Jack smiles and for a second it's just as cold as Frank's voice was. He's not sure it's any one person but maybe he'll try to find a few names… "Go enjoy your drinks, boys. Don't drive yourselves home. See you when you get home, bärchen."

"They won't be driving themselves. Gee's wife can come get them. I can walk." Frank pulls his jacket from the closet and follows the boys out the door. He feels a pang of guilt for leaving. Brock was hurting. But he is also out cold. As he enters the elevator he turns to them, "One drink doesn't make me a bad boyfriend, right?"

"No. You've been together every day for weeks. A few hours isn't being a bad boyfriend." Ray says gently.

"Ok." Frank nods but doesn't believe it.

~~

The first drink, whiskey and Coke, went quickly. The bar was noisy and filled with people milling around. It felt good to be out and not on a tour bus. Another drink turned into three and soon they were walking into a new bar, a smoky place with a live band, they had charisma but they were out of tune and couldn't keep time. He could hear Brockin his head. _They sound like they are torturing cats by screaming at them in a dumpster…_

Girls at the new bar flirt with him, trying to hang on him and whisper in his ear, which gives him a deep twisted pleasure to see their faces fall when he mentions his hot and wonderful husband. The guys drank and played pool. They laughed and joked, forgetting about all the responsibility they had at home. He had to keep himself from babbling on and on about Brock. Feeling that he was edging on too drunk, Frank switches back to beer, cheap beer too. He wants to be frugal, he's poor. As he finishes the last of his drink, the bartender shouts last call just as Gerard sets down shots. He knows better; it was too much. He shakes his head a little but he caves with a little pressure. It was whiskey so it wasn't too bad. The music shuts off and fun is over. 

As they make their way outside, he makes sure that Ray has a car headed to take them to their homes before hugging his friends happily. Frank steals a cigarette from Gerard and kisses him on the cheek and heads back to the apartment. He smokes it on the way back, singing an Aerosmith song loudly until he reaches the lobby of the apartment. He smiles at the doorman, a blue in a nice suit, while he drunk wobbles into the elevator and shouts the chorus of the song about falling in love is hard on the knees as the doors close. 

He stands in front of the apartment door and prepares himself to enter with a deep breath. He places his hand in the reader worried that it wouldn't let him in cause he's drunk. As the door unlocks, he returns to humming as he enters the apartment. He pulls his jacket off and 'hangs' it in the closet then stumbles down the hall for their bed. He's pulling clothing off as soon as he reaches the door. He flings his shirt across the room and snickers. He just wants Brock and his pillow. Once he's in the room his pants are more complicated than he remembers them being before. He huffs as he gives up and pulls them off. 

"Fuck it." He whispers to himself. He crawls onto the bed and under the blankets. He missed Brock. He wishes he could have come with. It would have been fun. 

The movement of the bed jolts Brock enough for him to crack open one eye. He pulls Frankie in tight where he belongs and wraps his legs around him so that he settles down for the night. He sleepily mumbles to him in Italian to go to bed and sleep before doing the same.

The arms around him can't stop his head from spinning. He's soon enough out dreaming about the day and which gets turned into the same chase dream except he can't get out. He's too slow. He's too wobbly. _Wake up! He's shouting in his sleep._ He opens his eyes for a moment but is out once more. 

It's not until he is woken by movement in the bed hours later. He presses his body against Brock. Wanting the touch, maybe a little more. His hips push back into Brock but he feels another _hand?_ He can tell the hangover was coming but he's never hallucinated before. Was he that drunk? He needs sleep. Yeah, sleep to sober up.

~~

Shifting in the bed again, Jack opens one eye and hates it. Sleeping with his brother wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be, but the bed itself and spooning Brock was enough to not allow him the most restful of nights. He can feel what he is going to assume is Frank's body so he sits up. His watch is over. He can make the trip either back home or to at least the guest room. Slipping out of the bed he makes his way out of the bedroom as quiet as he can, carefully stepping over Frankie's discarded clothing. He's too tired to head back to his apartment, so he detours to the bathroom before flopping on the guest bed and passing out. A few hours later, he wakes with a stretch and a yawn. Glancing at the clock, he realizes that he's actually slept in for once. He hasn't done that since he was a teenager. He feels better though. Brock was a furnace. Getting up he makes his way into the kitchen to start the coffee. The clock tells him it's nearly noon, something Brock would never sleep until. Well. Normally anyway. Maybe he'll cook breakfast for them while he waits.

The warm smell of baked cinnamon rolls fills the kitchen amidst the percolating coffee. Those cans from the supermarket never have enough icing for the rolls in his opinion so Jack makes his own. Brock always liked the extra icing. It's well past afternoon now and the rolls are nearly ready to come out of the oven. Brock will miss the best part of breakfast if he doesn't get his ass up. Going to check on them, he finds that both these assholes are still sleeping, Brock sounds like a car trying to start but with the volume turned down. Fine. If they won't get their lazy butts up, he will make them. He heads back into the kitchen and grabs the loaf of stale bread. He opens it up and decides it will work for what he has planned. Heading back to the master bedroom, Jack begins throwing slices of bread on his brother's and Frank's faces with precision.

Frank cracks an eye open, unsure why he's been woken up but is unprepared for the feeling of dry bread to scrape across his face. He's too nauseous for this. "I don't want." He mutters out as he tries to move but can't because of Brock.

"Get up. It's after noon and I've got breakfast going," Jack says, chucking another dry slice of bread at Brock's shoulder. "Wake up, doofus." 

"Brock!" Frank growls, unhappy with the situation. His mouth is dry and he is fairly sure that he's gotten one of those spinal halo things in his sleep cause the pressure in his head is intense. Frank reaches back and gently hits Brock's side, "Make your brother stop treating us like ducks." 

"I'm up I'm up," Brock grumbles, rolling over onto his back. Something slides off of his shoulder and lands into the bed.

"Make him go away with his bread of pain." 

"Next time get your asses up and I won't have to resort to drastic measures. Breakfast is ready in five. I'll be back in here with a glass of ice water in seven, if you are not out there." With that, Jack leaves and heads back into the kitchen to keep his rolls from burning and to add the icing.

Picking up the slice of bread in the bed, Brock looks at it questioning why it was there. He puts it back and yawns, rubbing his face before turning to Frankie with a smile, "Morning, love." 

He wonders if his face conveyed how awful he felt. "Hi, baby."

He leans over to give him a good morning kiss, but pauses and frowns at the sour smell from Frank. "You reek. Why?" 

"You passed out early so I went and got a drink or... five with the guys." He winces at the sound of his own voice. He can now taste the cigarette and his stomach clenches. 

"How hungover are you," Brock asks. He's not sure how he feels about Frank getting drunk last night. On one hand, they are all adults and he encourages Frank to spend more time with his friends and not with him all the time. On the other hand, he hates the party scene and finds the drunken state to be rather repulsive. He wonders briefly if he's puked yet. Mentally shrugging he leans over anyway to kiss him.

"I'm a six on the hungover scale." Frank says after the kiss. "There was an awful band. You would have hated them."

"I hate a lot of bands. Did you smoke?" Brock wrinkles his nose at the smell of smoke in Frank's hair. Another reason he hated bars. He's thankful most nowadays made people smoke outside. Grunge bars are not his thing and it sounded like that's exactly where the boys went. 

"It was smokey in the bar but I did smoke on my way home." He admits but he hates it. He's done well so far. 

"Ew," Brock sticks his tongue out a little. "Cancer sticks." 

"I know. Gerard is a bad influence." He groans, "I need to shower and maybe throw up."

Sniffing Frank again and making a face, Brock nods. "Yes, you do. Please puke in the toilet. I'll save you breakfast." 

"Ok. Sorry I stink." He replies quietly as he kicks off the covers and sits up then rushes towards the bathroom. _Yup, I gotta puke. Lovely._

Sighing Brock gets up and realizes he squished the slice of bread at some point and it crumbled everywhere. Gross. Getting out of the bed and brushing away the crumbs, he goes to investigate breakfast. The bed can be cleaned up later. He doesn't want to do it.

After Frank's done puking, he lays on the floor for a moment. He pulls his underwear off trying not to move much as an attempt to not wake the angry hornets in his head. He crawls to the shower and stands up as he turns the water on. It feels good but he feels awful. Memories of him babbling on and on about Brock to the guys or those girls make a pained chuckle escape his lips.

Does he need to tell Brock that he kissed Gee? It was an innocent kiss on the cheek. But he should, it will make it worse if he doesn't say anything. He showers quickly, once he's in the bedroom he frowns at the sight of the Bread Massacre. He can't lay down. He groans as he pulls clothing out and silently dresses. He looks like he's going to a funeral. Black jeans and a thin black t-shirt matches how he feels. Dead.

Frank softly and quietly moves into the kitchen and is greeted by smells. "Coffee?" He asks Jack in a small voice as he squints from the beautiful bright sunny day that is pouring in from the windows.

"On the counter, bärchen," Jack says low, pointing to a cup of steaming black coffee. "You'll need to add whatever you want, though sugar and dairy may not be good for hangovers."

"No black is perfect. Thank you, magnificent German angel." Frank says as he heads for the one thing he knows he needs. He wraps his hand around the cup and takes a small sip and feels a small smile roll over his lips. "How was last night after I left?" 

"Uneventful." Jack plates two of the smaller rolls with the least amount of icing and offers it to Frankie. Sugar is not good for sour stomachs. He hands Brock a plate with larger rolls and mostly dunked in the icing.

"Thank you, Jack." He says with a nod, "He's like sleeping with a fireplace huh?" 

"You slept with me?" Brock asks, a little confused and shocked. How did he not know?

"Yeah. You shouldn't have been alone last night and..." He pauses to withhold the personal attack on himself for leaving and starts again, "Jack offered to keep an eye on you. Cause he is an awesome little brother." 

Frank takes a seat at the table. He feels almost like a kid who is in trouble. He chooses to not mention anything from last night. The cinnamon rolls look delicious. 

"That I am," Jack agrees, patting Brock on the shoulder and nudging him to go sit to eat instead of standing there in the kitchen. 

Brock sits next to Frankie with a mouthful of icing and a little bit of roll. He's got icing on his cheeks, fingers, and somehow on his nose but he's grinning at the food choice. Ooey gooey goodness.

He smiles and shakes his head. He wipes the icing from his nose. "How, my love?" Frank chuckles.

Brock shrugs and takes another bite, thus proving exactly how he manages to get the mound of liquid sugar all over his face. He loves it when his baby brother makes cinnamon rolls.

"Is this how he has _always_ eaten?" Frank asks Jack.

"Just with these and yes. First time Mom made these when we were kids, Brock managed to get the icing in his hair. It's a rare treat nowadays." Jack smiles at Brock. On any other normal day, Brock would cry about the sugar and fat and demand to eat lighter before going to the gym. Today it seems the comforting sugar is doing its job.

"Did he at least share?" Frank smirks as he glances at his chipmunk cheeked husband. "When my nana would make Persian rolls, my brother would literally scarf them down before me and my sister could even get a chance."

Brock nods. He really can't eat but two before the overload of sugar made his stomach hurt. And he never wolfed his food down. He was always polite when eating, even though it was messy.

Frank quietly eats as much as he can. His stomach hurts almost as much as his head did. "It's the whiskey." He murmurs to himself. He needs Tylenol. He needs Brock cuddles. But he also needs him to be ok. Is his depression because of the new role? Is it because everything has been a challenge? What time is he seeing the counselor? Is he going to get worse? All the horrible thoughts begin to fill him up as he sits in the chair next to Brock. He can only hear the sound of the blood rushing in his body as he makes himself more nauseous. 

"So, what do you boys have planned for today?" asks Jack as he eats a cinnamon roll with a fork.

"I dunno," Brock says around a mouthful. He really doesn't want to do anything. He looks at Frankie.

Frank just blinks with a fork full of roll hovering over his plate. The words spoken don't register to him. He's working everything out in his head as he bites at his lip ring.

Brock licks across his roll, scooping up a decent amount of icing before leaning over to Frankie and licking across his lips and kissing him.

He turns his head and looks at Brock. His kiss brings him back to earth. He gives him the biggest smile he can without hurting his head. "Love you." He says softly. He's oblivious to anything that's gone on in the last few minutes.

"Love you, _tesoro_. Still don't feel good?" He asks quietly, brow furrowed in concern.

"My head's killing me." Frank says quietly. He means it more than physical pain but it's fine. "How are you feeling?" 

"Tired," Brock sighs. He's done eating. The remaining half roll on his plate now looks sickening instead of inviting. He wants a nap even though they just got up. He sighs again. A part of him wishes he had gotten that massage at the last hotel they were in but he just didn't have the energy. Like now.

Frank shoots a look at Jack as Brock says he's tired. _Now?_

Jack contemplates how to proceed. If they should even now. Frank was hungover and probably not of sound mind to be questioning his future husband. It was not lost on him that as soon as he told them that Brock was not doing okay, Frank attempted to deal with it by getting drunk. He decides to hold off on any major interrogation and instead just ask some light questions to get a feel of what's going on through his brother's head. He locks eyes with Frank and gives him a small shake of the head. _No_ , _not yet_.

"Did you sleep okay?" Jack inquires.

"I had some weird dreams but otherwise okay. A little sore but that's probably just the bed." Brock stands and takes his half-eaten food and tosses it.

"Dreams about what?" Frank asks curiously.

"Um," Brock begins, uncomfortable, a hint of a blush at his next words because of how it was going to sound. "Sleeping with… Sunshine? And there was an angry kitten, a plane crash, and something about a wife. She was missing."

"Did you get drunk last night?" Frank chuckles as he watches him move in the apartment.

"No. Oh, the plane crashed and turned into a fireball and then that gave birth to the angry kitten who was eating cereal and worms. And Ray lost his curls and was homeless. Did the guys stay the night?" 

Jack buries his face behind his hand and tries not to laugh. He thought it was a dream?! The scene last night was golden but Brock not remembering it just made it all that much better. This was too good to be true. 

"No baby, after the bar they drove back to their homes." Frank shoots another look at Jack trying not to smile and knowing he is failing.

Brock frowns. He's positive there was something about someone staying the night. Was it Jack? "Are you sure? We're they _supposed_ to? What's so funny?" 

"Jack, were they supposed to stay?" Frank's biting his cheek to keep from laughing, "I need to get Tylenol…" _And not laugh at my sweet sleepy husband._ Frank stands and takes his plate to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard that Brock stashes the pills to fight off the small creatures hammering at his skull.

To avoid answering right away, Jack takes a sip of his coffee and promptly chokes. Damn karma. Once he's finished coughing up a lung, he turns to his brother. "Supposed to, no. Though you were…. Rather adamant in inviting them. One could say even demanding."

"What?" Brock's voice raises several octaves. Oh my god what did he do and why didn't he remember it?

"Ray and his wife. At the least." Frank says from the kitchen as he refills his coffee this time putting a little creamer in it. "Right, Jack?" 

"I tried to sleep with Ray?!" Brock screeched. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. The dream… It was real?

"What no?!" Frank laughs and then cringes at the pain. 

"That's one way to put it," Jack smirks. 

"Do you _want_ to sleep with Ray?" Frank questions. 

"I… I… " Brock sputters. 

"Oh my god! Do you have a crush on Ray?" Frank leans against the kitchen counter. 

"No! I swear! I don't think we're talking about the same things here," Brock frantically rambles. He only loves Frankie. He's not into sharing. He doesn't want Sunshine like that. But _now_ that he's thinking about it… 

Frank looks at him skeptically. He doesn't believe him fully. "I mean, he is a good lookin' guy..." Does he now have competition? He knows Brock loves him but is it a bro crush kinda thing?

Brock can feel his face heat up again. What was it with his emotions lately? Everything seemed out of balance and he was far too sensitive. Was he sick? Does he want to sleep with Sunshine? Maybe subconsciously? He shakes his head. The idea is both curious and repelling. "I just want…cuddles." 

"I know, baby." Frank drops it, he likes seeing Brock blush but he didn't want to push it. "Are you going to see your counselor today?" 

Brock nods absently. He's still thinking about Sunshine and what this means. Will Frankie be mad at him? Hate him for even wanting another person besides him? He wasn't thinking about him sexually until _now_. Will every hug now be scrutinized? Is he even allowed hugs anymore? The memory of his confession comes to the surface. He feels sick. 

"I think I'm going to take a shower now," Brock says softly, voice squeaking a little. He turns and heads to the bathroom, heart racing, and brain gremlins spreading poison.

"Jack. I don't know." Frank sighs. He can't form the words he wants to say. He's frustrated. He shouldn't have gone out. He's scared and worried. This was supposed to be fun. They are going home to meet his parents. Now he's worried that Brock will spiral out of control and he'll lose him. 

"Go after him. Talk to him. Actually talk _with_ him and get him to explain what just happened. Who knows. Maybe Brock is having a kink crisis?" Jack smirks, sipping his coffee. "You Americans… sexualizing everything." 

"He's Italian." Frank smirks at him but nods. He's right. He should talk this out with Brock before it festers.

"Technically so am I, and still better than you Americans," Jack smirks again.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, still an honorary Italian." Frank chuckles and shakes his head. "I'll go talk to him." 

Frank stops in front of the bathroom door. He has no idea what to say but that's nothing new. He knocks before he can even formulate any kind of plan. He's gonna wing it. "Brock… we need to talk please?" 

Brock barely hears the sounds of Frankie knocking or his call to him through the door, over the sound of the shower and his quiet sobs. He doesn't know what's wrong with him. Or what to do. The little voices in his head tell him this is his fault. They whisper half-truths and dark lies that make him doubt himself and his relationship with both Frank and the boys. He cries harder. He didn't mean to be such a mess. He doesn't want the boys to hate him after last night. That was just a one-time thing. It had to be. Nothing like that was ever real. And now he's so pathetic he read into it so much that maybe Frankie was right. Maybe he did like Sunshine. He's so screwed up.

Frank pushes the bathroom door open softly. He feels like he's invading a private moment but forces himself to move into the white marble room that quickly fills with steam. "Brock? Can we please talk?" He moves a little further in and sees Brock curled up, his chest heaving as he quietly sobs. He feels the tightening around his heart that forces him to immediately strip down and pulls the shower door open. He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Brock's back. 

"I don't want Ray," Brock repeats over and over as he leans into Frank and cries. The words were not what he wanted to say but they just spilled out. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." 

"I am not mad. I know you don't! Baby, what's really going on? I'm worried. Please talk to me." Frank doesn't know how to say it any other way. He wants to help him. Protect him. But he can't if he doesn't know how to.

"I don't know! Everything just seems too much. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Frank sits on his butt, kicking his legs out and tucking them along Brock's thighs. He pulls him tighter into his body so he can tuck his arms under Brock's arms and hold him. "How long have you felt like this?" 

"Shortly before St. Louis? Maybe longer. I really don't know. I'm sorry," Brock wipes his eyes, angry at himself for crying like some stupid child or hormonal teenage girl. What happened to the strong Commander Rumlow?

"You don't have to be sorry, baby. Do you wanna talk about it? Maybe we can figure out what changed." Frank moves an arm out from his chest, he pushes the hair back from his face and runs his hand over Brock's arm. 

He shrugs. He doesn't even know _what_ to even say. If he did then maybe this would just go away. He's ready for less crying and more badassery. "I can try?" 

"Ok. Even if we can't figure it out, I am always going to be here for you. I love you and don't want you to feel like you're alone in this." Frank says softly before kissing his shoulder. 

Nodding Brock puts his head down on Frankie and sighs. He's tired. And achy. And tired of being achy. And tired of being miserable. "I hate this." 

"I know. Do you think you would want to talk about this with Jack? Or both of us? We are both worried. And it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." Frank keeps his voice level and calm. He's pushing back his own feelings. He's not important. Brock is. 

"I don't... I don't know." 

"That's ok. How about this...You shower and then we can sit down and talk in a comfortable place." 

"Ok," Brock nods.

"Do you want me to leave and give you privacy?"

"No. But. Can we lie down? Please?"

"In the shower?" Frank asks, a little confused.

He shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He wipes his leaking eyes again. "After my shower. Ours, I suppose. Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, my love. You've done nothing wrong. And we can absolutely lay down and talk." Frank runs his fingers through Brock's wet hair, "I love you, Brock. We'll get through this, okay?"

Brock takes a deep breath and nods. "I know it. But I don't always feel it." 

"I know. And that's ok." Frank rests his chin on Brock's skin after he speaks. His heart is aching because this isn't something he can fix easily. He has to tell himself that is okay. "We should get up." 

"Yeah," Brock says weakly. It seems like such a daunting task. But he's also getting cold.

Frank slowly let's go of Brock and rises to his feet, he moves in front of him and offers his hand. "Let me help." He gives his love a smile. 

Taking his hand and standing, Brock grimaces. "I feel old." 

"It's okay. I'll take care of you." 

"It's my job to take care of _you_. How are you feeling? With, everything. Not just the hangover. But… " he trails off, shoulders slumping. He grabs soap and slowly begins to bathe.

"You do take _very_ good care of me, Brock." Frank gives him a genuine smile, "I am fine. I am worried about you." 

"I'll be ok. I'm just tired. All the time but still." He forces himself to bathe quickly. He's exhausted again. More than normal. Or maybe it's the same as before. He doesn't know.

Frank can feel his headache but it's less powerful. Or maybe he was more focused on something that's not himself. "Can I suggest something?" He asks quietly. 

"Sure, okay," Brock says as he turns off the shower. He shivers a little and grabs a fluffy towel. He wishes he had a fireplace. In summer. Under his covers. Minus the bread that's still in his sheets.

"We should cancel the 4th. We'll say I'm sick." 

"What? No. It's not fair to not see your family. I was supposed to meet them. I don't want you to not see them. Especially because of me."

"You are my family too. I just don't want you to push yourself too hard. I know the 4th is stressful enough. It was just an idea." Frank said, putting hands up, "I still want you to meet them but only if you're ready." 

Wrapping the towel around himself, Brock hugs Frank tight, "I love you. And I don't want to not go to meet your mom. Just because it's hard doesn't mean I shouldn't still do it. If I stay home or go, I'm still going to be the same. At least this way, I might have some fun and hang out with your totally embarrassing mom and look at all your baby pictures. We can still go and take it easy."

"Ok. It was an idea." Frank clings to him, "Will you at least tell me if it is too much? We can at least get away from everyone for a bit."

"I promise. I like that idea. Breaks are okay. And cuddles. Lots of cuddles. I just want–" Brock cuts himself off from finishing his sentence. The brain gremlins telling him that it's a bad thing to think and feel.

"You want what?" Frank says as he tilts his head to the side, "Anything you want, I will happily do for you. Or help with."

He struggles with the words. Conflicting desires between what he knows he shouldn't want, what he does, and all the shame that was mixed in. The voice in his head tells him that no matter what people say, it's wrong. "Um." 

"Words are usually good. I haven't perfected my mind reading skill yet." Frank tries for even a small genuine smile. "I swear, whatever it is, I will do it. Except murder." 

A quick and small smile appears before it fades away. "You will. I know that. But… I don't know if, uh, the others. Will." 

"Well, you don't know _if_ you don't ask." Frank pauses, "The others… like the boys in the band?" 

Brock nods, burying his face in Frankie's neck. If he doesn't see Frankie's face, he won't see the red flush that's slowly creeping up.

"What is it Brock?" Frank questions, now feeling concerned.

"I like cuddles." 

"I know you do. It's one of my favorite things about you." Frank strokes the back of his husband's neck.

"I like spooning." He's easing his way into it. Maybe it'll be less hard. Already he can feel the anxiety spiking.

"Yeah. I know that too."

"I… like… holding you. And being held." That wasn't so bad. Not quite what he wanted fully but it was a start.

"Ok. That makes sense, it's logical." Frank says as he is potentially seeing the links but not jumping to conclusions.

"I'm taller than you. I like you small. I like you being my koala and teddy bear. I like holding you and cuddling. But… it doesn't work very well if you– Jack is taller than me. He's a good big spoon." He wants to backpedal. This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. He needs to cut it off and now. He needs to leave. Find something else to do. He can't. 

"Is this where the boys in the band come in?" Frank asks. He knows. He's waiting for Brock to say the words.

"No. Nevermind. It's stupid. Useless. I'm not a child," Brock pulls away before he drowns in emotions or anxiety strangles him. What was he thinking? Fucking idiot.

Frank takes a deep breath. "Brock." He closes his eyes and lets his shoulders slump now that Brock's isn't in the room. He's losing this fight but he's not giving up. He stands up straight and pulls his clothing on making sure the tags were the last thing he put on. He usually keeps them under his shirt. Touching his skin but the action feels right. He steps to the door and peers into their bedroom.

Frank walks confidently across the room. Silent and trying to not give an inch, he picks up Brock's phone then turns to him. He puts it on his chest. 

"Call the VA guy. Tell him you need to see him. Also, get up. I'll change the sheets while you talk to him. You're not a chicken breast, you don't need to be breaded." Frank speaks as firmly but not mean as he can. 

"Okay," Brock says, sitting up and moving to lean against the dresser. He pulls up Sam's contact information.

"Where are the sheets?" 

"Linen closet with the towels. On the bottom," he replies, dialing Sam.

Frank huff quietly as he goes for the closet and pulls the new sheets. He moves back to the bedroom. He places the sheets and pillowcases on the dresser. Going back to the bed and scooping the pillows and throwing them on the floor with a snort at Brocks 'ok'.

"Hi Sam. I'm…. Okay." Brock says softly into the phone. "Okay fine; how about functional? Good." 

Frank strips the blankets and drops them on the floor away from the bed. This is going to be messy. He grabs the trash can and throws all the smooshed bread and other bits in it. He yanks on the sheet but it doesn't budge.

"So, I know I said I would come to a meeting today. Yeah, no. I'm still going. But I was wondering if maybe we could do the one on one session too?" Brock watches Frank struggle a little and moves to help him.

How the fuck is this bed so heavy? He wonders what the cleaning lady must look like a fuckin bodybuilder? Once Brock helps it's a little easier. Now the harder part, new sheets. He already knows that Brock is going to not be thrilled with how he makes this bed. He tucks the first corner then the second. Moving around the bed and tucking in the next side only for the opposite side to slip off. He glares at the bed. 

"Okay, thanks Sam. I'll see you later. Oh. Sure, I can do that. Maybe. I'll text you, okay? Thanks. Later," Brock nods and hangs up the phone. He moves to help Frankie put on the sheets.

Frank huffs at the bed. "Is Arnold Schwarzenegger your cleaning lady?" 

"No but that would be funny. You are just small and cute," Brock says, lifting the bed and pulling the sheets over the corners. "Sam asked if we could come to the meeting earlier than 4 pm. I told him I'd see and text him later."

"What time do I have to be ready?" _We?_ He didn't realize he was going too but if it helps Brock, he's willing to do anything.

"It's not far. We could leave fifteen minutes early and be on time. If you want to go, that is. Sorry I didn't ask. I just assumed…" 

"Do you want me there?" Frank asked, "You don't have to apologize. You know I will go with you."

Brock nods. He didn't mind the personal sessions but the group meetings sometimes were too hard for him to handle. Sam said it was just proof that there was still room for growth. "I want to do everything with you. Except use the bathroom. "

"Yeah let's keep that a mystery for now. But you know I will go with you, _polpetto_. Will you do me a favor?" Frank looks up from picking the pillows up.

"Okay." 

"Throw the bread away in the kitchen and when you feel better can we please put marbles under his sheets when he's not home?" Frank smirks as he strips the pillow and quickly and dresses it.

Oh. Brock giggles a little. "Marbles are far too noticeable. Itching powder though…"

"Even better." Frank hands him the little garbage can but stops him before he can leave the room. He pulls him down a little and kisses him, "Thank you." 

"For what?" Brock's head tilts slightly. He didn't do anything. That was the problem.

"For calling Sam. It's Sam right?" Frank says with a soft voice. "And helping me with the bed. And throwing the gross bread away." 

"Oh." He did that. That's good. He's not totally useless. "Okay. Can we snuggle now?" 

"Of course we can." Frank touches his cheek softly, "Pants or no pants?" 

"No más pantalones," Brock grins. "I heard it on TV once. It was a commercial for insurance. It's like the only Spanish I know. It means no pants. Pants aren't allowed in bed. It's a rule."

"Oh it's a rule. I like rules." Frank grins back and raises an eyebrow, "It makes it fun to break them later." 

"But you like no pants," Brock says with another head tilt. He undoes the towel tie and drops it onto the floor. He'll pick it up later. Instead, he crawls into the nice new sheets and covers and lays down. He opens his arms for Frankie.

He strips down for the second time and crawls up the bed towards Brock. "Of course I like no pants… but one day. I'm gonna be rotten and break that rule." 

"Please don't," Brock mutters, pulling him in tight and wrapping his body around Frankie's. "I like touching you." 

"Why is an insurance company pushing for no pants? That seems fishy?" Frank asks with a smile, "Was it speedo insurance?" 

"I don't really remember. Just that it was a funny catchphrase." He closes his eyes with a heavy sigh. He's not sure when he got so lazy. Laying down seemed less tiring than everything else. A glance at the clock says that he's only got an hour before they need to leave. It's not enough but it'll have to be.

"What… what goes on at your meetings?" Frank asks as he draws small circles into Brock's skin. "Like is it an AA kinda meeting? Or..." 

"I don't know. I've never been to an AA meeting. But probably? We talk about our day or week. What we are struggling with. Like a regular therapy session but your peers help you with input."

"Never been to therapy." Frank says softly, not that he doesn't need it cause Lord knows he does. "But it doesn't sound so bad. And you're sure I can come? I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

"Nobody is required to join in and people are encouraged to bring someone close to them. It's helpful when someone else understands." Brock buries his nose in Frankie's smelly good hair.

"Okay. Cool. I was worried about that." Frank sighs. "I'm sorry that you're struggling, my love. I really want you to know that I love you and am very proud of you. You're a wonderful husband and I am very lucky to have found you." 

Frank leans up and kisses him on the lips, "I'd like to know what triggered all of this." 

"Me too. Everything blends together." Brock hates his weak and probably not very helpful response. He's terrible at words right now and even worse at being a husband because he can't even explain right.

"That's ok. We'll figure it out." Frank rests his head on Brock's chest. "But we kinda have a starting point. Sometime before St. Louis so that's good. That's really good, babe." 

"Ok," he replies, closing his eyes. He's tired. Shifting in his bed a little, he stretches before re-curling up. Hopefully being on his mattress for a while will make him less sore.

"Will you set an alarm, just in case?" Frank asks. His forehead hurts from being wrinkled. He's gonna get worry lines from just today. 

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he says, voice belying his words. He grins a little before reaching over for his phone to make an alarm.

"Yeah, sure. Just like you aren't tired, just resting your eyes when we watch movies right?" Frank teases before kissing his chest.

Brock hums his agreement in Frank's hair. He may be tired and sluggish but he can still make little funnies when he can. Gives him hope that this isn't going to last. He hasn't been beaten yet. Of course, it's easy to think those things now, when he's feeling more than safe and loved, wrapped up in his bed and with his love right where he belongs. All of his confidence seemed to disappear when other variables entered the equation. "Especially dumb romcom movies. Like last night." 

"Oh no you can't say that. Did it to the Rocky one that's kinda boring." Frank defends that stupid movie. "And to the Terminator movie we watched." 

"Terminator was stupid. Maybe if I had watched it when it first came out, it would have been cool but it's only got big booms going for it." He suppresses a yawn and murders the thought about possibly asking Jack to join them.

"You picked it out." Frank pokes his side, "What's the plan for the fourth and all the fireworks?"

"Burgers, brews, watch the fireworks with headphones… unless you mean with your family?" Brock frowns, having confused himself.

"No you answered my question. Headphones." Frank hesitates for a nanosecond, "Jack and I talked about you and this. He thinks it's best if you and I don't drink until we're past this _hump_ and I kinda agree with him."

"No wine?" his sleepy and foggy brain tries to understand. He doesn't like beer anyway but he doesn't think Frank is meaning beer.

"It would mean no wine. But it's an idea that I want us _both_ to agree on." Frank says trying not to pressure him into anything.

"Okay," Brock replies softly, having only really comprehended the _no wine_ part in his half-asleep state. 

"Okay. So we easy up on wine. That was easy." Frank says with a nod. "I thought you would fight me more on this. You really are depressed…"

The word filtered through his brain and with it the knowledge that it was true. Questionable things that he was writing off had meaning now. Behind the relief that there was meaning to it, guilt and shame crashed over him like a tidal wave. He wasn't supposed to be like this. Weak and needy. He was supposed to be in control. He was the dominant one and now he's nothing more than a mess of emotions.

"But it's okay to be depressed… it's normal." Frank strokes his skins with his fingers, "We will get through this." 

"Yeah." Sighing heavily, Brock vaguely remembers someone telling him that it was okay to be depressed, you just couldn't stay there. He tells this to Frankie. Who agrees with a nod. It's not long after that he drifts off to sleep.

Frank lays beside Brock and listens to him breathing. He messages his sister and Ray. His sister is excited to meet Brock. He wants to tell her they can't make it but doesn't. It isn't what they decided. Instead, Brock wants to go. He sends a text to Jack threatening to put tacks on his shoes if he does another bread prank again. He's fighting with his own head about the whole damn thing. He wants a drink of water but he can't move. The relief comes in the form of Brock's obnoxious alarm. He usually hated it but right now it meant freedom. He carefully wakes Brock with kisses until he's fully awake. He watches Brock move to get dressed for a moment observing his slowed movement and seeing that he was hurting. How could he have missed the signs? He stops the train from derailing and chooses to get dressed. He's the strong one right now. It's not long before he's _encouraging_ Brock out the door and to this meeting. He's nervous about it but tries to keep Brock talking with idle chatter until they are outside of the meeting.

Entering the room, Brock feels a little bit of relief and nervousness sweep through him. He hasn't been here in a long time and he's a little hesitant over the new and unfamiliar faces. That is until a welcoming goofy grin under a curtain of brown hair caught his eye. 

Arms as big as Brock's own reach up and pull his shoulder-length hair into a small bun, the left arm prosthetic glinting under the lights. The movement makes his oversized tank top tighten, showing that he was in great shape. He heads over to Brock, reaching out to shake his hand with a wide grin, "Commander Rumlow. Haven't seen you around here in a long time. Thought maybe you finally kicked the bucket, old man."

Frank squeezes Brock's hand as a little encouragement. He scans the man in front of them. He's handsome for sure, he could guarantee that he is a lady killer. If he dates women… it's those damn blue eyes. It takes a moment to notice his arm but he doesn't dwell. He waits for Brock to introduce them as the two men talk. His eyes scan over the small group of obviously military personnel. He's the only one who truly stands out, even amongst the wives of a few of the men, he is in fact the odd man out. 

He plays the quick game of who is the counselor. Who is Sam? This person who had helped Brock in the past. The person who Frank might be scared to meet. The what-ifs roll in, _what if he thinks I'm that root? What if he says dating someone my age is damaging to Brock's mental health? What if he sees through my bullshit and says I'm too fucked up to be with Brock?_ He shakes his head slightly to snap out of it and comes back to the pretty boy in front of them. 

"The only thing I'm kicking is your tin can to the curb, Barnes," Brock teases. He turns to Frank. "Frankie, this is Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes; Bucky this is my boyfriend, Frank Iero. Bucky was one of my boys on my team back when we were in service."

"It's nice to meet you, sir." Frank offers his hand with a warm smile. _Yeah, he's cute. Didn't know the military was recruiting based on looks_. 

"Nice to meet you as well. Rumlow's never brought a date here before. Must be serious," Bucky grins at them both, slipping his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah? I was supposed to have my emotional support boyfriend vest by now but we've been a little busy. It's in the mail, I'm sure." Frank jokes softly as he runs a thumb over Brock's hand. "But I'm happy he invited me." 

"I just haven't gotten around to ordering it," Brock quips. "They just don't make them as small as you."

Bucky laughs at them and their banter. "Oh, you two are cute. Glad to see someone is keeping this guy on his toes. He tends to get cranky if he's idle for too long. All that pent up energy."

"Don't I know it." Frank looks up at Brock with a small smile. Memories of being bent over his lap fill his head. He looks back to Bucky. "How long did you two work together?" 

"Only five years but it was a _long_ five years. How's Rollins?"

"Jack's good. Still the same."

"Rotten as always." Frank smirks then feels his cheeks getting hot as the words came out and didn't stay in.

"Yeah that sounds like Rollins. Great guy. Good leader. Total ass," Bucky smirks.

"Alright people! Gather up! It's time to get this party started," came a rich voice near some chairs.

Frank quietly wonders how many of these men served with Brock. He wonders what they have been through and if their lives had the same challenge that he and Brock were facing at the moment. 

"For those of you who are new here, my name is Sam Wilson. I am a licensed mental health counselor and I work here at the VA and at my own private office. I just want to start by saying thank you for coming here. It's hard to admit you need help. Even harder to talk about it in front of others. I want to know this is a safe space. Everything you say here is held in confidence. By people that are going through the same thing or have gone. We are here to encourage each other and know that we aren't alone in this," Sam announces before taking a seat in the circle of chairs. He watches as everyone else follows suit.

Frank follows Brock to a seat and sits quietly beside him. He keeps his hand in Brock's and moves as close to him as he can without drawing attention to them. Sam seems like a good leader. _Again another handsome dude, did he serve? Is it a requirement?_ He snickers in his head at this thought. Before the meeting officially starts Frank leans up and kisses Brock's cheek and whispers how proud of him he is. It doesn't feel like enough but it's what he can do at the moment. 

Brock listens to several others who tell stories of heartbreak and pain. One woman recalls an event in which she had a flashback at a coffee shop when her son was being the usual hyperactivity of a seven-year-old and she snapped at him. Now she was worried if she was too dangerous to be a mother. Another man updates that he's still having night terrors and hallucinations, clearly fresh out of service and still haunted by the dead. It's then Brock realizes that anything he is going through is nothing compared to the others. He's got a good life. 

It's almost enough to convince him that he can deal on his own. That this was nothing and paled in comparison to others. He sits there in silence for more than three-quarters of the meeting, lips frozen shut with anxiety. Maybe he'll just bring it up later at the one on one. 

_Did Brock have it as bad as these people? Even now?_ He sat quietly listening and feeling his heart break for them all but he was more worried about Brock. He wants to crawl in his lap and kiss him. Hold him and tell him it's going to be ok. He squeezes Brock's hand again. 

The woman from earlier speaks again. She introduces herself as Natasha with an apology for forgetting to do so earlier. A pale hand comes up to brush away a red lock of hair before pleading to the room, "Sometimes at night, after my son is asleep, I lie in bed and wonder what if I hadn't come back. I own a gun. I think we all do, right? It's that familiar feeling of something you trust in hand. Of safety. Like a goddamned security blanket. Mine is under the pillow at night. Just in case you know. I worry what would happen if my son woke me up and I- I- what if I killed him?" She covers her mouth, unable to continue for a moment. The rest of the room waited in shared silence, letting her cry and let go without judgment. After a few minutes, she signals she's finished, unable to continue sharing.

"When I first met my boyfriend," Brock begins, softly, suddenly aware all eyes were on him. "I had a similar experience. We had gone back to his place. He's got this terrible door that got stuck when you try to open it. And even though I had _known_ that to be the case, later when his friends came over, the sound of the slam was… enough... for me to pull my gun on them. It took me a while to return, and when I did I was terrified by what I had done. I could have killed them all. A bunch of kids."

Frank again stays silent and watches him with a gentle smile on his lips. He kept his fingers laced and holding on tight to him. He is so impressed more and more by the strength that Brock has. He's the bravest man he knows. _Would he ever pull a gun on me, on accident? Would he be able to snap Brock out of it?_ He remembers that day. Any other time he might have fled. But Brock was different, something about his vulnerability that not only attracted him but made him want to protect him. Brock could have easily called it quits. Been done that day but he has been so willing to accommodate him into his life. 

"What kind of flashback was it? Do you remember?" asks Sam, with care and empathy written all over his face.

Brock hesitates for a moment, thinking back to what felt like years ago. "When the door slammed it was auditory. Sounded enough like a grenade. Or a breach, which technically it was. But afterwards, it was just feelings. Nothing else. Not like my most recent one."

"Are you comfortable enough to share that experience?" Sam asks. He leans a little forward and rests his elbows on his knees as if by sitting closer he could offer more support.

Frank doesn't quite understand what they are talking about. His eyes scan the room, he's looking for anyone who could make Brock shut down. Anyone who could make him feel bad about everything that has happened to him. But he doesn't see a face in his line of sight that would do this. They truly were supportive of each other. Even if it's superficially.

After a few heartbeats, Brock nods. "Yeah. Uh, we were on a plane. Flying here actually, to meet his parents." Brock looks at Frank and smiles at him. "I've never been on a plane before and the turbulence was the trigger." There was no need to tell these people he'd never been on a public plane.

Frank nods softly with a smile. The memories are fresh in his mind. The sound of his voice. The tension in his body that wouldn't quit no matter how much he tried to calm Brock down. The fear in his beautiful eyes. He blinks and brings himself back there.

"It was both visual and audio. One second I'm looking at Frankie and holding his hand and the next I'm in a chopper with my brother and two other teammates. We've just been picked up and the four of us are exhausted. There's a high pitched whiny whistle like a bullet train screaming. It's a missile and it hits our tail and the bird goes down. I'm falling. There's fire, I can smell the smoke. My men are screaming. I'm screaming for my brother," Brock pauses a moment to breathe past the tightness in his chest and fight off the welling in his eyes.

"You had a fully immersive flashback," Sam said. 

"Yeah. I lost two men that day," Brock's voice was quiet. "Frankie managed to bring me back. And I'm on the floor of the plane. The Air Marshall is there. I think the worst thing during the aftermath is not knowing what happened. I had to ask the Air Marshall if I had hurt someone. I don't remember what _really_ happened that wasn't in my head. Does that make sense?" After a general chorus of agreement and a few other personal stories, the meeting finally disperses. Brock stands and waits to meet with Sam, who's speaking softly with another vet.

Frank sits for a moment and looks up at Brock. He glances at Sam, then back to Brock as he also stands, "You okay, baby?" Frank keeps his voice soft enough for Brock to hear.

"Yeah." He wraps his arms around Frankie, kissing Scorpio and whispering, "I'm okay."

"I love you." His arms slide around him and hug him, "And I'm proud of you." 

"I love you too, _tesoro_. Thank you for coming with me," Brock says, pulling away a little. He glances at Sam who was approaching.

Frank stares up at Brock with a small smile. He can feel himself looking up at his love like a starry-eyed high school girl, but movement catches his attention and pulls his gaze away. He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arm around Brock's back as Sam enters their bubble. 

"Brock. It's good to see you again. I'm glad you came," Sam says, shaking Brock's hand. He turns to Frank, "You must be the boyfriend. Sam Wilson." 

"That I am, Frank Iero. It's nice to meet you, sir." He offers his hand to Sam. 

Sam shakes his hand before looking back at Brock. "You did good today. We still on for later?" 

"Yes please. Is my place okay though? I'd rather not go to your office. Maybe you can say hi to Jack." 

"Sure, whatever makes you feel most comfortable," Sam smiles.

Frank feels his phone buzz in his pocket and tries to ignore it. But the second time, it rings meaning it's something important. He pulls the phone from his pocket and sees Mom flashing on the screen. "Uh, excuse me guys. I have to take this." Frank says with a nod to Sam. He looks up at Brock and speaks softly, "I'll be just outside." He runs his fingers across Brock's back before heading for the door and answering it as he steps outside. 

Not long after, Brock follows Frankie out after confirming with Sam that he will receive a text message when Sam is available to come over. With Sam, he didn't have to make excuses to leave a conversation. He just said that he needs to stay with Frank and Sam gave a nod and went on his way to speak with another member. Brock comes up behind Frankie and wraps his arms around his middle, resting his chin on his shoulder and totally _not_ attempting to listen in on the phone call.

"Yes ma, we are still coming. She doesn't know what she is talking about, relax." Frank turns his face and kisses Brock's cheek, "Yes, Brock will be there. I promise. No. Ma, I haven't pushed him away." 

"Yes, I will tell him hello. Love you too momma." Frank sighs before hanging up. His phone goes into his pocket and his attention is back to Brock. "Hi." 

"Hi. And hi mom, I guess," he chuckles softly.

"She's worried we aren't coming tomorrow," Frank sighs.

"And why would she be worried?" Brock hugs Frankie tighter.

"So bear with me. My aunt Carolyn likes to cause problems in the family. She is the one who introduced me to Jamia. So, that's all I need to say." Frank says as he grips Brocks arms with his hands. "She was telling mom that I'm not coming cause she had a 'dream' cause she has 'visions' and I guess tell the future."

"Is she coming to the party tomorrow?" 

"I would put money on it. You will know who she is by just the way she looks too." Frank chuckles, "We can avoid her. She's not the biggest fan of me."

"If she looks anything like that terrible psychic in the Harry Potter movies, I'm going to laugh. But we'll just have to see. You ready to go?"

"I am always ready to go with you." Frank smiles and kisses Brock's cheek again. 

"Home? Or…?" Brock's not sure what to do now. At least until Sam comes over tonight.

"We should pick up a few things for the house, like food. And maybe coffee, my treat?" 

"Okay," he replies, standing upright and moving to hold Frankie's hand and walk to the car.

Frank laces his fingers with Brock's and follows him to the car. They make the shopping trip as quick as they can, mostly for Brock's sake. He's worn out halfway through and doesn't get anything for himself when they make the drive-thru. Frank's taking notes on the things that would have a little spark in Brock that don't register. He's not sure why he's doing it but it makes him feel better? He already knows that once they are home Brock is going to either bed or the couch. He sits quietly beside Brock as they pull into the apartment. He opens his mouth but stops the words from coming out. He wants to tell him not to go to bed. To stay up and be up and around with him. "Are you going to lay down?" 

"I don't know," Brock says, parking and getting the groceries. He heads up to the apartment. "Maybe." 

"Ok." Frank replies as he opens the door for Brock. "Are...you gonna be able to sleep tonight?" 

Setting the groceries down on the kitchen island, Brock begins unloading the food. He's not sure if he'll be able to sleep properly. "I hope so. I've been tired enough for it at least. Got my best koala to keep me feeling good though."

"Damn right. And he's a clingy lil thing too." Frank says as he wraps his arms around his waist. "I'll make dinner later." 

"Okay. Movie?" 

"Yeah! Movie sounds good." Frank presses his forehead into Brock's chest. "Don't forget to call your mom. I'm sure she'd like to hear from you." He should work on some music that Ray had sent him. It was new material for the upcoming album. Maybe if Brock falls asleep he can work in the office with headphones. Frank pulls Brock towards the living room and sits on the couch pulling him down with him. He turns the television on and curls into Brock's side. 

"Old or new movie?" 

"Hmmm. Something in between? Anything you wanted to watch?" 

"I've never seen the Lord of the Rings stuff? Uh, I mean I can always watch mindless movies like Jurassic Park or Star Wars." Frank offers. It's three options, or he can pick something for them.

"You've never seen Lord of the Rings? Weirdo." Brock teases and scrolls through the menu. 

"No. I'm not that much of a dork..." Frank teases. 

"You are. And I love you for it. How do you feel about something animated?" Brock switches over to the kids' menu options on Demand. He's feeling like something light and wholesome is what he needs.

"Ok!" 

"Monsters Inc? Wreck-it Ralph? Finding Nemo? 101 Dalmatians?" Frank throws names out. 

"Let's go with Nemo. It's a classic. Cute and not too heavy." 

"Yeah it is! I like this movie." Frank says as he snuggles a little closer.

"Me too," Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and moves them so he's lying on top of Brock. He starts the movie.

Brock is a heater and will make Frank fall asleep. He's gonna fight it. His fingers stroke Brock's chest. "Do you need me to purr?" He asks with a hint of humor behind his words.

"Wait, can you?" Brock asks, surprised.

"I can roll my R's?" He offers, "It can sound like a purr… right?"

"You do realize you have to now, right?" Brock says quiet, fingers trailing lightly on Frank's back. He's enjoying the weight on him and the mindless movie playing in the background. He's warm and comfortable. Even with the ever-present ache in his bones and muscles.

"Well now I don't know what I could say… but I can." Frank grins at him. "Gimme a word, I can purr."

"Why do you need a word? Just purr," he smiles softly.

He's right, he doesn't need a word. Frank does his best attempt to purr by rolling his Rs. It's not soothing like a kitten's but if it gets Brock to laugh or relax. It would be worth looking silly.

Chuckling, Brock hugs Frankie tight and kisses him lightly. "That was cute. Probably not a good idea to try again though. You sounded more like, uh…"

"A dying lawn mower?" 

"Yeah. A sick one at that. But I still love it." 

"I'll take you to a shelter and let you play with the real purring kittens." Frank smiles. "Maybe you can get 'em to make biscuits on you."

"What? Cats can't cook," Brock frowns, confused.

"No they are terrible chefs but they do make biscuits." Frank grins realizing he has no idea what he's talking about.

"I'm confused but okay." He's trying to work out how kittens can possibly make biscuits.

"Maybe get you a nice purrito." Frank grins. He leans up and kisses him. "Do you wanna know?" 

"First you are talking about biscuits and now burritos? Are _you_ just hungry?" Brock suppresses a yawn. A warm Frankie blanket made him sleepy, but then again so did everything else. He glances at the TV and quotes in time with Bruce the shark, "Fish are friends. Not food." 

"No but once you are awake I'll show you." Frank laughs. He strokes Brock's chest. He knows sleep is not far for his love. "You should close your eyes my love." 

"I'm sorry," murmurs Brock, fighting the urge to drift off. 

Frank lets him drift to sleep. He can feel Brock's phone against his thigh. He's fighting sleep himself. Once he knows Brock is asleep he sits back and pulls Brock's phone from his pocket. Turning the volume all the way up and setting it on the coffee table right next to him. It's going to rattle loudly when Sam messages him. He crawls off the couch and retrieves a few things, a guitar, headphones, and the notes from Ray. He sits on the chair across from Brock and quietly strums the guitar. He's making notes and filling in his additions to the sheet music Ray insisted on using. Luckily, it's not an acoustic so it shouldn't be any kind of sound that would wake Brock. Lord knows he has done it enough times before octopus mode became a thing.

An hour and ten later, Brock's phone chimes and vibrates loudly at the incoming text message from Sam. The noise wakes up Brock, who groans with stiffness at being on the couch. A hand reaches for his pocket, blindly searching for the annoying source of evil.

"Coffee table and it's probably Sam." Frank says loudly, still wearing headphones.

He rolls over onto his side, mentally cursing his phone and Sam for ruining his sleep. It takes him a moment to be able to read the small print, him not fully awake just yet. "Uh, Sam says hi. Wants to know how I'm doing and is sometime in the next half hour good to come over?"

Frank slides his headphones off. "What are you going to tell him?" _He's not great. He's drowning. The sooner the better, Sammy boy._

"I'm okay and sure. Unless you wanted to feed him?" Brock rubs his face and tries to wake up.

"It doesn't matter to me. It's nothing fancy. Just chicken and roasted veggies... Are you ok with him staying for dinner?" 

Brock texts Sam back and gets a reply quickly, "He declined dinner but says thanks. We can eat after he's gone."

Frank pulls the headphones from his neck and begins to gather his things up. He should tidy up before Sam shows up. He picks up Bela by the neck and carries her to the office where her cradle sat. He tucks his papers in his backpack and places it in the closet. He picks up shoes from near the door and places them into the same closet. 

Frank flutters to the kitchen and tidies the kitchen up, wiping the counter down and rinsing out the sink. He makes sure there are bottles of water in the fridge. He takes the mail and places it on Brock's desk. He returns and wipes the kitchen table off. He takes the full trash and drops it in the garbage chute. Frank moves back to the living room. He straightens the pillows and folds the blankets draping them over the back of the chair. He turns the television off and pulls the coffee table back. He knows he is anxious. He knows he's fluttering. His head is filled with ideas that sound like a nest of bees. Overlapping thoughts that drown out reason. The overall noise screams that he's the reason for all of this… 

"Shut it down and suck it up, Iero." He whispers to himself to try to get centered. 

Arms wrap around Frankie's middle and lips press into his neck. Brock's chin rests on his shoulder, "I want to make a joke about what you should be sucking and what you shouldn't but if I'm allowed to be weak then so are you. I don't want you to shut anything down. This is why Sam is coming. To help _us_. Both as a unit and separately. You do make a pretty cute maid though."

"I'm fine." Frank automatically responds. He takes a breath and centers himself then replies, "I'll be fine, is what I meant. I also don't want Sam to think you let me move in and I turned into the Tasmanian devil in the apartment." He took a deep breath, "Just nerves I'm trying to calm. I'm sorry." Brock deserves someone strong, not this weak pathetic shit that he had to offer. He can be confident. He's not totally sure what to expect, he already has trouble talking about his feelings with Brock, would this stranger make the difference? Probably not. Frank would give a little peek in but never pull the curtain back. That's how all of the dirty dishes, pots, pans, and dirty laundry would spill from the proverbial closet in his head.

"I don't care what Sam thinks of our apartment. He probably wouldn't care. You shouldn't either. I'm sorry you are feeling nervous. He's a good guy. I think you'll like him. I trust him. He's gonna help me get better and give you tools to not have caregiver fatigue and such. I don't want to be a burden on you and make you sick or unhappy because of this. I love you." Brock kisses his neck again, moving to his jaw and nipping gently before going back to cuddling.

"You're not a burden. Not now or ever." Frank lifts his arm and strokes Brock's neck, "I care that we are at least tidy for guests and Jack doesn't count." 

"It's good to see a place look like a home and not something out of a… what did you call it? Home and Gardens magazine?" Brock chuckles softly. His smile fades, tone turning more serious, "I know this is as hard on you as it is on me. And I'm sorry. I also know you tend to shove things in a little box and hide it under the proverbial bed and I'm worried that while this is going on, you will keep shoving things into the box until the box explodes. I love you too much for that."

"Oh baby, I'll be ok." Frank sighs, "Even when you're going through it you still worry about me and you don't have to." He does cram it down. Bottle up the feelings and keep everything calm on the surface. "Is that your sweet way of asking me to not shove it down while Sam's here?" 

"Baby love, I've been telling you since our first date, that I wanted to know everything. Be your everything. Support you and cherish you through everything. For better or for worse. Why should now be any different?" His hands slip under his shirt and trace shapes in Frank's stomach. "You do the same for me." 

"It isn't any different." Frank relaxes into Brock a little, "I just want to be strong for both of us right now."

"You have always been and always will be _exactly_ what I need. All I have ever needed is to be with you... Everything else is just perks."

"Wanna know something?" Frank says with a quiet voice.

"With you, always, _tesoro_ ," Brock whispers.

"First of all, I love you. And second, this is the most honest and open I've been in any relationship of mine." Frank says, feeling the apprehension of the next words, "Scares the shit out of me to share all this nonsense in my head."

"First, I love you. Second, I'm proud of you. And thirdly, I don't think it's nonsense."

"It's like two ferrets fighting over a ball up here." He grins as he taps his temple.

"Okay now that's just cute to watch. Fur slinkys. But I get your point. And I'm okay with it. If I wasn't, I wouldn't still be here. I would love to soothe the animals and calm some of the fears and worry in your head. Just not today. Tomorrow doesn't look good either," Brock ends his sentence with a little laugh.

"Fur slinkys are the cutest thing I have ever heard. It's up there with sea pancakes and water dogs." Frank laughs, "But it sounds like you're all booked up this week… I'll try back next week. But you always calm my fears. And I promise, my love, I am going to be fine. I just gotta take care of my favorite man right now."

"Okay," Brock pulls away and turns Frank around, pulling him into a gentle and soft kiss.

He wraps his arms around his neck. He kisses him back and lets himself relax a little. As he pulls away, he looks up at him, "After dinner we should go for a walk. Just to get some air that's not apartment air." He and Brock could use some outside time. It might be nice to do boring couple things, he suggests, "Even if we just go to the park and sit on a bench. Maybe?" 

"Okay. Do you think you'll be jumped again if we go to Central Park?" He's not sure he can deal with another mob of screaming girls.

"I think we'll be ok. I'll wear a hat." Frank smiles. It was a fluke incident but the thought crossed his mind. "We could even just walk down the block to that little cafe. They have outdoor seating and we can just enjoy the night and some cheesy acoustic music."

"Okay. Too bad I don't have a beach house here. Stay there on vacation and walk the beach at night or early morning." The idea isn't wholly appealing at the moment but Brock knows that Frankie would like it and it might be good for them to do later.

"Yeah. I don't need a beach. Anywhere with my favorite guy is perfect." Frank says before hugging him tightly. "How was your nap?"

"Not long enough," he sighs into the tight hug. "Rude alarm. Evil thing."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, my love. Any other time I would let you sleep a little more." Frank presses his ear to Brock's chest. 

"Probably a good thing I don't sleep too much. Even though it's pretty much my state of existence," Brock sighs. "The anxiety says I'm sleeping too much and I need to get up and move, to do the things, and it's panicking that I'm not being productive while the depression is making me too exhausted to do just the bare minimum of life. It's like my get up and go got up and left. And I'm stuck on a quarter tank of gas."

"Then good thing my little ass is like AAA. I'll help fill your tank and jump your batteries." Frank smiles and nods as he strokes Brock's back.

"I love you. And I know you mean well, but that sounded like a terrible pass."

"It sounded good in my head but the second it came out it was...just bad!" Frank chuckles. 

"Fill _my_ tank, huh? There something you wanna tell me, _tesoro_?" Brock grins a little.

"It was supposed to be cute like fill your love…" he stops and sighs, "love tank doesn't sound any damn better… shit." 

Laughing quietly, Brock hugs Frank tight, kissing the top of his head. "I get what you mean. But maybe you should quit while you're ahead and not eat your shoe."

"I think that's best." Frank feels his cheeks heating up. "I promise I used to be smooth… and charming." 

"And then you met me. And here I kinda said the same thing, remember? I'm better at signals over pick up lines. And used to be better until I met you." 

"I think that we lost the smooth pickup artists because we don't need to attract a mate. We found our person." Frank nods and slides his hands under Brock's shirt to touch his low back with cold fingers, "And… you say things still that give me the butterflies or make me blush. So you _clearly_ still got something." 

"I got you, babe. That's all I ever need," Brock replies, kissing him again.

"I am happy that I finally found you." 

A knock on the door stops Brock from responding. Instead, he pulls away from Frankie and goes over to answer it, knowing that it was Sam. After a double-check through the peephole, he unlocks the door and opens it, allowing Sam to step through. 

"Hey, man. How are you since I saw you last? All of a few hours," Sam jokes, extending his hand for a shake. He nods at Frankie in the kitchen. "Everything going good?"

Frank jams his hands in his pockets. He gives Sam a nod and smile.

'Yeah. We ran a few errands and came back here, watched a movie. Napped. A pretty relaxing day all things considered." Brock shakes his hand in return.

"Sounds ominous. Is the couch ok for us to sit on? Or did you have something else in mind?" Sam motions to the couch, wearing an easy smile.

Brock nods. He holds out his hand for Frankie to take and follows Sam to the couch. Frank takes his hand and follows. Brock sits sideways on the couch, so he can extend his legs out and pull Frankie into his lap. Sam sits across from him and smiles. 

Frank sits comfortably as the two men settle in. _How's this work? Does he ask questions? Am I supposed to answer?_ He looks back to Brock for reassurance. "Thank you for coming over," Frank says awkwardly and softly as he strokes Brock's outer thigh with his fingers. 

"Of course. Anything I can do to help. Brock and I go way back. Before we get started, did you have any questions, Frank? Anything I can answer that will make you more comfortable?" 

Frank shakes his head no, "I don't think so." 

Sam nods, "Alright. Well. Let's start by telling me what's going on. What's new? How are you feeling?"

Brock sighs. He hates those questions. Yeah sure they were important but he always found them hard to answer. Especially since they were the ice breaker ones. He generally didn't have a problem once he got going but it was the getting there that he had an issue with. For some reason, they always felt loaded. A hundred thoughts flew in his head of things he knew he needed to say but he couldn't find the _right_ words to start. He's overthinking and he knows it.

Frank's thoughts are loud in his head. _Well, he's depressed. It might be my fault. I am keeping myself together with dental floss because I am a mess of nonsense. But we're fine._

"Tired," Brock says with a sigh. He settles on a word and hates it but whatever.

"Ok. So, tired; Are you sleeping okay?" 

"I would say yeah. A lot though. I'm exhausted all the time. Lack of energy. Lack of…" Brock pauses, unsure how to word it right.

"He's been saying he's achy too." Frank takes the silence to contribute softly.

"Thank you," Brock whispers softly in Frankie's ear, with a kiss.

"Achy. How long have you been in pain? And how much?" Sam's brows furrow.

Frank is curious about this answer. He's not sure he wants to know. He feels awful for not noticing sooner.

"Couple of weeks. Maybe less. I'm not really sure when it started, but it feels like a muscle ache that's deep into the bones. It's persistent and no matter what, it never goes away. Though it is less when I'm relaxing like this or in a hot shower. Just temporary. I've got headaches recently, probably stress. The Tylenol doesn't help the body aches." Brock takes a deep breath. He felt like he couldn't breathe, not from anxiety, but just a lack of oxygen from spilling the words.

Frank feels himself slump ever so slightly. He can feel guilt hit him in the chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes back his feelings. The momentary frown goes away and remains straight. 

"I take it you didn't tell anyone," Sam says, looking at Frankie.

"I actually thought it was the bed on the bus. Was even thinking about replacing it. I didn't really realize what it was until Frankie said something."

"It was Jack who noticed it. Not me." Frank clarifies. _Be_ c _ause I'm a bad boyfriend._

"But you helped me put a name to what I've been feeling. Again. And that's the important thing, _tesoro_." Brock hugs Frankie.

"Ah, so you know you are depressed. That helps me a little," Sam nods. "Any idea why this started?"

"Stress, I guess. It's not exactly a hard life on the road but at the same time it is." 

"On the road?"

"I'm a touring musician and he's on the road with my band as our tour manager." Frank explains. He tries to not give it too much emotion.

"I see. How's that for you? What about the job is stressful?"

Brock frowns, "It's really not any _one_ thing. Or a multitude of things. But I think it's mostly the eight, ten, twelve hours on a bus, unload, do the soundcheck, get the boys ready, check-in with security, they do the show, then we have the radio spots and the interviews and the meet and greets. Autographs. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Yeah I know it's only been a handful of shows and I love the boys, one more than the others. But I haven't needed to do this sort of stuff in years. I can do it but I'm finding it hard to get into a comfortable routine. Every show we've done so far has had some major event that's been high energy and it's just… tiring. I think that eventually things will settle and we'll be fine but between my relationship with Frankie and the guys– you know when you shove six dudes in a long yet fancy matchbox, it takes a bit to mesh right."

"One more than the others, you're talking Ray right?" Frank looks back and smirks at him. "But his job is more complicated than what he's saying. It's all that plus, corresponding with the label people. Dealing with security. And staying healthy himself."

"You little imp," Brock hisses, face turning several shades darker. 

"Who is Ray?" asks a very confused Sam. "One of the band members?" 

"He's the lead guitarist. He and Brock have a _special_ relationship." Frank grins as he leans back into him, "It's his new boyfriend."

"I'm not cheating on Frankie," Brock blurts out. He's certain this is payback for all the times he made Frankie blush. "I don't like Ray… like that." 

Frank kisses his cheek, "I know. You just like Ray cause he's like Jack but cuddlier."

Brock blushes harder. It's exactly why he likes Sunshine. Joy personified with a dash of floof and a willingness to give the best hugs and back massages. He can't help but want to keep his pocket full of sunshine. He squeezes his eyes shut and without thinking he mutters, "I like cuddles. And hugs." 

"And that's how Jack noticed he was different." Frank points out.

"Who was different? Brock? Or Ray?" Sam is beginning to wish he brought his notebook for the mind map he was making in his head. 

"Brock."

"What is different about Brock?"

Frank looks at Brock. _Are you gonna spill?_ He sighs and sits forward so he's no longer touching Brock. "Can I be honest with you?" 

"Honesty leads to healing. I'm here to help and everything said between us is confidential," Sam nods.

A soft whine escapes the moment Frankie isn't touching Brock anymore. He needs him in his arms again. He refrains from making grabby hands but he does, however, tug gently on Frankie's shirt to come back.

Frank leans back into him at the feeling of his shirt being pulled. "I think it's my fault that we are _here_ now. Before we went on the road we had a conversation and Brock opened up to me about a secret that he's held on to for years. Ever since then he's been needy. Which I love cause I'm needy too but _I'm_ not enough..."

"You are enough. I'll stop with Sunshine," Brock can't keep the whine from his voice. He didn't mean to make his love upset and hurt and feeling like he's not enough.

"I don't care that you and Ray cuddle, love. It's fine. It's innocent. That's not what I'm saying." Frank turns his head to see Brock, "Ever since you told me about your touch deprivation, I didn't see it but you've been dropping. Then last night, Ray touched your shoulder and you broke down. I shouldn't have made you feel like you had to tell me."

"I didn't– you didn't– I wanted to. I wanted to give you all of my heart." Brock's chest heaves a little as he tries to keep the emotions at bay.

"Touch deprivation. Let's talk about this and how it's affected your relationships. Especially with your boyfriend and the band," interjects Sam. He shifts on the couch a little, getting comfortable. "When did it start and can you tell me why?"

"Shortly after I moved to America and joined the military. And it's because I went from an _expressive_ culture to one that's stone cold. I quickly figured out that it's inappropriate to make contact with anyone that wasn't family or a spouse. Other than my brother, I don't have family here and my previous dates were few and far in between. By the time I retired, I could already feel the need for skin contact but I buried it. I had no choice. I never told anyone. I kept it hidden. The first time I was with someone, I was happy and it felt so good to be held. So relieved to be touched. Then I learned that when I was with someone, it was only acceptable to be cuddly for the first few weeks or months before it was labeled as 'clingy' and not normal. Freakish. Monstrous. So I stopped the affectionate stuff after the first week of every relationship because I didn't want to push them away. Telling Frankie was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. But I just _knew_ that deep down he was different. Special. And I didn't have to hide anymore." Brock grits his teeth and holds back the water in his eyes that were so close to spilling over.

Frank turns his head and lifts Brock's chin and kisses him before he whispers, "I am so proud of you." 

He gives him a wet laugh, a few tears falling, before cupping the back of his head and kissing him, "I love you so much, _tesoro_." 

"I love you more, _polpetto_."

Sam smiles and gives them a few moments to connect before speaking gently, "Did you know that in a study with infants, one group was given all of their basic needs met plus large amounts of physical affection. Hugs and being cradled. Lotion massages, and the like. The second group only got the basic needs, never being touched beyond what was necessary. More than half the children in the second group- those who did not receive the touch affection, died. It is _crucial_ to life just as much as food, sleep, water and all of the other needs and senses. It's also very much neglected."

Frank takes Brock's arms and pulls them tight around his body. He laces his fingers with Brock's. He's going to keep telling him how proud of him or how much he loves him anytime soon.

"So it seems to me that telling Frankie your secret broke down some walls you made. Do you regret that choice?"

"No. I love that I don't have to say a word, just reach over and keep my hands on him and it's okay. I don't have to worry about him telling me no. I don't have to worry that I'm being too needy. That it's overbearing or demanding. I know it's acceptable. I don't have to make up some excuse to find a way to get skin contact."

"I can't imagine holding onto such pain and the trauma of being reconditioned to no longer express yourself through touch for even a few months, much less ten or twenty years. Meeting Frank made you willing to be vulnerable. Vulnerability is healthy and important to a successful relationship. To let down your defenses and bring him into the deepest parts of you. It strengthens your bonds. But it also released some of the fallout from holding onto such pain for so long. You've never fully trusted someone as much as him, so you've never been anxious over things such as cuddling before or any other personal aspects of your relationship before. And the new anxiety, the touch starvation and its social disconnect, plus the new job responsibilities have been a mixing pot to put you into this depressive state. Would you agree?" 

"Yes," Brock whispers.

"This is why he feels the need to cuddle with Ray or have the others in the band near him, yes?" Frank asks. 

"Yes," Brock whispers again. He wants all the touch. All the cuddles. 

"Think of this like opening Pandora's box. Brock admitting his needs to you has released his pent up trauma. He has to work through the trauma associated with physical contact before the anxiety related to it goes away. With you, he knows he's safe. He feels calmer with you. With others, it probably causes anxiety, correct?" Sam inquires.

"Yeah. He was rocky yesterday but Ray, or Sunshine, put his arm around the back of the couch and rested it across Brock's skin and he broke down. But he was about to say what he needed after the guys assured him that no one would hate him or think he's broken." Frank replied with a small nod. He felt like he was tattling on Brock.

"Brock, why don't you explain to us, as best as you can, what you feel when you want to cuddle Ray or the other band members?" Sam has a pretty decent idea of what his friend is going to say but he needs to hear it.

"Fear. Worry. Panic and nausea. Like I'm going to have a heart attack and die or puke." Brock says softly.

"That's a good start. But it's not really what I was asking. What goes through your head? What are you thinking about, feeling? Anxiety makes us catastrophize things and I want to know what you are processing."

Brock closes his eyes and hugs Frankie tight, burying his face in Frankie's neck as if by doing so, his koala will keep him safe from answering. 

"I can't answer for you, my love. I would if I could." Frank whispers. He means it, he knows it scares Brock. 

"I'm afraid… scared to admit the truth. Scared to even want what I need. Scared that I'll be a freak. A disgusting freak. _It's_ _not normal_ ," Brock admits. "I don't want them to hate me. Or make fun of me. I panic just thinking that they'll get up and leave me. Hate me. I know what I want is wrong. I shouldn't want to cuddle another man that isn't my partner. And what if Sunshine is bothered by me? Or Frankie. I don't want him to feel unloved or worthless. So I feel worse for wanting something that's so bad. And yet it feels good and then I feel ashamed and embarrassed and I hate it. It's wrong and not normal to cuddle other people."

Frank wants to turn and hug him tight. Tighter than he's hugged him before. He wishes he could take on his pain or anxiety and give him any kind of relief. After Sam leaves he's absolutely going to cling to Brock. 

Sam's expression shifts from his neutral concern to something more serious and yet unreadable. "First off, I want to say that what you are feeling is perfectly okay and normal, but it is the anxiety speaking. And secondly, feelings lie. What you think will happen may not necessarily actually happen. Contrary to what society tells you, it is perfectly acceptable to cuddle another man that isn't your partner. Provided he gives consent. And it seems to me that the other members of the band have done just that."

"Ray and the others know the struggle he's had. I know that Ray is fine with being the big spoon for Brock. But how can I help him? I know that time is the biggest thing to help him find a new normal but I feel like I'm letting him drown?" Frank asks softly. The little voice in his head is shouting that he is the reason. He is going to be the thing that pushes Brock away. He didn't deserve Brock's love. He was a piece of shit that broke him. 

"You're right," Sam agrees. "Time and support _are_ going to be the biggest things. This isn't something that will go away overnight. Brock, you need to work on addressing the trauma and dealing with the anxiety that comes from desiring physical contact with other people that isn't Jack or Frankie. Work on being able to say what you want first. Small steps. Talk out what you are feeling and afraid of during the high energy moments. The goal is to be comfortable enough that you will no longer have an anxiety attack and breakdown the next time one of your band members gives you a hug, and to feel as safe with them as you do with Frankie.

I'm going to give you some tools to use for the anxiety. Try some holistic approaches. Things like meditation. Deep breathing exercises. Learn to recognize when the anxiety is getting to be too much and don't go afraid to say "I need a break". Step away, calm yourself, and return to the issue. Keep doing whatever helps you keep calm as you work through the emotional PTSD. This isn't any different than your PTSD from your days in the service and the treatment is the same.

The depression is an accompanying emotional state- that is it's there because of the other unresolved issues. Your PTSD and anxiety are weighing on you, quite literally it seems. It's a physical manifestation of what's going on in your head and heart. Depression hurts. It's more than just a loss of interest and being sad all the time. There's a physical pain to it; the body aches and the headaches. You're probably feeling some apathy as well. Like the anxiety, do the things that seem to help alleviate some of the pain. You said hot showers. It's good for the muscles but so is a heating pad. Ice packs. I recommend massages for two reasons: physical touch and pain relief. Your touch starvation is enhancing the physical pain of depression. Get the aromatherapy massage for added stress relief. Make it a couples massage to further strengthen your bond. Continue to do things as a couple. Working through this together will forge a stronger, deeper, and above all, a healthier relationship. Depression also makes you lose interest in things that used to make you happy, but continuing to do so, even though you don't _want_ to, is important. Even though we don't actively feel the release in oxytocin, it's still there. Get outside as much as you can. Studies show that being cooped up actually increases depression. You're Italian and are used to large amounts of sunlight. Take a walk or use an outdoor gym to stay active and get your daily vitamin D. Both also release oxytocin.

Frankie, with you, I think the biggest thing you can do to help is to be patient. Help him squash the intrusive thoughts. Support by being there, coaching him through the panic attacks, listening to his fears, and helping him push the boundaries a little and working with him to see that things are going to be okay. Be the reward system. But don't do it alone either. These are your friends too and by sharing some of your own feelings and worries, you can find some peace during this as well. I don't want you to drop into caregiver fatigue. They want to help and if it means a giant cuddle pile and calming Brock down from a panic attack or flashback, then maybe speak with them about it and do so." 

"So by taking him to the park for a picnic or going for a drive upstate, would be good? Cause I don't wanna be indoors so I figured it would be good for him too." Frank replies as he glances at Brock.

"Absolutely. Get out of the house, engage in some light activities and take breaks as needed. Continue to do your job because I think once you find that routine, it'll get easier and less stressful for you but just remember that you've got this. You've done it before. But don't give in to the depression that wants you to stay in bed all day because it's easier. You've got to fight. We don't want the intrusive thoughts to start looking for ways _out_ ," Sam gives them both a strong look. 

Frank can't help the knee jerk reaction of looking at Brock because of Sam's words. He tells himself to not panic or accuse but he finds the words needing to escape, "Ways out as in… _out_ out?" Was he suicidal? Did he want to die? He can't. Brock's not allowed to leave him.

"It's been my experience that the longer someone feels like this, the heavier it seems to get. The body and mind aren't meant to be under such immense pain for so long. I find that eventually hope is lost and despite all best efforts, despair sets in. And with it, yes, suicide becomes an option. Sometimes it feels like it's the only option," says Sam, still staring at Brock, reading his face. He doubted this was the case here but he needs to have Brock say it.

"I am not suicidal. I don't want that, just to get better. Promise," Brock heaves a sigh.

Frank breaks the hold Brock has on him. He sits forward and turns to face Brock then straddles his laps. Wrapping his arms around his husband's middle and holds on to him. He buries his face into Brock's chest then exhales with a shaky voice, "You're not allowed to leave me." 

"I don't want to. I never want to be away from you. I don't want you to leave me either. I _need_ you. I need you in my life, you are the reason I live. I feel better when I'm with you. And miserable when you are away. I love you," Brock rambles.

"I love you more, Brock. I'm sorry I did this to you. I didn't know it would hurt you." Frank speaks softly into his chest. 

"You didn't… I wanted to share this with you. I wanted to get better. This isn't your fault, _tesoro_ , it's mine," Brock cries softly, kissing Frank.

"Neither of you are at fault. It's nobody's. Just circumstances beyond your control. If anything, blame the people who didn't support you in the past. Those failed relationships happened for a reason. It happened and it's in the past now. Let it go, forgive, and move on to dealing with the here and now. You two have a bright future ahead of you. This is a dark season but night doesn't last forever. Both of you need to hold onto that."

"Question." Frank asks looking back at Sam.

"Answer," replies Sam with a quirk of his lips. 

"Should he be on the road? Like the tour. Is it going to make it worse?" Frank questions the way he asks but oh well.

"Brock has expressed a rather intense desire to be with you. Several times so far just being here with you guys. He cares about you quite a lot. I would imagine the idea of staying home while you toured would be a source of anxiety. Right?" 

Brock nods. He can't leave Frankie. He's his koala. His life. His love. His grounding touch keeps him calm. He was his rock. His everything. He needs him to breathe. To feel safe. "And I don't want the band to break up because of me either. I know Frankie would quit because of me. That's not fair to them to take away what they love because I'm not okay right now. I love my boys."

"Maybe we can work out something where we can split the responsibility of the job to make it easier on you, just for now?" Frank looks at Brock as he offers, he runs his fingers across Brock's cheek. "The rest of the tour is all west coast so sunshine isn't a problem."

"I do love Sunshine," Brock whispers, trying for a joke. "And maybe light tanning. Gotta keep you pale and emo though. Don't want to ruin your image."

Laughing, Sam nods, "I think you guys will be just fine. And any of you, not just you two, can call me anytime for a video chat or call. Day or night 24/7. I'm here to help, even across the country."

"Maybe I'll keep you motivated to exercise if I start working out?" Frank grins and bites the tip of his tongue, "Get all buff…"

"I'll work out just to keep you _from_ the gym," Brock chuckles and wipes his leaking eyes again. 

"That's the spirit… but you don't want me to get some guns?" Frank replies as he pulls a slim arm and flexes.

"Okay stop, please. That's a disturbing image," Brock smiles and puts Frankie's arm down. His twink needs to stay twinkie.

"Okay. I'll stay more like a twinkie." Frank says leaning forward and kissing him. 

"Laughter is the best medicine. It's good to see you can still do that. How's your sex life?" Sam asks casually.

"It's usually very good but right now, it's on hold." Frank replies. He understands why and isn't concerned, yet.

"Understandable," Sam nods. "I imagine the chronic fatigue plays a huge factor in that. Besides being such a beautiful, intimate and bonding act with your boyfriend, it's also a mood booster. I'm not going to go into detail, I'm not a sex therapist, but I can suggest trying some intimate acts that don't exactly require a lot of energy. Climax doesn't have to be the goal either, just the intimacy, but again I'm not that kind of doctor."

"We are pretty creative." Frank smiles at Brock. "Brock, are you at all interested?"

"I'm willing to try, but… I should do more. I'm sorry." He could tell there was a decrease in interest in that as well. It just seemed daunting and not worth doing. It was just going to hurt and exhaust him. Just like everything else. He preferred cuddling. To everything. "I've just wanted to be held. Tight. Helps with the pain. Body heat and hugs and the weight eases the ache."

Frank tightens his hold on Brock. If it will help, he's willing to do it. He sighs feeling a little relief in the action, "You don't have to be sorry for anything, baby."

"I know, but I'm still sorry," Brock murmurs.

"You'll have to work on changing the voice in your head, Brock, but I think that with a strong support system which you have, you'll get through this and be okay. It's going to take time. Could be a few weeks. Could be months or years. Try not to think that if you don't accomplish this in one night that you are a failure. This didn't happen overnight and neither will the healing process."

"Exactly." Frank nods, "I can be your rock as long as you need me to be. I can carry your weight. I'm a tough cookie." 

"I'm like three times your weight but okay," Brock kisses him lightly. He feels better talking with them.

"Okay, you've got my number, Brock. Feel free to call me if you need me. Pass it along to your friends too," Sam says, unfolding himself from the couch and standing.

"He'll be calling you for sure. Thank you for helping, Sam." Frank says warmly.

"Not just him I hope. And I'm glad to help a friend and his love out. This is a group effort, man," Sam grins at them both.

"You should get up and hug your friend." Frank says quietly.

"Yes you should," says Sam with a wide grin. "Especially since now I know all of our handshakes have been silently killing you." He opens his arms and waits.

Brock flushes and gets up. It feels weird and wrong and yet when Sam pulls him into the hug, he feels himself melt a little and hug him back. He mutters softly, "Thank you." 

"Anytime, man. I got your back." Sam pats Brock's back before letting him go. He turns to Frankie with a grin. "Want a hug too?" 

Frank gives him a smile, "Sure. I appreciate you." He opens his arms towards Sam.

"You're a good guy. Just from meeting you today, I can tell you are good in Brock's life," Sam replies, pulling Frankie into a warm hug. He whispers in his ear, "Don't hesitate to call me either. We can do individual sessions over the phone in private. I mean it when I say I'm available."

"Oh. Ok. I'm… thank you, Sam." Frank replies a little shocked. He must be able to tell _things_ others don't notice. Or Frank revealed more than he intended, "I never served. B deserves the help more than me."

"Being the partner of a Vet with PTSD is a service in of itself. And caregiver fatigue is very real and I'd hate to see you dealing with that," Sam smiles and pulls away a little.

"I know the big guy is worried about that too." Frank sighs giving Brock a soft smile.

Brock nods. He was. He goes over and pulls Frankie into a tight hug before walking Sam out with a promise to call him on the regular. After Sam leaves, Brock gets him a glass of iced water and drinks it.

Frank stands quietly in the kitchen. He is unsure of what to do. Should he start cooking? Maybe they should go to dinner, his treat? He watches Brock, he's curious to know what's going on in his head. "How… how are you feeling?" Frank hesitates to ask. His memories bring him back to a time where a moment like this would have gotten him snapped at. 

Brock sighs heavily, feeling a little off but not completely in a bad way. It was just a lot to process. He turns around, finishing the water and setting it aside before answering, “Weird? Like my head is stuffed with a lot of information and I’m not really sure just yet how to process it all. But, I’m okay. You?”

Frank didn't realize that his muscles had been tense until Brock spoke and he flinched slightly then relaxed. "I'm fine. Just the usual, worried about you." He speaks with careful words, "But I feel better about how to get _you_ better." 

“Sam said it’ll take time. We’ve got time. I love you.”

"Exactly." He grins big at him. "We got this." He approaches slowly and carefully. 

“We do. But I’m not a spooked horse, love. Come here,” Brock pulls him into a tight hug, nuzzling his neck. “I love you.”

"I mean, I think you're an Italian stallion but ok..." He laughs at his own stupidity, "I love you more, baby." 

“Italian stallion, huh? Hmm, sounds like something you would ride very well. Or something sexy sounding. Damn. I lost it.” Brock grins into Frank’s neck.

"At least you didn't say I'm little enough to be a jockey." He chuckles, "So, I was thinking…" 

“Hmm?” 

"Picnic in the park." 

“Now? Or later?”

"Well not this second, silly. But maybe later or tomorrow." Frank replies as he looks up at Brock.

“Tomorrow is the party at your family’s house. Maybe Monday?” Brock’s lips purse a little to the side.

"Mondays perfect." 

“Okay. It’s a date.” Brock kisses him gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was hopefully not as hard of a read as it was for us writing it. Therapy is great and helpful but it is not easy to write. Sometimes, the characters have Things To Say about the chapter and we write them in script format. We've saved them in a doc and was wondering if you guys would love to read their accumulated commentary. It's kind of rambly though, so we may have to pick certain things to add. Drop us a line in the comments if you'd like that! If enough people agree, the end notes might start holding surprises!


	14. The Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Frank go to the Iero's and meet the new, extended family. Linda gets some news that can change the fate of our boys' lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual blah-blah-blah, our mistakes are our own, and this is a work of fiction. We don't own the characters; we just like playing in the sandbox. 
> 
> Okay but let's talk about this beauty. Family gatherings are a lovely complex and utterly exhausting thing to navigate. And there's always the one person that likes to stir shit. Enter Carolyn. The homophobic aunt.
> 
> Also, did anyone catch the hidden Avenger cameo from the last chapter?

Frank sits quietly beside Brock. He's got the flowers that he stopped and got for his mom that Brock suggested would smell the best. His nerves have been fine until they cross over the Passaic River. Then it becomes very real. This was actually happening. His knee slightly starts to bounce to the music lightly playing. "GPS should say take a right on Franklin." He says after clearing his throat. 

Brock snickers a little at the street name and places a hand on Frank's knee to still it, the movement reminiscent of the first time Frankie got into his car. It was adorable. "Relax, _tesoro_. It will be fine." 

"They are gonna love you." Frank smiles over at him, "My sister texted twice since we left home. She might be more excited to meet you than mom is."

"Does this mean I'm going to get the sibling treatment?" Brock grins at him. A sweatdrop rolls down his back from the high summer heat. The leather jacket wasn't really helping but he preferred it when he felt a reason to hide his gun at his back instead of in its usual hip holster. The familiar weight digging into his back actually felt nice.

"Oh no. You're the guest of honor. Why do you think I asked you about desserts yesterday? Chris wanted to make it for you." Frank smiles as he replies, knowing exactly what he meant.

"I'm good with anything chocolate." 

"She knows, _polpetto._ " Frank takes the hand from his knee and holds it. "Any questions or concerns about this 'cause we aren't far."

"I don't think so. We go in, meet and greet, chat. Mingle. Eat. Did I miss anything?" Brock turns down another street according to the GPS's instructions. They were about five minutes away.

"That's pretty much it. They have a dog, Molly. She's a sweet old girl. And the cat, Misfit. He's an ass." Frank babbles as he strokes the top of Brock's hand with his thumb.

"Misfit must take after you? Or maybe it's the other way around?" Brock gives him an easy grin.

"I did name him. He was my cat when he was little then he fell in love with my mom." He smirks at the implication. The curve of the road is familiar and brings back memories of screaming to music as he speeds home way too fast and way past curfew. "Nah, I got the hellcat from being a reckless youth."

"You got the hellcat because I said so," Brock smirks for a moment. It fades quickly as he begins to search for the right house number. He can feel his skin begin to flush a little from the steadily rising nerves. He's never met parents before.

"Here." Frank points to the house. They painted the house, it's not the same faded white it used to be. He smiles up at Brock, "Park in the driveway. Uncle Tony will drool over her if you park her in the street."

"Uncle Tony? As long as it's not Uncle Sam wanting tax records or some shit," Brock says, pulling into the driveway and parking.

"You're the cutest but biggest dork." He shakes his head. "Tony's the neighbor. He's nosy but harmless. He and dad play pool on Thursdays. But look at me, really quick."

He can see the curtains rustle in the window of the house, they have been spotted. It would be a matter of time before the family would be out welcoming them like a cult. He wanted to kiss him. Well, a week ago he wanted to make out in the car before he went in. Brock turns to look at him.

"You look hot, baby." He cups his cheek and kisses him, "I love you." 

He kisses him back, softly. "I love you too. Thanks for noticing how hot I am. Good to know it's noticeable. I'm melting."

"I love you more. It is very noticeable." He grins, "You should have worn something lighter silly. But they have good AC. Though you do look pretty fuckin handsome in leather." 

"This jacket is cut and tailored to hide the gun. And I happen to like leather. And looking good for you. I don't think I own anything lighter so I'm thankful for water and AC." Brock kisses him again.

"You'd look good in a paper bag." Frank kisses him and closes his eyes lingering in the moment, "You ready to do this?" 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Brock whispers. His stomach flutters a little from nerves. He needs to do this. He has to.

"I'm ok. You're ok. And this is gonna be fun. If not, a good story for later." He kisses him once more and smiles. 

"We should get out then," he mutters, kissing Frankie again. He wonders how much he's going to have to hide. Probably all of it. He can fake normal. Maybe it'll even have a positive effect.

"Just hold my hand and we got this." Frank nods. He pulls the car door open and steps out. He straightens his clothing as he steps out and moves to Brock's side of the car quickly. 

Getting out and locking his car, Brock takes Frank's hand tightly in his left. He also adjusts his shirt and jacket a little before grinning wide; a smile that doesn't wholly reach his eyes. He takes a deep breath and heads up the walkway. He can do this. It's no different than undercover work.

Before they even reach the porch the front door opens, his mother is out the door with a huge smile. She is thin and short like Frank with long dark hair pulled up. "Frankie baby!" She greets them excitedly with arms out to hug him. 

"Hi momma." Frank gives her a small hug and takes a breath, "Mom, this is Brock." 

She steps back and looks him up and down before speaking with a huge smile, "Hello handsome." She opens her arms and offers a hug.

Smirking a little, he lightly teases before hugging her, "Hello gorgeous." 

"I am glad to _finally_ meet you. You look like you're melting, love. Come in. I'll get you a drink, anything you like." She pats his arm and waves them forward.

"Was the sweat all over my face the indicator or the radiating heat? I need to be less obvious," Brock jokes.

"Nah, I'm just a mind-reader." She loops her arm in his and walks with them, "Now, Chris and the kids are here. James is with Dad and uncle Tony in the garage. Carol is in the kitchen." 

Frank opens the door for them. He gives Brock a big supportive smile. He takes Brock's hand as they enter the house. It's filled with the sweet smell of cookies. 

"Is that my _little_ Frankenstein?!" A voice called from the living room. Frank feels his face turning bright red, thinking, _and it begins._ Christine emerges with a smile on her face, her hair pulled into a messy bun with his niece, Emma, on her hip. She looks just like Frank, only more feminine. She stops dead in her tracks and looks Brock up and down with a suggestive smile, "Oh hello there." 

"Hello." Brock can't really think of anything else to say. The suggestive look she just gave him kind of felt weird. This is his future sister-in-law. He remembers his manners and offers his hand to shake, "Brock." 

"Christine. This is Emma. I have heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally meet you." She says, shaking his hand, "You're much more handsome than mom described."

Frank squeezes Brock's hand a little. "Where's the husband?" He asks her.

"Working at the station. One of the guys got the summer flu so he picked up his shift." Chris replies, setting Emma down. 

The little girl heads right for Frank and does grabby hands at him. "Alright, Em." He lets go of Brock's hand for a moment and scoops her up, "Hello my little peach." He kisses her cheek as she hugs his neck. He moves closer to Brock and smiles up at him before speaking sweetly to the little girl, "This is my boyfriend, Em." She stretches her arms out for Brock with a little eager smile. Little dark lopsided pigtail bounce as she makes grabby hands at Brock. 

"Well aren't you cute, _principessa. Sei una bellissima principessa_ ," Brock says softly, offering his hands out to take her if she wants to be held.

She pushes away from Frank and grins at Brock, her little bright eyes twinkle at Brock. Her arms wrap around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder. 

"She usually doesn't like strangers." Chris smiles as she leans against the wall, "Especially men." 

Frank smiles at Brock and looks to his mother who gives him a nod of approval. "Looks like someone's found her person." She jokes, "Let's come in the kitchen and I'll get you boys a drink."

Frank hands his mom flowers as he follows her into the house, "Brock picked them out." 

"They are beautiful, Brock." 

"You're welcome." Brock rubs Emma's back gently and rocks her a bit. A grins at her and kisses her forehead. He loves little kids. "Frank, I might have found my first girlfriend."

"I mean I can't compete with the cuteness. I get it." Frank rubs her back as he replies. 

"Beer, wine, soda or water?" Chris offers as she opens the fridge. 

"Water is good." Frank replies as he leans against the kitchen island. He can't help but feel the butterflies at the sight of Brock with his little niece, ideas of raising kids sounds appealing with the visual.

"Yes, water, please," Brock joins Frank at the kitchen counter, holding the toddler with both of his arms now.

The sliding glass door opens and a chubby blonde woman steps in. The blue jeans and purple peasant top scream trying too hard. "Oh, Franklin. I'm… shocked you are here." Her tone, confused. 

"Hello Carolyn." Frank speaks with an icy tone. He doesn't turn to acknowledge her fully. He can feel his _hackles_ raise _._ He is waiting for her to mention Jamia. 

"Who's your friend?" She asks.

"This is my boyfriend, Brock." He replies with an attitude.

"Oh? Linda's told me a lot about you." She replies as she approaches Brock, "I'm Carol." She goes to offer a hand but stops, seeing Emma clinging to him.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Brock tips his head. "I'd offer to shake your hand but as you can see, I'm pleasantly preoccupied with a very pretty princess."

"She is a cute little rugrat." She smiles, "It's nice when Frank brings home his friends. Who was the tall one you brought over for Christmas one year. Big 'fro hair?" Her fingers snap towards Frank.

"You brought Sunshine home?" Brock grins at Frankie. "I'm jealous." 

"Yeah, I did. His family went on a cruise and he couldn't get time off from work. So he didn't have to spend the holidays alone, he came with me." Frank moves closer and grins back at Brock. 

"Never liked the little ratty looking one…. Uh, Gerald?" She tries to think of the name. 

"Gerard." Linda corrects her.

"He was a rude one." She waves her hand in the air, “The feelings he gave me were bad." 

"Yeah I wasn't too thrilled with him at first either, but he's a good kid." Brock leans over and whispers in Frankie's ear.

Frank grins up at him, kisses him, then nods. He loves him so much. 

"She's mad cause he told her the psychics aren't real." Frank snorts.

"The angels just don't pick anyone to have the gift, Franklin." Carolyn shakes her head with a frown.

"I'm sure that's what a few of the people on the psych ward believe the same thing too." Frank whispers to Brock.

"Linda, I'll be out on the deck. Bring the white and we'll visit while the food cooks." The tone in her voice is noticeably bored. Frank knows she will start shit later. He listens to her disappear outside.

"Brock, if she gets heavy, I can take her. It's getting close to nap time." Chris says as she passes, touching his arm and nodding.

"Frankie, wanna trade spots?" Brock snickers a little.

"Mmmm, maybe a little later." Frank smirks, his cheeks flush a little. 

"He's fun to make blush, huh?" His mom asks as she places two glasses of ice water on the counter. 

"It's my passion and his pain that gets me through the day." Brock can't help the playful sarcasm. He's doing okay right now and this was fun.

"Oh he's going to fit in perfectly in this family." Chris grins at Frank as she pokes his side and makes him jump, "You found a keeper, Frankenstein." 

"Frankincense. Frankenstein. Frankenweinie. I got to say, baby, I'm loving all these fun and new nicknames I'm going to torture you with later," Brock grins devilishly at his love.

"Don't forget Franknbeans, Frankfurter or stanky Frankie." Linda offers with a wide smile.

"Stanky Frankie is a hard no for me. My boy does not stink," Brock leans over and kisses Frankie lightly.

"My grampa called me that." His ears burn along with his cheeks as he replies quietly.

A door off the kitchen squeaks softly open, the sound of taps fill the small bit of silence, Frank turns and drops down, "Molly may! Hi baby!" He greets a chunky black lab with a waggly tail. Giving her scratches as she kisses his neck.

"Brock, this is the best member of the family, Molly." He says grinning up at his love. 

"Is that Paco I hear?" A gruff older man's voice calls out as it appears in the kitchen. 

"Hey pops!" Frank stands up and hugs his father. "You look good old man." He pats his dad on the back as they pull away, "Dad, this is Brock. Brock this is my dad, Frank, Sr." Frank offers to take Em so he can shake his dad's hand.

Brock rather reluctantly gives over his new mini koala to Frankie before extending his hand to Frankie's father. "Nice to meet you, Sir." 

"Nice to meet you too." He smiles, "You're the one keeping my troublemaker outta trouble?"

"Yes, sir. Most of the time anyway."

"You can call me Frank." His dad smiles, "or Cheech."

Frank rubs the baby's back as his brother enters the room, she grumbles at being taken away from her person. He pauses for a second, he watches his posture as he waits to meet the stranger in the room. 

Brock nods at Frank Sr. "Yes, sir. Thank you." 

The taller Iero steps up and offers his hand to Brock as he speaks warmly, "James, the brother. Nice to meet you… you're the _boyfriend_ right?" 

"For now, yes. I like to think of myself more as the _'future_ _fianceé'_. My name's Brock," Brock says lightly, shaking James's hand.

"Ah, so I should call you brother then..." James smiles then he hugs Brock quickly, "Welcome to the family, Brock." 

Well, this was unexpected. But not unwelcome as he pats James's back, releasing from the hug. He turns to Frank's father, "With your permission of course, Sir. And my own father's." 

"We'll have a conversation, bub." His dad winks at Brock as he opens the fridge and pulls a beer out. "Before you two leave at least." 

"Yes, sir." Brock clears his throat, a little awkwardly at his slip. Hopefully, Frank Sr. wouldn't have much to say about the age difference, job, or anything else a father would worry about for his child. He moves back to Frankie, patting Molly on her head.

"My rock." Em fusses pushing away from Frank and reaching for Brock again.

"Yeah, get in line kid. I got dibs first." He teases before kissing her freckled cheek.

"I can carry you both. My best boy and best girl," he kisses Emma's cheek before kissing Frankie on the lips. 

"No." She says pushing Frank away as she touches Brock's face. 

He offers to hand her over. Frank knows that she might be working her cute midget magic on him at least a little. "I think she's trying to steal you away, babe." 

"Why don't you boys relax. Take your jacket off and maybe Paco will show you the place?" Frank Sr. suggests.

"Sure. I've been promised to see all of Frankie's baby things. Linda, darling, you still owe me baby photos." Brock smiles at her, holding baby Emma tight.

"Take the tour, love and I'll pull out the embarrassing album. Meet you in the living room." She says touching his arm. 

"I think you two are striving to turn me a new shade of red." Frank chuckles as he rubs his neck. 

"You're lucky mom isn't pulling out your old theatre tapes." James teases as he fluffs Frank's hair.

"Don't give her ideas."

Linda grins at Brock, "Only if he asks nicely." 

"That can be arranged, Linda," Brock mutters softly, rocking Emma and rubbing her back, who was falling asleep. He starts singing softly in Italian to her, a lullaby his mother used to sing to him.

Chris leans into Frank's shoulder, "you're not careful and I'll steal him." She teases with a smile as she pulls away. She waves for Brock to follow her to a bedroom where he could let Emma sleep.

Frank's Sr. and James disappear into the garage quietly. Linda leans on Frank, "You look tired baby." She reaches up and rubs his cheek. 

"Yeah. It's been a little stressful the last few days. But I'll be ok." Frank kisses his mother's forehead.

"He might be a little older than you baby but he is the real deal." Linda smiles at him. 

"He really is momma. Kinda love him… like a lot."

"You'd be a fool not too. Think if I covertly question him in Italian, it'd annoy your dad?" Linda chuckles as she rubs Frank's belly, "You're still too thin baby." 

"You'd probably offend him with your bad attempt at Italian." Frank teases her, avoiding the question. 

"So, you might be right baby." 

"I'm always right. I'm an Iero." Frank grins.

"Now you sound like your father. Get outta my kitchen, ya little rat." She says swatting his butt, "Go find that handsome man before I sell you off to the neighbors."

Frank chuckles as he walks into the hall and stands by the bedroom where Emma was napping to hear Chris questioning Brock like a good big sister.

"What're your thoughts on divorce?" She asks Brock looking up as she pulls the blanket up on Emma.

"Not possible. You marry someone for life. You put the work in. You stay through the good times and bad. Now, I understand and wholly support certain situations that require divorce. I don't look down on it. But it's not something I am willing to do."

"Good answer." She grins at him, "Frankie is a… soft heart. He comes off like he's tough but he's really not. The last one was a piece of garbage. Trampled his spirit."

"I know. I met her briefly," Brock says, the words _before I kidnapped him_ echoing in his head. "I like to hope that I have rekindled the flame inside him. I love the fiery passion and his soft tenderness. I have yet to see a side of him I don't treasure."

"He's madly in love with you." She says tenderly, "He's a different person now from the last time I saw him on Christmas."

"I assure you, the feeling is one hundred percent mutual. I can't wait to make things more permanent. And I want nothing more than his happiness." 

"I know you do. A pro tip, if dad pulls you in the garage to talk today, you're already in. James's wife and my husband got the talk in the garage…" Chris touches his shoulder and leans closer to him, "We have a spy in our midst." 

"Oh you mean, my little _gattino_ who thinks he's a sneaky cat burglar and listened in?" Brock smiles before turning to the door.

Frank's eyes widen. He was sure he was silent on his approach. He grins like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Hey..." 

Brock beams at Frankie, going to him like a magnet, and wrapping his arms around him. "Sneaky _gattino_." 

"How's my favorite baby whisperer?" He leans up on his tiptoes and kisses him.

"Can we do the tour after baby photos?" Brock whispers in his ear. He wants to sit on the couch for a bit. Drink some water. Rest.

"Absolutely. Do you need anything to make you more comfortable?" Frank nods at him as he softens his face. He's calculating how he can help. 

Chocolate eyes dart to the side, worried about Christine. About others knowing. He lowers his voice softer, "Just a break. And you. Maybe some water." 

"Let's go sit down. My mother is dying to embarrass me with all of my baby photos and stories." Frank kisses him again, "Follow me." He leads him into the stereotypical American living room with photos of the kids on the wall. Frank cringes at his senior yearbook photo on the wall and prays Brock won't notice. He sits then pats the cream-colored cushion next to him.

Brock follows, needing to sit with him but stops for a moment to openly stare at a photo of Frank on the wall. It's clearly a senior photo. He grins before joining his love on the couch, feeling his shoulders and arms burn from the inside. "You look so devilish in that photo. Nearly comically evil. Makes me want to grab a sharpie and draw little horns on you with a triangle beard."

"I was a perfect angel." Frank grins up at him.

"Don't believe that smile. He was a little hellion during high school." Linda says with a snicker, "

"He's a little hellcat now," Brock wraps one arm around Frankie, the leather jacket crinkling in mild protest. It's not even remotely what position he wants to be in, but it's the most socially acceptable. "One of the reasons I love him." 

"I'm just glad that he's got the fire back behind his pretty eyes." Linda strokes Frank's cheek before placing the book down, "Gimme a minute, boys." She disappears for a moment.

"Baby. Take the jacket off. I can tell you're not comfortable. This is a… gun friendly household. I promise." His body turns to face Brock, "I can promise that James has at least one gun on him." 

"Right. James _the cop_. And I highly doubt I'll be fully comfortable here," Brock takes a deep shuddering breath. He hurts.

"Yes. You're a bodyguard. No one will question it, if you did. I'm not trying to pressure you. I just want you to feel less… stressed." Frank says softly, "Just a reminder, ok?" He takes his hand and holds it. He wants to crawl in his lap and cuddle him.

He wants nothing more than to strip off the jacket and cuddle Frankie but there's no way he can do that in Frankie's parent's home. It's not acceptable. He wants to not have to worry about being able to breathe. His arms ache the most after holding the baby, even though he had enjoyed it. He's not sure how the family will take him wearing a gun, even with the knowledge that they were "gun friendly". It is different when you expect a cop to wear one and a bodyguard who didn't really need it. And yet he did. It was a sort of security blanket for him. It gave him at least a little sense of safety knowing that if James and he got into anything, he was armed to defend himself. 

"Alright. Brought your waters." Linda says as she flutters into the room, "Everything ok?"

"Yeah momma." Frank smiles at her. 

"The sightlines in this place are terrible, Linda," Brock smirks. 

"I'll have the contractors work on that for you, darlin’," she teases as she motions to the spot next to him, "Can I sit?" 

"Sure. And thanks for the water," he grins at her. He takes his and downs it, placing the empty glass on a coaster on the coffee table.

She sits right next to him, making an almost Brock sandwich. Frank smirks at the action, it's like his mom was reading minds. "Thanks, ma." He leans forward and smiles as she pulls the photo album. 

"Don't laugh at him. He was a very fat baby." She smirks, "Our little sausage roll." She flips open the book and reveals the very first picture of a very small and fat baby.

"Babies are supposed to be cute and fat. I love it. You are adorable, _tesoro_ ," Brock beams at the infant photo of his future husband.

"He was three weeks early and angry as hell about it." She grins at Frank. She flips the page and reveals more photos of an angry faced baby Frank. "It's maybe around a year that he didn't look like he had a score to settle." 

_Please have no naked baby photos._ He silently prays. He grins nervously at Brock who looks genuinely happy. He kisses Brock's cheek and rests his head on his shoulder.

"Baby hellcat in the making. It's all that fierceness." Brock's fingers worm their way to Frank's shirt and try to slip under.

He leans to the side slightly to allow his touch. He listens quietly as his mother flips through the photos and tells Brock stories of his childhood. He goes through waves of embarrassment and joy. She flips the page and stops, "Frankie loved baths… he'd slip out of his crib and into the bathroom. I found him like this and had to take pictures." She smirks before flipping the page back to reveal a little Frankie stretched out in the bathtub. 

"Awww," Brock coos.

Frank leans forward and grabs his glass of water. He takes a sip and offers it to Brock. 

He takes it, knowing full well he was going to drink the whole thing. He needed it for general hydration purposes and because he really was melting in the jacket. He sets the empty glass back down and refrains from cuddling Frank. One of his hands comes up to rub at his other forearm through the jacket and refocuses on the baby photos.

Frank stands and stretches, "Be right back." He gives Brock a small nod before picking up the glasses and heads to the kitchen. He can hear Chris and Carolyn arguing on the porch about some reality TV show. He puts ice in Brock's glass and fills it with water. He takes a breath and returns to the living room with water for Brock. Frank sits beside his love and nods at him. 

"Thanks, love," Brock says, taking it and drinking some before setting it down.

Linda takes him through the end of the photos and leans back. "That's my sweet baby." She sighs, "Then he grew up and was too cool for snuggles." 

"That's not true. We cuddle all the time," Frank defends himself. 

"Fine, you're not as much of a momma's boy." She sticks her tongue out at Frank. She pauses for a moment and smiles at Brock. "Suppose, I should get Frank to start lunch." She pats his knee gently. 

Frank is thankful she didn't show videos. Or more photos. He didn't know if he could handle it. "Not this Frank. This Frank isn't allowed near open flame." He smirks at both of them. 

"No you're not." She laughs, "We don't want to be homeless by 5 cause you burn the house down. I'll see if Chris can find the videos of your plays and musicals you were in. I'm sure your dad has them in his cave." 

"Videos?" Brock's voice has a lilt at the end from pleasant surprise. He wants to see videos. "Yes, please." 

"Oh yes. Plays, musicals and holiday events. Even an adorable video of Frankie dressed like Frankenstein for Halloween doing the monster mash." Linda grins wide.

"Birthday monster mash? I need to see this," Brock smirks.

"I'll have Chris look and after lunch we'll watch." She nods before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Still love me and wanna marry me?" Frank asks as he pulls his legs up and crosses them.

"Even more, now," Brock mutters, giving in to the desire to cuddle Frankie, now that they were alone. He needs to hold him and he can't the way he wants to. He settles for pulling Frankie into his lap to take the weight off his arms, where most of the pain was, along with his shoulders and upper back."I'd marry you right this second if I could." 

"I'd have married you months ago. But we both know that." He grins. He lets it fade a little as he touches his love's face. He lowers his voice to a whisper as he asks, "How much are you hurting, be honest." 

"About a six or seven. It's manageable but I won't be carrying you or the baby today." He shuts his eyes and winces. Even his fingers are starting to ache.

"Do you think when we get home a bath will help?" He asks as he runs his thumbs across Brock's cheeks. His hand resting on Brock's chest as he kisses him.

"Extra hot with the lavender. Massage after?" Brock takes several more shuddering breaths. For some reason, even though he's not anxious anymore, he still feels like it's a struggle to breathe. Probably the fatigue, he figures.

"Do you need a break?" Frank asks as he takes Brock's hands and slips them under his shirt to touch his back. 

"I thought this _was_ the break?" Brock cracks open one eye to look at him. 

"You… seem to be having a little trouble catching your breath. And I don't want you to have a panic attack because of the stress." Frank's voice gets softer and a little sweeter, "This is a break. But if you need to slip _character_ for a minute, let me know. Okay?"

Brock nods, almost too small to notice it. This was more difficult than what he thought it would be. He nods again, with an equally soft, "Okay." 

"I love you and am very proud of you for being here and present today." He says kissing Brock's neck. He nuzzles against his neck and takes a breath. "When we go home, you're gonna take the hottest lavender bath you can handle and I will give you a massage, then we'll spend the rest of the night in bed. It will be the perfect ending to this good day. Sounds like a plan, _polpetto_?" 

"Please," Brock nods.

As Frank leans in and kisses him a little less chaste than he's been previously kissing him, the doorbell chimes a soft pleasant sound. Frank's thankful the living room is a little hidden from the hallway. He assumes it's James' wife, Rebecca with baby Liam. "Don't stop touching me, ok," Frank tells him, being a little greedy.

"Okay," Brock whispers back. He wrestles with the idea of removing the jacket. Frank has assured him it would be fine and he needs to trust that his boyfriend knows his family. A larger part of him says that by removing the jacket, he'll be exposed. Each time that he thinks he might be willing to try, it felt like hitting a brick wall; he suddenly found himself unable to complete the action. His hands sweep across Frankie's back, enjoying the feel of his skin. Then he gets an idea. He may not be able to bring himself to remove his jacket, but Frankie can. Pulling away, he moves both of their hands to the jacket zipper and whispers, "Help me." 

For a second he searches Brock's face but quickly changes his mind and nods. He gives his love a smile as he grabs the zipper pull and unzips his jacket. This is a huge step. This is the kind of step in which parents buy their kids a new toy. Once the zipper is down and his chest is exposed to air he can immediately tell how hot he is from the escaping body heat. "You're gonna have to sit forward into me a little." 

He sits forward and pretty much rests his head on Frankie's shoulder as they together slide the jacket off. The movement of reaching up and then reaching behind his back to pull the jacket off the remainder of the way, causes an involuntary noise of pain to escape from Brock. He places it next to them on the couch before sitting back again and closing his eyes. He's exuding heat and sweat and yet he is trying to not put the jacket back on. If he weren't so exhausted, he might have.

Frank practically does a backbend to retrieve the water glass and bring it to Brock. "Drink." He says softly. Frank can see the state of his shirt. He knows Brock probably needs a Gatorade and water. He wonders if there are some in the garage. "Hey, Ma?" Frank asks, a little quieter than a shout.

Linda appears in the doorway, "What? You want food or to waste my time kid?" She's visibly teasing with a smile. Her eyes glance to Brock and she steps into the living room. "Frank, hang his coat up. You with me, now." Linda snaps and points to Brock. 

"You still keep Gatorade in the fridge in the garage?" Frank asks softly.

"You know your father's obsessed with the blue flavored one. Of course. Now move, both of you boys." Her voice is stern and rather mom like.

Frank crawls off Brock's lap and grabs his jacket. "It'll be on the rack by the door. We won't forget it, love." Frank's voice is gentle and reassuring before he disappears out of sight with it.

"Your turn, good looking. Come on." Linda smiles.

He doesn't want to and he's really not sure if he has the energy but he swallows and takes a deep breath before forcing himself to get up and go over to her, smiling brightly. He teases, "Where are we going? If you say your bedroom, I'm going to have to decline, ma'am."

"We're going to the laundry room and then Frank's gonna take you to his room." She says taking his hand.

"His room, eh? Is it plastered with teenage posters and littered with childhood memories?" He's got a feeling about what's going to happen in the laundry room and he's not sure how he feels about that.

"It is." She says flipping the light on in the small laundry room. The scent of lavender laundry soap fills the room. "Shirt off, now. Don't argue." She turns to face Brock and speaks with a mom's voice. She's leaving very little room for argument as she puts a hand on her hip and the other hand out waiting for what she's asked to appear in it.

Fuck his life. He's fairly certain two months ago, this wouldn't have been a problem. In fact, two months ago he would have been his old confident self, wouldn't have needed the jacket, wouldn't have worried about his energy levels, and if he'll be okay later to continue doing the family things. He wouldn't have to hide so much. Because it would have been walled up and festering. Who knows how bad he would have been if he had never opened himself up to Frankie. What if they had gotten married and something imploded because of his bottling?

Brock sighs and carefully removes his shirt and hands it over giving Linda a quick smirk, "If you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask. I prefer it that way most of the time anyway."

"Here's the thing sugar, I've seen you shirtless more times than you know." She grins up at him before throwing his shirt in the washing machine and dropping a purple pod in, "You can have it back in an hour. Now, Frankie is gonna get you a shirt. I bet he has some old band merch you can wear." She grins teasing him, "Unless you wanna stay shirtless?" 

"Emo punk band shirt that's probably too small for me or being comfortable in my own skin, hmm. Tough decision. I think I'm supposed to take the shirt option but let's get Frankie's opinion." He grins at her. He'd rather be shirtless for an hour.

"I know my son. He'll keep you cooped up in his room if you're not careful." Linda says as she wags her finger to get him going again. She knows Frankie is waiting for them in the kitchen. 

Here's hoping Frank was right about his family. He turns, his brain screaming at him to not give his back to a stranger. It was a weak point. Not to mention the gun tucked into the waistband of the jeans gave her the ability to hurt him. Logically he knows that wouldn't happen. He likes Linda. It's the Vet part of him that screams _danger_. His fingers unconsciously clench to keep him calm. He heads to the kitchen.

Frank is leaning against the island with a Gatorade in hand. He's surprised by the skin as Brock emerges from the laundry room. "She steal your clothes?" He grins up at Brock as he hands over the drink.

"She wanted my pants too, but I told her no," Brock jokes, taking the Gatorade and drinking half to hide his anxiety and because he's dehydrated.

"I'll get you naked one of these days, Brock." She teases as she passes by Frank, leans up and kisses his cheek. "Take your boy and get him clothes if he wants them." 

Frank smiles, it's rare when he's taller than someone so he enjoys the feeling. "Alright, let's go. I know we have my chem shirts that'll fit you in one of the Tupperware containers." He offers his hand to Brock. He knows Brock is going to need a time out and soon.

"She said, _if I wanted them_. Who said I wanted to wear emo death metal punk clothes? Who said I wanted a shirt," Brock teases, trailing after Frankie

"I'm gonna get you into one of my shirts. And maybe just maybe you'll like it." Frank stops at the stairs and looks at him, "You good?" 

"It's a toss up. I feel… exposed. And yet, you know I'd rather be shirtless. And your mom knows I'm packing now…" he trails off.

"Packing more than a pistol from what I hear too." She pokes her head out from the kitchen and gives them a wink.

"She's obviously very upset by this..." Frank smirks as he steps up on the stairs. This is to strictly to feel tall as he says, "We can always go back to the living room." 

His nerves are not happy that she was able to hear them and sneak up on him at his back. He feels raw and wants nothing more than to curl up and cuddle with Frankie and hopefully the erratic variables will settle down. All of the people he doesn't know in a place he doesn't know is seriously grating on his nerves and he knew that was going to happen before his anxiety and depression became a factor. He wants to go home. But that would be cowardice and he knows he can do it, push through it. He will do it. He likes Frankie's family; it's just more than a little overwhelming. He remembers Frankie asked him something. But he's not sure what to do.

"Upstairs or living room?" He makes the choice simple. He's noticed the easier the choices the _easier_ it is for Brock to pick. Or no choice, but this isn't one of those times. He's not in Brock's head and doesn't know if he needs a shirt or not.

"Upstairs," Brock whispers. At least they'll be away from the family and his head will quiet a little. He doesn't really care about the shirt. He wants solitude with his husband.

"Follow me." He says as he takes Brock's hand. He guides them up the stairs and to the left. He pushes the white door open and enters his old bedroom. The band posters, crappy art he'd made, and other pieces of his youth line the wall. He flips the light on and the Christmas lights he'd strung up come alive and paint the room a soft glowing white. A few trophies glimmer in the light as well as the pictures and other knickknacks he'd acquired. His bed is still made with that old quilt of state t-shirts his Gramma made him. He turns and looks at Brock, "This is my old room." 

Looking around, seeing the pieces of the love of his life's youth and intimate history and Brock feels a warmth come over him. "It's beautiful. I love it." 

"Well, I love you." Frank sighs as he watches Brock's eyes light up, "You should take a seat and I'll see if I can find some old merch from your husband's emo death metal band." 

"Well I suppose if it's from them, then it's okay. I do have quite a thing for one of the guitarists. I'm bigger in the shoulders than all of them though, so hopefully you've got a 2XL or a tank," Brock says, sitting and laying down on Frank's bed. He likes the Christmas lights. Though he supposes they would be called 'fairy lights' the rest of the year. 

"I mean, the little guitar player is pretty cute. Would a muscle shirt work, _polpetto_?" Frank asks as he pulls the closet door open to reveal two large totes stacked on top of each other. He pulls the first one down and sets it on the ground. He opens it and begins to rummage. The shirts smell clean and don't feel stiff meaning his mother washed them. "They have been laundered as well. So you won't smell like plastic." He glances back at Brock and smiles. 

"I guess that's okay," Brock says, wryly. He crooks a finger at him, beckoning him to come over. 

He pulls two shirts and stands up. He lifts two shirts up. A camo shirt with yellow writing or the very first shirt they designed as a band. "Pick." His knees press into the mattress as he waits. The overwhelming urge to crawl on top of Brock and smother him with kisses fills his head. 

"Camo. Surprised you didn't already know that. Now please cuddle with me for a bit?" Brock's voice has a hint of neediness in it. He's miserable and needs his Koala. 

Frank smiles and hands him the camo shirt, "I assumed which one you'd pick. But you do surprise me often." He crawls into bed with him and wraps his arms around Brock's middle. "You gonna take that gun off so it's not jamming you in the back? You can put it in or on my nightstand."

"Okay. Though it's really not uncomfortable," Brock says. He lifts his hips up a little and places the pistol on the nightstand within easy reach. He then turns and wraps his arms around Frankie, sighing heavily.

"What were you singing to Em earlier?" He asks quietly. He keeps the topic light as his fingers run along the back of Brock's neck. He's most likely going to wind up rubbing his neck. 

"Something my mother used to sing to me as a child. I only remember bits and pieces at this point but it's not going to matter to a baby," Brock says softly before closing his eyes. He's tired and ready for a nap and they have barely been here for an hour.

"It was pretty. She almost makes me want kids." He kisses Brock's forehead and gently begins rubbing his neck, "especially with you holding her." 

"I'm happy to babysit but we both know I'm too old to have kids, love."

"Babies are great. When you can give them back. I don't want kids. If I ever did, we could just babysit for a weekend and remind me of this." Frank smiles, he knows where this train is headed. He's gonna derail it before it gets there. "Besides, I'm the only little needy thing you need."

Brock hums his agreement, focusing mostly on Frankie's fingers on his neck. It felt really nice and provided temporary relief from the bone-deep pain. 

His fingers work a little deeper into Brock's neck as he feels him relax at the touch. "Nice thing about dating a guitar player is, we have strong hands and nimble fingers." He lays quiet for a few moments, listening to Brock's breathing and his own heartbeat. The door softly opens a crack, the sound of wood brushing the carpet giving away it's movement. His eyes dart over but see no one. He turns his attention back to a now tense Brock, kissing his forehead as a black and white fat cat jumps on the bed. "We have company." he whispers to Brock before kissing him again.

"Hi Misfit," Brock whispers to the cat before pressing closer to Frankie.

"He must sleep in here during the day. Grumpy old man." Frank says as he keeps working along Brock's skin. Maybe they should get him into a spa. A good deep tissue massage would do wonders. He watches the cat sniff and investigate Brock. Once he reaches the middle of his back, rubbing against Brock before flopping down as if he'd put in enough effort for the day. 

"Great. Now I can't roll over without getting claws in my ass. Though if you keep this up added with yours and his warmth, I'm going to fall asleep." That would be a very bad thing to do when he's meeting the family for the first time. It's disrespectful.

"If you do, I'll wake you up. Take the affection, better than him biting you." Frank smiles, "If you need to move, I will pet his belly and he'll flee."

"Okay," he replies, sleepily. His free hand comes up and grasps Frank's wrist to stop him from massaging his neck and instead gently redirects him to his arms. At the moment, that was where he ached the most. 

He adjusts his movement and begins again. He wants to say he could have put the baby down or passed her to him but he doesn't. "Be happy this isn't a family reunion. All of the aunts and uncles. All the New York Italians in one small house. It's a lot of noise. Though, my cousins would probably hit on you cause you're pretty." He quietly talks as his fingers work deeper, "Mom would hit 'em with a spatula and shoo 'em away. 'He's not a sandwich, you cows' or something like that." 

"As much as I love you, I think I would have canceled coming if it was truly a family reunion," Brock mutters and sighs. "Then Carolyn would have been right and that would just be uncool. But I know I can't handle any more people than this. Not right now."

"We won't be attending family reunions until at least the second year we are married." Frank smiles, "Mostly cause I don't wanna go to them like ever. And… Carolyn would also say _'there's trouble in paradise. Young lovers are gonna break up! The horror!'_ because that's her thing." His New Jersey accent thickens as he does an impression of her. 

Keeping his eyes closed, Brock's lips turn up a little at the edges. Frankie was right about his aunt. She was a character. "Just because there's trouble doesn't mean it's going to make us break up. Though, I'm happy she called me _young_."

"You are young, baby." The tenderness returns to his voice, "No arguments, mister." 

"Anyway, I had a thought." 

"What?"

"Calling a spa and getting you in for an actual professional massage." Frank says before pressing his lips to Brock's chest.

"Okay. Maybe with those hot stones? And you too cause Sam said we should do couples ones. Or maybe the whole band can do a spa day."

"That would do the trick. We can ask when we do family dinner with Jack and them. But a couples massage sounds fantastic." Frank smiles as he moves his hands down Brock's arm, "Is this helping at all?" 

"Mmhmm yeah. Doesn't last but a few minutes after you stop but it feels nice. Makes it more manageable. Brings me down a level."

"As long as I don't make it worse." 

"It's very soothing. On par with hugs and cuddles. And naps." Brock sighs, content.

"If you listen, you can hear him purring." Frank whispers as he kisses him again, "Those are all things I can do." 

"Except purr as we have discovered."

"Well, I'm only _your_ kitten and not _a_ kitten. So, I think I can be forgiven." Frank snickers. 

"This is true. Very much forgiven. I love you." 

"I think I love you but more."

"We should get up. Before your parents think we are fooling around or I fall asleep," Brock mutters, sounding equally exhausted and relaxed at the same time.

"I only when you're ready baby." Frank stops massaging his arm to touch his cheek. It wouldn't be the worst thing to have them think they are fooling around but he understands what he means, "if you need me to touch or hug you, just grab my hand and I will." 

"I always need you to touch and hug me." Brock sighs and groans a little when he moves to get up. "Up, Misfit cat. I need to pretend to be ok." 

Frank reaches across and goes for the cat's belly which after two pets gets a grumble and a bite before fleeing. He smirks at Brock and kisses him before they get up. Frank offers his hands to Brock to help him off the bed. "I love you. And trust me, I'll be clingy if it's what you need. There is a new person in the house, Rebecca. She gets called Bunny and their baby Liam. She's James' wife. She's ex-Navy so there's that..." He figures the heads up would be appreciated. He waits for Brock to get the shirt on and to put his gun back before opening the bedroom door. Taking his hand he leads him back to the kitchen.

"Why is she called Bunny?" Brock asks softly as they descend the stairs.

"To be honest, I don't know. But it's just a name that stuck." Frank shrugs. 

"Huh. Wonder if it's got something to do with the Navy. This shirt makes me feel like a poser from the Jersey Shore show," Brock grumbles lightly. It was a little too tight even for his standards. Still, it was cooler than his tee and jacket with the added benefit of skin contact with Frank.

"Nah, you're far too pale to be a Jersey Shore reject." Frank teases as they enter the kitchen. His mom is holding Liam with a huge grin, "I've never asked to be honest."

"Smells good in here, Linda," Brock says lightly. 

"Thank you, Brock." She smiles up at him, "I'd like you to meet this grumpy little fella, his name is Liam." She moves closer to him. 

Frank keeps a grip on his fingers and moves closer to him. He smiles at the grumpy little face as Linda introduces him.

"Well hello there," Brock coos.

"He belongs to Rebecca." Linda nods towards a long-legged blonde with a small smile.

Brock nods in greeting, "Hello." 

"Hi there." She replies as she gives a small wave. 

"Brock is Frankie's boyfriend." Linda smiles at him then to Frank before coming back to the baby.

"Ma'am," Brock extends his hand for her to shake. "Frankie's told me a bit about you. Thank you for your service."

"Oh." She replies and gives him a genuine smile as she shakes his hand, "You're welcome? I never know how to respond when people say that." 

He chuckles softly, "How long did you serve?"

"Eight years." She replies as Linda hands the baby back to her, "How long have you known Frank?" 

"About 2 months. It's been a rollercoaster of fun. Feels like we've been together for years." Brock smiles fondly at Frankie and squeezes his hand.

"He swept me off my feet." Frank grins up at him. He doesn't care that he's making googly eyes as he speaks to him and the room, "It really has been a rollercoaster but I'm glad I found him." 

"Sometimes you just know." Bunny replies, "I actually didn't like his brother when we first met. But he wore me down and found out that he's a pretty funny guy. I think we got married after a year of him and I dating. Only because he wanted to wait." 

"Sounds familiar." Frank grins up at Brock, slipping his arm around his waist and under the shirt to touch his side.

"The only reason I haven't popped the question yet is because we both wanted to meet the parents first," Brock says, pulling Frankie closer.

"I know. Gotta make sure the family doesn't scare him off." Frank looks at his mom, "But so far he's not running yet." 

"Brock loves me." Linda sticks her tongue out at Frank and nods at Brock. 

"I do. Though Emma is still my best girl." 

"She is everyone's best girl. I mean as she should be." Bunny replies with a wide grin, "She's got Cheech wrapped around her little finger." 

"You should have seen Brock and her. I think she may be working her magic on him." Frank adds as he hugs Brock a little tighter. He can see Bunny watching them with a hint of a smile on her lips. 

"Yeah, she wanted him to hold her. She even spoke to him." Linda adds as she turns back to the food. She touched his arm. "You look nice in that death metal shirt. Did you get to wear greens?"

"Green, khaki, and lots of black. In that order actually."

"Oh. You served?" Bunny asks as she relaxes a little. She smiles and adjusts Liam in her arms. His grabby little hands yank her hair.

Brock nods, "Twenty years. Special OPs for twelve." 

"Oh! A career man." She grins wide. 

"Retired now. Happily at that. Frankie keeps me busy enough." 

"Sorry." Frank whispers before kissing his arm. He's a hurricane sometimes but he didn't mean to be.

"Don't be," Brock whispers back. "I love spending my days with you." 

Frank looks up at him before wrapping the other arm around him and hugging him tightly. He rests his chin on his stomach, his fingers drawing circles in his skin.

"Bunny, can you go tell Cheech to get his lazy butt out here and start the meat. We got chicken for you, Frank." Linda says with a smile, "You don't have food restrictions, Brock?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Half hour boys. Chris found those videos as well Brock." She says as she turns around. She begins shooing bodies from her kitchen, "Frank, take your man and go sit down. I'll shout at you when it's time." 

Frank looks up at him and nods at Brock. He pulls him back to the living room and sits him on the couch. He glances over then crawls in his lap. He wraps his arms around his chest and rests his head on his shoulder. He presses his lips to Brock's neck. They sit quietly for a few moments before he moves and sits upright. "I wanna see photos of you in uniform." Frank keeps his voice low.

"Photos or the real deal?" Brock replies with an equally low voice.

"I mean, I'm gonna say real deal but I'd like to strip it off you and do bad things, but… both." Frank grins.

"Photos first then." He can play dress-up later when he's feeling better.

"Photos are perfect for now." Frank says before resting his head back on Brock's chest. He closed his eyes and listened to Brock's heartbeat. The two of them sit long enough for them to start to drift off. It's not until little hands pull on Frank's leg, that he opens his eyes and blinks. He turns his head and sees Em looking up at him with a serious frown.

"Up." She demands then pouts. 

"Give me a second, spoiled." Frank shifts off Brock's lap and lifts the little girl on to the couch. He watches her scoot as close as she can to Brock then rest her head on his side.

"Hi, sweetheart," Brock murmurs to her, one hand going to her back and stroking her hair and back. His other hand goes back to Frankie and pulls him back into his lap from the other side. "Come here _gattino_." 

"She really likes you." Frank says with a little yawn, "Shouldn't she be the kitten cause she is tiny?"

"Or is she just the little princess?" Frank adds.

"You are my kitten no matter what, no one else. She can be _patatina_ or _topolina._ " 

"Good. I don't really wanna share." He leans up and kisses his neck. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, you're just warm and soothing." 

"Funny. So are you," he murmurs before turning his head and kissing Frankie.

Frank snuggles into Brock, "Should probably find her mother." Frank says but doesn't move. He closes his eyes and jokes, "I should be making out with you. Not napping like cats."

"Another reason you are my _gattino_. And you know I need the nap too. Or at least the rest. Look at it this way, you're helping me." Brock kisses Frankie's forehead before nuzzling him. His hand on Emma still caressing her.

"No nap." She says sleepily.

"You already had your nap, _patatina_. It's our turn." 

"Ok." She says softly as her little hand rests on his side.

"Good girl," Brock purrs at her, caressing her head. "You're a sweet baby." 

"Only for you." Chris says softly from the doorway, "She's a mouthy lil thing for me and her dad."

"Last time I saw her. She didn't want me to be near her." Frank says softly into Brock's skin. 

"She's a handful." Chris chuckles, "Mom says it's a good time to get up. Food's almost ready. I think she assumed you two were fooling around or something." 

"She'd come in banging pots and pans." Frank snorts.

"I would never engage in such a thing at a parent's house or around children. However, I am a master at cuddles," Brock grins and pulls Frankie and Emma in closer.

"So what you're saying is you're an excellent babysitter?" She teases.

"So what I'm hearing is you would like me to babysit? I would be happy to, except my apartment is not baby safe." 

"If you two aren't out being jetsetters in the fall, I'll have you two over when I have the Heroes Gala." She smiles and leans against the doorframe, "She would love to have you over so she can show you her babies." 

"Their house is a single level home." Frank whispers as he nuzzles into Brock's neck, "We should get up."

"Mmhmm, Carolyn is in a mood too." She says with a snort, "The angels and what not." 

Brock snorts and rolls his eyes slightly before turning to Emma and gently nudging her, "Sweetheart, we gotta get up. I need you to go to your mommy, okay?" 

"You come wif?" She asks sleepily.

"Yeah baby. We're going to go eat." Brock removes his arm from Frankie and scoops her up and into his lap, helping her stand onto his thighs.

Frank stands up and stretches. "Lemme guess the angels told her the meat is cursed? And the potato salad has feelings?" Frank snorts and rolls his eyes. 

"Ooh, potato salad," Brock's eyes light up at the prospect of food. His appetite has decreased a little but not gone away, thankfully. And he's hungry.

"Homemade too." Frank adds.

"Dogs." Emma beams at Brock with a silly smile.

"Better watch out Frankenstein, I think she's gonna steal your man." Chris motions for him to come to her. 

Frank steps over Brock's feet and moves to his sister. She kisses his forehead, "Go get food. Be nice to Carolyn." 

"You too, sir." Chris says with a wave, "She's a little raccoon monkey thing and will cling to you."

"You wanna walk to your mommy?" Brock whispers to Emma. He's hoping she'll say yes so he doesn't have to carry her. He wants to but he doesn't have the strength anymore.

"Wif you." She nods. Her little hair is a bit wild from sleep. 

"Okay. Climb down and show me you can walk. I'll hold your hand, okay?" 

She grins and nods, "Kay!" She carefully turns around and holds a hand up. She looks back and blinks bright honey-colored eyes at him.

"She wants your help but doesn't know how to ask for it. She uses her _cute_ to get help." Chris says with amusement in her voice.

Grinning, Brock gets an idea. He grabs her around her waist and tells her to sit while he extends one of his legs. He helps her side down his leg and onto the floor before letting her go and standing slowly himself. 

She looks up at him and grins big, "You come." She puts her hand up. 

"Yes ma'am," Brock says, grabbing her hand and letting her lead him into the kitchen.

Frank waits by the sliding glass door, "Come on princess… and Emma." He smiles wryly at him. Pleased with his little joke, he chuckles.

Sticking his tongue out at Frankie, they make their way outside and onto the deck. As he passes Frankie, Brock whispers to him, "I'm not the one who'd look cute in a dress." 

Frank's cheeks turn bright red as the words process. He sputters out syllables but no words form. Brock may be depressed but he still knows how to push the right buttons. _Shithead_ , he thinks. 

"Hello Brock." Carolyn says with a smile that seemed to be holding something back. Her eyes scan his body and see Emma holding his hand. She raises an eyebrow, "See you've gotten comfortable." 

"Thank you, Ma'am. I seemed to have found my first girlfriend. A little bossy though," Brock laughs.

"We sits." Emma points to the seat. Then looks up at him. 

"Yes, ma'am, _topolina_ ," Brock sits and helps her into the chair.

"She is part Iero. She's gonna be bossy." Carolyn smiles at the little one, "You're one of the ones born gay? Not like Franklin who gave up?"

"I don't think he gave up so much as he found someone who wasn't a bitch and instead went with someone who actually wants to see him happy. But yes, I am gay and not bisexual" Brock says, covering Emma's ears at his curse word. In Italian and under his breath he adds, " _As a claimed psychic, I'm surprised you didn't know that she was manipulative, controlling and highly abusive. Or perhaps you **did**."_

"Carolyn Rose. Enough." Linda's voice icy as she glares over at them, "I would hope that she didn't just stand by and willingly let Frank suffer…"

"I was busy with other clients… I can't watch him _every_ second of the day." Carolyn scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest as she rolls her eyes.

Chris and Frank emerge from the kitchen with plates, silverware, and side dishes. He catches the tail end of the conversation. Frank can feel his proverbial hackles raise, "Quit it, Carolyn," he hisses at her with a glare. He turns his attention to Brock, "What would you like to drink, _polpetto_?" 

Rebecca takes a seat beside James with Liam on her side. "Talk to Emma, Li. She's gonna be your friend no matter what you do." Her voice is soothing as she kisses the top of his head. She glances over to Brock and gives him a smile. 

" _Vino_ , but I'll take _acqua_ or soda. _Grazie tesoro_ ," Brock looks at Frank.

"Wine, if I drive?" Frank offers.

"You know I shouldn't." Brock shakes his head. 

"Okay. Flavor of soda?" He tips Brock's head back and kisses him. 

"Don't care as long as it's not caffeine free. Or diet. If I'm going to drink soda, I might as well do it right."

"Alright." He grins down at him, "I'll be right back." 

"Alcoholic?" Carolyn asks casually catty, "My ex-husband was one." 

"Not at all. My health right now just demands that I stay away from the wine for a little while. As an Italian, my ancestors are crying at this," Brock snorts.

"Your ancestors are rolling in their graves, Brock." Linda jokes.

Emma reaches for the fork that's within grasp as she babbles to herself. She turns her head to Liam and begins to babble at him. He nods and laughs then babbles back with real words thrown in. She touches Christine's hair and nods. Liam shakes his head and touches his own hair.

Frank returns with a glass of ice water and a Coke. He decides to take whichever Brock doesn't. He sets them down and pushes the fork out of her reach. "You're not stabbing my husband, miss." He pats her head then sits beside them. He looks at Brock and speaks softly with a big smile, "Whatever you don't want, I'll take." 

"What if I take both?" Brock smirks, grabbing the soda. He needs caffeine.

"I'm the one that's bi, not you, sir." Frank grins up at him, as he grabs the water, "Or we can share." 

"Sorry, love. I play for keeps. Brock quips. "But for you, I _might_ make an exception." 

"Might? Oh, I see how it is." He grins and leans into Emma, "Ma'am, if you want to keep him, you can." He glances up and winks at Brock.

Frank, Sr. appears with a tray and a plate in his hands. Putting the plate in front of Frank then setting the plate of steaks down with two hot dogs on the side of them. "Eat and be merry." 

Chris comes by and scoops Emma up. She expresses her dislike of this with a loud shout of no. Her lip comes out as she fusses. "Let Brock eat then you can harass him some more, if he's okay with it," Chris says putting her into a high chair.

The table fills with people. Their plates get filled and chats amongst themselves. Frank looks at Brock and says, "Tell me what you want and I'll get it for you, babe."

"Mmmm…. Steak," Brock smiles appreciatively at Frankie. It's rare for him to allow others to take care of him but he also knows his limits and will take all the hidden help he can get.

Frank stabs a larger one and places it on Brock's plate. He glances at his plate and frowns. Sometimes he misses steak. He sighs and hands the plate to Brock, "Joy… chicken." 

He takes the plate. The steak looks good and he might just be able to finish a plate for the first time in a few days. "I like chicken. And hot dogs." 

"The uh, hot dogs are for the littles. She digs 'em when poppa cooks 'em for her. I don't get it." Frank replies as he wrinkles his nose.

"Well, it _is_ a staple for 4th parties," Brock comments as he cuts into the steak. "Practically a rule to have them. Though it's usually paired with burgers instead of steaks. Not that I'm complaining."

Frank looks at him lost. The words don't add up. Then it clicks like a switch flipped, he exclaims with a smile of relief, "Oh! 4th of July!" 

Brock turns and gives him an incredulous look before glancing at the others, a smirk on his lips. "Baby, did you forget what day it was?" 

Chris laughs and covers her mouth. James grins and shakes his head at their exchange. Frank can feel his face burning up, "No. I just..." He pauses, "I think I got dumber." 

"And you say _I_ have dementia," Brock laughs and nudges Frankie playfully. 

"Ha. Ha." Frank leans in and speaks just loud enough for Brock to hear, "Better eat up so you can take your back pill, gramps." 

Brock just rolls his eyes and goes back to eating. He takes a bite of the potato salad and finds it to be excellent, even giving a little groan of appreciation, "This is amazing." 

"Thank you, Brock." Linda says with a smile.

"So Brock, what do you do for work?" Frank Sr. asks as he picks up his beer. 

"Right now, I'm Frankie's boss," he grins the words. "I'm the band's tour manager after I kicked the last guy to the curb. Before that I worked in private security after retiring from the army and volunteered to be Frank's bodyguard. That's when I saw the atrociousness that their previous manager was putting them through and I couldn't accept that."

"Frank never mentioned anything about their former manager before." Frank Sr. replies, "Glad to know that you've got his back." 

There's a moment of quiet before the next question comes from his dad again, Frank can feel his cheeks getting warm again. He feels awful that Brock's getting this now. "To be blunt, I can tell you're older than Frank. How big of an age gap is there between you?"

"Twenty-five years, sir," Brock answers, confidently neutral. He's aware of this being an issue and his hand drops to Frankie's knee.

"And you're okay with this?" Frank Sr. asks.

"With all due respect, sir, I would not be here if I wasn't. It was a small issue for me at first but Frankie has shown a level of maturity well beyond his years, just as I have a streak of immaturity. We balance each other. I did caution him on the long-term events that would naturally occur should we continue to be together and he has still agreed to be my partner for life." Brock looks to Frankie and beams at him with pride, love, and fondness. He turns back to Frank Sr. "Will this be a problem for you, sir?" 

"If Frank is ok with this, I trust his judgment." Frank Sr. nods with a slightly surprised look on his face. 

"Do you guys have things in common?" James asks, "like what are your hobbies or interests?" 

"We have the usual things in common, movies and music. Our opinions on most things align. He's introduced me to the joys of working out." Frank says so casually he shocks himself that he was able to pull it off.

"He's not totally accurate there. I can't stand his music," Brock snickers at the irony. "I wear headphones while the boys play so I don't have to listen to their emo death punk screaming."

Frank mouths along with the emo death punk part and shakes his head. "He's our biggest fan." 

"I like opera," Brock sticks his tongue out at his boyfriend. "We both enjoy classical. Especially Vivaldi. I tolerate the emo screams. The only sport I'm both an avid fan of and participant in is boxing. Frankie likes to watch. I enjoy traveling, just not in a tin can they call a bus. And I occasionally play Scopa when my mother or sister drag me into their games. Usually, they bribe me with chocolate."

"You have a sister?!" Chris says excitedly. Frank could read the idea of her getting another sister in law was exciting as she grins wide. 

Brock nods and takes a forkful of the potato salad, "Brooke lives with my parents back in Capri. My brother Jack lives in the same building as I do and is my occasional houseguest slash roommate."

"Brooke is his twin sister." Frank adds.

"Mine. Not my little brother, Jack's," Brock clarifies.

"Twins. Your poor mother." Linda jokes. She knows most of the answers from her talks with Frankie at night.

"Capri. As in Italy?" Carolyn asks with a genuine interest.

Brock nods, eating his steak. He sips the soda before remembering it's soda and not wine. How sad.

"Are you planning to take Frankenstein here to Italy?" Chris asks.

"We have a decent amount of time off during the Christmas break, so we are planning to visit so Frankie can meet my parents. Though I have offered the band to come visit during the spring as a well-earned vacation."

"I'm gonna ask the asshole question, is the car a mid-life crisis purchase?" James asks.

Brock laughs; a full one that he hasn't been able to do in a while. "No. I've had that car for several years. I just like sports cars."

"It's his baby." Frank shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. 

"Has Frank spoken with you about his _issues_?" Linda asks as she wrinkles her forehead with concern for her baby.

"We talking about him being The Wanderer at night or something else?" 

"That. His sleep issues. Nightmares. And his tummy troubles." 

The words make Frank turn cherry red. _Assholes, all of them._

"We've talked about his food intolerances and I got schooled on what a nightshade is. As far as his sleeping goes, to my knowledge, he's never had a nightmare in my bed. He's gotten extremely better about at least _staying_ in bed at night," Brock smiles at Frankie.

"You make me sound like I'm the same age as Emma." Frank grumbles. 

"Well… you are both small, cute, and a bit bossy," Brock smirks. He takes a bite of steak.

"... And half your age." Chris chuckles.

Brock chokes a bit on his food at the very unexpected truth bomb from Christine. He swallows and coughs a few times before taking Frankie's water and drinking it. His face is flushed and it's not wholly from coughing. He grins a little as he fights to remain composure.

"You need the Heimlich, there Brock?" James asks grinning wide.

"I'm good," he replies with a little hoarseness.

Linda shakes her head and grins.

"Cream now?" Emma asks looking around the table. She nods, "Cream, now mumma." 

Frank leans into Brock to clue him in. Just in case, "Ice Cream." 

"I figured, _gattino_." 

"Sorry," Frank replies like it's automatic. He's not slipped like this in a while. His eyes dart up to Brock. His voice goes to a whisper, "Sorry." 

Giving him a fond smile, Brock cups his cheek, whispering softly, "You are okay, _tesoro_." 

"I don't know why it slipped out." He says with a shaky voice. He kisses him again.

"It's okay. I'm not upset. You've been doing so good. It's okay to make a mistake," Brock whispers before kissing him lightly and finishing the rest of his words in Italian, " _No matter what she taught you, you will always be perfect to me._ "

Frank nods. He looks at the others at the table who look confused. He rests his hand on Brock's knee and settles himself again. He pushes his plate away with the other hand. He knows he's not eaten much but it's fine. "When are you starting Em in dance classes, sis?" Frank asks, changing the subject. 

"Next month. She's a-fricking-dorable in her tutu." Chris grins.

"I'll have to come see her recital. She's going to do awesome. Just don't be a stage mom, Chrissy," Frank smirks to get her eye roll. 

Brock tries to finish all of his food but his stomach disagrees. He wonders if Linda will let him take some of the potato salad home with him. Even though he left a sliver of steak and a heap of potato salad. The food in his stomach feels like a mix of a heavy rock and warm comfort. He's not sure if it was timing, the food, or the fact that he's been doing the most social engaging in a few hours than he's done in a week but he suddenly feels sapped of his energy levels and strength. A hand goes down to take Frankie's and squeezes gently.

As the meal winds down, Frank leans up and kisses him. "I'm gonna help clear plates and get us some more water. Okay, baby?"

"Yeah," Brock murmurs softly. 

Frank helps to clear the table quickly. He knows that if he's not careful Brock might fall into a food coma. He slips back out and rejoins Brock with water in hand, "Hey good lookin'. Brought you a refreshing glass of water." Frank says as he slides into the chair beside him. He pulls his legs up and takes Brock's hand, "We should go sit in the shade so I don't burn." 

Nodding, he drinks the water down before setting it aside. He wants to lie down. There was no way in the world he wasn't going to nap when they got back home. "Fifty shades of red." 

"Yeah... Maybe later." Frank jokes as he offers his hand to Brock once he's stood up. He pulls him to the bench seat that's still in a sunny spot but provides a little coverage. Once Brock sits he drapes his legs over Brock's lap and laces his fingers with his love's.

The sound of the kids laughing and playing behind them is a nice buffer for Frank to speak quietly, "You look sleepy, baby." He leans his head on Brock.

"Well I haven't gotten my three naps in today so far," Brock replies, sarcastically poking fun at himself.

"Well you haven't reached old man nap status yet, so I think we're good." Frank sighs as he closes his eyes, "Thank you for navigating _that_ , all of them… gracefully."

"I _am_ an old man," Brock mutters. "And I expected it. So don't worry, love." 

"I just meant everything. Even crazy pants over there you've been civil with." Frank takes his free hand and runs his fingers into Brock's hair.

"Frank, Jamia says to tell you hello." Carolyn says with a smile. There's a trace of irritation in her voice, "She says she misses you. The angels told me you'll reconnect soon enough." 

Frank knows she is goading him into a fight with her. She knows the buttons to push. She knows that he hates her, his mom would have made it very clear. Instead of responding, he glances around before crawling to his knees and kissing Brock a little bit more passionate than needed. "I love you, Brock." 

"You two shouldn't be kissing in front of Emma. Might turn her homosexual too" Carolyn snaps out, "Swear all you guys do is hair, gossip and have _relations_."

Frank's mouth drops open; the words gone from his head. 

"You do realize that's not _entirely_ how that works, right? I'm sure when Emma grows up, she'll make her own discoveries and choices as an independent young woman."

"That's how it worked for Franklin here." Carolyn replies, crossing her arms over her chest, "if it weren't for some meddling maybe he'd be normal."

"Hence why I said _entirely_. Some people are born who they are; straight, gay, bisexual, etc. Some make a choice. That's the beauty of free will. But as a supposed psychic, you should have known Frank left that bitch and I would show up," Brock says a little icily.

"She must not have done the work like I had told her. You know, maybe if you were nicer I could help you." She says with a catty tone. "I know a ritual that will help heal you."

"Oh? Heal me from what, exactly? Because I know aren't talking about me being gay, right? That would make you homophobic," Brock scoffs a little. He's getting tired of playing diplomat.

"No, whatever is wrong with your heart." She says cockily with a smile. "I'm not homophobic. It's your life and choice." 

"One, I don't have a heart problem so that's a wrong guess, fake psychic. And two, it's not a choice for me to be gay. Just like Frankie was born bisexual. He likes both but prefers men. You're really not proving you aren't homophobic," Brock's tone turns sarcastic.

"My angels aren't wrong, young man." She hisses. "I know _you_ may not believe me but there's something wrong you..." She trails off as she gets up and storms away stopping at the door, "There was supposed to be a wedding… and I guess that's ruined." 

"Of course there's something wrong with me, I literally implied it at the table. Didn't take much to figure that one out. And yeah, you wanna talk about weddings? You aren't invited to ours unless you become a better human being!" Brock calls after her. This might actually be a little fun. "You aren't psychic and I can prove it."

"Brock," Frank says quietly, "it's not nice to kick her while she's down..."

"I am psychic. You just don't believe and there's nothing to prove, sir." She steps back out. 

"Coward."

"You wanna read? I'll happily give you one." She smiles and replies. Her tone flips to cheerful as Linda slips outside and sits at the table.

"Sure. But anybody can make a lot of generic and logical guesses based on a few cards that represent events and the client's body language. That's a skill you learn, not an inherent talent. You want me to believe what you say is real? You can stand here in front of everyone and tell me something nobody here would know. That's true power," Brock causally challenges, his voice confident and soft. "I'll start. You didn't know we were coming and you didn't know Frank and Jalynn broke up."

She turns and disappears into the house. A minute later returning with a small velvet bag, "If we're going to prove _you_ wrong, we're going to do it right. Come sit with me, Brock. Alone." She looks at Frank, "I don't need your manic energy clogging up my senses." 

"Then I want Linda to sit with us. As an impartial witness. I'm not going with you in a private setting, that would not prove you are the real deal."

"Fine if it makes you happy. I'm bringing out my cards and I'll do a basic three-card spread. Normally, one would come to me with a problem or question but we'll do this based on the angels. I'll tell you what the cards say then we'll go from there… does that work for you?" Carolyn grumbles, "Will you be honest and tell me if this applies to you and your situation or relationship."

"Only if you give specifics and not something that is generally found in all relationships. I'm always honest," Brock says, hugging Frankie close and nuzzling his hair.

"Fair. Come. Sit. The angels are telling me that you're not going to be swayed. But I'm not going to let that deter me." Carolyn says placing the deck of freshly shuffled black cards on the velvet bag.

"Alright. Come on, _tesoro_. Let's go play," Brock says kissing Frankie before getting up, albeit a little slower than what he would have liked. He feels like a fat meatball with a thousand toothpicks shoved into him. Or hot pokers. He makes his way back to the table and sits in his previous seat.

"Take a deep breath and clear your mind. I can hear you cussing at me." She looks up at him. She pulls three cards all face down and looks up at him. "Ready, non-believer?" 

"Hit me with your best shot." 

She smiles and flips the card over. The gold leaf shining in the sun revealing a blindfolded and bound woman surrounded by eight swords. "The card Eight of Swords indicates that you feel trapped. Bound by something you can't escape. But this helplessness is the making of your own mind. You are your own victim." 

She looks up at him as she flips the next card, a knight on a horse with an ornate wand in his hand, "The Knight of Wands. It's a person in your life who is trying to fix this. They have an idea, a plan and the passion to see it through. But this person isn't perfect. They've made mistakes and made the situation worse. Their ideas can seem impulsive and unrealistic which can make things worse."

She pauses, "Are you still with me or have you checked out?" 

"Oh I'm just wondering why the Knight dude there doesn't represent wishful thinking due to the wand aspect. Or the fact that he's in armor which would mean something like nobility or a guarded heart. Or the whole card itself; looks like he's the most gayest dude in the realm," Brock says. He's both actually curious and still wants to point out flaws. "A card can have multiple interpretations based on what is going on in a person's life. Right?"

"Exactly. This card does represent movement. Spirited and careless movement. This card is usually tied to a person. But you are right, it has multiple levels of meaning." She nods with a real smile. She touches the final card, two sets, hands one above, and one below palms open with six pentacles between them and a scale between the arms of the below hands. "Huh." She huffs. "Interesting. The six of pentacles is compassion, charity, and sharing. One who's giving away all of what they have to offer is expecting it to be taken away and not seeing that it's being reciprocated on the other side. I caution that one might use communication as to their feelings and express the helplessness or fear they feel in order to prevent disaster."

Frank sits quietly feeling a little targeted. He rubs his hands together and sits cross-legged. He's processing the words like they were spoken to him. 

"How am I doing so far, Brock?" She asks with a satisfied smile, "Now on to the psychic stuff when you're ready. I'll let you process this while I finish my wine."

"See Frankie, this is why I believe there's something to this. It's not just smoke and mirrors, pookie." Linda exclaims with a smile. 

"No, Linda. It's generic and can be applied to literally anyone," Brock says gently. "She's inferring a story based on what the cards represent, which as she has agreed, change meaning _to fit the life of the person_ being read to. And our brains pick up on this and think it's personal. Instead, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy based on what _we_ think it means. In this case, we are creating the facts to fit the preconceived notions that this is real and actually telling the future. This can be applied to me or Frank or even my brother or the president. The only good thing that I can see come out of this is that it allows one's brain to possibly work out some problem they possibly would have figured out on their own in time."

"You must be fun at dinner parties and during movies..." Carolyn sighs.

"I'm excellent company. You can't tell me I'm wrong about tarot. Actually you can but then you'd be wrong."

"You're telling me that there is no way that angels or magic is real?" She leans back and crosses her arms.

"I believe in God, ma'am. And God is the only one with prophetic abilities. He doesn't grant powers to the people anymore, not since the old testament. You didn't say I was wrong about the tarot being founded on interpretation."

"You're not wrong but you aren't fully correct either. Tell me, Brock, there's a young man who keeps saying you need to lighten up… he's been with you for a while now and sees the pain you're going through and that you need to let it go. Heal." Carolyn says with confidence before taking a final sip of wine.

"Again, generic. I've had several people say something along those things throughout my life. I tell Frankie he needs to let things go quite often. Especially after watching the movie Frozen," Brock grins.

"I hate you." Frank laughs and shakes his head. He gets up and kisses his cheek.

"And I have you know, I'm fun," Brock laughs.

"You are fun baby. And an idiot but I still love you." Frank snickers. 

"You both are traveling to the South soon." 

"Yes. Anyone with access to a computer can pull up our tour schedule and see we are flying to the west coast. South by Southwest. Or were you meaning the conversation we had earlier about flying to Italy for the Christmas break? Is that south enough for you?" 

"There's no way that you're going to be unbiased."

"And your claims are dependent on people with a willingness to believe what you want them to believe. I don't and so instead of challenging me to believe, instead of trying to get me to believe, you've decided to call me a lost cause," Brock smirks. "You still haven't given me anything one hundred percent specific _to me_."

"First, that's not really how it works. The devils that surround your heart are preventing me from getting close to you. Franklin's dealt with them. They've worn him down." Carolyn replies with a frown, "Can't help those who don't want it dear."

"Okay, I'm tired and so I'm going to end this with one single question. You get one answer and it has to be the exact correct answer. It's impossible for you or anyone to know or guess. Your 'angels' tell you the truth… and I'll walk out of here a believer," Brock said, rather coldly. He was all-in in this verbal poker match.

"Ok. Shoot, kid." 

"I'm not a kid. Don't call me as such," Brock bit out.

Frank flinches, he knows Brock hates that. He learned a _firm_ lesson about that. His instinct is to crawl into Brock's lap. Give him kisses and be his koala.

"She's not meaning to be offensive, Brock." Linda warns him with the mom tone dancing in her words.

"Understood but I take offense. Please refrain from using age-diminishing terms in the future. I'm fifty. I've earned my marks in life. Worked hard to get where I am today. I won't have anyone disrespecting that. Even in a joke," Brock says, tone neutral and keeping his eyes on Carolyn.

"Apologies. It wasn't my intention." Carolyn says with a nod. She's not bothered, "If you will, please continue with your question, Brock."

Moment of truth time. Brock takes a deep breath and smiles reassuringly to Frankie. He gives Carolyn his best carefully neutral, poker face, "What do my parents do for a living?" 

She blinks then takes a deep breath. Her eyes close. Outwardly she looks as if she is listening to a silent song. Her right-hand rests on the table, keeping her eyes closed, "your mother doesn't work." She pauses and takes a deep breath, "Your father is harder to hear but it's… it doesn't make sense but the Chief of Staff at Gemelli University Hospital." Her eyes open.

"Cute guess but no. Wrong on both accounts." Brock stands and wraps an arm around Frankie, kissing him. "I can go for some ice cream. What about you? We could make it a Coke float and share?"

"He does something that helps others but mostly himself." Carolyn huffs. 

Frank smirks, "I would love to share a float with you." He leans up and kisses him again. He strokes Brock's back with his fingers before slipping them under his shirt. 

Brock closes his eyes and lets his shoulders slump. He turns back to Carolyn with furrowed brows and sadness in his eyes, "It's not possible because he passed away two years ago."

"Oh." Her face goes white. "I'm. I'm so sorry."

Linda looks up at him confused then stands and hugs Brock. "You poor soul, I thought..." 

Well fuck, he didn't expect this. He was certain he had mentioned his parents being alive and well when they were talking about flying to Italy. Now he just feels like shit and an ass for trying to prove a stupid point. This is one of the reasons why he hates lying to those close to him. He hugs Linda back because he's supposed to and pulls away, regret evident on his face. 

"I'm an asshole and I'm sorry," Brock sighs. "My parents are alive and well. I just said that to prove a stupid, worthless point that I shouldn't be wasting my energy on. I didn't think of the consequences and I hate lying to family anyway. I swore I only tell the truth and I broke that."

"Go easy on yourself you little shit." Linda steps to his free side and wraps her arm around him above Frank's then pokes his side, "Should take you over my knee and whoop you for lying to your favorite mother in law."

"I'd let you. I'm sorry. Trust is a huge thing to me and I broke that over a… game. I feel like I need a shower now." He hugs her back. "You're also my only mother-in-law."

"You take care of my baby. You're a good man who made a stupid joke. No trust lost, dear heart." She sighs, "And let's keep me your only mother in law. And don't make me wait too long."

Brock kisses Linda's temple. "My mother taught me better than that. She _would_ have me over her knee."

"I'll let Frankenweenie handle your punishment, how's that? You silly sweet man." She pats his belly softly, "Be nice to yourself, pumpkin." 

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles softly. "Frankie can't punish me worth a penny. He's too cute."

"I could too!" Frank protests.

"You're too much of a soft heart Frankie angel." Linda says to him then grins up at Brock, "You ok now?" 

"Yes ma'am. Thank you, Linda Love," Brock grins and nods. He doesn't care about Carolyn. She'll learn to love him or not. He's still going to marry into the family no matter what she says. 

Linda nods. She swiftly drops her hand and grabs a handful of ass before swatting him. She laughs, "that's one for me and one for your mother." She disappears into the house satisfied with her work.

An undignified squeak of surprise emits from Brock as Linda violates his poor ass. He can feel his face heating up and he buys himself some time by burying his face in Frankie's neck. 

"You look pretty in pink." Frank whispers, "At least I know you can handle mom's sexual harassment." 

"Shut up," Brock grumbles into Frankie's neck. "I just didn't expect it. Float, now please." 

"What's nice is that I can tease you and there's very little repercussions for me…" Frank says with a chuckle, "Yes, floats are in order." 

"After dessert, can we go home?" Brock whispers in his ear. He's more than done. And even has held out longer than he anticipated. He shouldn't have engaged with Carolyn. It was a waste of time and only made him feel worse afterward.

"Yes baby. We can go, did you wanna sit in the living room and I'll bring you our float." Frank says softly as he strokes his back.

He hates saying yes, he needs to sit again. He feels like it's all he's been doing lately. He's not sure how he can take Sam's advice and go back to the gym. He nods in Frankie's neck, shame filling him for needing to be coddled and for being exhausted all the time. Even when he has moments of joy, it's still draining on him. He pulls back and gives him a tight smile.

"Do you want to go home now? There's no shame in being tired, baby. This has been a big day?" He speaks low enough for only Brock's ears.

He shakes his head. Yes, he wants to go home. But it would be rude to leave now. He can make it until after dessert and he actually likes the idea of a shared float. Sam said to push limits. He can do this. "After dessert." 

"Ok." Frank nods. He lifts Brock's head slightly and kisses the end of his nose. "Go sit. I'll be there in a few minutes, my love." 

Nodding, Brock pulls away slowly. He doesn't really want to leave Frankie, his crutch, his rock. Yes, it's just to the living room but he feels certain he's going to unravel soon. Frankie keeps him together. He forces a smile on his face for the group and nods at Carolyn before stepping inside. James and Frank Sr. must've disappeared into the den again. Rebecca plays with the kids in the yard and Brock is thankful Emma doesn't see him go inside. He doesn't have the energy to handle a child right now. Even one as cute as she. Quietly he makes his way back to the couch and folds himself up into the fluffy pillows, with an exhausted sigh. 

Frank pulls the float glass from the freezer. His mother's waiting for him as he closes the freezer door. "Yes, satan?" Frank jokes.

"I am supposed to distract you while your father has the talk with Brock." Linda grins, "I'll help you make a float."

"Okay. He's not going to harass him is he?" Frank feels a bit of panic hit him.

"No. He's got a list of things he asks. Relax." 

"Fine. He's just." Frank stops.

"How bad?" She asks without him finishing the sentence.

"We'll be ok. Just something we have to work through."

"Is it both?" She asks with a sad smile.

"Yeah and PTSD." Frank says trying to not let it show how much it hurts.

"What are you doing to help yourself not sink?" She rubs his back. 

"Well I can't say smoke or drink. So bite my nails and stress." Frank can feel the tears welling up.

"You need to channel your energy into something positive." She wraps her arms around him. 

The hug breaks Frank and tears spill, "I can't make it go away, momma." 

She lets him cry and pulls him into the garage away from the others to calm and soothe him. Her poor baby is hurting himself by not talking about what's going on. She'd seen the look on Brock's face at the hospital. It's not a good one. 

~~

"You look comfortable." Frank Sr. asks from the doorway, "Actually, you look tired."

"I'm not sure if I should be thankful or not my face matches what I feel," Brock gives him a tired smile. 

"I was going to offer you a beer in the garage but you're not drinking. Would you like to have a conversation in here?" Frank Sr. says as he steps into the den. "We'll pretend we're in the garage." 

"I'd hate to ruin tradition though. Or dishonor you, sir" Brock moves and musters the strength to stand. How far can the garage be?

"We'll make an exception. It's more the talk that matters. Location is irrelevant." 

Brock feels a wave of relief and sits back again. He knows what this is about and that helps him mentally prepare. "Yes, sir." 

Frank Sr. sits on the lazy boy across from Brock. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, "I usually start with asking your intentions with my kid but I don't have to. So my question is why do you want to marry him, beyond that you love him?"

"Isn't that the point of marriage? Love _is_ the foundation. I want to marry him because I want to spend every second with him for the rest of my life. I want to give him the world, the best life he can ever hope for. I want to see his face light up with joy and pride every day. I love taking care of his beautiful soul, even when he's sick. Even when he's at his worst. I want him to be happy. Even if it's not with me, though I doubt that is the case. "

"That's a very good answer. Most of the time they sputter and panic a little." Frank Sr. smiles, "You available to write Valentine's cards? But what are you going to do if your family doesn't approve of him?"

"I'm not worried about that, actually. My brother, Jack, has already fallen in love with Frank and has been acting as if we are already married. Same with my sister. They both call Frankie their little brother-in-law and adore him. My parents haven't had the pleasure yet, but I've also never brought someone home before. I've never been this serious about someone until Frankie, even though I've had relationships in the past that did not work out. I'm not leaving him for anything or anyone."

"Dating a musician is not easy. He's going to be gone. He's going to get moody. I assume Paco's not explained everything about the job. You've seen most of it. Are you prepared for this life?" He asks.

"I became his bodyguard so we wouldn't have to be separated. So I could keep him safe from mobs of crazy fangirls, drugs and drinking. So we could still be a couple and work on _us_ without him having to quit the band. I became his tour manager when I discovered Alan was bringing drugs into the mix and stealing money from the kids. We've been on the road for weeks now. You are right, it's a hard life. But I will continue to support him. Marriage takes work and Frankie is worth it," Brock says, firmly. "And when he's done playing music, that's when we will build our home somewhere and retire in peace."

"You know Brock, you're making my job harder. I can't be the intimidating father if you give me good and sound answers." He smiles at him. Frank Sr. sits upright and leans back.

"I know what I want in my life and whom. I may be twice his age but it's allowed me to be a better man for him. I knew he was the one I was waiting for on our first date. I'll do whatever is necessary to fight for him."

"You prepared for him to make and do stupid things?" Frank Sr. questions with a head tilt.

"He's not stupid no matter what his head tells him when he makes a mistake but he is learning how to forgive himself for being young. I want to encourage him to grow and learn to be the best man I see inside. It gives me joy that he's teaching me things and I can love him enough to change the damage that his ex did to him. He didn't deserve that. I'm going to prove his worth to himself, the rest of the world can kiss my old ass. Though if he does suggest some stupid things like say, base jumping, I might not hesitate to jump with him. He keeps me on my toes and I love it," Brock grins. 

"Are you guys being safe… in bed?" Frank Sr asks squirming a little in his seat. He hates this question.

"Linda asked me this exact question and I'm a little surprised she didn't supply the answer, knowing you would give me the talk today," Brock smirks. "I made Frankie and I both get checked out. It's something I require of all of my partners for everyone's peace of mind. We're both clean and safe, sir."

"Linda didn't tell me but that's ok." He sighs, "When are you gonna pop the question? Or have you not thought about it?"

"If all goes well, sometime around Christmas. I already know he's going to say yes; we've been calling each other 'husband' for weeks. But we both wanted to do the tradition of meeting the parents and getting approval first."

"I can tell by the way he looks at you that this is different. I'm not worried about Frank's safety or heart. You've got my approval, I even appreciate you giving Carol hell. Crazy old bitch." Frank Sr. smirks at Brock.

Brock grins wide, "While I feel bad for lying, the look on her face was priceless." 

"She deserved it. I get so sick of her getting Linda riled up." He groans then smiles at Brock, "Last question, are you going to be able to provide for Frank financially in the future, if say, the music career goes away?"

"I may look like a hobo in Frank's tee shirt but I assure you that Frankie will never want for anything in terms of financial security for the rest of his life. You have my word."

"Alright. Good." He hesitates to ask more questions beyond that one. He's not sure if he wants to know the answer, "Did you have any questions or concerns about becoming a member of the family?"

"Not really, no. I can deal with Carolyn. She'll either learn to love me or keep her nose out of my business if she doesn't want to hear me bitch. Everybody else seems to be great people. You have a wonderful family and a beautiful home. I'm assuming, at some point, the in-laws need to meet preferably before the wedding? I can't imagine you not wanting to meet my family."

"I would love to meet your family before the wedding. They have molded a good man for my son." Frank Sr smiles as he stands up, "I was going to shake your hand but that feels like I am giving you Frank for three cows and a pig." 

"Oh he's totally worth the whole farm," Brock says as he stands up. 

"Yeah, he's a good kid." His hand extends to Brock. 

"He's a good man. And I'm proud to call him mine," Brock shakes his hand.

~~

The heavy feeling in his chest was still there. Even if his mom assured him that what he's doing to help Brock is the right steps, what if he's fucking this up more? Hurting Brock worse? 

"You need to talk to people Frank. You shouldn't carry this alone. You said the VA guy offered to help; use it. Don't make me get involved." His mom says with a light tone but he knows she's serious. 

"I know. I will." He sniffles and wipes his eyes. He hugs her again. "I'm sorry for turning into a cry baby."

"You're allowed to cry and that's what moms are here for. You better let me know how Brock is doing too. I care about him too. What he's going through is not going to be easy but he's got you and tools to help." Linda kisses his forehead after tilting his head down.

"I should bring him that float. He's gonna need it after talking to Dad."

"Yeah. Give him extra ice cream." She smiles before hugging him once more. Linda opens the garage door and lets Frank go first. 

Frank moves into the kitchen and pulls a new glass for the float and quickly assembles it. He looks at her and smiles, "Do I look like I just cried my eyes out?"

"Yeah but it's ok." Linda smiles. 

Frank nods and sighs. He passes his dad and gives him a smile. He steps into the den and tries to avoid Brock's eyes. He's gonna notice and he can't hide it.

Brock goes to Frankie, still smiling but that quickly fades as he notes the red eyes and nose. Frankie was crying. He wraps his arms around him and pulls him in tight. He hopes it's not because of that bitch Carolyn or himself. He'll kill anyone who fucks with his husband. Only he's allowed to fuck his husband.

"What's wrong, baby?" Brock whispers softly, peppering kisses all over his forehead.

"Mom and I had a talk." Frank sniffles as he tries not to let himself break again.

Obviously not a good talk but he wonders what happened. Brock holds him tighter, the float a thing of the past. Frankie was his top priority. "Want to talk about it, love?" 

"She knows what's been going on. I don't know how. She just wanted to make sure we're ok." Frank buries his face in Brock's chest.

"Oh," is all Brock can say. He feels like the world is going to drop out from under him. Anxiety welled up in him, gripping his heart tight. Linda _knew_. He was doing so well hiding it, he thought. 

"It's ok. I'm ok." He looks up at him, "We should sit down."

He nods, afraid that if he spoke, Frankie would hear the tremble in his voice he knew would be there. He looks for Linda. He feels the need to explain. He takes a shuddering breath and eases himself back down onto the couch, face in hands. "I'm supposed to be this skilled operative at doing undercover work and apparently I wasn't hiding it as well as I thought. So stupid."

"She trained to spot it, Brock. So stop it. It's literally part of her job." Frank grumbles, he didn't mean to but it comes out.

"Yeah but," Brock tries.

"Yeah but what?" 

"Just didn't expect to be this shitty at not hiding it very well. Or keeping this day from being a bad day because this was supposed to be fun and instead it's been anything but for you."

"I have had a great day with you. This has been so much fun and I am so proud of you for being strong and present." He sighs before speaking because it's going to either make sense or make it worse, "She works in the psych ward. She's able to spot it. She loves you, Brock."

"Oh." He's back to one-word replies again. Sighing, he takes the float and decides to not let it go to waste. "I'm sorry." 

"Oh?" Frank asks cautiously. That's not what he expected. That feels too easy. Alarm bells ring in his head.

"Didn't realize she was a professional. Knew she works at the hospital. Thought she was a nurse," Brock says, eating some ice cream.

"Like you, she doesn't explicitly tell people because they react differently than they would if she didn't say anything about her job beyond being a nurse.* Frank explains cautiously still. 

"She's a nurse in the psych ward or an actual psychiatrist?"

"She's just a nurse. She jokes she does more work than the doctors. She's been doing the job for a very long time." Frank says relaxing.

"I can believe that," Brock says, taking another bite. He can't change the fact that she knows. Might as well eat the float.

"She won't say anything unless you bring it up." Frank searches his face, he crosses his legs and leans into Brock's space.

Brock sighs, pulling Frankie into his lap. He kisses his cheek before drinking some of the coke out of the float. "We're supposed to be sharing. And her knowing is ok. Not like I can change that. Maybe it'll help. Lord knows I need all the help I can get."

"She says that she's always a phone call away." Frank says softly before kissing his cheek. 

"Now that I think of it, the moment my mom sees me, she's gonna know too. It's a mom thing. At least yours is closer. Please help me with this before I eat it all," he nudges the glass in Frankie's direction.

"It's a mom thing is exactly what it is." Frank smiles softly as he replies. He takes a drink of coke. "Your enjoyment of this is fuckin cute."

"It's not as good as chocolate cake, but I'll take it. And your mom's potato salad. Think she'll let me have some to-go?" Brock eats a huge bite of ice cream.

"She's making to go plates with everything. Even Christine's better than sex chocolate cake." Frank replies with a smirk.

"So there is chocolate cake?" Brock asks, interested.

"It's the most chocolate chocolate cake you've eaten." Frank nods as he takes another drink of coke. He strokes the hair on his neck. 

Brock looks down at the float, disappointed in the choice he's made. He had known that there was cake he would not have got the ice cream float. "Well, damn." 

"We can have it after dinner, _polpetto_." 

"I probably won't eat dinner tonight. I probably won't even be awake for that either," Brock sighs, nuzzling Frankie.

"Ok." He tries to keep his reply neutral but his emotions spill through. He's worried. He's scared. He's tired. "It's not like it will go bad overnight." 

"True. Maybe after a nap, I'll feel better. I still owe you a walk in the park. Not tonight though."

"Not tonight." Frank replies, "Did you wanna rest on the couch when we get home?"

Linda peers into the room and waits for a moment to give them a chance to talk. She tries to slip in quietly to place the goody bag near the coffee table without causing too much of an interruption.

"I'm just going to fall asleep and you know it, _tesoro_ ," he chuckles. He turns at the presence of someone to see Linda. "Hi Mom….. if that's okay?" 

"Yes, that's more than ok, love." She grins wide. "Frankie said you guys are thinking of heading out soon. So I got your to-go food packed up."

"Thanks. I knew there was no way I was leaving here without some potato salad. And there's-no-way-it's-better-than-sex chocolate cake."

"It might surprise you. It's decadent. Sinful." She pauses and winks, "It might not be better than your sex but for most people, it's better than." 

"I reserve judgment. Tomorrow," he smiles at her. 

"You better call me with your verdict." She nods. "I'm curious since you are a chocolate fiend."

"Promise. Though, you should have my number. And pass it along the family I guess. Since Dad Frank gave me his approval," he turns and grins at Frankie before kissing his cheek. "One set down, one to go." 

"I'll add you to the family group chat." She grins as she pulls her phone out and hands it to Frank. Frank sighs and enters Brock's number into her phone then hands it back. 

"There." Frank rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"Linda, can we talk?" Brock asks, setting the float down on the coffee table.

"Of course sweetheart," Linda moves to the other side of the couch and sits next to him.

"Frankie told me you guys talked," he begins.

"We did." She says as she rests a hand on his knee.

"What gave me away? I mean," Brock pauses to take a breath. "I did undercover work for seven years. And you picked up on it after a few hours here. Frankie says it's because of your job. I get that. But. I'm either too old to hide it or you have superpowers. Forget about Carolyn."

"Honestly, it's the small things. The coat staying on when you first got here. I noticed that you moved a little slower. Frank has told me how you're lively and active. Like you wear him out sometimes active. But you were… on power save mode if you will." She pauses thoughtfully, "Mostly it's in your eyes, sweetheart. There is a sadness behind them. A deep sadness. There is a look I've seen on suicidal patients and for a moment, it was a quick slip but I caught it."

"I'm not suicidal. And it's not even sadness, more like emptiness. I have nothing to be sad about. I'm just tired all the time. Frank tell you about yesterday?" 

"You had your VA counselor over?"

Brock nods, "He says the depression and anxiety is a symptom of some past trauma I've been dealing with. We're working on it. But I promise I'm not suicidal. I would never, no matter how shitty I feel. I know this will pass, and I have a band to run and a wedding to plan." He pauses for a bit. Trying to work out his thoughts and feelings. "Don't suppose you'd know what to do about the physical pain in the meantime?"

"Well, there is medication. That's a good way to start. But I have a feeling that's your last resort. Yes?" She asks.

"Yeah. Not a fan of taking pills. But not adverse if it's needed and other options aren't helping. I just rest a lot. Much to Frankie's dismay." Speaking of which, he pulls his love in tighter. 

"Well, the next step is talk therapy. Regular appointment with someone like your VA guy. And I know it sounds crazy but, exercise. Light stuff. Yoga. Stretching. Going for a walk. Keeping the body moving helps to keep the pain at bay. Sounds counter-productive but it works." 

"Exactly what Sam said," Brock nods. "Logically I know that, but I can't seem to bring myself to do it. And I used to be a gym buff. The more I'm moving, the more I'm exhausted, the more pain I'm in. It's a cycle. Maybe I could work on stretches though…."

"Start a routine. You and Frank. Make a schedule and keep it. Up at 8, eat something… he's told me about your disinterest in food. Yoga at 9. And so on and so forth." She says. She takes his chin in her fingers and holds it gently, "Routine will make it easier to keep up with it. And get out of that apartment. Cooped up doesn't help you feel better." Linda adds.

"Yes, mom," Brock smiles at her. Even though it was a little reiterated from Sam, it was still good to hear. "Thank you." 

"It's gonna be ugly and uncomfortable. You're gonna cry and get upset. Don't give up on it." Linda touches his cheek.

"Yeah Frankie," Brock says, teasingly. 

"He won't tell you cause he's like his damn father but he feels like he's failing. Which he's not. He's afraid of not helping you." Linda gives Frank a look, "I'm not violating HIPAA. You aren't my patient, you're my baby."

Brock reaches over and tips Frank's chin up so he can see his beautiful eyes. "Sweetheart. You know you are perfect to me. Perfect _for_ me. You help plenty and are exactly what I need and more. I love you. Please don't let this eat you up inside _amore mio_."

"I love you so very much. But I feel like I'm letting you drown. That's all." Frank's eyes dart to his mother. _Sneaky snake_. "I wish I could make it go away. Or take it from you. I can hide it..."

"Did you just insult my acting skills?" Brock asks, a mischievous grin on his lips. "You save me from drowning. Every day. Just by you being you."

"Yeah… I'm a professional level bottler." Frank says before leaning up and kissing him.

"He's scared you're not going to want to be with him. As in, he believes he caused this and you'll think he's a risk. He told me he kind of said something to Sam but he was censoring himself," Linda throws out; she knows he won't say it.

"I know Sam is correct; that me meeting you and feeling safe enough to let you into the darkest parts of my life, opened me up," Brock tells Frankie. "And that by doing so, has caused this temporary state. So if you want to play technicality games, then sure, you directly caused this. Or you can choose to look at it like what it truly is: I love you. I trust you. And my feelings for you are so strong, that I was willing to bare my soul and tell you my darkest secrets. I'd rather do that than lose the best man that's ever been in my life. I'd rather risk prison than tell you a lie. Hide something from you. You mean literally the world to me. You make me the happiest man I've ever been and the proudest. Even in my darkest moments, you've been here by my side and I love you for it. And that's why I want to marry you. I'm not going anywhere." Brock wipes away the soft tears that had begun about halfway through his mini-speech. Frankie was just that important to him. He needed him to see that.

Frank sighs and wraps his arms around Brock's neck. He places kisses into Brock's skin, "Don't feel like I am doing enough. Or I'm doing too much. I just want to make you better. I am willing to postpone the tour for you. Anything to help. I love you more and more every single day." He babbles a little as he sniffles, "I fucking hate that you're in pain. Actual pain."

"I can bear it when I'm with you. Because of you. You are my rock. My shelter. My safe place. My koala. The light in the darkness. My joy. My life. My world." Brock reaches up and cups Frankie's cheek before brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss. "And I need to remember all of what I just said when we write our vows."

"I'll help you. But uh, who's going to jail?" Linda asks with a smile as she wipes tears.

"Oops," Brock huffs a laugh against Frank's lips. He didn't realize he'd said that or that she'd catch it. "Uh… me?" 

"Excuse me? Why?" Her head tilts a little confused and more concerned.

Brock keeps his eyes on Frank, "So your dad asked the typical question about financial security. And I told him you'd be set for life. Then he asked if I had any questions… about joining the family. I had to refrain myself."

"What?" Linda asked, looking at Frank.

 _Help?_ Brock mouths to Frank.

"Do you want to do it here?" Frank asks quietly. 

"I'm only okay with doing it if I know the answer is going to be a positive one," Brock fires back. "The less people know; the safer they'll be." 

"Ok." Frank nods at Brock. "So, uh… his family has an unconventional business."

"So… I mean your dad and I have an unconventional marriage. I'm not tracking." Linda's voice softens.

"Maybe we should head to the car?" Brock offers. He's hoping that if they are going to tell a third person outside of the bloodline, he wants to be near his car in case Linda decides to put a cap in his ass. 

"That's a great idea." Frank nods. He kisses Brock then stands up, offering his hand to his husband.

Taking his hand, Brock stands with a little groan of pain. He breathes through it before settling. He grabs the sweat-covered glass of melted Coke float to put into the sink. And maybe get some water before they leave.

Linda rises and moves to the bag of food. She lifts it and waits for her boys to move. Her body is on edge, she doesn't know what the hell is going on but the word prison echoes in her head.

Frank laces his fingers with Brock. "I'll get your jacket, love." He looks up and nods at Brock, "Want me to drive?" 

"Not really," he replies with a twitch of lips. "But we'll see."

"Yeah, I know you miss driving her." Frank playful rolls his eyes. He escorts him out of the house. He stops at the driver's door and carefully leans against the car.

"That's my spot," Brock teases.

"Yeah but I look cuter in your spot." Frank grins and bites his lip. 

"Now you are just being mean."

"It's why you love me, I'm a lil hellion." He pulls Brock into him and wraps his arms around his middle.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" Linda asks anxiously.

"My little hellcat," Brock says softly, kissing Frankie's temple to avoid answering. He's not really wanting to do this. In fact, he hates this idea. Linda likes him. He likes the family. He doesn't want to ruin that. He presses his lips to Frank's ear, "I am not okay with this. But if you think it's best, and the outcome is positive, I will trust you to tell her. I do trust you."

"We can wait if you're not ready?" Frank says quietly back. He feels like he's trying to reassure a virgin that everything is fine. _If you do it in the ass, it doesn't count. You're still a virgin._ He rubs Brock's back and takes a breath in.

"If I have my way, nobody would know. Nobody is _supposed_ to know. Only you."

"Brock. One word. Yes or no. I know it's a big deal. I know it's _dangerous_. But it makes you worry. I want to ease your fears." Frank removes his arms from around Brock, "Look at me." 

Brock looks at him, worry lines evident in his face. This was extremely dangerous. He's only okay with it if he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Linda won't report him. Won't turn him in. He doesn't want to lose the love of his life before they had a chance to _live_ all because he slipped up and spilled the truth. He whispers, "I trust you." 

Frank steps away from Brock and approaches his mom. He wraps his arms around her and whispers in her ear. He hates that the words have to come out. His heart is hammering in his chest. He feels her pull away. She steps back and stares at him confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" Her tone is skeptical as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

"Please." Frank feels his voice shake.

She looks to Brock for any clarification. Anything. It's not a thing. That's in the movies. It's nothing that her baby is involved in. "Brock, he's not serious is he?" 

Fuck. He feels the color drain from his face. Every muscle tenses, ready to fight and flee if he needs to. He _will_ run if Frank can't control Linda. Drag Frankie out of there and- wait. He can't. He can't take him because then it would be kidnapping. Fuck. This is why he doesn't tell people. This is why secrets were kept. This is why he doesn't ever want to make the choice between his family and his future with Frankie. It's an impossible choice he can't win. 

She looks at Frank and then Brock again. "Someone better say something or I'm going inside," she grumbles. It's hot and this doesn't make sense. 

"It's… True," Brock whispers. He closes his eyes. His fingers itch to grab his gun hidden back under his jacket but that would be a stupid move. It would escalate this and not provide the safety feeling he wanted.

She looks at Brock and shakes her head. Linda makes the choice to not look at Frank. She's confused and irritated by this whole nonsense. She turns and moves away from them.

"Ma." Frank says, taking a step towards her. His heart sinks. This isn't what was supposed to happen. This isn't how she was supposed to react. He was sure she'd be ok. His voice is more gentle than before, "Please don't _say_ anything." 

Linda doesn't say a word. She makes her way up the stairs and opens the screen door. She doesn't look back but stops. If he's serious, that makes her vulnerable. She turns back and looks at Brock, "I'll call you tomorrow. Don't forget to put that food in the fridge." 

Brock stands there frozen with indecision and utter fear. Everything in his body is screaming at him to _run_. Drop everything, pack a bag, and leave the country. Clearly, Frankie's choice was the wrong fucking one. And now he's in danger. Frank's in danger. His whole fucking family is in danger. He waits for Frank, fear-induced rage chasing away his depression for a moment. It's time for action.

Frank moves to follow her. He stops and looks at Brock. Brock gives him a look of ' _fix this_ '. He doesn't have words. Not good words. _If you're going to run, do it now_ is what his brain wants him to say but he doesn't want him to go. He runs up the stairs and into the house. "Mom." Frank searches for her. He passes by his sister. She points towards the back of the house. He glances in the kitchen but she's not there. He moves to the garage then the laundry room. He opens the door and nearly shrieks in her face.

"Forgot his shirt," she says handing it to Frank.

He crowds her and forces her back into the laundry room. "Please don't say anything. To anyone. I'm already in fuckin' trouble. I fucked up…" he pleads with her before she covers his mouth with her small bony cold hand. 

"I said I'd call him tomorrow." She replies with a neutral tone, "Don't push it, Frank Anthony."

"What do I tell him?"

"I'll call him tomorrow." She repeats.

Frank doesn't move.

"Do you need me to call you a cab?" She asks, annoyance backing her words now, he's pushing her, "Did he leave without you?" 

"No. I don't think so..." Frank says with a new fear sending a chill down his spine.

"Then you better go before he does. I ain't saying shit. Go." She shoos him away. 

Frank steps back and moves out of the hall. He stops in the kitchen and waits for his mom but she doesn't appear. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ The word repeats in time with the steps he takes for the door. He opens it and steps outside. He feels like he's walking in quicksand as he moves to the car. He's got no idea what the fuck is going to happen as he pulls the car door open.

Brock starts the car up as soon as Frank slides into the passenger seat. He asks with his voice strained, "Well?" 

"She'll call you tomorrow." Frank says somberly. His eyes stare at the floorboards, "She isn't going to do or say anything about it."

Brock exhales a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. He's shaking, not from rage though that was there too, and he does a few deep breathing exercises just to stop his hands from trembling too. He needs to be able to drive. When he can breathe better, he pulls the car out of the driveway and heads home.

 _Do I say something? Should I? I shouldn't. I need to stay silent. Maybe he should drop me at Ray's. What the fuck did I just do?_ Frank glances over at Brock without moving his head. He shrinks in the seat a little and nervously picks at his nails. He opens his mouth but doesn't speak. 

Brock drives in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other propping his head up, elbow on the window ledge. He's not sure how to process the storm of emotions battling in his chest. What he does know is that he's exhausted so much that his exhaustion is exhausted. Fear grips his heart more so than anger. He came so close to losing everything in a split moment and he wasn't able to make a decision. He's still not sure that Linda will do as she's said. For all he knows, she could be calling the police as they drive through the Holland tunnel. The thought makes his stomach churn. He will turn himself in. For Frankie. Running would only drag him into his mess.

It's only at a stoplight does he realize the lights are blurring and his eyes are hot and leaking. Even worse, night was falling quickly; they stayed too late. His nerves are on alert, waiting in tense anticipation for the first of many fireworks. He wants to go home. He wants the bath and massage Frankie said earlier. He wants just one day to go right. The light changes green and he goes, his free hand wiping his eyes, nose sniffling. 

The sniffles pull him back to the inside of the car and out of his head. He looks at Brock and feels like his chest is going to cave in. He holds his breath and puts his hand out and open towards Brock. Resting his elbow on the center console between them, he waits until he is sure Brock isn't going to reciprocate. He's not going to force him to do anything. He wants to beg Brock to forgive him. "Pedestrian. My side," comes out of his mouth as a woman walks towards the car absentmindedly. 

"Oh shit!" Brock slams on the breaks, hard to avoid hitting the woman in the middle of the fucking road. Goddamn, jaywalkers. Probably drunk. Or stupid. He hates today, he hates today, he hates today. His nerves are fried. Once she's gone, he slowly continues on. "Jesus Christ, please just kill me now before I have a fucking heart attack."

"Let's not." Frank says gently. He is thankful he looked up once they hit the city. He pulls his hand back and tucks them under his thighs. The apartment isn't far and he's never been more thankful to be in Manhattan.

"I'm so fucking done with this day," Brock says miserably. At yet another stoplight, Brock uses his tank to rub his face before taking several deep breaths. A single soft pop in the distance has him groaning into his shirt. They didn't make it home in time. It's barely dusk and these assholes are starting the rainbow explosions from hell. Composure hanging by a thread, Brock switches hands for driving, instead placing his right hand on Frank's thigh. Seeking comfort.

"We're almost home, honey." Frank's voice is sweet with careful words. He hates this fucking holiday. The hand that had been tucked under his thigh touches his forearm and holds on. He needs a damn drink. Or six. _Is he allowed to sleep in the bed? Is this going to be a fight? A bad one, probably._ "You're holding your breath. You need to breathe, Brock." He reminds him. Half a block, can motherfuckers give them half a damn block before giving his– Before giving Brock a panic attack?

Letting out his breath slowly, Brock tries to speed the rest of the way home but can't as traffic picks up. He grips Frankie tighter, needing his rock to keep him grounded. Another firework goes off. At least this one he can see the lighted trail and brace himself. A repeat of _bath, massage, cuddles, bed_ plays in his mind. If he's going to prison tonight then he at least wants to enjoy his last moments with his husband. "I fucking hate Murphy. Asshole." 

"Motherfuckers just can't fucking wait for a half fucking hour." Frank growls. He hates people. Seven drinks. That's the number, maybe seven shots. Even just shots of wine. "Should have moved to Canada." He grumbles, "Stupid Americans."

"Sounds like my line, _tesoro_ ," Brock huffs. Finally, they pull in the garage and get out. They need a talk but it probably won't be until tomorrow. Or least someplace quiet.

He carries the bag and shirts into the elevator. He isn't sure if he should stand close to Brock or if he should give him space. He keeps his head down and doesn't look up until they need to walk into the hallway. "At least it's quiet in here." He offers.

"Amen for small miracles," Brock says, moving into Frank's space and pulling him in a hug. He needs his koala, but he can't lift him right now. A little bit of him dies at the thought. Instead, he pushes his love up against the wall and hides his face with Scorpio, lips pressed against his little claws. "I need my koala." 

As his back hits the elevator wall, his stomach drops. _Shit._ His eyes widen then relax as Brock kisses his neck. The words make the tightness in his chest relax, "I always need you." He says softly as he strokes the back of Brock's head. "It's gonna be okay." 

The elevator dings its arrival before Brock can truly relax into the hug. Instead, he drags Frankie into their apartment, taking the food bag and shoving it into the refrigerator. He needs…. Things. A lot of things. His nerves are too fried to really make a rational thought of which order he needs his things. Headphones. Right. Those should be first. But bath? Are they still doing the bath? He can have headphones in the bath if they aren't connected to something. He quickly heads into the bedroom, stripping down. It's a safe place to start as any. 

Frank stands in the bedroom and blinks as he watches Brock move frantically. 

"Stop. Just stop." He speaks louder than his normal voice but not yelling. Trying to be firm but gentle. "Put the classical music playlist I made on and turn the volume up. I'm going to run the bath. You're going to take some Tylenol. We are going to drown out the world, I know you have candles somewhere. Please point them out." He feels like a dick being bossy after everything that just happened but he knows Brock is burning out. He's gotta get him minimally functional. He wants to at least have one last good night before his own brain makes him do something stupid or irrational. 

What if Carolyn was right, his impulsivity was going to be the thing that ruins them. He loves Brock. He adores and worships Brock. He knows that he's awful at expressing his feelings because he bottles them. But he doesn't want to live without Brock. He can't let him go. He can't let his love leave without him. He'll give it all up to make sure he can stay with Brock. He'll be an orphan. He's sure he can fake his death to spend the rest of his life with Brock in Italy. Maybe he needs to pack a bag after Brock falls asleep. An escape from the country bag. He needs to calm down too. He needs to be rational. The strong one. He wants this bath too. He plugs the drain and turns the water as hot as it will go before adding the lavender blend into the water. The steam transporting the smell into the air. _Does he want me in the bath with him?_ He thinks before speaking, "I need a drink..." 

"Me too. But I need you more. Thank you. For helping me," Brock replies, putting on classical music. He turns and grabs the candles from the cabinet under the sink, setting up a few. He's not really interested in accidentally starting a fire tonight. After they are lit, he does a quick mental checklist. Him just being home has helped calm his frayed nerves. His subconscious knows he's safe in here from the bombs bursting in the air outside. He's got the bath, the music, the candles. He needs his koala; and wine but he's not allowed that. Frankie hasn't gotten undressed. He needs to fix that. He goes over and kisses him, chaste at first but steadily increasing in passion. His hands tug and lift Frankie's shirt.

He lets himself relax into the kiss before coming back to life. He unbuttons the jeans and strips them off his hips. He didn't realize it until just then but not only has he become increasingly clingy but in need of ALL kisses. From the soft and sweet to the rough passionate, he wants it all. 

He takes Brock's hand in his own and steps towards the tub. He waits patiently as Brock steps into the water and relaxes down for himself to join. He clings to Brock. It's not the most opportune time to begin this but he will make it work. He wants to apologize but once he starts he won't stop. A stray thought pops in his head, _what if he leaves after you fall asleep You'd deserve it._

Sighing heavily, Brock pulls his arms tighter around Frankie, holding him close against his body, nose buried in Frank's hair. Slowly, he begins to relax. A stray thought causes him to smile, "This is very romantic; if it were under different circumstances."

"We should do this more often." Frank sighs. He is right, if this were any other time it would be.

"I'd like that," Brock hums his agreement. He kisses the top of Frankie's head. "Part of me wants this every day but it would then lose its magic."

"That's true. Maybe just once a week." Frank whispers as he turns his head and kisses Brock's skin. He's missed this kind of intimacy. He fights with himself but loses, "I miss this part of us." 

Lazy fingers trail over Frankie's arm, caressing and enjoying the contact. He feels boneless like this, the hot water and lavender scent doing great for his nerves. Four out of five of his senses were being fed with the best of the best. It was almost enough he could forget about the danger that lurked outside. He reaches down, tipping Frank's chin up to meet him in for a slow and sensual kiss.

He savors the kiss, moving a hand to Brock's neck. He wishes the water had been hotter longer. He also wishes that the music would cover up the big booms. Those ones still got through the piano concerto that was filling the room with peaceful sound. "I love you more than anything," Frank speaks softly as he strokes his love's shoulder with wet fingers.

"I love you more than anything, too. More than my life. I can't live without you," Brock says softly. A larger boom nearby makes Brock tense up, gripping Frankie tight and focusing on his breathing. After a few moments, he forces himself to relax. He's thankful the explosions only give him emotional flashbacks and not a sensory one. That would be dangerous to Frankie.

"You're ok." Frank says quietly. He is cursing whoever set that one off, hoping they blew off a finger. He was enjoying the peace and quiet with Brock. "Water's getting cold. But I don't wanna get out." He says softly as he kisses Brock's chest.

"Yeah," Brock says, not moving right away. A part of him is too physically comfortable to move. And the other part sees anything beyond the bathroom door as _danger_. "I think I'm going to install jets. And make the tub heated." 

"In our house."

"We live here, now, though. Both. Both is good. And I've decided to build and design our house from the ground up. Custom and special for us," Brock hugs Frankie.

"Are you now? I didn't know you were an architect. I knew you went to college and you're very smart so it makes sense." Frank smiles as he babbles a little. He is getting sleepy but his job isn't done, "But I love the idea and I vote yes." 

"Thank you, but I don't have the skill to build it myself. But I've got the money to pay for someone who knows what they are doing to build it right for us. We just need to figure out where."

"Alaska, right?" Frank smirks. 

"Jerk," Brock laughs, fingers tickling Frankie.

He squirms a little and laughs before inhaling, "Maybe Russia, I hear. The winters are lovely!?" 

"You asshole. Get out. You ruined my zen," Brock laughs a little, shoving Frankie away and unplugging the drain.

"Nooo. I don't wanna get up." Frank playfully whines, "but I am more than okay going anywhere with you that means Italy, France, Spain or Moscow. I'm there." Frank stands up as the water level drops below where he is comfortable. He offers a hand to Brock. 

He accepts the offered hand for help, not just due to his current health condition but also because the bath bombs make the tub slippery and the last thing he needs is to slip and fall. That would only solidify him being old. After they get out and dry off, Brock turns off the music and blows out the candles. He's ready for his headphones and cuddles. And the massage but that's optional.

"We should move to a place where English is mostly spoken. Since you don't have any other language to fall back on. Or at least mine where I can be with you to translate."

"I should least learn Italian. Since I am marrying a real Italian man and not some over-tanned, over scented idiot." Frank says as he folds his towel. "Did you still want a massage?" 

"Did you really need to ask?" Brock retorts lightly. "It's okay if we don't. And I feel a little called out. I'm tanned and overly scented with lavender. And probably an idiot."

"Not an idiot. Just a dummy. My dummy." He grins wide and proud at his own joke. He clears his throat, "At least let me run where you hurt the worst. I do wanna help."

Brock nods, "You help plenty. This is just a bonus. I'll take whatever I can get. I need my headphones though."

"I'll grab the headphones. You get comfortable, did you want anything else while I'm up?" 

"Water." He knows he sounds disappointed. It's not what he wants, not even close. Would one drink really matter? He knows the answer is highly positive. Though at the rate he's going, he might just sleep off the wine if he had any. Still, he's got self-control and will behave. He makes his way out of the bathroom and quickly crawls into bed.

Frank notes the disappointment in his voice and decides that he's going to do some research once Brock's asleep. He brings back a bottle of water and their phones to plug in. Silence, then plug in. He grabs the headphones from the counter and returns to the bedroom. He can't help but grin at the sight of Brock in their bed. "I can't help but think how lucky I am when I see you like this." Frank sighs as he moves closer and hands over the headphones. He kisses his forehead then plugs the phones in.

"Naked and on display?" Brock asks, slipping the headphones on 

"I mean yeah, but I was thinking more like comfortable in our bed, silly." Frank pauses, thinking _he can hear me? Or did he just tune me out?_

Brock smiles at Frank, happier now that the world was mute. Military headphones were the best. These babies were used to muffle the sounds of jet engines. He needed to bring them with him on the tour. He sees Frank's mouth moving and he tries to read his lips.

Brock really can't hear him. Frank moves around the room as he talks out loud, "I'm going to play ska music in the morning. Then maybe some really heavy screaming metal? I might vacuum. Doesn't matter to you, you can't hear me." He pauses and sighs. He stands in front of the dressers as he begins, "I guess while I'm able, cause I know I'll clam up later. I didn't realize she'd react like that. I thought she would have questions. But not that. I know I fucked up. I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna fix this. But I will. I swear cause you're not allowed to run without me." Turning he nods at Brock. 

Unable to hear his precious love speaking, Brock gently lifts one side away from his ear just a little. He catches the last thing Frankie says and realizes, it's time. He whispers the words, unable to gauge the pitch of his voice, "I don't want to run at all." 

"You can hear me?" Frank feels the color drain from his face. He recovers quickly, "Cause mute Brock has different privileges than hearing Brock…" Make it a joke and it will go away… right? "But. Good, then we don't run." Frank adds with a nod.

"You were talking and I can't hear anything with this, so I'm holding it open a little," Brock yells, forgetting to whisper and control his volume. "Running makes it worse and drags you into trouble with the law and I'd rather go to prison than ruin your life. But I couldn't make the decision when your mom didn't take the news right. It's impossible to win."

Frank flinches at him yelling. He puts a finger to his lips. "I realize you can't hear me, hence having the ugly conversation with deaf you. You're not going to prison. That's why we choose to take a permanent vacation to a non-extraditable country." 

"Sorry," Brock tries to whisper. He crooks a finger to motion Frankie to join him on the bed. The massage can wait. This is important.

Frank pushes off the dresser and crawls into bed. He sits upright and crosses his legs, "Don't be sorry. It was just loud." He scoots a little closer and takes a breath. 

Brock stays on his stomach, keeping the headphone just slightly away from one ear. He tries to keep his volume under control. "First, I love you. But you terrified me. Do you understand why?"

"Yes." Frank replies as he scans Brock's eyes for anything reassuring, "I understand the repercussions and consequences."

"I also expected to get screamed at or at least hit and I would have deserved it." He drops his gaze and focuses on Brock's skin. A small scar on his side specifically. 

"I told you when we were at your apartment, I maintain composure even when I'm compromised. I will never hit you. I nearly did scream though. I had to take a bit to process before I could even talk." Brock rolls onto his side, on the headphones, so he can curl up at Frankie's hip and knee and still hear just him.

"I know that you maintain your composure but as I said, I'd deserve it. Anyway, not dwelling just saying." Frank nods.

"No one deserves to be hit in a non-sexual way. I don't care what you do. You don't deserve it."

"So the worst-case scenario that _doesn't_ involve you getting arrested, is?" Frank makes a point on the doesn't, "Leaving. But what if, and I know it's crazy but hear me out, what if nothing happens. She has a long talk with you. Threatens you with Mom violence and that's it…"

"Her not saying anything would be the best-case scenario. That was the plan. But she didn't exactly show me that she's… I can't say comfortable, because who really is, but willing to keep James from putting me in prison or death row. And I don't blame her. It's not something any parent should have to worry about with their child. Running might prolong the inevitable but it'll put you in prison for aiding and abetting. Drag your family through hell. The band too. I'll lose all of mine, every one of my blood relatives is in the business. We've all got enough blood on our hands, they won't even do a trial. Skip Go, don't collect $200, straight to the chair. You might get lucky with a good lawyer. But all of my lawyers are in the pockets of my father so they'll lose their business and end up in prison too. No, running is _not_ going to solve the problem. There is no best, worst-case scenario." Brock sighs, "This is my fault. I shouldn't have slipped up. I got lost in the moment and said 'prison' and that was it. Can't lie to moms."

He can't argue with that logic because it makes sense. When he says death do us part, he means it. And he looks good in orange. "I should have lied. It's not just on you Brock." Frank sighs as he rubs his face, "I hate being this guy but I think we're not even putting eggs into a basket. We're throwing them against a wall… I trust my mom. She's not going to get you thrown in a box for the rest of your life. I just have a feeling. My instincts haven't steered me wrong yet."

"Look, I don't have a choice but to wait until tomorrow. Until that phone call. I'm exhausted and if this is my last night as a free man, I want to spend it here with you. After she calls, then I will make the decision to turn myself in. If I can do that, it might save you and my family."

"I know you are exhausted. I'm sorry. I don't want to worry about this tonight. I just want to give my love a massage and let him have the best night's rest he can and maybe tomorrow I can get him to eat two meals instead of one." He still keeps his eyes down between the bed and Brock's skin.

"I love you," Brock shifts up so he can kiss Frankie.

"I love you more." Frank kisses him again before he grins. He enjoys being bossy, "So kiss me once more, headphones on then roll over." 

"Yes sir," Brock grins. He kisses him again, a little harder than before. Slipping his headphone back on, effectively muting the world, he shimmies back onto his stomach and fluffs the pillow before laying down. He sighs once he's comfortable as he can be.

Frank gives Brock the best rub down that he can. He knows it's not a professional level but hopefully, it's enough to make him feel a little better. Once he's sure that Brock is out, Frank sits beside him and does some research. One the wine. Non-extraditable countries that he'd feel comfortable living in. He makes a couple of massage therapy appointments and prepays for everything. He sends a text out to the guys wishing them a happy 4th. He watches television until he can't keep his eyes open. He's stressed out and feels sick. He wants to call his mom. But he doesn't. Instead, he curls up and into Brock, he smiles the second he touches his husband he turns into a needy octopus. He forces him to sleep with warmth and weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Frank's: Things To Say Commentary
> 
> B: _had totally fretted over how he looked getting dressed this morning. Settled on form fitting jeans and a light tee with his leather jacket he uses to hide the gun. He's melting_  
>  F: mmmm those jeans highlight that ass 😏😉😘  
> B: Also makes me appear taller which is why I wear them. And because you like my ass and I like you looking.  
> F: we should get you some like flannel over shirts or a denim one…  
> B: I like leather 🥵  
> F: yes, but you're broiling…   
> B: I'll drink lots of water. Did I mention the jacket has been altered to hide the gun the right away? So no matter what direction I move in, it's hiding  
> F: thats cool. Also why do you need to look taller? You're already a giant…  
> B: I'm medium tall. Average height. You are just short.   
> F: at least you didn't call me pocket or fun sized  
> B: you are pocket sized kitty  
> F: oh ok, I'll take that. But you're still a giant teddy bear.  
> ______
> 
> B: Linda, have you been learning Italian this whole time just so you could talk to me?  
> F: her ass would.   
> L: there's lots of cool apps to teach me, Franklin.  
> B: I could teach you? Both.  
> F: you sure you wanna invite me into the secret society 😉  
> B: Welcome to the Family, tesoro.  
> F: yeah, we still gotta go to Italy before it's official, babe.  
> B: Yeah. True. But I know they'll love you too.   
> F: two of the four like me 😁  
> B: love you. Not just like.  
> F: well we both know Jack loves me. I'm his favorite little brother   
> B: Brooke does too.  
> J: love you, kiddo.  
> F: love you too Jack!  
> ____
> 
> B: my little hellcat is gonna fight the fireworks 😏🥰  
> F: I'd fight a tornado if it meant you were gonna be okay.  
> B: this is why I love you, you beautiful soul  
> F: at least u didn't call me simple sweet soul  
> B: You are that too.  
> F: you might have just called me dumb in southern old lady speak.  
> B: Well bless your heart  
> F: to the moon Alice.


	15. The Mall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother bonding time at the mall. Brock has a new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ray is such a good bro in this. As things take a less-than-fun turn, the smut is kind of put on the backburner for a while. Don't worry, it'll be back. It's going to take some time though as the dark stuff comes to play. Relationships are hard.
> 
> The usual stuff applies that nobody cares about: No money no fame, only fun and all game. Enjoy!

Frank wakes covered in sweat. Brock is beside him but face down and almost fully covering him. He worms his way out from underneath him. He wants to wake him but doesn't. He wants him to be bright and chipper but that's not an option. So, he showers and gets dressed. He mills around the house until the boredom and loneliness get to him. 

They need something he can buy at a store… Any excuse to get out. He grabs his wallet, backpack with a jacket, and leaves a note for Brock and leaves. Maybe he should check in on Jack? He should. He pulls his phone out in the elevator and sends him a text. 

_Frank: Hey! You busy?_

He steps out of the elevator and into the lobby. He's gonna hail a cab and go to a home good store. Or a grocery store. Record shop? He wants Brock with him but that's not an option. He steps out and glances around but nothing is around. He'll walk.

_Jack: What's wrong now?_

_Frank: Nothing. Checking in. Sheesh._

_Jack: LOL Riiight. I don't believe you._

_Jack: What's new with you Pikachu?_

_Frank: Not a whole lot. I had to get out of the apartment. What are you up to?_

_Jack: Eating Wheaties and plotting world domination_

_Frank: Oh how's that going?_

_Frank: Brock's asleep in the apartment. It was a rough night. Gotta love stupid Americans._

_Jack: He wore his headphones though. Right? He always reminds me of those babies with headphones at concerts or something. Cute._

_Jack: Sorry last night sucked. Could've called me. I'd have come over. Also, I just died in my campaign of world domination >.<_

_Frank: Yeah. He used them. He is exactly like a baby at a concert. Sorry 'Bout your failed domination._

_Frank: Hey, I might be having lunch alone if you wanna come over. I know I'll be lonely._

_Jack: Sure? Everything okay, with you bro?_ ☹️

_Frank: no sad faces. Everything is good Brock's just sleeping a bit more. Has been needing it. I'm what the kids call a social creature. I also don't want to intrude on your life, either._

_Jack: When I'm not doing paperwork or plotting world domination, I'm doing world domination you feel me?_

_Frank: Yeah I do. Dork. Hit me up if you're hungry. Have I mentioned how much I hate getting a cab in the bloody citttgfu-_

Frank goes to step off the curb and misses his step as he types. He crumples to the ground, scuffing his elbow, ripping his jeans, and throwing his phone simultaneously. He collects himself and surveys the damage. He needs to bring his car to the apartment if they allow him to have a spot. Or he'll use his old parking ticket trick until he's found out to park it in the curb a block up. Brock might hate his car. Well, normal Brock will hate it. 

_Jack: What the fuck is citttgfu? You okay?_ 🤣

_Frank: I'm good. Shit. Sorry, I tripped and threw my phone. I'm sitting on the curb cursing god for not making me a house cat._

_Jack: Don't tell Brock. He'll laugh at you for being a clumsy kitten!_

_Frank: or he'll put me in a plastic bubble._

He gets up and sighs before taking off down the street again. He could get an Uber but now he's bitter. He decides to start the furthest away, Petco is a far walk but they always have animals and he can always play with them. He moves on to Whole Foods, he stuffs his food choices into his backpack then moves on to HomeGoods where he finds a nice set of pillows and matching throws that would be perfect for the living room and a new set of candles for the bathroom. Heading home he stops and grabs flowers, newspaper, and a cup of coffee from a stand. Maybe he'll get a ride to the Bronx and go shopping. Or see if Jack is bored and wants to hang out. 

As he hits the corner of their block he sees cop cars outside and feels his guts drop. _No. No. No. No._ He repeats the mantra as he casually rushes into the building. He tries to look not suspicious. _Don't be at the apartment. God damn it. No._ The door opens and he bolts to the door. Fumbling to get the scan to work from his hand shaking too bad, once the mechanics inside come alive he pushes the door open and goes for Brock, only to find Brock still passed out, drooling and blissfully unaware that he had a heart attack. Frank kisses his forehead and leaves the room. 

He unpacks the items he's bought. Putting out the new pillows and blanket and the food in the pantry. He has become so used to having Brock around that it feels so weird. He flips the paper open as the doorbell rings and sends a chill down his spine. _Did he tip them off? Oh fuck… Brock isn't even dressed._ He quietly tiptoes to the door and peers out the peephole to see Ray's goofy smile.

He opens the door and hugs his friend tight. His heart hammers in his chest. "I am so glad it's you!" Frank exclaims. 

"Hey Frankie… you good?" Ray asks cautiously.

"Uh yeah…"

"You watched a scary movie and freaked yourself out huh?" Ray teases and pats him on the back. 

"That is rude… but fair." Frank laughs, "Come in!" He backs up and lets his friend enter the apartment.

"You seemed overly enthusiastic in your message last night. Love you bud but your texts never have punctuation," Ray says, handing him coffee. "Where's B?"

"He's uh, in bed. It was a rough few days and he's tired." Frank rubs his neck and sighs.

"Oh that's right! He met the family!" Ray grins as he takes a seat and the kitchen table, "How'd that go?"

 _My mom freaked out cause he's in the mafia and now we are freaked out_.

"It went great. They love him. I knew they would." Frank grins.

"I mean how could they not. Brock's a great dude!" Ray nods before taking a drink of his coffee, "Didn't he have a meeting with his counselor?"

"Yeah, Sam. He's a great guy. He cares about Brock and not just 'cause it's his job." Frank props his head against the table, "How's the wife? How's your family?" 

"Oh they are good. The fourth was fun." Ray relaxes in his seat, "What happened at his therapy? Did we figure out a way to help Brock?"

"Oh you know, cried and learned about what is going on. He gave us some good skills and tricks to help. But I uh, was curious if you'd be willing to help me?" Frank asks, nervous. It's not normal to ask one of your best friends to snuggle your boyfriend cause you're not able to do it right.

"Of course! Brock is my friend and I wanna help him get better." Ray nods and gives Frank a sympathetic look.

"He has that touch starvation, he's been bottling it up and keeping it secret for so long that when I made him open up it broke something. He has been battling it for so long and the last time you were here, it crumbled further. He needs someone to essentially be his big spoon. I can't do it. I'm not… enough." Frank sighs at the end, "You remind him of his brother. He feels safe with you. If you're ok with it, would you be willing to… be his big spoon? If not, it's okay. I understand it's an odd request. And if you're not comfortable, I get it." 

"Well first, you are more than enough for Brock. You are. So stop it." Ray says firmly, "It will help Brock?"

"It will help him feel safe. He is so scared that his need for touch will push you away. It just spirals from there." 

"And it's not sexual…" Ray asks, cringing.

"No. It's not. He loves you but not like that." Frank smiles and hears Jack mocking Americans in the back of his head.

"Ok. I'll help." Ray nods.

Frank jumps up and hugs his friend. "Thank you! He's been so freaked about that you will hate him for wanting this." 

"To be touched? I wouldn't. God no!" Ray exclaims and hugs him back.

"I know. He doesn't believe me." 

"Well… I'm just gonna have to tell him then show him." 

"Yeah?!" Frank grins. 

"Yeah. Go get him up. He and I are gonna chat." Ray smiles and nods. 

"He's been out for hours and I have listened to all kinds of Brock unfriendly music a little bit." 

"He sleeps that hard?"

"God no. He's got noise cancelling headphones on." Frank smirks, "He's like a big baby at his first concert."

"...Can I see?" Ray gives Frank the tiniest smile. 

"Yeah ok. He might be excited to see you." Frank smiles and waves him to follow.

Frank pushes the door open and peers in. Ray follows him. Frank moves to the bed and covers his butt. Ray sits on the foot of his bed. Brock is sleeping cutely on his stomach with his headphones on like a little baby, drooling on the pillow. Soft snores fill the room.

"Can I… take a picture… for science?" Ray grins wide.

"Don't let him see it."

Frank moves out of the way as Ray finds the right light and snaps a photo. He chuckles and sends the picture of Brock to everyone, minus Brock. 

Frank shakes his head and pulls the headphones off carefully as to not hurt him. He wipes the drool away before he gives Brock little kisses on his cheek and neck, "Brock! Wake up!" He whispers in his ear.

Ray sits about where Brock's knees should be, or at least he estimates. He shifts his weight on his hip then waits. Frank can get him up, no worries. He's confident of that.

With a groan, a sleepy eye opens and Brock whines. He's not ready to get up. Frankie's face is blurred a little and he shifts and rolls onto his side, curling up tightly. He faces Frank and tries to pull him into the bed. His Wanderer needed to stay put. He mumbles his usual _go to sleep_ in Italian.

"Oh no. No. No. Mister octopus arms, you're not trapping me." Frank moves away slightly, he gets too close and he's stuck, "You need to get up or you are going to be sore from being flat all day." Frank leans in and kisses him. He can't help it. He is too cute when he's sleepy.

An arm snakes out and wraps around Frankie's waist, pulling him into Brock's body. Legs shift and trap as Brock's arms lock around Frank's chest and waist. He sighs, drifting back off now that his Wanderer is in his place where he belongs. Again he sleepily mumbles _go to sleep_ , into Frankie's neck.

Frank squeaks as he's pulled into the bed and consumed by Brock. He tries to push away but the grip tightens. Brock mutters in Italian. He sighs and looks at Ray who is silently laughing at his plight. "No. No. Baby it's noon. You gotta get up." Frank begs. He pokes the scar on his side hoping for a reaction but gets nothing, "Brock. We have a visitor… you should get up and visit." Soft snores fill the room again, as Brock falls back asleep, tightly wrapping his body around Frankie.

"Ray… halp!" Frank begs.

Ray nods, laughing. He has to take a centering breath before being able to speak. "How?" 

"I don't know! Cuddle him. Touch his ass… something?" Frank groans as he tries to shift but makes it worse for himself as Brock just clings harder and murmurs in Italian.

Ray snorts as he exhales again. He scoots close to Brock and lies down and curls his body around Brock. He holds his middle and pokes Frank who squirms at the touch to the tickle spot. "Wake up sleepy head…" Ray says in Brock's ear with a smile.

Brock was warm. Content and comfortable but too warm. He sighs, coming back to consciousness and shifting a little to kiss Frankie's neck. There's an unfamiliar heat at his back. Did Frankie put pillows behind him? He opens his eyes, mumbling, "Why 'm hot?" 

“You're just a man magnet.” Ray says softly.

“We have a visitor.” Frank murmurs into Brock's chest. 

The sound of Ray's voice _in his ear_ makes him jump a little and acts like the removal of a veil. Suddenly he realizes the heat at his back was _body heat_. There's a strange weight at his waist and he just _knows_ it's Ray's arm. Sunshine is spooning him. Frankie is at his chest. He's trapped. This is wrong. This isn't supposed to happen. He's not allowed to do this. His heart races and without thinking anything other than _run_ , he bolts up and fights limbs and blankets to escape. He can't breathe. He crawls towards the end of the bed and falls off and onto the floor. He can't breathe and his chest hurts and he's shaking and what the hell just happened?!? He yanks the covers over his body, shame filling him.

“Baby!” Frank springs out of the bed and drops to his knees, “Hey, relax! It's okay! You're okay, we’re okay!” He doesn't understand what happened? Did he get triggered? He reaches out to touch his arms slowly.

Ray sits up quietly and confused. Maybe Frank had no clue what would help Brock? 

“Brock. Honey. It's okay.” Frank scoots closer, “You gotta slow your breathing.”

Wide eyes glance at Frankie and nearly dismiss him in favor of openly staring at Ray. He's utterly terrified of his presence. He glances back at Frank, shaking hard, every muscle tensed to the max, terror and confusion evident in his voice, "What's he–? Not allowed. Can't. Wrong. Why?"

“It's okay. You are okay. I invited him into our room. He just came over to visit and was trying to help me get you up…” Frank scoots further between Brock's legs, “You need to breathe slower. Can you take a deep breath with me?” He inhales and encourages him to copy him.

He tries to take a few deep breaths with Frankie. He does. It's just every time he sees Sunshine, his brain screams at him and makes him panic again. _Why was he here? Is this some sort of cruel joke? Did Frankie tell him about his dream? He's not allowed to touch others. It's dirty bad wrong. Not allowed. Not allowed. Not allowed._ "Not allowed. Not allowed. Not allowed." 

“Baby… baby. Breathe, you're getting worked up again. You have to breathe, just like me.” Frank says softly as he touches Brock's wrists in his hands, “Relax your hands, touch my sides.”

Brock's hands shakily reach out and touch Frankie's sides, automatically seeking skin contact. He focuses only on Frankie and works to get at least his breathing under control. His head still isn't quite on board just yet and neither is his heart rate, but at least he's not hyperventilating anymore.

"There we go. Keep breathing with me okay babe." Frank says with careful words, "When you can speak, can you tell me what you are hearing and what you smell?"

"I'm here. Not flashback. I'm sorry," Brock says frantically.

"I know it's not but it _can_ help your mind slow down and keep you calm. Yes?" He puts his hands on Brock's chest. He's trying to remember everything that he read last night, "You don't have to be sorry. You've done nothing wrong."

His eyes snap to Ray, who's still on the bed, and his mind vehemently disagrees. He did very much wrong. More apologizes spill from his lips.

"Can you tell me what's going on in your head? Maybe we sort it out together?" Frank offers.

"It's not okay. Not allowed. Wrong," Brock frantically says again. He can't explain it. He prays Frank understands. The memory of thousands of thousands of times in which he's wanted more than a handshake enters his head along with constant beratement that it was wrong, not allowed and he was stupid for wanting it. Dirty for liking hugs. Freak.

"Brock. I'm talking to you." Frank raises the volume of his voice but does not change the intensity of it, "I need you to focus on me and me alone, ok?" 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Brock nods. Shame replaces fear and he wants to both beg Frankie and Sunshine for forgiveness and cry. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on them, keeping the blanket across his lower body for what little modesty he has left. He sighs, his head still yelling at him but otherwise, he's not as panicky anymore, having slowly worked his way to baseline.

Frank lifts a hand from Brock's chest and waves Ray to leave the room. He hopes he doesn't just leave the apartment. He's just got to calm Brock down. "My love, it's okay. You're ok, it's the gremlins lying to you." 

"It's not okay," Brock whispers. "Not allowed to touch. It's bad. I'm sorry." As he calms, his body works through the final phase of coming out of a panic attack, the adrenaline build-up dumping him into exhaustion.

"But baby, do you remember what Sam had said? That if it is a welcomed touch that it's ok. Ask logical Brock if it wasn't ok, would he have touched you, right?" Frank offers.

"But. It's against the rules. It's bad. I'm bad. Wrong. Freak. Not allowed hugs. Not allowed cuddles. Only with you, only with my boyfriend. You are safe," he rambles a little, feeling the panic rise again from just saying the words. This was probably the best he's ever explained what goes on in his head.

Ray plops down beside Brock, accidentally kicking Frank who makes a small sound that he ignores, "Now, I happen to be a boy and I also happen to be your friend. So I technically can be classified as ok. Brock, I am okay with it. It ain't wrong and it's absolutely okay to hug your friends. It's okay to be platonically affectionate with the ones you care about. Sometimes we all need to be the little spoon." 

Brock's shaking his head before Sunshine's even finished with his words. It's absolutely nothing that he was taught. It just doesn't compute. He's a freak and not normal and not allowed good things like hugs and cuddles. He's had plenty of experiences to prove that. 

"Dont argue with me, old man." Ray leans forward and touches his arm.

Brock instinctively flinches and tries to pull away, even though the contact feels nice. This feels like a trap. He's trapped and Sunshine is gonna turn on him. He just knows it. He hates that he feels reduced to a child. Surely he can be an adult about this. He hates these feelings. Hates himself. Hates being a freak. 

Ray maintains his contact with Brock's skin. "You are allowed to touch people. It's okay to need a hug. I promise, I will not tell you no or if I do, I will explain why I can't."

"No," Brock insists, wetly as the emotions are too much and need to escape in the only way they can. "I'm a freak. It's wrong. I can't–" 

Frank has stayed quiet until now. He snaps his fingers at Brock. His words firm, "You're not a freak. You never have been and you never will be. Stupid Americans have fed you lies for years. You are normal. You can't live cocooned anymore. None of this freak talk." 

"You're not a freak, my dude. It's normal to need affection. Frank ever tell you about the time his ex kicked him out of his apartment?" Ray asks Brock. 

Brock shakes his head no and tries to not crawl into either of the men's laps. He's not allowed to give in. He's not. The ghosts in the past echo in his head.

"The damn kid walked from his apartment in Jersey City. In Journal Square to my house in Hoboken in a damn rain storm. That's like 50 minutes. He was in tears. Upset… with a black." Ray stops and looks at Frank who nods, "With a black eye and split lip. Once I get him inside and calmed down, he curled up in my lap and passed out. He knew he was safe and that I would never hurt or judge him. I feel the same way towards you, Brock. Does that make sense?"

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Brock nods. It made logical sense. But logic didn't apply very well here. He could still feel every rejection from people who were supposed to be his friends, his teammates, his lovers. From the employees at coffee shops and restaurants. Grocery stores and markets. Millions of interactions over the years; some subtle rejections, some not. Each one felt kind of like a whip to his soul, a knife to his skin. Each rejection tearing a piece of him and killing it. He learned to stop asking. He learned to stop expecting. He learned that he was not normal. 

"It doesn't matter what's happened before. That's the past…" Frank leans forward and makes Brock look at him, "Remember what the monkey in the lion king said?"

"Don't eat me?" Brock mumbles. What the hell does that movie have to do with this now?

"The past can hurt but you can run from it or learn from it. You learned to run. We need to unlearn you from all the shitty things that shitty people have done to you." Frank says with a nod. He feels like he's floundering. He is not helping. He should leave, "I'll get you water..." 

Frank makes beautiful promises. Things that he only dreamed of hearing for over a decade. He wants it. He wants to get better. He wants to be allowed to want what he wants. Sunshine's hand on his arm, raises desires he's terrified of wanting and yet he can't bring himself to move away. He nods to Frankie's words. He's willing to try. "Okay. I'll try." 

Frank stops his movement and leans forward. He kisses him and strokes his cheek. This is an improvement. This is good! He feels Ray give him a tight side hug. "I am so proud of you for wanting to try!"

"This is great Brock!" Ray says with his chipper voice. "What we should do is get you up and dressed. I brought you coffee. I'm starving. Maybe Frankie Doodle and I can make lunch while you shower?"

He doesn't want any of that. Instead, the desire to crawl back into bed, preferably with cuddles involved, rages in his body. He's already tired and he just woke up. Fatigue was starting to settle into him and he could feel the pain begin to spread, which has become his new normal. He glances at Frankie. He's the only one who understands. "It hurts," he whispers.

"You just had a panic attack. That's normal." Frank says softly, "do you think you are ready to stand cause if we sit here or lay more you're gonna feel worse? I'll help you with whatever you need."

"Can't spend the day in bed." Ray pats his shoulder.

He disagrees with them both. He saw no reason why he can't stay in bed. Lying down eases some of the ache in his bones that standing or moving increased. It was as if simple gravity made him hurt worse. And now, after a panic attack that has robbed him of pretty much everything, it felt like more than just his bones hurt. Now it was his muscles, each one feeling weak and useless. He shakes his head, fighting for air in his exhausted lungs, "I don't know if I can. Everything… hurts. Tired-weak." 

"Ok. That's ok. You're allowed to be tired. Let's get you up and back where you want to be." Frank says with a weak smile. He knows he can't win today. 

Ray looks at him confused. His smile now fading as Frank shakes his head no.

"Not… sleepy," Brock mumbles as he painfully and slowly lowers his legs that were so tightly coiled, the muscles begin to spasm. He whines in pain, trying to hold back a cry, as his legs jerk a little, calf muscles visibly undulating. White knuckles grip the bedding in his lap, desperate for something to hold onto, while also trying to keep modesty for Sunshine's sake.

Frank takes a breath and sits. The sight of Brock's legs moving causes him to glance up and see him struggling. He takes another breath hoping this one will be the cleansing one but not getting the relief he needed. Instead, he holds Brock's calf and applies pressure to the muscle and rubs deep. He can feel the tissues fighting his touch. He looks at Ray. _This is a lot. I can't ask him to help._ He chooses to do it alone. "You gotta breathe Brock. I can see you holding your breath." Frank says flatly as he looks up at Brock.

"Not holding," Brock gets out. He fights for more air. It's not a big struggle at least. Just a feeling that every breath he took was somehow diminished in its quantity. Like his lungs were at fifty percent capacity. "Can't catch my breath. Lungs. Exhausted. Trying."

"Slow down. Take it easy. We can get through this." Frank nods as he keeps working on the muscles. Ray joins on the other side without being asked. It's a little relief in Frank's mind but what if it causes another round of this. His head is starting to hurt. 

He's too exhausted for his body to possibly have another attack and Brock will take whatever silver lining he can get. His brain still tries to scream at him but he's too exhausted to even listen to that. He likes Sunshine's hands on him. He flushes with embarrassment and shame. He can feel his body trying to respond to the physical contact. Instead, he forces the rest of his body to unclench and relax, slowly working himself into a flat position on the floor. This would be much more comfortable on the bed but he's not sure he can stand without collapsing. "Feels like I ran six marathons and lost a fight with a train. Twice."

"That's our unwanted house guest panic attack." Ray says with a smile.

Frank stays quiet. Listening instead to the voice in his head. It's _her_ voice. Her words telling him to be quiet. He massages his leg a little softer. 

"The problem isn't that you are unwanted. It's that you _are_ ," Brock confesses with a voice barely above a whisper. Who knew that him being pushed to his body's limits actually allowed him to explain things less like a two-year-old. He's too exhausted to have a panic attack so he's just accepting the contact with no automatic physical response. It feels nice. After a few minutes, the spasms stop. He's still got a jelly feeling but it's an improvement.

"Stop fighting it. I'm not going to freak out and leave. I'm your actual friend who doesn't mind being affectionate. Please don't feel like I am going to leave if you touch me or need to be touched." Ray's voice is gentle. It surprises himself.

"You tell me this and I want to believe it, but experience has taught me otherwise." Brock closes his eyes, letting the words flow without thinking. This may be his only chance to explain. His voice goes softer, if that was even possible, "Feels like a trap. Can't not– it's not logic. Don't believe you. Can't. It's not possible to be true. I'm sorry." He apologizes for being broken. For being too fucked up that he can't reconcile what he knows to be true with what they are telling him now.

"It's not a trap." Ray says with a grin, "Promise on my unborn child's life, Brock. This isn't a trap." 

The words halt any protest of ' _prove it'_ he was going to make. He frowns, "You're gonna have a baby?" 

"Well, I'm not but my wife is." Ray smiles wide, his dad jokes are going to come in nicely.

"Baby Floof. 'Grats," Brock gives him a tired smile. He looks at Frankie, needing to touch him. His hand seeks skin contact, resting wherever it lands. Maybe he can swing a back massage too.

"Thanks man. I was gonna tell you guys with the band but who doesn't like to hear about babies." Ray beams with joy.

"Yeah congrats Ray. That's awesome! You're gonna be a great dad." Frank says with a smile. It's a mask but it's something.

"I call first dibs on babysitting," Brock sighs his words with a smile. "Baby Floof for at least the first two years or so. Once the baby can chase or run from me, I'm out."

He's feeling a little bit better, probably as best as he's going to get, emotionally at least. Taking a big breath and mentally convinces himself he can do this, Brock rises onto his elbows and pauses. He recenters again, the sight of Ray's hands on him sends both pleasure and fear through him. He openly stares at the contact. He didn't do this. Sunshine did. Sunshine made contact so it was ok. He didn't break rules. Another few breaths and he might be able to sit all the way up.

"See, I'm touching you and it's okay Brock. No need to panic or get scared." Ray smiles warmly. 

"You started it. It's different. I didn't. You're allowed. I didn't break social rules. Not allowed to want what I'm not supposed to. Though I always want Frankie. And hugs and cuddles." Brock's voice trailed off, the words slipping out in his exhausted brain's state.

"Oh." Ray replies with a head tilt, "I don't know if you realize this but we don't usually follow rules but we'll get through this. You didn't break any 'rules', I touched you. And a little touch is fine." 

"I booked a massage for later today." Frank says out of turn. He hears every other word. His eyes can't focus, he's just staring between the two men in front of him.

"Okay," Brock nods. He likes those. "Can we cuddle now? Then breakfast? Or lunch. On the couch is ok. I should get underwear on. At least. Sorry."

"Underwear is good. Let's start there." Frank says with a neutral tone. "Do you want help up?" 

Brock nods. He's feeling like he's returning to the baseline of his new normal but he also doesn't trust himself. He also knows he's going to be wiped out just getting dressed. Everything aches with the majority of the pain in his shoulders, back, and arms. 

"I'll give you privacy and wait in the kitchen. You're gonna be okay, Brock." Ray nods as he gets up.

"Do you need help getting dressed?" Frank asks as he extends his hand. 

Brock waits until Sunshine leaves the room before taking Frankie's hand and slowly moving into a standing position. Immediately, he wraps his arms around Frank and pulls him in tight, kissing his neck, jaw, and lips. He didn't get to properly say good morning. And if he's not moving just yet because he needs a moment before he can, well that was just his secret. He wants and needs his Frankie.

"Good morning, love." Frank wraps his arms around Brock and holds on. He strokes his back with his fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes back the feelings and comes back to the room.

"Thank you for bringing me back, _tesoro_. And good morning," Brock kisses him again, harder. Holds him against his body tighter. A hand comes up and grasps hair that was getting a little long. He's nowhere near one hundred percent ready for this but he has the will at least, and he wants to show Frankie. 

"You did all the work baby… I'm just the rock." Frank says back with a small voice. He rests his head into his chest. 

He feels his chest he heavy and the overwhelming need to burst into tears but he pushes it back. _Not now._ "I'm glad you're upright. I'm proud of you for coming back down."

"The rock has the hardest job in the world. I know this hasn't been easy for you either. And I'm sorry I'm not as attentive as I usually am. It's selfish of me. I miss my needy koala. I miss holding you. I miss taking care of you. And I promise I'm going to make more of an effort to get us back to normal, okay? I love you." Brock kisses him again, trying to reassure his love that he is gonna try harder. For them both.

"Oh baby, I'm fine! It's not been easy but I'm ok. You _shouldn't_ be worrying about me. And frankly, it's about time I get to take care of you for a change." Frank smiles up at him. He hopes Brock can't see him fighting his head.

"You're lying to me and to yourself. I _know_ you. I know how you think because sometimes it's how I think too. I don't need you to be the strongest person in the world all the time. I just need you to be _you_. The sexy Twinkie I fell in love with in the men's department with a penchant of wearing ripped jeans, flailing on a stage so dangerously, and a hobby of collecting records and guitars. The cuddly koala we both need. The cutest little kitten and hellcat mixed into one. Being strong for me doesn't mean hiding the venom in your head. It means we share it together. We deal together. We get better together. 'Til death do us part." Brock has to sit and so he does, pulling Frankie in with him. Sitting, he can hold his kitten in his lap the way he can standing. 

"One demon at a time, love." Frank can't say more. He might actually make it worse, "but I'm still that guy. I've just gotta be a little tender. I promise I'm ok. "

"Okay," Brock lets it go. He knows Frankie has what Sam called caregiver fatigue. He can see it in the way Frankie carries himself. He's being a burden on his boy. A submissive isn't meant to carry himself and his dominate. He needs to get better. If not for his sake then for his husband's. He pulls him in for another hard kiss.

"I fell earlier this morning." Frank says softly. Start small and then maybe be a little more honest about what he's feeling. He can tell Brock sees right through his bullshit. "I missed the curb." 

"Oh you poor kitten," Brock peppers kisses all over his face. "You have owies? Did you clean them up? Are you okay?" 

"It's okay. More embarrassed, damn near 30 and I get taken down by a curb. Then I freaked out cause cops were out front. It was a traffic stop but I freaked out. And found you sleeping like a naked happy baby. The pillows are cute and came with a throw."

"You're twenty-five, _gattino_. That's still my baby love and not 'near thirty'. You can't say that until at least twenty-eight," Brock chuckles. "I haven't gotten a phone call saying that I'm going to prison yet, so I'm trusting Linda to keep her silence. I'm sorry you got scared sweetheart. And thank you for buying pillows for the mail-order couch. It's about time it looked like people live here. I _was_ a sleeping happy baby until I found myself in a sandwich and thought… well… you know. Let's just say that I wouldn't mind doing that again if I didn't think I would have a heart attack. Or maybe in spite of it. Maybe I need to just _do it_ even with the bawling."

"Scared, nervous and worried are the new normal for the situation and if I wasn't those things, I would be the worst husband ever. So don't beat yourself up over it." Frank decides it's time, his head hurts and it's getting too heavy inside his chest to keep it all in. He chooses careful words as he speaks gently, "What just happened could have been handled differently and I see that now. But this is good! A little closer to making it be ok in your noggin. As far as my mom, she's no songbird. She's going to keep her mouth shut. Doesn't help that I don't like cops already and then they post up outside our building in the given circumstance."

"I'm still your homeless looking feisty kitten. I promise I'd still let you pick me up in the men's section of Bloomingdales." Frank grins and winks at him. 

"Pffft. Like I would be caught dead at Bloomingdale's," Brock grins and tickles Frankie a little. 

"I don't know where you rich folks shop. I'm a Target kinda guy. Got the best women's skinny jeans selection…" he squirms and gets the words out with a laugh. 

"Women's, huh? Thought you shopped in the kid's?" Brock tickles him again before letting him go and standing to get dressed. He can do this. "I need clothes. I don't think Sunshine is _that_ comfortable with me."

"I buy my shirts in the kids department." He sits cross-legged on the end of the bed, "what do you wanna wear? Like lounge pants or denim?"

"Clothes. Maybe lounge," Brock says, going into the bathroom. 

"I love you," Frank asks as he lies back on the bed. It feels a little better to get it out. He's not cured. He's still got a lot going on in his hornet's nest of a head. He can see Brock is trying. He is relieved that he's trying even if it's a little. It's better than giving up and letting his depression ruin him. "Are you maybe interested in eating a little something? Half a sandwich? Soup?"

"Um, maybe we ask Sunshine what he wants first?" Brock calls from the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and does his business before putting underwear on and going to his closet. He just… stares at the options.

"He'll eat anything. Even most gross things." Frank stretches out and yawns. 

"Gross things?" he asks, skeptically. He grabs the first tee-shirt he finds. "What sort of gross things?" 

"Oh, like Rocky mountain oysters. Surströmming. Octopus tentacles. He's adventurous…" Frank wrinkles his nose and sighs, "I'm a simple kinda guy. Easy to please." 

"Okay that's disgusting," Brock agrees. He settles on cream-colored knit shorts. Something comfortable and yet not so restricting. Plus the extra skin showing was his way of asking for skin contact without actually asking for it. In fact, he switches out the tee for a light blue tank top. It's summer and hot and nobody would suspect or think twice about it. He steps out of the closet and goes to Frankie. "Look okay?" 

"You look good. I like you in blue. Throw some sunglasses on you, you'd be Malibu Ken." Frank rolls on his side with a big wide smile. If they were still having sex, he'd probably jump him. But he holds himself together and just stares.

Grinning, Brock goes over to his dresser and pulls out a blue-tinted pair of Ray-Bans and slides them on. He turns back to Frankie with a goofy grin, "How 'bout now?" 

"Now you're just too sexy to leave the room without giving at least ten kisses…" Frank grins.

"Only ten?" Brock grins, going over to Frankie.

"Ten to start... maybe twenty." Frank bites his lip and sits upright. 

"Okay. Got to be quick though, poor Sunshine is doing…. Something." Brock gives a half-grin before kneeling next to Frankie and kissing him.

"Mmmm he can wait… you're much more important..." He says between kisses

"Does that count as one or two?" Brock giggles. He kisses him again.

"I think we might have to start over." Frank grins against Brock's lips. 

"Okay. But what about food? Does this mean I get to eat you?" He kisses him again.

"Mmmhmm I'm fine with that." Frank says softly. He kisses him deeper. He wants a little more but doesn't want to push it. 

Surprising even himself, Brock responds, enjoying the kiss. A hand comes up, cupping his cheek and allowing him to deepen the kiss further. When he pulls away, he's breathless.

Frank sighs as he stares up at Brock. He feels like he is going to melt or explode. Maybe both. His chest is flushed; he can feel the warmth under his shirt.

"My will says yes. But my body says I don't have the energy. I want to. I swear," Brock says, voice cracking.

"I know, sweetheart." Frank sighs. His hands rest on his ribs as he gazes up at him, "You still touch me and kiss me. It's enough for now."

"I'm sorry. I kind of ruined the moment. Well. Not really kind of so much as completely did," Brock leans forward and touches his forehead to Frank's. "Maybe if today is quiet enough, I'll have the energy to try something later. I know it's not what you want. What either of us want. But…"

"I am always game for anything. Even if it doesn't happen and this is all we do, I'm fine with it. Or just let me sit on you and kiss you." Frank tilts his head up and kisses Brock one more time, "If you want honesty, I've been kicking my own ass over everything I've done... so that's not been on my mind." 

"You've done nothing wrong," Brock says, confused.

"That's not what sh– I'm telling me but it's fine. I'm just being hard on myself." He smiles at his confused puppy faced love. 

"What do you think you've done wrong?" Brock tilts his head, brow furrowed in confusion. He sits next to Frankie, one arm gravitating to him.

"Too much. Not enough. Blah blah blah. It's the same thing. It stems from my little demons trying to make me crazy." Frank shrugs.

"I promise you are doing just fine. And I promise to tell you otherwise," Brock kisses Frankie's cheek.

"I know you would. Logical, smart me knows. Stupid irrational crazy me on the other hand is shouting fire." Frank closes his eyes at the touch. "I didn't and don't want you to worry about me.

"We should go visit with Ray. Before he falls asleep on the couch." Frank sighs, he's sad their moment's over but oh well.

"That's kinda like how I feel about Sunshine. Smart and logical me says I'm being irrationally stupid. The part that's terrified parrots back all the bad shit I've heard or my brain has been convinced of." Brock sighs and pats Frank's leg. "I'm hungry. Let's go see Sunshine." 

"Hungry is good. I like that!" Frank sits up and follows behind him, "I asked Jack to eat with me cause I didn't know when you'd get up… I should probably call him and keep our date too. Sorry..."

"Oh. Um, okay. I, uh, wanted to go out? If that's okay with you and Sunshine," Brock says, entering into the living room.

"I'm sure Jack doesn't care. You know I am willing to do whatever you want. And ask Ray if it's ok…" Frank says trying to keep a smile in, "You still have to try the cake in the fridge too. Don't forget."

"What about Sunshine?" Ray grins as he sits up and flips the tv off, "Jack's coming too?!" 

In a sudden burst of embarrassment at seeing Sunshine, Brock can feel his face flush. He thinks back to earlier in the bed and him being nude and an utter mess. He shoves his hands in his pocket to keep from being weird. "I was hoping we could go out to eat?" 

"Okay! That sounds good! What are you thinking?" Ray stands and moves to join them.

"Um, Panera. We'd have to drive because the nearest is in Midtown and it's way too far for me to walk. If that's okay with you guys," Brock bites his lip.

"That's ok with me." Ray nods and looks at Frank, who nods. 

"Did you want me to message Jack?" Frank asks as he pulls his phone out. He composes the message to Jack and hits send.

Brock nods, "Sure. Maybe he can meet us there if he's not home. Or we just wait for him"

_Frank: Where are you?_

_Jack: Still plotting world domination. My soldiers are trying to take over Germany. Which I find to be funny. What's up?_

_Frank: Hungry? I got big brother up. And he's hungry._

_Jack: I can eat. Good for him! Thought he'd never wake. He like sleeping beauty but no matter how much he sleeps, he'll never get any prettier_ 😂

_Frank: Panera in Midtown. Did you want to ride with us or meet us?_

_Frank: he's more of a Princess Jasmine type than an Aurora kinda princess._

_Jack: Well right now he's Eeyore. Gimme ten and I'll be over._

_Frank: fuck, you're right. He is Eeyore. Okay, we'll be waiting._

"Jack will be over shortly." Frank looks up with a silly smile.

"Okay. Thanks," Brock gives him a quick smile. He makes his way over to the couch to discover the new pillows and throw. "This _is_ cute." 

"Right! Kinda makes it feel home-y." Frank beams as he stands at the end of the couch.

He doesn't really know what to do now, so he sits. Brock looks at the TV before looking at Ray, "What were you watching?" 

"Oh I think whatever it was wasn't in English… but it was compelling." Ray chuckles. 

"Are you watching Italian soap operas?" Frank says as he sits on the cushion next to him.

"Probably," Brock chuckles as he picks up the remote and pulls up the information. Sure enough, Ray had found the International network and landed on an Italian soap. He grins. He's actually seen this one, "Oh this one is actually really good. Later on, you find out that her mother is actually her sister. And that they're both pregnant by the same guy."

"Oh yeah?!" Frank smiles wide and bites his lip. His excitement is adorable. How? But when? 

"I like some of the Telenovelas that my mom watched when I was a kid." Ray sits in the chair and relaxes back. 

"Me too. Sometimes I can understand them even though I don't speak Spanish. Latin based and all that jazz. I actually like not understanding it because then it's easier for me to make up my own stories," Brock pauses to catch his breath. "But that was back before Frankie. I had a very empty apartment. Like, a lot."

"I think my mother would love you." Ray smirks. "Aside from you being gorgeous, she'd explain _everything_ going on because you'd sit with her and watch it."

Brock smiles at Ray, wide and genuine. "I'd like that. Moms are awesome and the best."

"So Frank made your house a home?" Ray suggests.

"He made my life a home. As stupid as that sounds. Does that even make sense? Ever notice all the furniture looks like it came out of a catalog? It's because it kind of did. Ninety percent of this was the staging furniture that came with the apartment. I just bought it. The only thing that I actually care about is the bed. Everything else is just…. Crap. I never lived here. I existed."

"Except the bed." Frank adds as he leans into Brock as he pulls his legs up.

"Yeah. The bed is important to me. The mattress more specifically. I worked a lot. Only came here to sleep." Brock pulls Frankie closer and nuzzles him.

"It is a good bed though." Frank curls his fingers into Brock's shirt.

"Are you ever going to buy your own furniture and not the staging pieces?" Ray asks.

"When Frankie and I move into our house, sure. No point now. It's not like I'm hosting parties with all my friends," Brock huffs a dry laugh.

"Even though he could have a really nice cocktail party and it wouldn't matter because all this stuff is really nice and stylish." Frank leans up and kisses Brock's neck, "I'd put on a suit for you." 

"Aww, thanks," Brock sniggers a little. "Is that a one time thing or just for special occasions?"

"I'll do it for special occasions and on demand." Frank grins and winks as he raises his eyebrow, "Jack is taking his sweet time." 

"I'm not complaining. I'm enjoying the company and very much always welcome visitor," Brock smiles at them both. "Sorry about earlier Sunshine. Hope you didn't get, ah, too much of an eyeful of things you probably never wanted to see in your life."

"Nah, you're good my dude. I've seen worse on the bus. And not just from you."

"Thanks. Still sorry but thanks," Brock flushes with embarrassment again.

"Roadside showers teach you to lose any embarrassed feelings you may have." Frank says with a snort.

"Amen to that" Ray replies.

Brock's eyes widen. He'd never heard of that. That was a thing? Did he have to do that? He doesn't want to bathe on the side of a road! What if someone saw him naked? "That's a thing?!" 

"Yeah. We had to do it many times. Especially during the Warped Tour. God some of those truck stops were scary." Ray shudders.

"It's the worst when one person gets sick, we all get it." Frank sighs, "I remember having to shower next to a cemetery before a show. That was a weird one." 

Shaking his head very adamantly, Brock decides then and there that was something they were never doing again. "Nope. No. Not allowing that. I'm not showering or making my boys shower on the side of the road. I'll find a way to fix it. No."

"Do you remember when Gee got that nasty bout of strep throat and an ear infection. Alan threw a fit and still made him perform with like 30% of a voice. We all were sleeping on a cargo van next to him. He refused to get us a hotel room away from Gee then the whole band caught it and he threw an even bigger fit." Ray smirked.

"No. No, no, no, no," Brock shakes his head, harder.

"Oh yeah and he put us up in some by the hour place with sunny delight and Tylenol and said we have 24 hours to feel better. That was fucking awful." Frank shook his head.

"Gee went to the emergency room two days later with a 103 temp and Frank couldn't hear in his right ear." Ray sighs.

"No. No, no, no, my boys. Mine," Brock grabs Frankie and pulls him into a tight hug out of defense and the need to protect. He wants to hug Ray too and for a moment he reaches out but stops and just squeezes Frankie tighter. " _Mine."_

"I had hearing damage done from that incident. Not bad but slight. Oh the food poisoning in Milwaukee. That was a nightmare." Frank remembers and snaps his fingers. 

Ray gags and shakes his head, "No." 

"Mine. I keep you safe," Brock tries to hug away all the bad. "My boys."

"Yeah. Bad Brazilian food. The worst smell. Bob broke a blood vessel in his eye." Frank recalls, "I threw up blood and bad food all over Gee's shoes at like 3 in the morning."

"I can still… smell it." Ray has to stop.

"It makes me soooo thankful for Brock." Frank smiles up at him and kisses him.

The need to keep his people, his boys, his team, safe rose in Brock. He hates the fact that the people he loves the most ever had those horrible experiences. He never had friends; not really. As a child, he had the neighborhood kids that treated him more as his title than him as a kid who just wanted to play ball. As he grew up it was more of the same. It was one of the deciding reasons why he moved to the States. Except the life he expected to live didn't happen. The military was the greatest thing to happen to him. He thrived there. But again, as he rose through the ranks, his teammates stopped treating him as one of the guys and only as a professional leader. After the military, he was lost and empty. None of his teammates wanted to hang out. None of them called him. They weren't friends; they were acquaintances. The only person he knew and engaged with was his brother until Frankie came along. 

"Dude just the fact that he was willing to be your bodyguard and not put up with Allen's shit made me love him." Ray says with a huge smile. "Then it turns out he's actually a really cool and good dude."

Brock's hands tighten around Frankie. He needs to hug and hold and protect. He knows he can't take away the bad stuff from their past but he can try. Hugs solve anything. Most anything. "Mine. You're both mine. My boys. I keep you safe. I hug away the bad."

Ray gets up and hugs Brock, "It's all good! We are happy to have you in the family. You can get the flu when one of us does." Ray laughs.

He jumps a little at the feeling of Sunshine hugging him but relaxes because it's okay; it's safe when Ray does it. The need is still there though and he returns the hug, actually pulling Sunshine onto his lap to join Frankie. He holds him both as tightly as possible, "Mine. _My first friends_. I keep you from the bad stuff. No flu. You guys will get flu shots. No bad food, promise, only the best. And no showers outside. I'll find a way to fix it. I'll find a way to take care of you guys. I'll find a way for you to keep me. I protect what's mine."

"I don't think you're going anywhere if you marry this one." Ray smiles at Brock, "And I mean, who else is gonna call me Sunshine?" 

"Your wife?" Brock asks, kind of disappointed that someone else might actually call him that. His hands subconsciously clench as the longer Sunshine is in his lap, the more his panic rises. He can do it though. He's trying. He's trying very hard to keep calm. To fight. A whimper escapes and he tries to keep his breathing normal. Unless Sunshine _wanted_ to get up? Was he keeping him against his will? Was he breaking another social rule? Was he going to leave him?

"Nah, it's either generic babe or just Ray. You're the only one." 

Frank rests his head in Brock's shoulder and leans up to whisper, "You're getting upset over nothing and kinda squeezing my side a little hard. Just relax, ok?"

"I'm sorry!" Brock blurts and lets both of them go. "I tried. I'm sorry. I didn't know if it was ok or wanted and I should've asked first and I'm sorry. I just wanted to, um, protect?"

"You didn't do anything wrong." Ray tilts his head, "I would say if it _wasn't_ okay. Relax, Brock. I attacked you with a hug."

"I like getting hugs," Brock confirms. Getting hugs was one thing. _Giving_ was the issue. He doesn't want to be a sexual harasser! 

"You deserve all the hugs." Frank says quietly as he strokes his chest.

"You do, my friend." Ray agrees.

Slowly he reaches back for Frankie, his safe place. He knows his touch is always wanted there. Always allowed. This time he doesn't squeeze too tight. He doesn't hold onto Sunshine again, however. Even though he wants to try again. He's just not sure if he's wanted. It's not as if Sunshine _asks_ him to hug and hold. He wants to ask permission. But his anxiety seems to have glued his mouth shut. 

"I like having friends," Brock whispers after a moment of silence. Turns out the glue is only there when he's wanting to ask for something. Though he is happy that Sunshine hasn't gotten up from his lap; yet.

"I'm glad you are my friend." Ray replies, "Can I hug you?"

"Yesplease." The words fall out in a single breath that borderlines on a needy beg. " _You_ don't have to ask. It's always allowed when _you_ do it. I always need hugs."

Ray hugs him tight, "You never have to ask either, Brock. You're my friend."

"Yes I do 'cause you're not like Frankie. I know I'm wanted and allowed all the time to hug and hold and cuddle. But I don't with others and I'm not allowed because what if I'm wrong again? I don't want to be disgusting and hurt you by doing something bad and unwanted. I shouldn't have pulled you into my lap without your permission." Brock kind of rambles, the words flowing before actual thought was applied. If he thought about it too much, he'd clam up.

"But if I didn't want the touch. I would move Brock. I swear, you've never once made me feel uncomfortable. I will never say you're disgusting or something awful and hurtful. None of us would. I'll keep repeating it until you believe me. If I didn't want it, it wouldn't happen." Ray is adamant as he looks Brock in the eyes. 

"That's what they said too before–"

Brock is cut off by the sound of the door lock whirring and clicking open. The door opens and Jack steps through rather hurried and a little disheveled. He finally cut his hair though it's still a little longer than his usual and his clothes aren't his normal state of dress. Instead of his usual dress shirt and jeans, he was wearing a white tee with board shorts and flip flops; the image of casual.

"Hey, guys. I am so sorry I'm late. I got a business phone call that I _had_ to take and it ran later than what I wanted. Every now and then, they call me to put out the dumpster fires. Like why? It's my day off. I just wanted to play video games. Call the IT guys," Jack rambles as he raids the kitchen for some water. He takes a drink and then puts it back before actually _seeing_ his buddies. "Are we doing a cuddle pile before lunch? That is still on, right? Also, hello."

"Hey Jack!" Ray waves and feels like an immediate idiot for doing so.

"Hey Jack. Yeah, we were telling band horror stories and Brock was less than thrilled by them." Frank looks back and smiles at him, "You look good in casual. 13/10 my friend."

Jack grins and waves back at Ray before going over to greet his brother under the pile. "So basically you traumatized him and now he feels the need to put you in bubble wrap and protect you guys like a mother cat would her kittens?" He goes over to the couch and hugs Brock from behind. He kisses his cheek. Back in Italy, he would kiss both cheeks but he'd rather not head bump Ray. It feels kinda awkward, himself never being the most affectionate even in the culture he was raised. But he wants to bring something familiar to Brock in his latest effort to help.

"That's exactly it. He's heard stories from truck stop showers to group getting strep throat and being locked up in a hooker motel. He's protecting his flock." Frank smirks.

"Hooker motel?" asks both Jack and Brock at the same time. 

"Oh this I need to hear. But maybe on the road. I'm starving," Jack grins. He pats Brock on the head, "Good Den Mother. But you need to let your kids go so they can get up and we can eat."

"I hate you," Brock grumbles quietly, face buried in Frank's chest, his other arm slowly inching around Ray.

"Yeah, we should probably get some food in your belly, my perfect wonderful husband." Frank whispers as he kisses the side of Brock's head.

"I want bread bowl soup. And maybe a sandwich if something sounds good," Brock nods, pulling his arms back to himself.

"Sounds great. Come on then. Let's go. Uncle Jack's got a world to run. Or attempt to run," Jack laughs and claps his hands at them. 

"Aw uncle Jack!" Frank grins 

"Yes, if Brock has activated Den Mother mode, then I'm the cool and awesome uncle. Who's trying to take over the world."

"Nazi heathen," Brock snorts. 

"Pssh. How rude. I was playing for the Russians today. They had the cooler colors. Earlier though, I was American. Which is probably why I died."

"Oh so you're a traitor to your people?" Frank snickers. He slowly crawls off Brock's lap and stands. He opens his hand to Brock to help him up.

"Excuse you, buddy. Just because I was born German doesn't mean I'm _that_ thank you very much," Jack sticks his tongue out at Frank. Yeah, he's mature six and a half days of the week. Today is not that day. Today was Game Day.

"Mmmhmm… sure." Frank winks at him, "But… then again the _Germans_ and the _Italians_ did have a deal with one another to take over the world so this is all starting to make sense." 

"Frank's just jealous he's a boring American mud blood." Ray grins. As he stands up and straightens out. 

"By definition though, wouldn't I be considered a mud blood? Jack rubs his chin in thought. "Even Brock but really I'm the cool one."

Brock stands and goes over to Jack, hugging him tight before smacking him on the back of his head. "That's for being late. And for calling me a mud blood. I don't even know what that is but I don't like it. Just for that the floofs get the back seat of the car."

"Technically it's a Harry Potter term for someone who is half witch. But for us I suppose it would be someone who is say, half Italian and half Mexican? Or British and French?" Frank says shaking his head and laughing at the two men.

Ray smirks, "It's not a punishment to sit with my brother in floof… you straight haired people are jealous of the majesty of the curls." 

Frank takes Brock's hand and wonders what kinda afternoon they were in for. They have had bad luck so far but maybe this was going to be a turning point. He listens to the brothers and Ray chat and joke around. He realizes that he spilled more about how he's felt to Brock than he ever intended. He did have some control of himself and censor it. But that nagging feeling was hissing at him from the corner of his mind. The one that was telling him that he wasn't good enough to help Brock. The same one that was saying leave or get left. He wanted to drown her voice from his head. He probably should come back to Earth. He listens to the quiet hiss as well he stares forward and grips Brock's hand tighter. 

"You've never rode in the Lambo either," Brock says, locking up the apartment and leading the boys to the elevator. 

"Let's just say it's a tight fit for us tall boys, Ray. Unless, that is, Brock lowers the…," Jack trails off looking rather shocked at his brother. "You wouldn't." 

"Wouldn't what?" Ray and Frank ask in unison. They look confused at each other then the brothers.

"The punishment isn't sitting in the back with Brother Floof. It's sitting in the back tightly squashed because we're too tall to sit comfy without the top down," Jack is now glaring at Brock.

"I am so glad I'm short." Frank replied with a satisfied smile.

"He wouldn't do that to me, I'm Sunshine. Friends don't squish tall friends… right?" Ray asks. 

"I do love my Sunshine. And occasionally my brother. When he's not being an ass. I do love you tall boys. So I suppose I'll have to punish Jack differently. Without making my Sunshine suffer," Brock grins at them all.

"Make him listen to our first album." Frank smirks. 

"No, I can't without making me suffer as well," Brock pouts. The elevator doors open and they head to the garage.

Frank's mouth opens in fake astonishment. "You think our music is bad…what kinda manager are you?" 

"We put a lot of hard work into making that. Many long nights in a cold moldy basement." Ray adds.

"I love the band, not the music. It's nothing against you boys. Promise," Brock hugs Frankie tight as they walk.

"You could just wear your cute little headphones..." Ray smiles wide as he glances at Jack.

Brock groans, feeling his face heat up. Of course Sunshine saw his headphones. Because he was in bed with him. While he was naked. They spooned. Sure it was a joke and will never happen again but the idea sounded appealing if he wasn't so sure he'd have another panic attack. He tries to argue, "They aren't _little_ or _cute_! They're military grade. They can mute the sound of a jet engine and are extremely comfortable, noise cancelling headphones."

"Yeah but you do look like a little adorable baby at his first concert." Frank says, stealing the line from Jack, who sticks his tongue out at him.

"You three are trying to kill me with embarrassment, aren't you," Brock grumbles as he goes to his baby and unlocks her.

"Don't check the group chat then." Frank mumbles quietly.

"Shhh!" Ray hisses at Frank, "Fuckin' teachers pet." 

"What's in the group chat?!" Brock squawks. What horrible fresh hell is he going to see that will probably kill him? He both wants to know and doesn't.

"Nothing." Ray and Frank reply.

"Nothing of importance…"

Before he gets into the car, Brock turns to Ray, his Sunshine. His favorite after Frankie. His first best friend, that wasn't his brother. "Sunshine wouldn't lie to me. He loves me. We're friends. Right? What's in the group chat, Sunshine?"

"Just a video and a few photos." Ray shrugs. "Nothing too crazy. Nothing to worry about."

"Now who's the teacher's pet," Jack says softly snickering to Ray as he slides into the backseat of the Lambo.

"At least I won't show him unlike someone." Ray says glancing at Frank.

"I'm living and sleeping with the teacher…" Frank says with a shrug. As long as he doesn't ask, everything's fine.

"You do realize I'm now going to have to look. It's not like you are attempting to keep your voices down. You're trying to make it not a big deal and are making it a big deal. Dorks," Brock starts the car and the sound of opera fills the small space.

Ray grins, "Oh no… Don't go looking in the group…" His voice is clearly sarcastic.

Frank smirks and quickly recovers as he looks at Brock's face. 

"How's the backseat for you boys?" Brock retorts, pulling out his cell phone and pulling up the group chat. He frowns at seeing nothing of interest.

"It's fine..." Ray says scrunched over.

"All of them want this leg room," Frank teases as he stretches out.

"Hope he puts you in the trunk." Ray grumbles, "Fuckin' midget." 

Brock is certain he just felt the world shift and groan at Ray's words. Like somewhere a puppy died. His Sunshine wasn't happy!? He needed to fix this right away. His finger practically jams into the button to lower the convertible top. He checks back. Did he do good? He fixes his poor, sad, Sunshine.

"Thank you Brock." Ray says with a relieved sigh following his words, "You're still a shrimp, Iero." 

"I'm a little miffed that Ray complains and suddenly it's the end of the world for Brock. I complain and I get told to suffer. I think I lost brother rights," Jack sits upright happily. Stupid car.

"I'm Sunshine. I _might_ in some situations get more privileges than shortstop up there." Ray shrugs.

"Sunshine, you'd get everything and more in all the things," Brock beams at him. He's not really sure what he'd do if it was a toss-up between his favorites. He likes to think he wouldn't throw Frank under the proverbial bus for Ray but he might, depending on the situation. Because he's Sunshine. "Oh do you need a hair tie? It's gonna get really windy. I think I have a rubber band in the glove box?"

"Thanks Brock! I should steal some of the wife's hair ties." Ray says with a laugh. "I think I am going to grow this out." 

"I told Brock I'm going to get long hair and grow a mustache and was told no _very_ quickly." Frank grins at Brock.

"That's because you are Frankie and not a floof. No mustaches for anyone though. I don't like them on anyone. In fact, I don't think any of you need facial hair. Expect Jack. He looks good with scruff. No beards. I look better with scruff." Brock opens the glove box and digs around for a hair tie or a rubber band. He finds a rubber band around the title and registration to the car and he offers it with a wince. "This is gonna hurt the floof. I'm sorry." 

"I would look dashing with… oh a beard." Frank's eyes widen.

"Have you even hit puberty yet?" Ray snorts.

"Don't you fucking dare," Brock glares at Frankie. He likes Frankie looking like a kid. Twinkie is supposed to be small and cute.

"But." Frank bats his lashes at Brock. It rarely works but he's gotta try.

"No. And you know why," Brock says, backing out and heading to Panera.

"Finnee." Frank sighs overdramatically, "I'm at least growing my hair out. Shoulder length. With bangs." Now he's fuckin with Brock. 

Brock groans, car slightly speeding at the idea that Frank has any sort of hairstyle that's not normal. "Jerk." 

"I'll give you something to hold on to in bed..." He winks at Brock and fidgets with his lip ring.

"The idea of you in pigtails Frank is entertaining." Ray smiles and shakes his head.

"No," Brock says, very adamant.

"Why not? We know you like longer hair in bed. Maybe Frank can curl it too," says Jack, still a little miffed over Ray replacing him as the favorite floof. He might be trying to get back at Brock for this by bringing up the dream but he doesn't care. Brock will get embarrassed and Ray might get awkward and he will be happy he won.

"Don't, Jack," Brock glances at him in the rearview mirror. Sunshine didn't know about the dream he had and he wanted to keep it that way. He can feel his mood shifting down. 

"Don't know what you are talking about," Jack says, casually.

"What are we talking about?" Ray asks confused as he shouts.

"Nothing," Brock shouts back, quickly.

Frank grabs his phone out and texts Jack.

_Frank: I could get a perm._

_Jack: He'd kill you. Probably fuck you first but then he'd definitely kill you. With a shaver._

_Frank: scale of one to ten, how much trouble would I be in if I just got my hair curled…_ 😈

 _Jack: I don't know the extent of your sex lives, dude. But it's either going to be a turn on or a turnoff. Playing with fire, bärchen. So at least a seven. Also, we don't know what the details of the dream were. So what if he wants to ride the Bull?_ 🤣 _Jk._

Frank looks at Brock, "I love you."

_Frank: I never want to see or hear the words ride the bull when it comes to Ray. That's going to haunt me…_

Jack cracks up, unable to keep his laughter inside or hide his joy. He feels a little better now that he's got a bit of revenge on someone. He'd rather it be on Brock. He needs a new plan.

"I love you too, _tesoro_ ," Brock says softly as a stoplight. He understands that Jack doesn't get how the dream felt and that to him it was just funny but Brock found it to be unsettling and terrifying.

"I won't do anything that you don't like, intentionally." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek.

"Thanks, love," Brock smiles at him. Maybe the crisis was averted after all. 

"Except the beard." He winks at Brock to show him it's a joke.

Rolling his eyes, Brock just guns the car before remembering he really can't draw attention to himself right now. The last thing he needs is a cop investigating him. He begins to sing along with one of his favorite songs.

 _Wonder if I could introduce him to other car music. Maybe I'll get a new car and make him listen to it._ Frank thinks as he watches Brock enjoy himself. 

_Frank: how many cars can you park in the garage at the apartment?_

"Are you doing anything next weekend Jack?" Ray asks after leaning over to him.

"Just more world domination. Why what's up?" Jack texts back Frankie. _It's a big garage, dude._

"We are performing at an art and entertainment festival. It could be something fun to do. If you want you should come!" Ray says with a nod.

"Here in New York? Thought you guys were flying out of here and back on tour before then."

"Austin, Texas." 

"Hey Brock, think I'd look good in a cowboy hat and boots? We could go bull riding together," Jack cracks up.

"Why is that funny?" Brock questions, giving Jack a suspicious glare at his brother. He's being a shithead. First, it was the joke about curls- oh shit. The motherfucker. Asshole. He feels his face heat up.

"Be nice." Frank reaches over and strokes Brock's leg, "Don't let Jack o Lantern get your feathers ruffled." 

He's thankful the floof twins were in the backseat and can't see just how red his face is. He's also thankful they are less than a block away from the restaurant. Maybe with some food in his stomach, Jack will be less cranky and he will be less sensitive. He doubts both. He quickly pulls into the parking space right in front of Panera and gets out, leaving the top down on the car. It's not as hot as he thought it was going to be today and he was thinking about sitting outside. He waits for the others and tries to not be flushed. 

Frank leans across the seat and plants a kiss on his lips. If he's gonna turn into a tomato, this could be a good excuse. Not like he minds kissing Brock. He cups his cheeks and enjoys feeling the warmth of his cheeks.

Grinning like a loon, Jack gets out and goes over to his brothers, hands in his pockets, "You okay there Brock? Getting a little bit too much sun? Or maybe you liked the idea of bull riding a little too much?"

"I hate you now shut up," Brock retorts back.

Frank gives him a look that should read, _ease up on the man_. "Remember he's adopted. And we can throw him in the East River if he doesn't be nice."

Brock nods. He likes the sound of that. Very much. Taking Frank's hand in his and glaring at Jack, he goes inside. Though he does hold the door open for Sunshine. It's not his fault he had a dream about sleeping with him. And that Jack was an ass for bringing it up. He joins the line and grabs a menu. He winds up ordering a manager's special of half soup and half a sandwich. He's happy it's in a bread bowl. The guys even let him sit outside in the sun. He's going to sweat his ass off but the high heat does wonders for his constantly aching muscles. 

Frank happily eats his salad. He has a strong feeling he's going to be sunburned by the time they get home. He wonders what Brock will do once he browns up a little. Maybe he'll get freckles. He's kinda always wanted them. Chatting quietly with the guys helped him forget about the things that had been plaguing him for the last few days. Brock seemed pretty close to happy if not totally happy. He and Ray discussed recording the new album and the plans the overdramatic and borderlines ridiculous Gerard had come up with.

"Record in a haunted Mansion..." Frank drops his fork into his bowl. "This is how you get ghosts coming home with us."

"I told him that." Ray chuckles.

"None of us are virgins." Frank sighs, "Fuckin' goth kids man." 

"Ghosts aren't real, dude," Jack says.

"Do you have proof they aren't real?" Frank smirks pulling a play from Crazy Carolyn's playbook, "I've seen things. Not to sound like that guy." 

"Okay, weirdo," Jack shakes his head. 

Frank squints as he looks up to Brock and speaks low for Brock to hear, "How are you feeling baby?" 

"Might need Jack to drive home," he mutters back. He ate half the soup, some of the bread and all but the crust of his club sandwich.

"Yeah. Stuffed yourself?" Frank drops his hand to Brock's knee, "Gonna need a nap?" 

He shrugs. This was fun but it was also high energy. He's feeling drained but not necessarily sleepy. Maybe if he just relaxed a little and things were a little less exciting, he'd be okay. "Dunno. Tired." 

"Ok." 

"I know it is our job but I really can't wait until we don't have to tour. Just to sleep in a bed is a blessing." Ray sighs.

"It's been nice waking in a bed. But also showering every day is great." Frank leans in his chair. He takes his hand from Brock's knee. He feels like he's smothering him. Is he? He should ask. Maybe he shouldn't. He needs to breathe.

"I agree with both of those things. It's nice to be home." Brock says. His hand puts Frankie's back on his knee and holds it.

Frank looks at him and feels relief. He's not being too much. He takes a sip of his tea and adds with a wrinkled nose. "Though, I do like seeing new places. It's kinda fun." 

"Sure if we were putting the tour in tourist. We barely have enough time to see anything beyond the bus or hotel," Brock replies with a frown. "Next time I want to see about spacing things out. Maybe a few days in each city. Something more relaxed and less frantic. If they'll let me."

"None of us would complain about this. It would be nice to not feel like I am a piece of cargo." Ray sighs as he rests his hands on his belly. 

"Our next tour will be for the new album…" Frank pauses. It hit him that he's kind of a successful musician. He never imagined it would happen, "Ray, where is this mansion at?" _Please be East coast. Please be East coast._

"California."

_Fuck._

"Speaking of touring, when do you guys need to fly out?" Jack asks, taking a sip of his latte. "I forgot. And if you are using the plane, then I need to call it in the night before. At least."

"Our actual show is next Friday." Ray looks to Brock for confirmation.

"Yeah and we need to be there for sound check at 2pm," Brock nods.

"So the question is, do you guys want to fly back a little early to be tourists? Or stay here and sleep on the plane Thursday night and meet the buses Friday." 

"Oh we get choices…" Ray says genuine excitement in his voice.

"I've never been to Texas. So being a tourist wouldn't be so bad…" Frank offers nonchalantly as he can be.

"I'm good with both, I think. I like home. But enjoying some sights that aren't too stressful might be good. Maybe we should put it to a vote," Brock adds. 

"That's a great idea." Ray nods.

"I like that." Frank says with a soft voice as his thumb runs over Brock's skin.

"Well whatever day you decide, let me know. Plane takes roughly eighteen hours to get here from Capri. And you'll be sleeping on beds so wear pajamas," Jack says as he sips more latte. "Brock."

"I have pajamas!" Brock huffs.

"Like real pajamas, Brock." Frank raises his eyebrow.

"Tee shirts and shorts count, right?"

"Doesn't matter. He sleeps naked," Jack grins. "Which means you have to actually wear clothes on the plane." 

"I'm very aware he sleeps naked." Ray chuckles. 

"Clothes are not very conducive for cuddles," Brock mumbles, face turning tomato red again.

"It is also much easier to fall asleep naked." Frank smirks. 

"I usually wear underwear," Brock offers. It's a weak protest but it's true!

"The last time we had sex doesn't count as usually." Frank teases before kissing it better. 

"So, I only bring this up because the plane has an actual bed and couches that fold out into a bed. Comfortable but I don't know about it sleeping four on one and two on the other. Of course Brock and Frankie will get the bed."

"You're suggesting that the mother cat picks another favorite kitten to join us in bed?" Frank says, trying to keep a neutral voice at Jack. He knows who it will be. It's gonna be Ray. 

"That's between the Den Mother and his kittens," Jack says wryly. "I'm just suggesting that maybe Den Mother would be nice and let the kittens not be so squished.'"

Ray tilts his head and smiles. He knows that Brock and him are friends. Maybe he can do things without Frank around. He wouldn't mind having another friend. "This was a fantastic choice Brock." He nods as he finishes his drink. 

"Thanks. I'm supposed to be out of the house and in the sun and more social and I wanted bread and soup. So this was my first thought. I even got nicely dressed. Frankie says I look like Malibu Ken."

"You are tan like Malibu Ken so I can see it. Getting out and into the sun is great for the soul and your bod," Ray nods, "besides they have fantastic almost thumbprint cookies." 

"I am thinking that we have enough time to go home and hang out before our massage appointment." Frank pulls his leg up and under himself, "Or we can do whatever your big beautiful heart wants to do."

Brock looks to Jack and Sunshine. He loves these three guys so much. His best brother, his best man, and his best friend. He'd do anything for them. "What do you guys want to do? Probably go back home and spend time with your wife and video games, right?"

"The wife is with her sister for the next couple hours. So I would be sitting at home, watching TV and snacking. I'm up for anything, if you guys are willing to hang out that is." Ray says as he pulls his hair back and rests his hand on his head.

"I'd love to hang out with you guys," Brock grins. "Dunno doing what though. Got any ideas?"

"Well I mean what's your energy level at?" Ray asks. 

_He's gonna wear himself out._ Frank thinks as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. He shoulda brought sunglasses with him.

"I can do it," Brock says. He's aware that sounded kind of petulant and childish but how else can he get better if he doesn't push himself? And besides, he doesn't want to stop hanging out with his favorite boys.

"Good cause I enjoy hanging out with you guys. Are we thinking indoor or outdoor?" Ray asks. 

"If we do outdoors, I need to buy sunglasses. I'm going to go blind if I don't." Frank says squinting.

"I'll buy you all Ray Bans!" Brock exclaims before snickering, "Sunshine wearing Ray's. And I always need another pair." 

"Babe. How many do you have that you _don_ 't wear?" Frank asks with a smile.

"How many records do you own that you _don't_ play," he retorts quickly.

"Look who put on sassy pants today… records are different. If it's a collectors limited edition or first copy then you _can't_ play them… duh." Frank laughs. 

"You collect records, I collect Ray's," Brock smirks.

"He's got a dresser drawer full of them." Frank explains to Ray. 

"Yeah? How many do you have?" Ray leans forward with a smile.

"Forty-three. Maybe more. I haven't counted recently. And it's not something I've been doing for very long. Just the last five or six years or so."

"How many records do you have Frank?" Ray asks like he's a judge.

"Uh… maybe a hundred?" Frank says with a shrug.

"More like two hundred with the amount I saw back at his place. It covered bookshelves. Clearly way more than me." 

"I have more in storage. Two more bins." Frank says with a small voice.

"I think Frank is not allowed to complain about anyone's hoarding," Jack says with a laugh.

"Records don't take up much space..."

"I have one dresser drawer. One."

"Okay, fair. At least I keep them in storage." Frank concedes, "Can I bring them into our house once we get married, though?"

"Yeah, they'll go in the music room." 

"Thank you, my love." 

"So did we decide on shopping? Or no?" asks Brock. He's ready to get out of the sun.

"Shopping works for me!" Ray nods as he rises to his feet. He collects dishes and carries them to the bins and garbage can area.

"Shopping sounds good and temperature controlled." Frank says as he lifts his shirt. He's too warm and uncomfortable.

"I agree. I'm actually too hot now. I may not need the hot stone massage later," Brock replies, getting into the car. 

"I paid for you to get whatever massage you'd like B." Frank opens the door.

"What? The couple's one or the band one?" When did Frankie do this? And how? Brock didn't think you could do that in advance.

"I kinda did a thing for you..." Frank tries to be smooth, "It's a couples massage plus kinda..." 

"Oh. Okay then." Brock smiles.

"You were asleep. I made some calls..." says Frank as he feels his face flush.

Still smiling, Brock leans over and kisses Frankie before starting up the car and heading to the mall.

"Y'all are cute and gross." Ray grins.

~~

Arriving at the mall is quick with good traffic. Once inside, the mall is bright white, clean, and has air conditioning. The four men stroll casually through the mall. Frank holds Brock's hand and follows him into the sunglasses store. He laughs and gives his input into Brock's choices, talking him out of the hundred and seven dollar pair of gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses that he already owned the black-rimmed ones. Brock comes out with a couple new sunglasses to add to his collection. 

Jack and Ray had wandered off on their own. Ray stops into a body shop and lush store to bring the wife home yummy smelly good things, all pregnancy safe. He had to make sure. Part of him was glad to be alone making these decisions. As he steps out of Lush, he meets with Brock who is waiting outside of a noisy store with skateboarding shoes and other things that don't make sense to either man. They chat outside until Frank emerges and moves on to the next shop.

The noise of the mall begins to rise as the late afternoon rush picks up. The three seek Jack out inside GameStop where he is conversing with the employee about a game and its gameplay and interface. The words all sound like nonsense in Frank's ears as he pokes around the store looking at games for an old console that he still has. He finds an old Mario game that he'd forgotten about. Brock ushers Jack out before he can pick a fight with some punk over some assassin video game.

As they move to their next stop, Frank slows at the jewelry store window. He realizes that he should be thinking about engagement rings. _Do men wear those?_ He doesn't stare long but decides that he needs to do some looking on the internet. He follows the boys into a giant bookstore and immediately feels overwhelmed by the selection. Maybe he could find a book on his current predicament he was in. He disappears into the science fiction section then moves to self-help as to not draw attention to himself. 

"What kind of books are you into, Sunshine?" 

"Mostly science fiction. But I am not opposed to history books. What about you Brock?" Ray picks up a book and skims the back. He glances up and watches the people milling around him.

"I like a mix of fantasy and anything that will teach me something. I like to be a well rounded knowledgeable sort of guy," Brock looks at the book Ray had and reads over it.

"Lately it's been graphic novels. But I get what you mean, it's nice to have a variety." Ray had been itching to ask if Brock had noticed Frankie's little hesitation back there, "Have you read the Game of Thrones series?" 

"I have not, but I did see a few episodes of the series. That was pretty cool. Weird though."

"The guys got into the books last year. They aren't too bad. A little slow in places." Ray puts one of the books from the series down. He looks up at Brock as he speaks low, "I know you caught on to _our_ little rat gazing in the jewelry store. Have you thought about rings?" 

"Huh?" He's confused. 

"Frank." Ray blinks, "Our little rat.. he's not told you… nevermind." 

"No, I know that. Frankie is Aladdin and I'm Princess Jasmine. And street rat was your thing but got shortened. But what do you mean he was looking at the jewelry? When was this?"

"Literally five minutes ago. We passed by that jewelry store… you were there." Ray tries not to laugh. "Did you black out?"

His shoulders slump. He wasn't paying attention and he missed something important. He swears his brain has gotten slower like the rest of his body. It was all foggy and dumb sometimes. "No… I just… sorry." 

"No need to be sorry. You were bickering with Jack." Ray moves around the table and drapes his arm over Brock's shoulder, "He was looking at the rings." 

"Oh. _Oh_. Well crap. Does this mean I'm supposed to propose now? I don't know anything about weddings. Or rings. Or planning something like this. Oh… Sunshine what am I gonna do?" Brock looks at Ray with panic in his eyes and voice.

"You're gonna ask for help. I've done this before. I don't think you have to propose _now._ I think it just means that he's thinking about a ring for you. Have you considered anything for him?"

"No," he drags the syllables out, mild panic still running through him.

"Do you want help?" 

"Yes please. This seems… daunting. I mean," he sighs and bites his lip before taking a breath. "Before all… _this_ , I wouldn't have had a problem. I used to be a better man. I used to be better at dealing with things and now I'm some sort of slow and stupid idiot who can't make a simple decision most of the time and the other half I just want to bawl my eyes out like some hormonal teenage girl."

"Well, this is where having friends like me, Jack and the others come in to help." Ray says with a small smile as he gives Brock a side hug, "My dude, you're just dealing with somethings that your brain never expected would come out. You're gonna be ok.

"But as far as jewelry, talk to your mother and see if there is a family heirloom that is meant to be passed down to you for the occasion. If not, we'll go ring shopping for him. We'll bring like Gee and Mike. Those two are close with him too."

Brock nods. This sounds like good sound advice. This is a good idea. He likes this. "Thank you. Your help means a lot to me. I could kiss you," he laughs. "Instead how about a book?"

"I'll take a coffee? I get to go later to the wife's parents and share the news. I'm in for a long day." Ray barters. 

"You can have whatever you want. We could go home early and you can nap? Or nap in the car? I can kick Jack into a cab." He looks up at Sunshine and realizes just how short he is compared to the other man. He finds that he likes it. Sunshine could use him as a chin rest. Just like Jack. 

"Nah, I'm good. Not much of a napper. I forget you haven't met my wife. She's a little ball of energy." Ray smiles as he tries to explain her to Brock, "Christa is wonderful. I can't wait for you to meet her."

"I get to meet her?" He's… shocked. For some reason, he figured that was only for close friends. He slowly shifts his weight a little so he's a little closer under Ray's arm. He likes the weight.

"Yeah! She's gonna love you. I told her about all the bad ass things you've done for the band and about just like you..." Ray nods, "Her and Lindsey are really good friends. Lindseys already bragged about you. So I've heard nonstop about it. She got grumpy cause she didn't get to come today."

"Aww. Well, I hope she likes me. I don't want her to think bad of me or think I'm keeping you from her and Baby Floof," Brock says. He perks up at an idea. "We can get books and stuff for Baby Floof!" 

"No, if anything she might try to steal you from me." Ray grins wide, "I love the idea and I know she will love it too." 

His eyes widen and he flushes at the comment. He's winning all the ladies! This is a good thing, right? He hopes so. The last thing he needs is his boy's to be mad at him for stealing their women. He grins, "I like how you said she'd steal me from you." 

"Well, it'd be true. You're my friend. She does that with my friends. She likes Frankie but wasn't a fan of his ex." Ray offers, "you're already winning so…" 

"Yay for winning!" Brock laughs. 

"She and Lindsey have been trying to coordinate a 'partners of the band' lunch or dinner. She's going to want you there." Ray pauses, "If you're not careful you'll get all the wives to be team Brock." 

"All the wives and boys," he sniggers.

"You got the boys on board and half the wives." 

"Don't tell my brother but I think I'm better at world domination. I kind of want to move to the parenting section of the store but also don't want you to move. I've been staring at the same book for far too long."

"So you want me to walk with you…" Ray smiles as he asks. His eyes catch a glimpse of Frank rounding a corner. He notes the section he's in, "Let's move. Though we do look like two dad's shopping for their kids. But that's fine with me, at least I'd have a trophy husband." 

"Actually, I think you'd be the trophy," he mutters before his anxiety spikes. What if someone saw them? What if someone said something? Or made fun of them. People did that, especially kids. What if Frankie got the wrong idea? He covers his now red face. He hates social rules. Why are they so hard to follow?

"Thanks for the compliment. Should we head that way… dude. What if I have a little girl? I'm not prepared to have a girl. I can't scare predators from my young yet…" Ray babbles. 

"Did you want me to teach you how to be badass, er, extra badass if you have a girl?" Brock forces himself to take a step, still expecting for Sunshine to pull away and let go. He should. That's normal. That's how people who aren't couples walk. Because they are _friends_. He can't help but search every aisle looking for people who might pick them out.

"I mean, I have guns and I know how to use them but I remember being a boy. Do you think I'll develop the big scary dad sneeze? Does it grow in, like a beard?" Ray asks, trying to keep it light. He can feel Brock tensing as he moves them towards the kid's section.

"I don't actually know what a dad sneeze is. So, sure?" 

"It's that loud sneeze that can frighten predators away… it's kind of a joke. I don't know truly how to describe it."

"I feel like the guns are probably more effective. Oh, look. Here's a book on how to give birth," Brock peeks at the inside and quickly closes it. "Nope. Nope. Nope." 

~~

Frank rounds a corner and comes face to face with Jack. He grins up at him, "You know this is how I met your brother except he hip checked me to the ground." 

"Want me to shove you for old time's sake?" 

"I'd rather not but I know you were looking for a fight in the game store and little Stevie wasn't giving you it." Frank snickers.

"You mean pompous asshole. Yeah." 

"Why 'cause he said Assassin's Creed isn't good?" Frank teases. He knows very little about the game and is parroting back what he heard, "Bloodbourne is much better..." 

"Says by someone who's clearly never assassinated someone," Jack huffs. He has thank you very much.

"I mean his doughy body clearly indicated that. I think he just wanted to get your blood pressure up." Frank smirks, "You find anything good? Have you seen my husband?"

"No, because I've been chatting here with you," Jack smirks. "Last I saw, he was checking out the fantasy stuff. We can do the Marco Polo? He hates that. I love it."

"Yes. Yes. Yes. I love you for annoying him." Frank nods with a devious smile.

~~

Brock hastily returns the book back to the shelf with a little squeak of discomfort. He did not need to see that. Ever. How could someone… gross.

"Was it a vagina?" Ray tries to not snicker, "It can't hurt you. It's a picture." 

"I think I might be traumatized. Again. How can you find that attractive?" Brock shudders hard. He's never seen one before and is regretting it now.

"It's like a delicate flower." Ray laughs, "I can guarantee that what you saw was not pleasant. They don't all look like that."

"It looked like a monster," Brock whispers, actively bothered. "Next time you look at the pictures, okay?" 

"It doesn't bite." Ray chuckles, "I can do that for you. At least it makes you appreciate Frankie, right?"

Brock nods rapidly. He doesn't get how being straight works but he supposes it must be the same for those who weren't gay. He also is extra appreciative of Sunshine who seems to be able to navigate both ends of the spectrum with ease and grace. He really can't imagine Frankie enjoying this stuff either but he's glad his _tesoro_ likes both. He can't imagine being in love with Frank and him being straight. 

"I bet there is a 'what to be expecting for dads' book out there, right?" Ray asks.

"Disgusting." A thin dark-haired man walks past them and sneers. His friend, a taller blond man with a Metallica shirt on turns from the stack he was looking at. His eyes scan Ray and Brock and disgust washes over his face. 

"Didn't know they allowed queers to have kids…" Metallica guy says with a mocking tone.

"Fucking perverts need to get out of the kids section." Thin dude says as he starts to puff up. 

Brock is certain he goes whiter than a sheet at their words. He feels sick. Normally he could ignore shit like that. But he wasn't normal right now and he feels his anxiety spiking, shame, and embarrassment filling him. He needs to leave. This was exactly what he was afraid of. Exactly why it was wrong for him to have contact with other people. 

"How about you mind your business?" Ray says with a firm tone.

"What are you gonna do bitch slap me?" The thin man says mocking Ray. 

"His faggot cocksucker boyfriend can't even make words. Must too stupid to speak." Metallica guy laughs and bumps the table towards Ray. 

"Shut up and walk away dude." Ray says, shaking his head, "You don't know what you're talking about." 

If they were saying any other shit, Brock would have beat the shit out of them. If they were addressing anyone else with this sort of talk, Brock would still have the same reaction and beat the crap out of them. Instead, it's directed at him, and suddenly he's the gay kid in high school again, getting his ass kicked by bullies. He can still hear them call him a slew of slurs in the streets but Broccoli when in school and around adults. He can't stand the word to this day. It was enough of a reason for him to work out and become so good no one would ever touch him again. Once it leaked that he was the Lucchese heir, those bullies left him alone. 

"I bet the little one is the bitch. He looks like it." The thin man sneers, "I heard him crying about seeing a pussy… little bitch." 

"Fuck you! Leave him alone." Ray hisses. He moves Brock back a little. He's only passive to a point and these fuckers were reaching this point fast.

"Sunsh– Ray, please. Let's just go," Brock says quietly. He needs to not be touching Ray. If he doesn't, then it won't draw attention. And really this is his fault anyway. This is why he can't have nice things.

"We _don't_ have to leave Brock. We are minding our own business. They need to go." Ray growls, "Leave us alone. Last warning." 

"Ohhh big faggot is getting mad. He's gonna scratch my eyes out."

"He's not gay," Brock spats. It was one thing for him to be insulted but different when they attacked his people. "I am." 

"Aww… the little queer sticking up for his boyfriend." Metallica mocks Brock before he laughs.

~~

"Marco!" Jack laughs quietly with Frank. Nudging Frankie to follow, he starts walking the aisles, calling softly every so often.

"Sunshine and the meatball? That could be a book right?" Frank jokes as he follows Jack. 

"Totally. Would it be a cookbook though?" Jack snickers. "Or a love story? Marco!"

"Outdoor cookbook. Cooking in the nude." Frank replies, "I think I see floof."

"Floof is good. Nude cooking is totally the new feng shui. Marco!"

Jack! His stupid perfect brother is calling him! He's never been so happy to hear the words he used to hate as a kid. Just because he was Italian…. "Polo!" Brock calls back. 

Jack grins and heads towards the sound of his brother. "Works every time. I mean, not right away because he hates it. Eventually though he gets pissed off and gives in. I laugh at him because he's Marco the Italian lost and I'm the Polo trying to find his short ass."

"I'm shorter than Brock." 

"Bärchen, you'd be a needle in a haystack," Jack grins at Frank.

"I got tattoos. It makes me stand out." Frank grins up at him. 

"Aww look the whole homo squad arrived. Now they can pull our hair and scratch our eyes out as a team!" Metallica sneers at Jack. The thin man laughs. 

Brock flinches slightly. Great, now he brought his brother and his actual boyfriend into the mix. What an idiot he is. This is his fault. He shouldn't have let Ray put his arm around him for so long. He shouldn't have liked it in the first place. This was wrong. He needs to leave. He should fight back but he can't. He can't breathe anymore. He has to leave. Maybe if he does they'll leave everybody alone.

"The little fags must have daddy complexes." The thin man glares at Brock.

Frank can see the look on Brock's face and immediately feels the need to protect him. "Brock." 

"First of all you hateful little shit, I'm his _straight_ boy friend. That's his actual boyfriend." Ray says pulling Brock into him before pointing to Frank, "Not all men who share affection are gay. You must have sad, lonely, lives. Must suck to be virgins."

"I suggest you leave. Before I make you," Jack's voice is whisper soft and ice cold. The clothing suddenly looks out of place on him, as the joyful nature slides away and darker things come out to play.

"Oh curly sue thinks he's tough." Thin man steps towards Brock and Ray, "Your friends aren't very scary, faggot." 

"I'm their brother and I will not ask you a second time. Leave," Jack glances at Frank and motions him to go to Brock and Ray. He stands in front of both men. He's already calculated several ways he can end this. All of them bloody and most involving a body bag.

Frank pushes between Ray and the table to meet the man approaching Brock. He might be little but he's got rage. He stands in front of Brock. His voice is hard and brimming with anger, "Back off. Or I make you back off." His eyes lock with the strangers.

"I ain't scared of you, little princess. I bet they all pass him around like an ugly fuck doll." The thin man laughs in Frank's face as he gets closer. His posture is supposed to be menacing but Frank won't back down.

_If I hit him, I can go to jail. He hits me, it's self-defense._

"Sounds like you're a little jealous there." Frank smirks, his back straightens as he speaks low, "Leave my husband alone. You piece of shit." 

"Or what you'll fight me or suck my dick?" He sneers in Frank's face. 

Jack slowly inches closer to them both. He's come up with a plan that isn't exactly lethal but it will require them to leave before anyone notices. Without turning his icy gaze from the men, he calls to Brock in his native German, " _Get ready to leave_." 

"Jack," Brock warns. The implication hung in the air like a pregnant pause, along with his silent order. _Don't kill them._ He turns to Sunshine and whispers to him to get ready. He'll have to treat him to a book and coffee later. This was escalating far too much for his anxiety to handle.

"No but you'll need new fuckin teeth you homophobic piece of shit." Frank's voice hardens as he balls his hands up into tight fists.

"Frankie, leave it. We're leaving. Come on. Let's go home," Brock says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack move closer. The jerks were so focused on the three of them that they completely dismissed his brother. It was a huge mistake considering Jack was the dangerous one of them all.

Brock's voice snaps him out of the fight. He wants the fight but he knows Brock means business. He steps back to Brock. The thin man fills the gap and Frank is ready.

Brock reaches out and pulls Frankie into his arms, burying his face in his neck, no longer caring about anything the two assholes said or would say. Not now that Jack is there. He would take care of these two without a problem and he needed to keep his boy from jail. And cuddles to soothe his nerves. But mostly to keep Frankie from jail. He whispers to Frank, "Jack will take care of them if they want a fight. I don't need you in jail. I need you in my arms."

"Are you ok?" Frank says with a shaky voice. He wraps his arms around Brock.

Frank clings to his husband as they move out of the store. He wants to kiss and hold Brock. The back of his mind he's worried about Jack. His hand grips Brock's tight. He refuses to lose his love, his world. "We're ok. It's okay." Frank reminds him as the tenderness returns to his voice.

"Yeah. We're good. I'm good," Brock's voice shakes a little as they walk out of the store and back into the main mall. "I'm sorry guys. I didn't mean to freeze up. They said those things and suddenly I was back in high school."

"You're good, man. That came out of nowhere and was unnecessary. What about Jack?" Ray asks as he glances back.

"He'll take care of them. If they want a fight, he'll finish it. Or he'll escort them out. He's gonna be fine. It's his job," Brock says lightly. He keeps both his boys close for comfort. He was definitely going to be asking Jack to drive them home.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he says as his fingers curl into Brock's skin. Frank's face and chest burn a little from the anger that had been stored in his chest. 

"It's my fault for asking Sunshine to keep his arm around me. Made you a target. Made all of you guys a target. I'm supposed to protect you guys not the other way around. I just… froze," Brock rubs his face.

"It's not your fault!" Frank protests. 

"It isn't your job to worry about other people. Who gives a shit what they think, yeah so what you're gay. He's your _actual_ boyfriend. I'm your _straight_ boyfriend." Ray stops them and turns in front of Brock. 

"Straight boyfriend? Is that… like a gym boyfriend?" Brock smiles a little and turns to Frankie. Is he allowed this? He's not sure what it is but it sounds nice.

"It's exactly like your gym boyfriend." Frank grins at him, "Is it like the perks of a regular boyfriend just minus the sexual things?"

"Yeah pretty much. I leave the sex and kisses to the actual partner. Besides, who else is gonna let me use him for an arm rest. You're far too short, shrimp." Ray says with a large smile, "Brock, do not feel bad for some assholes with micro dicks trying to pick a fight." 

"Yes. Don't feel anything about this. Once we get Jack back, we are going to forget it happened and it will be done. I am sorry that they made you feel like this. I love you and would fight off a hundred of them for you." Frank says softly as he wraps his arms around him again.

"What about cheek kisses and forehead kisses," Brock asks with a little sneaky smile. He's teasing. Maybe hopeful but he dismisses it.

"I can do that. Those are good for me as long as Frankenstein is cool with it." Ray grins. He takes a couple steps and moves behind Brock and hugs him.

He tenses at the feeling of someone sneaking up behind him because Frankie is there and he didn't see Sunshine move, but once he realizes by the floof of hair at his face, he takes a shuddering breath and relaxes. The notion that he can have this strange concept of a straight boyfriend is both weird scary and interesting. It's almost as if he's been given permission to do the things he wants. At least with Sunshine. He's never had a problem with goofing off with Steve before. And if this is the same thing with Sunshine…?

He's snapped out of his mental contemplation by the whooshing sound of the bookstore doors being opened. A dart of the eyes spot Jack exiting the building, heading right for them. Brock settles in Sunshine's hug even further now that his brother is safe and returned. 

"No sirens or blood. I think we're good." Frank says peering around Brock's arm. He did want to torture Brock by making him go into Hot Topic but they probably shouldn't linger much longer. He looks up at Ray and gives him an appreciative nod.

"They have been handled," Jack said, still a little coldly. He's not all the way back to his fun-loving self. 

Frank recognizes the tone in Jack's voice. "Did they back down civilly?" Frank says as he relaxes his hug with Brock. Instead, he runs his hands under his husband's shirt and softly runs his cool hands over Brock's warm skin. He needs skin to skin contact. He just has a feeling. 

"They were stupid little shits. Frankie could have easily broken the skinny one." Ray says as he pats Frank's head.

Instead of answering, Jack just grins at Frankie. He's correct in saying that there was no blood. But just because there was no blood didn't mean that there was no damage. He's a professional after all. "Yes, Frank could have but then Brock would have a heart attack over his precious kitten getting into a fight and risking jail. I'm the safer option."

"Hellcat," Brock corrects. "Kitten when he's cute and cuddly and hellcat when he's feisty."

"Fair. Did you have anything else you wished to visit or are we finished here?" asks Jack.

He wants to go home but will be okay if they need to go to other places. He will probably sit outside on a bench or something while the boys shop. He feels bad about the book store already and didn't want to stop them from having fun. Brock shakes his head slightly.

"No. I think I've had my fun." Ray says as he rests his chin on top of Brock's head, "Frankenstein, anywhere else?" 

Frank flushes, a deep red staining his cheeks and chest. _Damnit Ray._ "Nah. I wanna take my hubby home and hangout at home for a while. If that's okay with him and you guys?"

"Yes please," Brock says quietly. "But, maybe we can stop by a coffee place on the way home? And… Can you drive, Jack?"

"I can. Yes."

"You don't have to really buy me cof–" Ray tries to speak but is interrupted by a jab from small fingers. His eyes track down to Frank who is scowling at him. "He really is a little hellcat, isn't he?"

"We should start moving before people start thinking this is a performance art piece or something." Frank says as his eyes drop to Brock, "Do you wanna sit shotgun or in the back with me?" 

"Back, please. I guess it's time for the tall ones to ride up front." It would be far too tight to have three people in the back and poor Jack up front. He just might stretch out.

"Good choice. I can smother you with kisses." 

"I do like those. Let's go home," Brock replies with a smile.

~~

As soon as they arrive at the apartment, Jack heads back to his own place, with the promise of texting later, to go online and play some video games and get out a bit of aggressiveness the punk-ass kid from GameStop incited in him. Ray plops on the couch and stretches out. He makes himself at home and flips the tv on. Brock slips away into the bedroom to add his new sunglasses into the dresser drawer. He also takes a cool cloth to his overly hot body and tries to not be a stinky, sweaty, heater. Modesty and comfort war in him briefly. He wants to lose the shirt, at least. But he's not a stripper and clothes should really stay _on._ Maybe he can find something lighter?

Frank can feel the cotton of his shirt clinging to him. The material is damp and gross, he glances at Ray. Ray has seen him fully nude or close to it. He pulls the shirt off as he wanders to the bedroom to put it in the laundry basket. He peers into the room and tosses his shirt in, "You coming out babe?" Frank asks from the doorway.

"I came out years ago but right now I'm debating on changing shirts or suffering in this one. Modesty and such."

Frank steps into the room and looks at Brock. "This is literally how I plan to be. My pasty ass got a little red." 

"More like tinted pink. Like the pink panther or a pair of pink aviators. Flamingo pink. Baby pink. Piggy pink." Brock checks off each thing on his fingers.

"You're very cute. I assume you have pink aviators why I'm not sure. You don't own anything else pink… and I'm not pink tinted." Frank grumbles as he steps closer to Brock, "Piggy pink...

"Of course I have a pair of pink Ray's. And they go great with coordinating colors like patriotic. Reds, blues, whites but white and pink is a little harder to pull off." He decides to go ahead and strip off his shirt. After tossing it into the dirty laundry, he grabs the washcloth again and wipes himself down again. "How long do we have before our appointment?" 

"About 2 hours," he glances at the clock and moves to the dresser drawer. He pulls open Brock's secret stash and scans them, "You don't have orange." He picks up a coral-colored pair and examines them. He shakes his head and places them back in their assigned spot.

"Hey be careful, you'll get fingerprints on them!" Brock picks up the pair and cleans them of Frank's finger marks with a microfiber cloth.

"You know. I could take you to let's say… Target, it's classy. And we can get you a pair of sunglasses for $13." Frank grins up at him before planting a kiss on his cheek.

Giving Frankie a glare, Brock pouts and briefly tries to kiss him before turning and putting away the freshly cleaning pair of sunglasses. "Don't you dare, hellion." 

"I spent $6.99 on sale for mine at Hot Topic like two years ago." Frank adds, "You and your silly sunglasses."

"Silly sunglasses?!" Brock loudly squawks, indignantly. His boyfriend was so rude to his collection! At least he was nice to Frank's records of music he hated! 

Frank likes pushing his buttons and gives him a mischievous and wide smile. "Silly... sunglasses." He repeats before biting his lip.

"I hate you," Brock grumbles lightly. "No respect! None! I'm careful with your stuff!" 

"Oh you know I like your sunglasses collection..." Frank sighs at the sound of knocking on the door frame.

"I heard a lady shriek. Everything ok?" Ray says as he pokes his head into the room.

"Frank's being a jerk to my Ray's," Brock huffs. His feathers are ruffled. In no way was he a _lady_. He was a Princess, dammit.

"A lady shriek? More like a pterodactyl scream." Frank snorts.

"Kids these days… no respect." Ray teases, "Can I come in? How many do you actually have?" 

"Yeah! You can totally check out my Ray's. I've got shiny ones and matte ones. And pretty much the whole rainbow of colors and tints. So I'm _very_ color coordinated," Brock lights up at his friend's interest.

"Hell yeah I wanna see em!" Ray steps in with excitement in his voice. He stands next to Brock as Frank saunters to the bed and lies back pulling his feet up. "I'll have to show you my guitar collection. I have the rainbow in guitars." 

"Do you have more or less than Frankie? He likes to collect them too," Brock asks with a head tilt. He adjusts a pair of violet ones and wipes their lenses.

"They are pretty!" Ray says as his eyes follow the colors, "I uh, have probably two times what Frank has. You have 6 right Frank?" 

"8. And I think I wanna get a custom one from Epiphone." Frank says casually.

"Yeah three times." Ray nods at Brock.

"Holy moly. Where do you store them?" 

"The basement of my house." Ray shrugs.

"I'll get more once I have the space." Frank adds. 

"We're gonna need a music _house_ , forget about a music room, _tesoro_. Maybe a mansion sized house for you and the boys to share. Music Mansion?" 

"I can hang them up on the wall, my love." Frank sighs, "Maybe we can have a mother in law house for my guitars? I'll pay for that."

"The wife and I are thinking of building a house upstate. Maybe get a little bit of land." Ray shrugs. "Maybe on the west coast? I dunno."

"We have been talking about building a house. Where we don't know…" Frank says as he sits up. 

"Ew, West coast," Brock laughs. "Why so far away?"

"She has family in Colorado." Ray says with a smile. 

"We can live in Colorado!" Frank says.

"They don't have beaches though." He really didn't want anything too far away from the beaches. Especially since he wants to take Frank out on the yacht one day. Maybe the whole band. He wants to sit down so he briefly hesitates before gently taking Ray's shirt and gives it a tug to indicate to follow. With a playful smack on Frank's leg, he tells both boys, "Come. Let's sit on the couch and chat." 

"Snow." Ray points out.

"I don't like the cold," Brock tosses back, heading to the living room and flopping down. He waits for both of them to join him. "I wanna take you guys out. The whole band. Like on an actual vacation. I have a yacht we can hang out on. It's big enough for the ladies too."

"That would be fantastic! We should talk about this with the band. I think that would be a lot of fun!" Ray says as he plops on the couch. 

"Still never been on a boat. And I don't count the ferry." Frank says as he lifts Brock's legs and sits under them.

"See we should change that. Go snorkeling," Brock shifts so he's using Ray as a pillow, glancing up and double-checking it was okay, before making grabby hands at Frankie. "Scuba diving. Wakeboarding, maybe. Fishing? Dunno if anyone is into that sort of thing. Treasure hunting in the coral reefs?"

"I think all of those sound amazing," Ray grins as he runs fingers in Brock's hair. 

Frank crawls between his legs and lays on his chest. "I do like fishes." 

"Fish are friends, not food. Hey, maybe you guys can write a song that isn't all haunted mansions and graves, and instead make something with waves, sun, and sailing or something. We can do some water sports but not the weird kind." Brock laughs, hugging Frankie tight. Today has been the best day he's had in a long time. Even with the hiccup in the bookstore. 

"We have a couple love songs." Ray laughs. "A little Vacay would do all of us good. Especially the pasty pale ones." 

"I would look good tan." Frank grins up at him.

"I dunno," Brock grins at Frankie. "I kind of like you pale and the color of moonlight. Makes the ink stand out more. Right now you are a pretty pink. Don't think you'll tan though."

"He is a nice pink shade. Like a baby pig pink." Ray laughs 

"I said the same thing!" Brock tilts his head up to Ray and grins at him. "He didn't like my list of comparisons. Even though I compared him to a diamond."

"I'm not piggy pink." Frank sighs. "I'm scuffed elbow pink and up too late pink. Or fire season sunset pink." 

"Pink panther," Brock stresses. "Not the kitty, though you are my _gattino_ , but the actual diamond. You disagreed. I disagree with your disagree."

"You didn't specify, that…" Frank grins up and kisses him.

"Sorry. Thought that would be rather obvious considering you don't look like you got dumped into a paint bucket full of Pepto Bismol."

"You'd still love me if I was god awful pink." Frank asks.

"Nah, Frankie isn't a diamond kinda guy… he's more of an opal." Ray picks a random stone. Why opal he's not sure.

"I am too a diamond kinda guy." Frank replies looking at Brock. "Right?"

"Maybe more a sapphire? Ruby? Rubies go with the whole goth emo look."

"Aren't there black gems?" Ray offers. 

"I have simpler tastes, guys." Frank sighs as he rests his ear on Brock's chest. "I'm still not pig pink" 

"Black diamonds are simple. There's chocolate diamonds but I feel like brown is a terrible choice in general for jewelry. We could deck out your next death costume in black and white diamonds with a few rubies. Catch the light on the stage. What do you think, Sunshine?"

"For me, yeah. But Mr Crash Bang Boom here might not do so hot in diamonds and rubies. Maybe just craft store gems." Ray grins as he runs fingers along the side of Brock's head.

"I'm not _that_ bad." 

Brock subconsciously arches his head up a little, enjoying the petting. Sunshine's fingers and Frankie's body weight were making him more pleasantly relaxed than he had been all day. Hell, he could _do_ this all day, every day, and be a very happy man. Maybe he is more cat than Frankie. He gives Frankie a lazy grin, "I think you might be right, Sunshine. He doesn't need anything super shiny to distract him. He's like a bird, _passerotto_. Might get blinded and fall off the stage."

"He's done it before!" Ray chuckles.

"He's going to put me in a bubble wrap suit." Frank sighs as he runs fingers along Brock's ribs. 

"Damn right. But not just any bubble wrap. It's gotta be the best grade bubble wrap there is to keep you safe. And the rest of the boys safe from you," Brock snickers.

"Yeah… hey!" Frank looks up at him, "Really? From me?" 

"Yeah. You almost ran Gerard off the stage the last time we performed." Ray snorts.

"Holy hell Frankie! Do I need to put a leash on you? One of those monkey harnesses kids have to keep them from running away from their parents?"

"I'm not an over-sugared toddler." 

"Yes. You are." Ray laughs.

"See Sunshine. You'll be fine with Baby Floof. If you can handle Frankie, you can handle any kid. You'll do just fine," Brock says with a little yawn.

"I think you may be right there Brock." Ray says with a smile, "I'm gonna have to go soon, Christa should be back from her sister's." 

Brock nods sleepily. He's ready for a nap with Frankie. He yawns again, "Dunno what it is about you that always makes me warm and sleepy. Best go before I get too cozy with you."

"Would you maybe wanna come to my house like tomorrow…"

"Yes," Brock interrupts without thinking or caring what Sunshine wants. Whatever he wants, Brock will give. Anything to repay the immeasurable kindness Sunshine has shown him.

"Oh! Awesome, we can figure out something to do. Hell even if we just have a BBQ and hang. It would be nice to have company. And you'll meet the wife."

"That sounds like fun. Maybe the guys are free and we could do something as a big weird family." Frank offers.

"Reschedule family dinner to family BBQ or can we still do that too?" Brock tilts his head up again.

"We can do both. Maybe an impromptu dinner tomorrow and a fancy dinner Sunday?" Ray asks.

"I think both is a fantastic idea."

"Yeah, I'd love that." Brock grins, sleepily. He's resisting the urge to roll over and cuddle them both so he definitely knows he's tired. Plus, he's overdue for koala time. Fighting a yawn again, he looks at Sunshine, "You might want to get out before I fall asleep on you and try to keep you here. You are far too much like _Home_."

Ray leans forward and presses lips to Brock's forehead then Frankie's cheek. "You boys might wanna set an alarm so you don't miss your appointment." He slips out from under Brock's head. 

"See you tomorrow, Ray!" Frank says with a sleepy voice.

"Night, Sunshine. Sleep well, and text or call tomorrow. Thank you, for everything." He means it, so much. There was never enough Brock could do to make up for the insurmountable kindness that Ray gave him. He wasn't lying when he said that Ray felt like _Home_. It was a familiar, safe, feeling that reminded Brock of a life he was more used to. It tugged on a longing that he had in his chest. This was what he had missed for the last decade and a half.

As Ray quietly leaves the apartment Frank pulls his phone out and sets an alarm. "I had fun today." He rests back into Brock again, "It's going to get nice and relaxed the rest of the night." 

"Me too," Brock whispers in Frankie's ear. His arms tighten around Frankie even more. "Do you want to go to bed?" 

"Always."


	16. The Call, The Car, and The BBQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linda makes a decision about Brock. Frank goes car shopping. The Band enjoys a BBQ at the Toro's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christa Toro makes her first appearance here! She's a doll and Sunshine is lucky to have her. 
> 
> The usual things of this is a work of fiction and all mistakes are our own apply.

Frank wasn't planning on sleeping. He was, if possible, going to do laundry. If King Octopus let him. But instead, he laid down with Brock and was out like a light. Now Brock's phone had started ringing and buzzing hard against the nightstand. 

"Brock. Phone. Get it. " Frank growls loudly as he lightly pushes him.

With a few not so quiet grumbles Brock shifts and lets Frankie go, to slap at his phone. He doesn't even see who the caller is; he doesn't give a shit. Being rudely woken like this always put him in a gruff mood. He growls into the phone, "What?" 

"Excuse me, Brock?" Linda says into the phone.

"Linda?" Brock groans. He's still not awake yet. "Shit, I'm sorry. Was napping and the phone was being mean. 'm sorry. You want Frankie?"

"No. I want to talk to you." She says with a very stern tone.

"Okay," Brock yawns. His sleepy brain knows what this is but it's having trouble focusing. "Sorry. Not awake yet. But I'm listening." 

"I'm sitting in my car outside of the hospital and all I keep thinking about is that my son fell in love with a wonderful and kind man who is in the mafia." She pauses, "The fuckin’ mafia."

"What all did he say? If you don't mind?" 

"Not to freak out, that you're part of it because of your family. He was vague. On purpose, I know my son. He's protecting you. He begged me not to say anything but he didn't want to keep it from me." She gave him the cliff notes version of events, "I need to hear it from you. I'm not going to say a word of it outside of this conversation. That's none of my business."

"He's not wrong, on many accounts. I am the heir to one of The Five. The greatest Mafia group of families in all of Italy. Perhaps even in the States. It's not something I chose. Every relative of mine is in the life," Brock says quietly. "However. I do have the option of walking away. I don't have to take the proverbial throne. And it is something Frankie and I have been discussing."

"What does that mean for Frank? Do I have to worry about his safety?" She asks. 

"If I stay and take over in my father's footsteps, Frank will be by my side as my partner. Much like my mother is to my father. He runs the business aspect and she runs the family aspect. Together they keep the peace. We are not at war. There are no disputes, no distention. We take care of the people, much like landowners. We would have bodyguards and safeguards in place for our– and your– protection. The chances of his safety being threatened are minimal. If I step down, my sister will take my place. And things will remain as they are, with some adjustments. If the other Heads of The Five so demand, they could strip me of everything. I'd give it all up for Frankie. But it would mean losing access to my family."

"Frank is okay with this from what he's told you?" She asks with her voice trying to mask the nerves she was feeling about the whole thing. 

"He's told me that he'd follow me into the depths of hell. Now I don't plan on going there. And I don't want to take him either. But he's as comfortable as he can be. We haven't exactly discussed this in depth and what it fully means. It's a big decision we both have to make and honestly, I don't think we want to make it. We both agreed to talk about this after we visited my parents. We know for certain we want their blessing and to get wed. After that, we don't know." Brock sits up in the bed carefully and slowly so as to not wake Frankie. This was a serious conversation and he didn't want to stay too comfortable. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep on her. His livelihood depends on her cooperation.

"What if they say no?" 

"I don't know," he whispers softly. "I'm confident they will say yes. I pray I never have to make the choice between the love of my life and my family. My home. I know that no matter what, it's not something I can win. But I won't ever put Frankie in danger."

"We both know he won't leave you without a fight." Linda sighs, "How… how dangerous _are_ you?"

"Are you referring to me specifically or my family ties? If you are worried about Frankie being targeted, I assure you, you are the second person outside the family that knows."

"You specifically. I know or assume that you haven't always been posh. You've had to get your hands dirty." Linda replies with a smile, "I know that you'll do everything in your powers to keep him safe."

Frank sits up and rubs his eyes. He looks around the room for Brock. 

"There is a reason why Frankie calls me the Princess," Brock chuckles softly, a hand reaching out next to him and resting on Frankie, reassuring him. "But let's just say that I learned how to run the business from every aspect, from the bottom to the top, all first hand. If James were to find out, or you turn me in, I would not find myself in prison but with a chair and needle."

"Jesus Brock." She sighs, "Obviously, I am not going to say anything. So. What are you wanting from me if anything?" 

Frank scoots closer to Brock and kisses his shoulder. 'Mom?' he mouths. 

Brock nods, giving him a small smile. His free arm wraps around Frank and pulls him close. Frank gives him a questioning look. Does he need to worry? 

"Your silence, most importantly. I would also like your assistance with keeping James out of my family history. Nothing too crazy, I've been perfecting the art of evasive lying. I don't want to lie to my extended family. But doing so will also keep you guys safe."

"I will make sure that any interest in your family is squashed. You don't have to worry about that. I'll just mention Carolyn and no one will want anything to do with it." Linda says. "I didn't expect my son in law to be handsome and dangerous."

Frank wraps his arms around Brock. He kisses his love's chest. He wonders what his mom said. What Brock has said in reply. He's still sleepy. He snuggles into him and sighs. 

"I still have your blessing then?" Brock asks, surprised. "I don't understand why." 

"You still have my blessing." She laughs, "I respect that you have answered my questions honestly. I also know that my son is in love with you and I understand why. Should I _not_ approve?"

"You have my word, that I will never lie to you. I have to keep some appearances. The military did pay me handsomely but my fortune did not come from that. My father is a wealthy businessman. Not exactly a far cry from the truth. I promise to take care of you, my family, within reason. And no matter what happens, I'll tell you the truth. And Frankie. But," Brock pauses. "I know it's not the life you wanted for your son. And it's not something you exactly, uh, endorse. No, I did not expect you to continue to support me as Frank's choice."

"Frank has continually surprised me. His entire life. If I had my way, he'd be in school to become a doctor. But he had faith in his band. He told me that he trusts you with his life and that he has never felt like the way he feels because he's in love with you, I trust him. But. Don't make me beat your ass if you hurt my son. You won't have to worry about prison when I bury your big ass in my backyard." 

"Linda, if I ever do something that warrants that threat, I will help you dig the hole," Brock says, absolutely serious. "I can't see Frankie ever being a doctor. He'd kill everyone instead of save people." 

"Hey!" Frank says indignantly as he looks up and pouts.

"He would be a good psychologist over a medical doctor any day." Linda laughs. 

"He does make an excellent Emotional Support Boyfriend," Brock grins. He shoots a wink to Frankie.

"Speaking of, how are you feeling?" Linda asks with the gentle mom's voice again.

"Damn right I'm a good ESB." Frank mumbles to himself.

"Work in progress. Today was a better day though. First in a long time. Even with a little bit of a hiccup. Went to the mall today. Did lunch. And we have a couple's massage in a bit. Not sure how much that will cost later but for now, today was good." He smiles. Today was very good. And he's actually happy about tomorrow.

"Good! It's one day at a time, sweetheart. I am proud of you for getting up and getting out of the house when it was probably really hard. You deserve to be happy and carefree." 

"You can thank your son for that. Frankie and Sunshine do wonders, even if it's just for a moment. Thank you. Speaking of your boy, he's here. Wanna say hi?" He offers the phone to Frank and moves to get dressed.

"Oh I suppose I should. He might get hurt feelings if I pretend you're my son." She chuckles, "Hi baby! How are you feeling today? Did you take your medicine?"

"Hi Mom. So this is a happy phone call?"

"Yes. Did you take your medicine for your stomach?" She asked again 

"No." He is probably going to get a look at least.

"Frank. I'll call you later about this. Your poor husband will probably say the same shit I plan on saying to you. You're gonna make yourself sick if you don't take it." Linda says with a no-nonsense voice. 

"Are you working?"

"Six to six." 

"Did he eat that cake yet?" She asks. 

"Nope he hasn't. Not yet." 

Brock's not sure what he should wear to get a massage. Loose clothing? Tight? Does he take his shirt off? He decides to slip on sweatpants and a tee. Easy on and easy off. Now dressed, he rejoins Frankie on the bed and sits.

"Hi baby." Frank says softly. 

"Tell that man he needs to enjoy that cake and you need to take better care of yourself, young man." Linda says with a sigh.

"I will momma." 

"Let me talk to him." Linda says softly, "I love you Frankie. Be safe. Take care of that man of yours. And take care of your damn self, child."

"Love you Mom. Here he is." Frank sighs and smiles as he hands the phone over to Brock.

"You should get dressed, love," Brock says softly, before putting his phone to his ear. "Hey." 

"Hi sugar. Make that boy get dressed." She chuckles, "But take care of yourself. Be nice to yourself. I just wanted to say have a good night and thank you, love for being patient while I processed everything."

"Patient is an understatement," he snorts a laugh. "It was more like silent panic, sleep and pray. It wasn't something I could really control so I pretty much purposely forgot about it just so I wouldn't have an anxiety attack." 

"Smart I suppose. Well, I'm sure you boys have things to do. Tell Frank I'll call him on a break. Love you Brock." Linda says warmly. 

"Will do. Love you, too Linda," Brock grins. He hangs up.

Frank pulls black sweats and a black tank top on. He pushes his hair back and turns to face Brock as he hangs up his phone. He grins at him as he stretches revealing a sliver of skin across his hips. He doesn't adjust his pants back up instead he leaves it. He misses the days when his birds were covered in marks. He shakes his head and shrugs off the ideas in his head. 

"She said she'll call you on break. Are you ready to go?" Brock asks, sliding off the bed and going over to him. He yawns as he wraps one arm around Frankie and kisses his temple. He feels more sleepy tired now than before his nap. 

"I'm ready when you are." Frank replies before kissing him back, "Maybe when we get back I can try to feed you something small." 

"But I'm not into cannibalism," he replies with an innocent tone and a little smile.

"Oh you're _very very_ cute." Frank pretends to glare at him. He leans up and kisses him on the lips, "You think you're clever, don't you?" He likes it when the playful side comes out in Brock. Even if it's just for a second. 

"I know I am," he grins, returning the kiss and taking Frankie's hand to head to the door. "Should we bring something? Like water or a book?" 

"No. They will have water for us. Why would we need a book?" Frank smirks, "Your face is gonna be buried in a table." 

"Oh. Yeah, okay. That… doesn't sound very comfortable."

"It's got a hole for your face, silly. They aren't going to smother you. That's my job." Frank replies as he squeezes Brock's hand.

Nodding, Brock gives him another smile before he grabs his keys and leaves the apartment. He's not really sure how this works, never having had a massage before. At least, not in America. And certainly not in a professional setting. He's not really sure if the mini one that Sunshine gave him in St. Louis counts or not. Sunshine and Frankie have magic hands that turn him into a puddle of mush every time they rub him down so he's fairly certain a professional one might be downright orgasmic. He wonders if a client has ever actually done that before. He bets they fall asleep though. He might himself with the way he was still yawning. Interrupted sleep always sucked and made you more tired than before. Maybe Frankie should drive. 

When they get to the car, Brock turns and offers the keys. He's just not sure he's awake and alert enough to be safe. He's yawned like six times in the last five minutes just walking to the car. "Do you want to drive?" 

"I can. Are you sure?" Frank asks softly. He's never asked him, "I know she's your baby." Nerves begin to swirl in his chest. Brock loves this car more than he loves him. He can do this, it's not far. 

"I'm too sleepy to drive and be safe if I can't stop yawning. Your mom's phone call was important and all but it ruined my nap. Right now you are the more stable one. Unless you want to walk? I don't know where it is so," Brock trails off, still offering the keys.

"I can drive. I don't think you'll want to walk after your massage." Frank takes the keys and gives him a playful smile, "I'm going to mess your seat position and mirrors all up because I'm smaller… just a heads up."

"I know," Brock replies and slides into the passenger seat, immediately adjusting the seat for himself.

Frank sits down and sighs a little before he adjusts the seat and mirrors. He turns the car on and heads for the spa. He's more cautious than he would be in his own car. "I have a question. I wanted to get a better vehicle and _maybe bring it here,_ is this possible?" His voice weakens by the end of the sentence. He follows along the park and feels weird. He's not the kinda kid who drives a car like this. He's a Honda Civic with a donut tire and a cracked windshield kid. 

"A better vehicle?" He gives him a rather insulted look. He likes his car. Sure it was not the latest model and he would be hard-pressed to find replacement parts should it ever crash, but maybe Frankie has a point. Maybe it is time to upgrade. He pats the dashboard, sadly saying, "I guess I could get a custom built car. This one is kind of old." 

"What? No, not Bet– Beauty. Black Beauty. I meant my shitty little car. Your car is perfect." Frank looks over at him for a moment, "Why would I ever ask you to get a new car, dork?" 

"Because I forgot you had one in storage," Brock laughs softly. "What do you drive anyway?" 

"Uh… it's an 81 Toyota _truck_. It's a safety hazard… probably. But she's lasted through a lot." Frank shrugs trying not to show that he's a little embarrassed by his vehicle, "Had a tree fall on her. Accidentally flipped her...been through a lot with her." 

"Oh my god. Wow. Okay. So what kind of _better_ car are you wanting to get?" 

"One that drives and isn't overpriced?" Frank shrugs as he slows in front of the hotel, "I don't know cars. They are all the same if you think about it. It's just how you dress them up… right? I don't need anything fancy. Probably something used."

"Used?!" Brock sputters the word. He can see Frank not wanting too fancy. His _gattino_. But wanting something someone already used was just… gross. "Why would you want something that's been used? That's disgusting. No."

"Why is that disgusting?" Frank snickers, "My truck is obviously used. I don't mind used. It's affordable. Do you want me to park her in their garage or valet her?" 

"Other. People's. Gross." Brock shakes his head. He can't understand it. You never knew what sort of person had been living and driving the car before it made it to the sales floor. And yeah, used cars were cheaper but _for a reason_. Not to mention accidents. With used you never knew about the vehicle's history. Not all drivers reported car accidents. What if the last owner was an ax murderer? No amount of detailing and carpet cleaning would erase that. 

"Maybe that's what we could do tomorrow? Pull Rita out if storage and go trade her in for a newer _used_ car." Frank suggests.

"Before the BBQ or after? I'm not letting you get a crappy used car. You can afford to go new. It'll last longer, it won't break down, it won't have years of smoke and sex and skin cells from other people, or blood, or weird food. There are some things you cannot erase with carpet cleaning and a vacuum. Not to mention vehicle history isn't always accurate. No, get a nice new one."

"Weird food?" Frank chuckles as he parks the car in the garage. "Yeah maybe we can grab Ray and go trade her in. Ray's been harping on me to get rid of her for a while."

"Another reason I love Sunshine. He agrees with me," he laughs. "Maybe the other guys can join us, if they are available. I can't spend all my free time with just my two favorites. The others might get jealous," Brock teases as he gets out of his car.

"Yeah! I'll need a voice of reason and someone to not encourage me to buy a Ferrari." Frank teases back, "The boys would like to hang out for sure." He takes Brock's hand and leads him inside. He checks them in and follows the blonde receptionist to their spa suite. She explains how everything works, where the robe and slippers which would be theirs if they so choose. She disappears and brings back a tray of fruit and veggies with two champagne glasses and a bottle of it. "Elisa and Tomas will retrieve you when they are ready." She says with a soft and soothing voice.

Frank looks to Brock, "$10 that Elisa is my therapist." 

"Why would you think that? What if Tomas is a girl?" Brock smirks. He sips the champagne and snags a strawberry.

"They asked what kinda massage we wanted. You're getting something deeper tissue than me. And aromatherapy. I bet they are giving you the one with muscles." Frank smiles up at him, "Which leads me to believe it will be Tomas."

"I do like it deep," Brock smirks, eating another strawberry. 

Frank grins as he pulls his shirt off, "You should probably get undressed. They can’t rub you down in your clothes." 

"Now you are wanting me naked? I feel like this 'massage' is something extra," Brock says, doing the air quotes with a wide grin. He takes off his shirt before pausing at his pants. "Is it just the back or the whole body? Good thing I'm wearing underwear today."

"Whole body but they skip over the royal assets." 

Brock feels a sense of relief at that. He really didn't want anyone to touch him in those areas right now. Not like that, anyway. He still struggles with sex as it is and he's certain that this would not help his issues. He slips off the sweatpants and puts on the robe, for modesty's sake and because it looked soft. It's both warm and soft and he immediately wants to buy one. Maybe he can stop flashing the boys on the bus. Or maybe _they_ can get nice fluffy robes so _he_ can stop getting flashed.

"I want this robe and like ten more," he comments to Frankie.

"Well, you should probably tell your husband thank you." He says as he pulls open the drawers in the bathroom. Just being snoopy, "They offered to sell the robes to us and I said yes cause I knew you would love the soft material." He steps out of the bathroom and can't help but smile at the look on Brock's face. 

He gets to keep it? He can't help the grin of soft joy and he pulls Frankie into a hug, "Thank you. I love it." 

"You look good in it, too." He hugs him tight. 

A light tap on the door was the start of the most relaxing two and a half hours. 

Brock was a puddle by the time the appointment was over. Frank drove them back home. The evening was spent cuddling and watching movies. Frank nearly fell out of bed when Brock came back with cake in hand. He texts his mother Brock's review when he falls asleep. His husband rests his head on Frank's stomach with arms holding him tight. He strokes his love's hair. He does his usual night routine, talking to his mom. Internet searches and pacing the house to burn the extra energy. He thinks he's found a ring for Brock. It's timeless and pretty but he's got no idea what he's doing. He lays with Brock around 2am and lets himself fall asleep.

He wakes to the sound of a text on Brock's phone. Then another one and one more. He assumes it's the gym boyfriend making sure Brock isn't dead. He lies awake before attempting to leave the bed. His movements are slow and careful to not wake Brock. Or his grabby long arms. It's seven in the morning, he doesn't need to be up this early but he should shower. He scoots down and bumps his butt into Brock's legs. "Shit." He says softer than a whisper. 

When he doesn't wake Frank makes his way into the bathroom. Maybe he'll take up running. It's a good hobby. Right? Maybe it will help relieve the pent up _energy_. He could give it a try. Just around the block. He peers out of the bathroom and checks that Brock is still sleeping. He pulls on shorts and a ratty shirt and sneakers. Maybe it will get him back in shape. He's gotten soft. He slips out of the apartment and to the street. Deciding the park is the place to try this, he begins there. 

Afterward, he heads home semi-regretting it but going to do it again. He showers and changes then he decides on breakfast. Eggs and coffee. Since he's only feeding himself, he doesn't have to worry about extra things. Since _they_ broke Brock, it's felt more like he's living alone or the ghost in someone's home. It's not Brock's fault. It's no ones really. Though, yesterday was great. Brock was up and cheerful. It felt almost normal. He misses the off-key opera singing waking him up. Or just him absentmindedly humming while he did things in the house. _Stop dwelling, Iero._ He checks his messages and smiles at Gerard and Ray being in for car shopping. He sets a time for eleven to meet at the apartment. It gives Brock at least another two hours of sleep. 

He pulls Sam's contact up and hovers over the call button. Maybe a text is better. _Shouldn't bother him, he's got a real job,_ he thinks. He shuts the screen off and decides against it. Instead, he car shops before waking Brock by opening the curtains and pulling the blankets off him. 

"Brock. Rise and shine. We gotta date. You need to shower so you don't look like a greasy European." Frank says with a voice that toes the line of gentle and hard as he pats his butt. He crawls over his hips and sits beside him.

With a groan, Brock shifts and rolls over, blinking blearily at Frankie. "Huzzah?" 

"Good morning to you too." Frank laughs. He cups Brock's cheek and strokes it.

"Morn'," Brock yawns.

"You slept pretty hard. How do you feel?" Frank asks with a small smile.

"Like I slept hard. But good. You?" 

"I slept fine. You should get up and I'll make you coffee and toast." Frank kisses him.

Yawning, Brock nods before shifting and sliding out of the bed. "With extra butter?" 

"Always, my love." Frank pops his bottom before it's out of reach, “It's gonna be a good day baby." 

Brock grins back at him before heading to the bathroom. He feels gross and is in desperate need of a good shower. His head itches so he's gonna need to wash it once it or twice. Frank was right about the massage. It was wonderful. Maybe it was his imagination but he didn't feel as sore. It was probably just a residual effect from the massage. Either way, a hot shower was due.

Frank makes his coffee the way he likes it and sets the bread in the toaster. He pulls the eggs out just in case Brock has an appetite. The adorable confused look was one of his favorite parts of waking Brock up. Ray had texted saying they were going to be leaving his house in about a half-hour. Frank saunters to the bathroom door, "Babe, Ray and Gee are coming over. They wanna go look at cars with us, is that okay?"

"Any time I get to see Sunshine is happytime. And Gerard, too. I suppose." He really needed a nickname for him. And Bob. He knew the guys called Gerard, Gee but it felt kind of weird.

"A den mother shouldn't pick a favorite kitten…" Frank teases, he likes that Brock loves Ray. It's nice to spend more time with him.

"Well you're my favorite of them all but maybe I shouldn't be so favoriting? I mean. I don't feel the same way I do with Milky Way or Bob as I do with Sunshine. See? Bob doesn't even _have_ a nickname. Neither does Gerard. I'm a bad band manager. Ray is special. And I know why but…"

"Babe." Frank says with a grin.

"I'm not calling him 'babe'. I mean if he were to suddenly switch teams, and if we were into sharing like that– With Sunshine, not Gerard. Or Bob. Maybe Bobby?" Brock cuts the water off and steps out.

"Sugar." Frank says as he hands over a towel.

"That describes Sunshine again. Not Bob or Gerard. You're terrible at helping," he says under the towel.

"Brock Enzo Rumlow." Frank's tone is comically flattened. He's on a tangent, intentionally or not. It's cute to see him spiral in a safe way.

"What?" Brock snaps lightly, his tone only slightly irritated at being interrupted.

"Oh, you can keep that salt and vinegar to yourself, sir." Frank says shifting his weight to one hip, crossing his arms, and raising an eyebrow, "I was messing with you. I've known that Ray would be your favorite the moment I met you." 

Brock stares at him, confused and a little lost. What did he mean that Frankie knew Ray would be his favorite? Sunshine was nothing like what he found attractive normally, but he _was_ falling all over his personality and kindness. Did Frankie think he was being replaced? Jack already teases him about the dream.

"I'm going to make you toast. Do you want eggs?" Frank asks with a sigh.

"Oh. Uh, okay. Sorry," he grimaces, rather embarrassed he was on a tangent and Frankie just wanted to know about eggs.

"Why are you sorry?" His head tilts slightly. 

"Cause I wouldn't shut up and you just wanted to ask about eggs," he huffs a little laugh and continues to dry off.

"Oh relax you big silly man. Nothing to be sorry for. You're cute when you derail a little." Frank softens his face before stepping forward and kissing him as he's bent forward slightly, "How do you want your eggs?" 

"Let's do scrambled since we don't have a lot of time. Only two though. I'm not that hungry."

"I can do that. I didn't figure you would be. But you need more than coffee and carbs is what someone always tells me. Your coffee is ready too." Frank boops his nose. He could be a good little housewife. Househusband? Is that a thing? Sure, why not. 

"Okay. Thank you baby," he says, kissing Frankie.

Frank heads to the kitchen and begins making eggs. As soon as the bread pops up there's a knock on the door. 

Brock puts on jean shorts and a tank before wrestling with his gun holster. Yesterday he didn't wear it and he felt exposed and vulnerable at the bookstore. He didn't want to take that chance again. Hearing the door, he decides he'll fix it after breakfast.

"Are you decent?" Frank asks as he pulls the hot bread from the toaster, "Can you let them in?" He knows the second he steps away is the eggs will burn.

"Not morally but I've got clothes on if that's what you mean," Brock says, placing his gun and holster on the kitchen island before going to the door. 

"Just what every kitchen needs, a desert eagle and it's holster." Frank talks to himself like he's a cooking show host, "If you can't get one that's organically sourced, store bought is fine."

"You mean you can't catch it out in the wild?" Brock laughs opening the door with a grin.

"Only if you wanna get disfigured. Again, store bought will suffice..." Frank snorts. "I'm very glad I am marrying someone with a sense of humor." 

Frank folds the eggs and leans slightly over the stovetop to peer at the door. 

"What are we catching in the wild?" Ray asks with a huge smile. He opens his arms and hugs Brock, "How's it going, B?" 

Gerard gives a small wave and steps around the two so he's not in the hallway. "Hey Brock! Hi Frank!" 

"Hey Gee!" Frank says, surprisingly happy to see his face. He plates Brock's eggs and puts them on the island, "Food. Eat. Please." 

Gee moves in to hug Frank and to quietly ask, "How's he doing?"

"Touch and go. But today's a good day." Frank says, confident only on the outside. He is terrified it won't be and it will make Brock drop again.

He lets Sunshine go and moves to sit at the island. After a sip of coffee, he starts on his toast. The extra butter has seeped into the bread and made it ooey gooey just to perfection. He's been wanting bread recently and he's not sure why.

"So you're finally getting rid of the piece of junk, huh?" Ray asks as he sits next to Brock. 

"That hunk of junk is a classic motor vehicle." Frank replies defensively.

"Yeah but she's… kind of a death trap." Gee contributes quietly. 

"She's not that bad." 

"Your windshield looks like a spider web." Ray raises his eyebrows.

"How are we doing this? Are we picking her up from storage and split into teams? Or…" Gerard asks as he smiles at Brock, who is happily eating his eggs.

"Thoughts babe?" Frank says to Brock.

"Where are you taking the death trap?" he asks around a mouthful of egg.

"So this one here doesn't want me to get a used car… I was just going to go to the first nice looking dealership and see what they have." Frank tries not to smile halfway through his sentence. 

"I mean, new is a nice thing. But there are good used cars." Gee nods looking at Frank. 

"Should take her to a metal scrap yard." Ray mumbles.

"I agree! See." 

"No." Brock's tone has a bit of finality to it as he sips on his coffee. He agrees with Sunshine. Anything that has spiderweb cracks in a windshield and was labeled as a death trap needed to be scrapped.

"Honestly, used is fine but you can afford new." Ray nods at Frankie. 

"Where do you suggest we look then, guys?" Frank pouts a little. 

"He can afford custom made and factory direct," Brock says into his cup.

Frank sighs. He's already lost this round and it hasn't started and he knows this just by Brock's tone. "I just want a nicer car or smaller SUV." An SUV for reasons but he keeps those ideas on a leash.

"I think we all know Frank isn't the custom kind… we're lucky if we can get him to wear shirts that aren't brand new." Ray snickers. 

"What don't you want?" Gerard asks.

"A sports car. Maybe something from this decade." Frank shrugs, "Nothing red.'

"Better question is, what won't _you_ ride in?" Frank points to Brock.

"That is a good question." Ray says with a tilt to his head.

"Nothing used. Something no more than 2 years old. Great mileage. Has to have all the safety features. Nothing too small in size, we have tall people to worry about. And not in an atrocious color."

"Well shit. There goes my idea for a lime green Volkswagen beetle from 1975. The one with over three hundred thousand miles on it." Frank sighs overdramatically then grins.

Gerard snorts. 

"Are we ready?" Ray asks seeing Brocks plate and coffee are done.

"Yeah," Brock says, getting up and putting his plate in the sink. He'll wash it later. He grabs his gun again and tries to figure it out but the holster wasn't cut for his chosen shorts. He sighs. He's either going to have to go without the holster or wear jeans. "I'll be right back…." 

"How much do you want to spend?" Ray asks after Brock disappears.

"I got my first real check from the label. I can buy something nice and outright. I also paid my student loan off." Frank shrugs, "I just don't need anything fancy. Or custom."

"What about a land Rover or something?" 

"I was thinking like a Jeep. Those bigger ones." Frank shrugs, "I know he's gonna influence my choices with reason and logic." 

"Sounds awful to have someone who doesn't want you to get ripped off." Ray rolls his eyes. "You poor thing."

"Are you getting dressed up nice for me Brock?" Ray says jokingly as Brock returns wearing jeans and his boots.

"Yes. You get the tank top and Frankie gets the jeans. And all of you get my weapons," Brock grins. "Now I'm ready."

 _Boot knife. Gun. Another knife and maybe a smaller gun._ Frank thinks with a smirk. He does appreciate those jeans that fit his butt just fuckin right. 

"We need to head to Jersey City. I haven't seen my lil truck in months." Frank says with a small smile of fondness. 

"Means you have been safe for all these months." Ray retorts. 

"Wouldn't be surprised if she's disintegrated 'cause of time." Gee chuckles as he follows Ray to the door.

"Are you guys going to fit in my car? Or did you guys drive?" Brock asks.

"I drove." Gerard said with nervousness in his voice, "Well, Lindsey's car. Mine barely fits me." 

"Will the five of us fit?"

"Yeah with room too." Gerard grins.

"Then I guess you're driving," Brock grins. Maybe he'll get lucky and be happily squished between his boys in the backseat.

Frank follows behind Ray and Brock who were chatting. Gerard had decided to go ahead of everyone and call the elevator since there seemed to be a delay in forward movement. Ray was explaining how Gee was obsessed with the new VW Bugs and that he didn't want to ride in his car. He listens quietly as they talk. It surprises him how much Brock and Ray have taken a liking for one another. The fact that Ray, who was the most private one out of the band and had been coming over and hanging out then inviting them to his house was impressive. Frank's hardly been invited to his house. A wave of sadness hits him at the idea that he missed out because of who he was with. Or maybe it was just him. Maybe he was the unlikable one. He frowns as he follows them into the elevator. He pulls his phone out and scrolls the contacts again. He should. No, he shouldn't. Put it away. _Stop being a wimp and get out of your head cause someone is probably talking to you._ Hearing the elevator ding, Frank blinks and looks up as he tucks his phone away. 

"Sunshine asked who was sitting up front," Brock repeated to Frank.

"I can," He looks up to Brock and gives a smile, "if that's fine with the driver." 

"Fine by me. You are the reason for the trip, so it makes sense." Gee says, pulling the keys from his pocket. 

"Plus you have to give him directions," Brock adds, trying not to grin at getting the backseat. He fails anyway. "I get to be chauffeured." 

"True." Frank says with a nod. He keeps pace with Gerard as they exit the building and head for the black Audi waiting across the road. He sits in the passenger seat and buckles in.

"Head for the Holland tunnel." Frank says softly. Is he a little jealous? Is that what he's feeling? Nah. Can't be. 

"Buckle up, kiddos." Gee says as he turns the radio on to a classic rock station.

"Oh god no," Brock winces, overdramatically. "Sunshine, hide me from the music. Make it stop. Please." 

"I can turn it back to the Ramones. I don't mind watching you suffer." Gerard jokes.

"It could always be worse Brock." Ray shrugs with a sly grin, "Could be actual metal. Plus isn't this stuff from your childhood? We can play some like 50s duwop music to bring you some inner peace?"

"Ouch. I think that's worse than this. I'm not _that_ old you know," Brock crosses his arms and pouts in the seat.

"Be nice. He's sensitive." Frank says casually, "We all know he prefers country music anyway. Don't insult the man."

Gerard laughs. 

Ray stays quiet but has a wide smile on his lips.

"Country?! Oh, hell no. Don't make me shove my boot up your ass, _tesoro_. You'll be walking with a bow step and it won't be from riding horseback. Make you sing with a country twang down in Austin."

Frank glances at Gerard who gives him a nod. Frank presses the search button, "What was that? You wanna hear some boot scooting boogie? Well I aim to please, lover." He waits for it to land on the first country music he hears. It was a song about beer drinking horses. Frank glances back at Brock, "This'll do right?" 

His hands fly up to cover his ears. He's laughing a little because as annoying as this is, it was also rather fun. Still, covering his ears wasn't enough to stop the horrible sounds and he tries to turn into the fabric of the cushion to help block the noise. "Make it stop! Make it stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" A quick decision has him leaning forward and smacking Frankie on his shoulder, cursing at him in Italian.

"Wait… were you asking to listen to what was that… our first album?" Frank grins and leans forward and pulls the CD from the glove box. 

".....Fine! I don't care! Just not this," Brock cries out with a laugh.

Frank puts the CD back and turns the radio to classic rock. "Don't make me find Britney Spears." 

"Now that's not nice. You'll torture all of us." Ray chuckles. He turns to Brock, "He thinks he's so cute."

"He normally _is_. This is not cute, it's torture. You win, play whatever. Just maybe not so loud?" He slowly lowers his hands from his ears and tries to catch his breath in such a way that nobody notices. He's discovered that "too much fun" and laughter actually drained him faster. Like it took more energy to be happy for a moment. He knows that's just a lie his depression is telling him but he can't argue with needing a bit of calm after the over-excitement. He had a limited supply of energy each day right now and he needed to learn to ration until he got through this.

Frank turns the radio down. He sits back in the seat. He listens to the music and stares out the window. "Take a right." 

"You cool dude?" Ray asks softly.

He glances next to him and gives him a weak smile, leaning his head back on the headrest, before going back to taking slow and steady breaths. He may be a meatball but he's not fat, and yet he's having trouble catching his breath like he's four times his weight and trying to run a marathon.

"Take a left up here." Frank says without looking over. Unaware of Brock's problem, "I can just drive behind you guys. That away no one has to move." 

"Darn, I was gonna volunteer to ride with you." Gerard grins. 

"You mean someone has to get _into_ the death trap? Oh shit." He didn't think about that. He doesn't know why. It would make sense to drive it out of the storage unit and into a _trash pile_ , also known as a scrapper. He doesn't want any of his boys in some death truck.

"Ha. Ha." Frank sighs out. 

"Oh you can give but can't take, Iero." Ray pokes his arm as they roll up to the storage units. 

"It's at the end of the row. My enter code is 103181." Frank says as he fishes out the keys to his truck and his padlock. 

Gerard enters the code and the gates open. He cruises through the complex and stops in front of the metal door. Frank unbuckles and gets out quickly. 

Brock follows suit, curious to see just how bad this truck is. He's certain it's going to look like it lost a fight with a semi just from the description the others gave. Frank seems pretty protective over this thing and he kind of understands why. First cars were special. Especially since he knows his boy worked hard for the money to buy it and loved it hard. Which meant his baby saying goodbye was going to be hard too. He wraps his arms around Frankie before he gets a chance to unlock the padlock, giving him a kiss and a hug of support. "You ready for this?" 

"Yeah. I suppose." He lets out a sigh, "Are you ready to see her?" He wasn't expecting Brock to get out of the car. The hug helped to center him again. He unlocks the padlock and pushes the heavy metal door up. The light revealing the cream and brown colored truck. The fogged-over headlights and small patches of rust only highlight the sad state the vehicle was in. The tires seemed to be a little lower than they should be, not to mention the non-existent tread on them. The roof was slightly u-shaped and the window was spider-webbed from passenger to driver side. A pair of handcuffs hung from the rearview mirror glimmered in the light.

"This is Rita the Mosquito." Frank says without looking at Brock's face. He puts the key in and hip checks the driver's door and pulls it open with a horrendous squeak. 

"I've got a grenade launcher. We can tow it out to a field…" It does _not_ look safe. It doesn't even look like it's going to run much less be okay to drive down the street. He hates it. What if it dies in the middle of the road and Frankie gets into an accident? It even looks like it might have been used as target practice at one point. "Why are there handcuffs?" 

"You don't listen to him, old girl. He's just saying mean things." Frank smirks and rubs the steering wheel, "Do you wanna know why I have handcuffs?" 

"Kinky sex?"

"Not so much."

"That's all you're gonna say? C'mon, tell me. Lady named Rita gave them to you?" Brock walks the truck, checking out each grossly dilapidated inch. He wants to burn it, only because of the way it looks.

"Wrong again. Kinda one of those crazy youth stories." Frank smirks. "Short story, I got arrested and my friend acted like a crazier asshole, so I kinda ran in cuffs to said friend's house and hid until…."

"What?!" Brock screeches. Frankie was a wanted man? Running from the police was a crime. Crime brought police to his doorstep. Cops meant he could be targeted. He was fine with a crime, that was kind of the point of being a Mafia Prince. But you had to not get caught and Frankie _was_. Which… how the hell was he _not_ in jail? He frowns. "James?" 

"No. We got caught being drunk at 16. Officer Rita Mostovick was my arresting officer. My friend Kev and I thought we were smooth. Ran from the cops. Slept off our drunkenness only to have Officer Rita come to the house and take us in." Frank pauses and scans Brock's face, "It was my first and only time with the law in that capacity. They didn't press charges on the deal that I did a fuck ton of community service and take classes as well as formally apologize to the police woman."

"Hate to say it, but I'm glad you got caught. A warrant out for your arrest would have been disastrous. Though, now that I heard the whole story, I realize that I jumped the gun and overreacted. But that doesn't explain the handcuffs, just how the truck got its name."

"Those were Officer Rita's cuffs. Kev had handcuff keys and sprung me. I kept them as a reminder, 'don't be stupid, _stupid'_ and fuck the police." 

"Don't fuck the police. Unless it's me dressed up in a cop uniform," he grins.

"So, that's gonna happen… you put it in my head." Frank grins wide then raises an eyebrow, "Wanna go for a ride?" 

"I'm happy to do a little roleplay. But I'm torn between the safety of Gerard's nice car and this terrifying beast. I still want to blow it up. She'd make a very nice _boom_. Like those fireworks but with more fire." He hesitates. He doesn't really want Frankie driving alone or driving this thing at all but he's going to regret it if he doesn't go with him. With a heavy sigh and whispered prayer, he crosses himself before getting into the passenger side. "We're going to die but at least I'm with you."

"She is not going to kill us," Frank chuckles, "Though she does make a lot of noise… maybe we should blow her up." 

"I agree with this plan. Let's go before I have a heart attack." 

Frank gets in and starts the truck. 

Brock sticks his head out of the truck and hollers to the other car, "Sunshine! If we die, everything I own goes to you!"

"You're ridiculous." 

"I'm hilarious," he says as he sticks his head back inside. "Besides, that would mean Baby Floof, who is now my official grandchild if we die, can go to college with the selling of my car. You should give Gerard your records so he and Lindsey can have kids too."

"I'll leave him my truck so they can go to Dairy Queen and get a small ice cream cone." Frank smirks.

"So Lindsey gets the records then?"

"She'll take care of them." He puts the truck in gear. The truck makes a whine as he follows Gerard out. He parks the truck and locks his unit up then exits the complex.

"Who gets your guitars? Sunshine I assume. Unless you want your mom to sell them and have a nice nest egg. She can quit her job."

"Yup." 

"He is the favorite. Should I give your mom the yacht?"

"Yeah. Jack? What are you leaving to him? The apartment?" Frank asks, "Also where am I going? I know that I can't talk you into getting a used car…. So, I need ideas babe."

"Porsche dealership. Or one of those mixed dealerships where it's got a multitude of brands to choose from. I'll also accept Ferrari, Jaguar, Lamborghini, Rolls-Royce, Alfa Romeo, and a Maserati.

"You. Want me to roll up to a dealership of that caliber... in Rita… and not have the cops called on me?"

"Yes."

"You know what I look like right?" 

"Fall in love with your mug every day. Still doesn't change the fact you can afford any one of those car brands."

"Babe." Frank looks over, "I can't…" The truck sputters a little as Frank slows to a stop. He revs the engine and glances back to Brock.

He gives Frank a look of "really" before shaking his head and muttering about how they were going to die. Brock waits to see if the engine will turn over or not before he decides to get out.

"Look, a multi car lot thingy." Frank grins as he passes by two used car lots. "What about Land Rover?" 

"You can get a nice SUV at a Ferrari dealership," Brock turns to him and grins. He's got a death grip on the door handle and another on the seatbelt clasp. And he's more than a little tense at every bump in the road. He's going to need hugs to soothe his nerves after this.

" _Polpetto_ , this little truck has been flipped upside down and she still runs. A pothole is nothing." Frank says, trying to be helpful, "There is a Porsche dealership in the city."

"The way we're going, we're going to need to stop at literally any dealership just so I can puke from all the bouncing and rattling," he says. "Are you planning on _selling_ this? You might get maybe ten dollars." 

"Maybe I'll keep her. She probably just needs new shocks and a car wash." 

"Ever think about restoring her?" He says softly.

Frank blinks. "What?" 

"This is your first vehicle. You seem to be rather attached. Perhaps, instead of buying a new car, you restore this one. Or, if I have my way, you still buy the new and you can keep the truck for hobby restoration days. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to get rid of this because of how bad I want to blow it up. I want you to have a safer vehicle no matter what, but restoration is an option."

"I was thinking of donating her to a charity or pushing her into the east river."

"It would kill the fish and pollute the water. I'd rather blow it up."

"We can blow her up." Frank gives him a smile, "How though?"

"Told you. I have a grenade launcher." 

"No you don't." He can't tell if he's fucking with him, "I'm serious, Brock." 

"So am I. Want me to show you when we get home?"

"What?!" Frank blinks and tries to keep his mouth from falling open. "Where?" 

"I won't tell you. Save that for part of the surprise. But it's not the only toy I have hidden in the apartment," Brock grins.

"What kind of toys do you have?!" Frank asks, shocked.

"I'll show you my arsenal when we get home. And the hidden gun safe."

Frank eases the truck into the Porsche dealership, "I've been living there for this long…" 

"Honestly I'm surprised you are surprised considering who I am and my history," Brock replies while looking out the window. "I want you to find something you like. It doesn't have to be here but I do want you to be happy and actually want the car you choose."

"I mean I know you have guns. Not a grenade launcher." Frank says as he puts the truck in park, "I will look here. If nothing catches my eye then maybe we can get Gee to give us a ride to a different dealership."

"We can tow Rita to the apartment while we shop around. I'd rather not ride in this again, love. No disrespect." As soon as Frank parks the truck, Brock slides out as quickly as possible. He missed the feeling of solid ground under his feet. He walks the two inches to the Audi as Gerard and Ray exit, wanting a hug without actually asking for one. He's thankful they parked side by side so he can tell the boys that they were right; the truck was a death trap. And hopefully, get them on his side to getting Frankie into something nice.

Frank steps to the front of the truck. He watches Ray come around the back of the Audi and meet Brock and Gerard. Frank stands and crosses his arms. 

"You are totally right. Damn thing _is_ a death trap. I thought we were goners when the engine cut out at a stop sign," he tells them both. 

"We told you man! Glad you made it here in one piece." Gerard grins at him. 

"Terrifying huh?" Ray moves closer to Brock, "This is why we need to get him into something safer. Nicer." 

He turns to Frankie with a grin, "See? They agree with me. Totally terrifying. Now let's go get you into a vehicular bubble wrap."

"Does he need a Porsche?" Gerard asks.

"Everybody needs a Porsche," Brock grins before offering his hand to Frankie. "Though, we did agree that we don't have to settle here." 

Frank takes his hand and follows him through the lot. "I know nothing about cars." Frank quietly admits again. 

"Eh, me neither. I just like the add-ons and features. I know basic stuff but that's about it. That's why test driving is so important. As is the negotiating with the seller but frankly, we don't really need to worry about that." Brock gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. He's not a fan of car salesmen in general so he's keeping an eye out in the lot.

"Ok. What about this one?" He stops at a black SUV looking thing. "It's pretty and looks like it's roomy." 

Brock reads over the specifications of the car, finding most of it rather boring. It had some nice features like the navigation system and hands-free calling. Bluetooth. On-star from what it looks like. It was a decent size. Nice color.

Frank lets go of Brock's hand. He wanders around the car and peers inside. He could see himself in this. It's not too big and the price tag isn't bad. He is a fan of black on black. Brock would look good in the car too. His imagination takes him away. Driving up to their house in the middle of upstate New York, living on a plot of land. Gated. With a house for Jack to live in and still be close by. It would look good in their imaginary driveway. He shouldn't go with the first car he finds but this car is _really_ nice. 

"It's pretty. But do you think they have something to… jazz it up?" Ray asks, "I'm sure there is a safety package you can get." 

"Never thought you'd be a Porsche guy." Gerard says with a grin.

"Never thought I'd fall in love with a handsome stranger either but I'm cool with it." 

"You can afford this Frank?" Ray asks, concern all over his face.

"Yeah." Frank replies. _As long as Brock doesn't go crazy._

"He can afford anything in this lot. He just doesn't think he deserves it," Brock comments as he peers inside and mentally forms a list of questions to ask when it comes to the customization part. "Want to test drive it?" 

"Sure." 

"Let's go inside and talk to them then. Watch them squirm when they see a bunch of punks walk up. I love it when they assume you are homeless. Like I did," Brock giggles. 

"Would you like me and Gee to go up and you follow? Just to mess with the salesmen?" Frank offers.

Brock laughs evilly and with a glint of mischievous joy. He loves messing with salesmen. He hates their job and all the things it entailed. He's glad he's rich and never has to feel pressured into making a purchase or spending more than he can afford. He nods at them with a dark grin and a wink at Frankie, "Give 'em hell, kid. Pretend you're homeless and ask how much it costs after every question. Really fuck with them. I love you."

Gerard lights a cigarette up to add to the punk look. "Come Franklin. Let's go look for a new car." He fluffs Frank's hair up and pulls him along. 

"How long are you going to let them mess with the salesmen?" Ray asks with a smile.

"At least five minutes. Really get the sales guys worried before I show up and probably embarrass Frankie. Or at least make him uncomfortable," Brock says as he waves his hand in front of his face at the cigarette smoke trailing behind Gerard. God damn, he hates that.

"How'd you get Frank to quit smoking? He used to be a chimney." Ray leans against the car as he watches the boys disappear inside the building.

"I told him I couldn't stand smoking, drinking in excess or drugs on our first date. Drugs are a deal breaker for me and I can forgive the occasional drinking binge. I told him that while I can't really control him smoking, I did say he was not allowed to smoke in the car or house or near me. He quit that day."

"Linda has been trying for _years_ to get him to stop." Ray smiles, "I'm glad he gave it up. Now just gotta get Gee to quit."

"I don't think the same trick will work on Gerard as it did Frankie," he laughs. "At least we got him off the drugs."

"I wanted to fucking kill him when I found out he was back on them." Ray sighed, "I cried to Lindsey over the phone about it."

"Oh, we have our first nose pinch from a salesman." Ray nods and chuckles.

"Sweet. That didn't take long. I wonder if they'll throw them out or keep being super polite for customer service's sake." Brock glances at the lobby, thoughts still lingering on Ray's words. He can't imagine a sad Sunshine. He doesn't like the feeling that sits in his chest and stomach at the idea. It was just… wrong. 

"But as far as Gerard's problem. You're the best thing that could have happened to him." Ray nods, "Oh. That doesn't look good…"

Inside the dealership, the man in a suit points for the door and points at Frank. Frank's hands go up and he shakes his head. He backs up to the door. 

"Time to go. Come on," Brock pushes off the car and heads inside. "I can't wait to see Frank's face when I play with the add-ons. If he thinks an $89,000 car is expensive _now_ …"

"How crazy are you planning on going? Cause the higher the number… the brighter red he'll be." Ray chuckles as he follows beside Brock.

Frank turns to see Brock's face as he pulls the door open. He grins at Brock and waits for him to enter the building. If he would have been looking it might have hurt his feelings to be called a gross bum. "Hi baby." Frank beams up at him and bats his lashes at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," Brock coos at his boyfriend, wrapping an arm around his waist. "How's things going? It's very hot outside and I got tired of waiting."

"Aside from being told I was wasting their time, I was also told to leave…" he pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Brock.

"Oh you poor thing. Did you tell them you wanted to test drive?" Brock smirks and glances at the sales rep.

"They said only paying customers test drive these kinds of cars." Gerard said with a raised eyebrow.

"When I asked about the bathroom they pretended not to hear me too." Frank pouts.

"Oh sweetest," Brock kisses Frankie again before switching gears. He turns to the sales rep and drops the saccharine tone. "My fianceé here would like to test drive a car he's interested in purchasing. And use the bathroom."

The salesman scrambles to find keys. Sputtering an apology before pointing out the bathroom. Frank hurries back, taking Brock's hand and heading to the car. 

"Did you want to drive?" Frank asks with a small smile, "I know you want to be sure it's safe." 

"It's your car, love. You should go first at least. We can talk about safety after you find the one that fits you."

"Okay. That works for me." Frank grins and takes the keys. 

The drive is smooth and quiet. The seat felt nice. Hell, even the steering wheel felt good under his fingers. He hates to admit it but he kinda loves this car. It's not a bad price. It's nicer than Brock's car… he'd never admit it to him.

"What do you think, _tesoro_?" Brock asks from the very nice backseat. He's been keeping himself occupied by checking over every nook and cranny.

"I like this. It's not a bad price. It's got the _luxury_ and it's got space for my tall men, like you, Jack and Ray." Frank says rolling his eyes at the word luxury. He glances back at Brock. "What do you think from back there?" He wonders if they could fool around back there. Could he be on top back there? He's curious about legroom. Headroom doesn't seem to be a problem. 

"Spacious enough. Cushioned very nicely. Great storage in the trunk from what I've seen. I could lay down back here and easily fall asleep. The sunroof is nice. And… yeah, that's all for my report. Back to you Frank," Brock chuckles.

"Cute. You're very cute, mister." Frank playfully rolls his eyes. "I'm sold if you're sold."

"Are you sure? It's literally the first car you picked on the lot and we could go to another dealership if you wanted something that fits you better."

"I mean we can always walk to the Mercedes lot down the road."

"True. But if you are happy with this then I'm mostly happy with this. It's a beautiful car. You have a good eye, _tesoro_. I might buy it for myself if you don't," he laughs.

"Shall we head back to the lot?" The sales rep asks from the front seat. He'd been listening quietly while they drove for a block and a half, occasionally giving directions.

"Let's head back and have a discussion. I'm happy with this." Frank smiles in the rearview mirror at Brock. He would never be able to afford this car on his own. He could probably do a payment plan. He's got the twelve grand from the label back payment plus the money he'd been saving. He's not rich like Brock but he's comfortable. He feels less awful knowing he can contribute to the car and it's not an outright gift.

As soon as they get out of the car back at the dealership, Brock turns to their sales agent with a smile, "We'll take it but I'd like to go over options."

"Options?" Frank quietly asks. Like leasing or buying?

"Add-ons and extra features. You won't be driving this one off the lot today, but if we can upgrade a few things, it'll be worth it." Brock takes Frankie's hand and follows the sales agent back into the lobby.

"Upgrade." Frank repeats. He loves Brock but his _'too much’_ gene was a little whirlwind for him. 

"Hey how was it?" Ray asks as they approach the agent's desk.

"Good. I love it. It's pretty fantastic." Frank grins at his friends.

"Great! So paperwork and we can head to Ray's." Gerard says rubbing his hands together.

"Not so much. Brock's looking at upgrades." Frank tries not to smile at Brock, "Y'all are stuck being the taxi." 

"What kind of upgrade, B?" Ray asks. 

"I want to look at all of them, but with a focus on safety and security. I might throw in a few luxury stuff like different colored seats. Not sure yet, but every car comes with a little bit of customization."

It sounded like a lot of money. Yeah, he... no, _they_ have it but he's still the working-class kid from Jersey, in his head. "Let's not go too crazy. It's just a car." Frank says softly as he sits down beside Brock in the leather chair.

"You've already made plans haven't you?" Ray asks quietly.

"Brock is always three steps ahead. Of all of us." Gerard adds as a reminder.

"Except when I'm compromised," he replies with a sad smile. A smile that brightens a little when the sales agent hands Brock a clipboard with the features listed. He's not even looking at the prices for the upgrades, just checking boxes that he likes. _21" Tires. Sports seats with 18-way functions. Panoramic sunroof. Heated seats. Heated steering wheel. Heated windshield. Rear-axle steering. Power steering Plus. Dynamic chassis control. Surface coated breaks. Lane change assist, Keep Lane Assist, Night vision assist, all the assists. Upgrade the ABS. Adaptive Cruise Control. 4-way Climate control. Ionizer. Upgrade the LED lights. Add Clear tail lights. Add thermal and noise reduction glass. Change out the floor mats. Add the Cargo management system. Add the Burmester® 3D High-End Surround Sound System. 6 disc CD changer. Rear seat entertainment. Smartphone compartment._

When Brock has checked all the things he likes, he turns over the clipboard back to the agent with a smile. "How long will this take to do? A few days? A few weeks?" 

"Uh, with all the upgrades and add-ons, uh, we're looking about a week. How does that sound?" The sales agent asks looking up from his computer screen.

"Sounds reasonable. Any way we can expedite that though? We fly out this weekend and I'd like to let him drive it at least once before we leave. Take it home."

"There's an added fee to expedite this. But we can do it."

"Perfect. Let's sign the paperwork and pay," Brock smiles at Frankie. 

"Alright. Let's get over to the finance manager's desk and we can start the work. Are we thinking about leasing for 12 months or 36?" The agent asks with a shark-like smile. 

"What's our new total?" Frank asks, almost wincing. He looks at Brock.

"$135,881.35 after your taxes, tag, title, and registration," the agent replies after a few clicks on his keyboard.

"135…" Frank's mouth drops open. That's too much for a car. Let alone for Brock to spend. That's a small house… his cheeks feel hot. He blinks as he fights for words.

"That's excluding the fee to expedite the vehicle's work, of course. But that's pocket change. Shall we move to the finance department?" The agent stands and gathers paperwork.

As Frank rises, Gerard pulls him close, "You can afford that?"

Frank just blinks. He still flabbergasted at the amount.

"We won't be needing the finance department. Please sit. We'll be paying with cash and in full," Brock says with a casual smile. 

Ray stands quietly. Everything Brock's predicted has come true. Just waiting for Frank's protest about it being too much.

"Are you sure?" Frank asks softly into Brock. He wants to say it's a lot of money to spend on him but he bites it back.

Brock nods and has him sit back down to sign the paperwork that would put the car entirely in Frank's name. He did enjoy the sales agent's face when he said he'd be paying with cash. Watching their brains halt and crash and try to comprehend was always amusing. He's not really needed anymore during this part so, with a polite nod, he wanders the lobby a little, stepping out and calling a tow-truck for Rita. He didn't want to ride that thing back home. When the paperwork is finished and Brock hands over his debit card, he can't help but chuckle at what seemed to be Frankie's new permanent expression of utter shock. Even Gerard and Sunshine had similar looks, though considerably less for Sunshine. After a round of handshakes and their receipt, the boys exit the lobby. Outside, Rita the Mosquito is being loaded up on the tow truck's bed.

"Woah, she's not junk!" Frank says rushing to rescue his girl.

"Hey Sunshine, when is your birthday?" Brock asks casually. He calls after Frankie. "Relax, _tesoro_. I called them to take her home. And she _is to_ junk."

"It's on the fifteenth." Ray replies before biting his cheek.

"You be nice to Rita." Frank says with a warning in his voice.

"Why do you ask, Brock?" Ray moves closer intrigued with his answer.

"Fifteenth of this month? As in a few weeks?" Brock grins with a glint in his eye. His Sunshine would do well with a nice family van. But nicer, maybe an SUV as well. Something Baby Floof would want to drive when it was older.

"Yeah a few weeks." Ray tilts his head slightly as he pulls the back door or Gerard's car open, "Why?" 

"Yes Brock, why?" Frank manages to get out.

"Just planning for the future, I suppose. We'll have to get a cake," Brock says. He slides into the back again. He's kind of liking getting chauffeured around. 

"I love you man but you're not buying us a car. My wife would kill both of us." Ray chuckles.

"Gerard, when's your birthday?" Brock pouts at Sunshine and turns to Gerard. 

"April 9th." 

"Dammit. Well. Next year then." Brock sticks his tongue out at them all. He disagrees with Sunshine. He'll meet the lady at lunch and sweet talk her. What new momma wouldn't want something nice for her baby's future? And he loves spoiling his people. "There's always Christmas." 

"He's going to spoil you guys, if you let him." Frank says with a neutral voice. The reality of the purchase is setting in. That's a mortgage on a house and he's going to be driving it. It was theirs. "This is the first _real_ thing we have bought as a couple. We had our first police report… shits getting real." He turns his head and looks at Brock who was as close as he could be to Ray.

"My money is yours is ours, _tesoro_. Been trying to get you to realize you aren't a homeless punk anymore for awhile now. This car is all yours, love. I want you to enjoy it," Brock smiles at him.

"I will once we are home for more than a week." He nods, surprised that Brock didn't question the police report comment. "Thank you, Brock." 

"I don't think anyones ever loved me enough to buy me a car." Gerard says glancing over at Frank, "But Linds is at Ray's and she is beyond excited to see you, B."

"Awesome. She's not still mad at me then," Brock laughs.

"Nah, she's like a goldfish. She's forgotten all about it." Gee chuckles as he takes a turn and heads north.

"Christa can't wait. She's been bugging me since I came home yesterday. Make sure the house is clean. I'll go buy groceries, what does he like? She wanted to buy you a present… I apologize if she did. She's just... excited, like a puppy." Ray glances at Brock. His excitement is hard to hide in his voice.

"I wanna puppy." Frank mutters.

"When the band stops touring, you can get a puppy," Brock says, poking Frankie gently.

"I know. I know." Frank says with a nod but still frowns.

"Maybe I can get Mike to get a dog for his girl and you can pup sit." Gee offers. 

Frank scrunches his lips together and to the left as he wrinkles his nose before he replies, "Not the same. But thanks." 

"Brock seems more like a cat guy." Ray comments.

"I like both. Dogs are amazing at security. Cats purr. Both have their benefits," Brock grins before adding, "Frankie is a cat." 

"Uh, kitten… thank you." He says doing a teenage girl impression as he flips his not so long hair. The action makes his actual hair fall into his eyes. He wonders how long he can grow it before Brock grumbles. So running and growing his hair out… fuck he really is becoming a housewife.

"Yes, _gattino._ A very pretty kitten." 

"Fuck yes I am."

"So, the house isn't fancy by any means. But what is cool is that it was used as part of the Underground railroad. Then later during prohibition for rum running." Ray says with an ecstatic gleam in his eyes.

"Okay that's badass. Can we check out the underground tunnels? Or did those get filled in?"

"The tunnels are there but only partially. And I can absolutely show you. It's a tight space, you're not claustrophobic are you?" 

"Not generally, no. Depends on the space really." He frowns a little. He was going to make a joke about tight spaces at Frankie but then he remembered how he felt on the plane. 

"Even if you just wanna peek in, honestly you probably can't go far in anyway. I think you might be too big." Ray says with a smile, "Pocket sized is best for the tunnel exploring."

"I'm, and I can't express this enough, not fuckin’ pocket sized." Frank grumbles, "Or fun sized."

Brock leans over to Sunshine and stage whispers to him, "Cranky baby is just hungry and still processing that he's not broke anymore. None of you guys are."

"I'm not a cranky baby." He replies sounding exactly like he was cranky. He crosses his arms over his chest and starts to pout but stops.

"Absolutely a cranky baby." Gerard chuckles as he turns into a suburban neighborhood. Houses of all sizes and colors blending together nicely. Frank knows they aren't quite there yet but he's always wanted to live in a community like this. With helpful and quirky neighbors. Back at his mom's, it was the old people next door who turned their sprinklers on him if he walked by or Uncle Tony, who might have taken more than he gave.

"Bite me." Frank snaps back. He might be hungry.

The car turns down a curve then up a hill. Gerard eases the car into the driveway to a white house with flowers lining the walkway. To unknowing eyes, it just looked like an old farmhouse, with a yellow front door. Almost like a daisy. Frank removes his seat belt as the front door opens and a long-haired brunette bounces down the stairs in blue jeans and a baby pink tee shirt.

"Frank fuckin’ Iero! You better give me a god damned hug, you little monster!" Her voice is cheerful and softer than Frank remembers.

"Hey Christa." Frank replies with a big dumb grin as he hugs her, "Long time no see ma'am." 

"I hear you not only broke up with what's her name, but also picked up a boyfriend...Frank, you heartthrob." Christa teases, "I hear he loves Ray too." 

"Yeah, he does. Maybe sometimes more than me…" Frank jokes half-heartedly.

"That's debatable and you know it," Brock teases back. He approaches the female with an extended hand. He knows his manners. "Brock Rumlow, ma'am." 

"Christa Toro. Nice to meet you! I have heard a lot about you!" Christa replies with a smile as she shakes his hand.

"Is the wife inside?" Gee asks softly.

"Backyard." Christa says without looking away from Brock, "Ray says that the reason he's actually making money is because of you… so I think I have to hug you for that."

Ray moves around the car and wraps his arms around her waist. His hand is splayed over her stomach as he looks at Brock. "He's pretty fantastic, baby." He kisses her cheek. 

"He's not wrong." Frank says as he puts his arm around Brock. His fingers tracing small circles into Brock's shirt. He didn't feel great but he assumed it was not getting enough food.

"We should head inside and enjoy the A/C," Ray says with the biggest smile on his face. It was a genuinely happy feeling and Frank could feel it radiating off him. _Don't dwell. It will get better,_ he tells himself. "Yes, I feel like I am melting." 

"Me too," Brock agrees. "Water is a first before saying hi to everyone. And by everyone, I mean Lindsey."

"Yes! Please! Come in!" She taps Ray's wrist to release her and he follows her request instead, putting his hand on her low back, "We have a cat. Cleo. She's deaf." 

"She will shout at you." Ray says looking back at him and winking. 

Frank moves his hand from Brock's back and drops it to his side. He moves for the door. Inside his head, there is a voice that is telling him to not be clingy. To let Brock interact without being _that boyfriend_. The weird guilt over the car rests in his chest. 

He beams at Frankie, giving him a squeeze, "Does this mean you can communicate with the _gattino_ , Frankie love? Some sort of kitty sign language?"

"Yes. The mystical language of purrs and cat yells." Frank winks at him, "I am well versed. We silently judge." 

"I need to see this." Brock laughs.

"Oh you will... Cleo loved me." Frank says opening the door for his love. Once inside the comforting smell of clean laundry fills Frank's nose. The hardwood floors shine with the invading sunlight. Stepping into the living room, the stormy grey walls accented by the light-toned framed photography that hung evenly spaced on the walls. The soft grey sofa covered with grey and white pillows lined the wall, accented with the driftwood coffee table and side tables. The off white plush rug was occupied by a large white fluffy cat curled up and napping peacefully in the corner of it. A small cloth mouse near the small animal's head was the only brightly colored object in the calming neutral room. 

Frank carefully steps behind the cat, bending forward he taps the floor near her head. The cat springs up and turns to face him, bright blue eyes sparkle as she opens her mouth and gives him the longest meow he'd ever hear. She stretches her back into a 'u' shape before stepping forward and putting her fluffy white paws in the air, as if to say, "Pick me up now, human."

"Hello sweetheart. I haven't seen you since you were tiny." Frank says as she rubs against his face. He looks to Brock, "She loves me." 

"I can see that. She's a cute little fluff cloud." Brock turns to Christa and smiles at her, "Christa your house is gorgeous." 

"Oh thank you, Brock!" She turns and grins at him wide, "The photos on the walls in the house were taken by Ray."

"She is an interior designer." Ray smirks, "My baby is incredibly talented. She won't tell you that but she decorated this whole house and backyard." 

"Is that Brock?!" A familiar voice shouts from deeper in the house. Feet pad quickly against the wood floor to reveal Lindsey with a new haircut and a wide red-lipped smile as her hands rest in her hips before arms fly up and around Brock's neck, "I fucking missed your beautiful face. Gee mentioned you're going through some things, baby… talk to momma."

 _Dammit, Gerard!_ Brock gives a little oof at the whirlwind hug of Lindsey before he slowly returns the hug, wrapping his arms around her gently.

"Don't make me come on tour with you..." She whispers, "I will mom you." 

Gee stands in front of him and makes the oops face. He quickly turns and disappears into the kitchen. He is not about to make himself look more guilty by freezing.

"Hi, Lindsey," Brock says quietly.

She pulls back and rests her hands at his wrists, "I'm glad you're here." 

Frank sits on the couch with his cloud friend and watches Lindsey hold on to him. She adores him. He kicks his shoes off and curls up with her and watches the room. 

"Thanks, Lindsey. I'm happy to be here. It's good to see you again. Your haircut is cute." Brock smiles at her before turning to Christa, "You said you're an interior designer? If you'd be interested, I think it would be awesome for you to decorate Frankie and I's house once we get it built. What do you think, _tesoro_?"

"Oh thank you baby!" Lindsey grins wide.

"Yes! Absolutely! I would love to decorate your new home!" Christa replies with a smile, "Please come and I can show you the house!" 

Brock looks to Frankie, with questioning eyes, nearly asking permission or if he wanted to join in on the tour. Petting the cat _was_ rather appealing too, however. He tilts his head in a signal.

Frank rises to his feet, his new furry companion cuddles closer as he approaches Brock. "I love her." He says softly.

Pulling away from Lindsey, Brock steps in front of Cleo's line of sight and offers his hand slowly but steadily for her to sniff and decide if he's acceptable enough to pet her.

She sniffs his fingers and pushes her head into his hand. She looks up at him and shouts loudly at him. 

"I think she likes you." Frank moves closer.

"She's adorable," he replies, gently scratching her scruff behind her neck and under her chin.

"I think you're gonna like the bedroom." Frank says, "It's very much you." 

"I don't think it's wise to see where Sunshine sleeps," Brock says with a wrinkle of his nose. That's a little too private, even for him. 

"Why not? It's not like I'm inviting you into bed with me... " Ray teases, "Think of it like an open house."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. I'm just trying to be a respectful guest in your home. So there," Brock sticks his tongue out at him. 

"Get your ass up here Rumlow." Ray says as he climbs the stairs.

"Hey, I'm the boss, kid. Not you," Brock protests, as he climbs the stairs, well aware he just followed Sunshine's order. "Frankie, tell him I'm the boss. Make him listen to me." 

"As the baby of the group. I get bossed around… I can't help you lover." Frank chuckles.

"But as the boss's future fianceé though you have power!" He calls back over his shoulder, giggling.

"Yeah. I think I only get power as your husband..." Frank steps up and kisses him, "Go look at their room and let me know what you think and I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."

"Does this mean I need to propose now? Cause I'm unprepared for that," Brock snickers, kissing Frank back.

"Not just yet… but don't wait too long," Frank grins, "or I might just do it before you get the chance."

"Don't you dare," he growls.

"I'll surprise you too…" Frank teases. 

"Go play with your own kind before I kick your butt, hellion. Dork." Brock says, pointing to Cleo before he shakes his head and heads upstairs to get the tour.

Frank saunters back to the couch with his cloud puff and sits down. He scritches her back as he speaks softly, "At least you still want me to touch you, sweet girl. I should probably go socialize." He kisses the kitty's head which gets a small yell from her. Frank gets up and walks into the kitchen. He leans against the counter as Gerard approaches him. 

"You good Frank?" Gee asks as he hands him a beer. 

"I'm fine. Just hungry." Frank says, putting the beer on the counter. He wants that a little too much, "Still a little shocked about the car." He censors himself. He doesn't need to unload. Especially not to Gerard. 

Ray pushes the first door open. "Bathroom. Nothing special here except the clawfoot which she is stoked about." He lets Brock peer into the room. It's white and gold. Clean and minimalist. He steps back and pushes the next door open. Soft warm brown walls with white trim match the crib and dresser that lined one side of the room. "Baby's room. Still a work in progress." Ray says letting Brock enter the room.

"It's a boy?" he asks, carefully making his way through the room. He loves babies and he can feel the urge to be a dad rise in his chest. He pushes it away. It's not something he truly wants. He just finds them cute. He's going to totally spoil this kid though. Like the cool Uncle.

"We don't know yet but I'm leaning towards it." Ray says as he rubs his neck. "I'm kinda nervous to tell the guys." 

"Why? They are going to be so happy for you. I am. I can't wait to see the baby. They can't have the Cool Uncle title, though. That's my job. And I get infinite babysitting rights for the first 3 years." Brock grins at him, so proud of Sunshine right now. He's absolutely _thrilled_ for them.

"I hope they will be happy for us. You never know how others can react." Ray says with a smile, "You absolutely get to have first dibs on babysitting duties. You're already the cool uncle, so no worries there Brock." 

"You've got a point. It will mean the end of the band. And that's going to be hard for everyone." Brock moves to the door and gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "But it might be for the best to have a maybe temporary hold on things once Baby Floof comes. Once the squeaker is old enough, we can rejoin. Just, a thought. But no matter what, I've got your back."

"True. Who knows maybe while we write and record the new album, the little pipsqueak can bake and go from there. I dunno. I'm not going to put any kind of seal or expiration date on anything. I think if I stay home too long Chrissy might kill me." Ray chuckles, "But for the room she wants to do bunnies… for some reason." He walks down the hall and opens the last door. 

"This is where the magic happens..." Ray pauses dramatically then laughs. Inside the creamy walls were accented by the dark grey ceiling. The pops of blue and gold are eye-catching and highlights the clean and sophisticated feel of the room. The focal point is the bed with its cushioned headboard and an overabundance of pillows. "She did all of this." 

"This looks like something out of a magazine. Gotta say though, the gold is totally Sunshine-esque. Totally you. It's beautiful." He stands out in the hallway though, feeling rather odd about going into the bedroom itself. He doesn't belong in there as a guest and he can hear his mother's voice in his head about manners. His etiquette teacher in grade school would have fainted.

"She loves that you call me Sunshine. She says it's very fitting." He says stepping out. He gives Brock a pat on the shoulder, "Let's go rejoin the group." 

"Sure. The last thing I need is more teasing about us." Brock wrinkles his nose and grits his teeth.

"Yeah… I feel bad about that." He chuckles. "Did they ever show you the video?"

"There's a video?" Brock blinks in disbelief. He's positive he misheard. Because surely there's no way his brother and his boyfriend would ever do a video. Right? He doesn't know why he's kidding himself. They both would. He's going to kill them both.

"Oh… oh no." Ray's eyes go wide, "They didn't show you." 

"Video of _what_?" he squeaks out. Dread fills him.

Ray sighs, "Come sit. I'll show you." He opens the bedroom door and pulls his phone out. His hand touches Brock's elbow and motions for him to follow. Ray sits on the bed and expects Brock to follow his actions. He scrolls through the chat and stops on the video. "Don't kill Jack." 

"I make no promises I won't," Brock says, sitting next to Sunshine. He can already feel his stomach in knots and his palms sweat. He's got a bad feeling about this.

He hands the phone over and lets Brock press play and watch. He relaxes a little beside Brock and cringes. "I'm so sorry dude. I was all in good fun."

As the video plays, so does the horror in Brock's mind. He watched himself say and do things he had no business doing. Suddenly all of the teasing Jack did make sense. All of the little comments from Frankie. And his dream! It was _real_. Mostly real anyway. He tried to sleep with Sunshine. _Oh my god_ played over and over in his head. He _solicited_ Sunshine. He had a sex dream about him! He remembers it being rather warped and confusing. He felt like he was gonna puke. The utter wrongness of it all made his skin crawl, his chest tighten, and his stomach churn. He was hot. Too hot. He had to swallow several times to keep his heart from escaping. He felt dirty. Like he crossed a line somewhere. And the teasing only made it worse. The video ends and he slowly hands the phone back.

"Dude, you gotta breathe." Ray says softly, "You're really pale."

"I–I–c–can't," he shakes his head.

"What do you need?" Ray asks with a calm voice, "Do you need water? Frank? A hug?" 

He shakes his head, unsure of what to do. He doesn't know what he needs other than to purge the video from his memory. He stutters again, unable to stay calm, "I'm so sorry." 

"You don't have to be sorry, Brock. You didn't do anything wrong." Ray says as he hesitantly puts his arm over Brock's shoulder.

"I tried to get you into _bed_ with me," He buries his face in his hands and tries to breathe properly before he hyperventilates. If one could die from shame and embarrassment, this would be the moment it would happen; Brock is sure of it.

"Not like that! You had been curled up on the couch with Frankie and I. It's not what you think it is…" Ray says with a light tone but his voice is calm.

"Oh my god," Brock groans into his hands. He rambles, unable to breathe. Unable to process. He feels like he's going to be ill. "I dreamed about this. It was a nightmare. But I _dreamed_ that what I s–s–said was, um, true. And we…. Oh god I'm gonna be sick. And I lost your wife. And there was a plane crash and fire and oh my god please just kill me now. Jack _teases_ me about this. I told them. And– and–"

"But it was just a dream Brock. You didn't do anything. You went to bed with Frankie that night. You were just sleepwalking between worlds." Ray pulls him into a side hug, "I promise that you've done nothing wrong...but you just gotta slow your breathing, Brock."

He tries to follow through as he leans into the hug. At least the only person whose opinion matters in this scenario didn't seem to care. It was helpful that Sunshine wasn't mad at him or bothered by him. He still cared enough to be his friend. It takes him a bit but he finally manages to calm down.

"I promise, my dude. We are totally good." Ray rubs his shoulder. "Are you ok? If it makes you feel better, I was a little black rain cloud… I took a picture of you being the baby from the Hangover."

"How is _that_ supposed to make me feel better?" he pouts. 

"I was trying to make you laugh." Ray offers, "I am sorry this made you panic Brock. I'm supposed to light up your life, not make you sad." 

That _does_ make him laugh a little. He sighs, enjoying the side hug. Enjoying being held and reassured that everything was okay. "Why does everyone sexualize stuff?" 

"I don't even know my friend. I'm sorry. It's the American way." Ray snorts.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Always Brock." 

"The teasing from the others, about us and making it seem more than what it is, makes me feel like maybe we shouldn't hang out anymore. Or hug. It's… it's exactly what already goes through my head now and it's coming from people who I told my secret to and it's just… " Brock pulls away and sits up. He takes a deep breath and works on centering himself. "I know I need to tell them. The video doesn't help. They think it's funny and while on some level it is, it's also terrifying to me that I'm doing exactly what they say I'm doing. After I told Jack and Frankie about my weird dream, both of them joked and outright asked me if I wanted to have sex with you. I don't, by the way. But it made me sick. Not because of _you_ , you funny, cute, adorable, floofy man. But because it feels wrong to think of our relationship in such a way. I wound up breaking down in the shower and Frankie had to help me. It made me feel like if I do what I want to do, I'm wrong for it. And it makes me confused and anxious. Every hug or touch is both a source of relief and anxiety. Am I allowed to hug you? Is someone going to say something? What will they think? It's no different than the past." He's aware he's rambling now and making very little sense so he just shuts up. He doesn't want things to stop between them; he adores his first best friend. But the teasing hurts.

"Brock, I genuinely don't think that Frank would _ever_ want to make you feel this way. I know I would _never_ want you to feel that way. You really need to talk to them about this. You are always allowed to hug me. You never have to ask. I don't think that anyone thinks truly bad about you. We all love you. Frank especially. He loves you more than I didn't know was possible." Ray says softly, "I don't ever want our friendship– relationship to change. I am glad that I met you Brock." 

"Me neither," he admits quietly. "You are my first friend. Ever." 

"I am glad that I get to be your first friend, Brock!" Ray says as he wraps his arms around Brock.

"Okay, emo yet manly chick flick moment needs to be over now before I get too womanly. I'm not even the girl in my relationship and yet my emotions are all over the place like I took an estrogen pill or something," he gives a small laugh as he pulls away a little. Sunshine really did have the best hugs.

"You had a rough week or two. You're allowed to be emotional. You can always have a chick flick moment with me anytime." Ray bumps his shoulder into Brock's, "You know that you are always welcome at the house too. You don't have to call. You can just show up." 

"I'm just going to show up randomly overnight and when you guys wake up in the morning, I'll have coffee waiting for you. Or like magically appear every time you make spaghetti and meatballs. I might steal the baby just to play with the tiny curls. Or the cat," he's beaming wide at Sunshine, bumping his shoulder back. "Might just be like the awesome Santa and leave random gifts in the house. Or the garage."

"Oh I'm telling you, you leave a car and Christa will beat us both." 

"But why?" he draws out the words like a kid, as he stands up. "I can afford it. It'll be for Baby Floof when he gets older and in high school. Or something. College fund. If it's marked as a gift, you don't even have to pay taxes or anything. Dammit, let me spoil you!" He's laughing by the end of his sentence as they head out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

"Hey man, you gotta talk to the little lady. You don't have to spoil me or us. Just being here is all we need. I'm sure she'll have words." Ray says following him down the stairs.

"I like spoiling the people I care about. Gift giving is one of my love languages. Why can't people just accept that?" He laughs. "It's funny. More than half my life, I've had people use me for my money and now that I have a real friend, he won't let me. Or should I say, his wife won't let me."

"I don't think you realize this Brock but money doesn't matter to any of us." Ray says, "I mean it's like important for bills and things but it's time and experiences that mean more than any amount of money you could spend." 

"You say that but just you wait until you fly in my private plane or we go on vacation on the yacht. The experiences are made possible by money. But I get your point."

"We can do a sleepover at your apartment and it would be just as fun and rewarding as any vacation you could take us on." Ray pats his back as they hit the landing and steers Brock into the kitchen. 

"Because I have an awesome and fancy apartment," he smirks, teasing. 

"You. Shithead." Ray laughs. He slips his arms around Christa and kisses her neck. "He likes the bedroom."

Christa grins up at him, "Really?!"

"Gold accents; spot on with Sunshine. Five stars, darling," Brock grins at her before going to Frankie and Cleo, leaning over and kissing him in greeting.

"Hello." Frank smiles up at him, "You okay, my love?"

"Yeah. How are you? Still getting the kitty cuddles in, I see." He reaches out and gently strokes Cleo's fur.

"I'm fine. If I try to put her down she shouts at me and follows." Frank says with a glimmer in his eyes. 

"Hey lil miss," Brock speaks to Cleo, still petting her. "He's my kitten. Not yours okay? You can't keep my _gattino_."

"She just wants me to touch her." He leans his head down and kisses between her ears.

"She's adopted you and it shows. She demands the pets and you give them all to her. She's like baby Emma; got you wrapped around her finger. Though in Cleo's case, it's her paws." Brock runs a hand through Frankie's hair, ending the stroke with a dash of scalp scratches.

He closes his eyes as the feeling of Brock's fingers in his hair. It never got old being touched by Brock. It still made his heart flutter. He opens his eyes and moves in closer to hug Brock. "I just love her." 

"It's adorable. And she clearly loves you back. Just like I do," Brock wraps one arm around Frankie, pulling him in tight and kissing his neck and cheek. "Though you do look so mellowed out, I do wonder if you got into the catnip, _gattino_. Or is Cleo the catnip?"

"That's our little secret." He kisses her head with Cleo chirping a response. Her bright eyes look up at Brock. She stretches in Frank's arms then jumps down, "Apparently I've said too much and offended my little cloud puff." 

"You'll make it up to her later. I'm sure the tiny snowball still loves you enough to allow you to hug and pet her." Brock is a little bit happy that the cat is away from Frank. Only because she was hogging all the cuddles. It was his turn.

Frank wiped his shirt off and removed as much cat hair as he could before wrapping his arms around Brock. He just wanted to be touched. "I don't feel very good." He says softly into Brock's chest. He's overdone it today. He should have eaten more for breakfast. His egg whites should have been enough to tide him over. He's just gotta suck it up. _Can't keep your man if you get lazy…_

"What's wrong, _tesoro_?" Brock asks, concerned. He pulls Frankie in tighter to his chest and slips a hand under his shirt. Maybe Frank was overheated? Stressed out? 

"I think I just need to eat. Or drink water." Frank mumbles as he wraps his arms around Brock. He shivers at the cooler touch of Brock's hand on his skin. He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. "I'll be ok." 

"Sunshine, what's cookin' good lookin'? We might need a snack while waiting for the BBQ to finish up. And some water, please. Frankie isn't feeling well. Kitten didn't eat enough this morning for breakfast," Brock says. His tone takes on a gentle tease, "And he says _I_ don't eat enough."

"Starting the goods now. There's glasses to your right. Fridge dispenses water. You guys have permission to rummage for food. It'll be like 15 minutes on the meat." Ray explains with a concerned look. Was he doing the thing where he barely eats cause he's stressed?

"I ate. A little." Frank says defensively, "I had more coffee than food but I ate."

"I probably ate more than you, _gattino_. Si?" Brock goes to the cabinet Sunshine pointed out and gets two glasses down and fills them both with water. He hands one to Frankie while he drinks out of the other. His miniature anxiety attack left him drained and parched. He wonders how much of his problems were related to mild dehydration. He finishes his glass and refills it before going back to Frankie and hugging him again. 

"Yes but you need more food than me." Frank's voice is small. He sips from his glass before looking up at Brock. "I'll be fine, I think. But we should go out with the others."

"Yeah sure," Brock finishes his second glass and refills it. "I need to kill Gerard anyway." 

"Why are you killing our friend?" Frank asks with a grin. He finishes his water and places the glass in the sink. 

"For spilling the beans to Lindsey." 

"Oh." 

"Christa made you turkey burgers Frank." Ray says pulling food from the fridge before he disappears outside. 

"I think they taste better than the black bean burgers and they have little pieces of cheese and veggies mixed in." Christa grins wide.

"You didn't have to." Frank says as he waves her over. He removes himself from Brock and hugs her, "Thank you." 

"That sounds gross but I'll take both of your words for it," Brock wrinkles his nose in playful disgust. He's not sure how Frankie can stomach black bean burgers or turkey burgers to begin with. Vegetarians were so weird.

"You should give it a try. You might be surprised. Especially if it's prepared right and cooked correct, it is just like a regular hamburger. Same consistency and everything." Christa says with a smile.

"Black bean burgers are… like eating hamburger flavored cardboard." Frank chuckles.

"It's not that bad. Store bought ones yes. But you can make your own hearty and filling ones. Oh have you tried jackfruit? You season it right and it is exactly like pulled pork." Christa beams at him. She's excited to have a sympathizer of her struggles, "Ray refuses to try my meals that he doesn't help with. I've tricked him with what he calls fake food one to many times."

"I haven't tried jackfruit but that is interesting. That sounds like Brock, why do you need anything made from black beans that isn't just the black beans…" Frank says letting her go and returning to Brock.

"Why does a fruit taste like meat," Brock questions. 

"It doesn't taste like meat. You flavor it to taste like meat." Christa says encouraging them to follow her outside.

"Food artificially made to taste like other fake food? No thanks," Brock chuckles.

"If I make it, will you try it as long as I have back up food prepared?" Frank asks as he steps outside.

"Are you saying Christa's food is terrible? Is this why Sunshine doesn't trust the food? Should I be worried?" he teases lightly. 

"Nooo. I know that my future husband can be stuck in his ways. So I'm trying to expand your horizons." Frank replies as diplomatic as he can. Brock was a stubborn ass sometimes. 

"Did you just call me a stubborn old man?" Brock grumbles, stepping outside after Frankie.

"Mmmhmm a stubborn old man who shouts at the clouds no less." 

"Why is he a stubborn old man?" Gerard asks.

"I do not shout at the clouds!" Brock squawks. He goes over to Gerard, looking like he's gonna punch the man.

"Just the sun then…" Frank shoots back with a devilish smile. He trails off as Brock approaches Gee.

Gerard's eyes go wide with the look of 'oh fuck!' as he quickly rises from his seat. Does he run or does he fight? With another step towards him, he realizes he's a coward and books it for the chestnut-colored shed at the back of the yard. 

"Running makes it worse!" Frank shouts as an offering of help. Though he highly doubts that Gee will end up like him. God, he misses that.

"Get your pasty emo ass back here, boy! I'm gonna kill you!" Brock hollers after him before taking a deep breath and running after him at full speed. This will cost him more than half, if not all, of his energy. He's going to pay dearly for this later but it's a price he's willing to pay for some fun.

"You gotta catch me old man." Gee calls out ducking behind the shed. Fuck he can actually move. He thought he was like old man bones deep depressed or something…

"Not a problem," Brock growls out, darting around the shed.

"I gotta quit smoking." Gerard mutters as he bolts out the opposite way that Brock went. He just has to make it back to Linds and maybe under her… he wouldn't hurt him then, right?

"Yes. You. Do!" Brock pants out, pushing himself more to close the gap and jump on Gerard, arms around the middle, and tackling him to the ground. He wraps his arms and legs around the kid tightly to keep him from moving.

"Motherfucker!" Gerard shouts as he hits the ground. He tries to worm his way out from Brock but the hold gets tighter, "You gonna take my lunch money?"

"I'm gonna beat the shit out of you," Brock growls. He punches Gerard in the side, lightly and absolutely nothing like his tone or body language promised.

"I don't know what I did!" Gerard says as he still tries to escape.

"More you fight the tighter the hold." Frank hollers.

"I can't say it won't happen again but…" Gerard says as he tries to flop or turn to face Brock.

"You told Lindsey," Brock hisses out, punctuating his words with a light punch to Gerard's side. 

"She asked how you were?! I can't lie! You're not well!" Gerard shouts defensively, "All of us told on you!"

"I didn't!" Frank shouts back. 

"Don't hurt his face. I kinda like it!" Lindsey joins in. 

"Wait what?" Brock asks Gerard in a normal tone. 

"Yeah it's true. Someone does like my face." He jokes.

"Not what I meant, you ass."

"Oh about that everyone told… yeah. Oops on that." Gee winces, "Just that you're sad."

"Just that…" he trails off and slowly lets him go. _Just_ that he's sad. No big deal. Right? And what about the other thing? Is that spilled out to all of the wives and girlfriends too? Does the label know? He feels betrayed and he's not entirely sure why.

"I'm not gonna tell your secret. That's not my place dude."

"You already did." Brock pushes him off of him, gently but firmly.

"There's nothing wrong with being depressed. I have depression and meds for it." Gerard says confused, "It's choosing to stay depressed is when there's a problem." 

"Fuck you. I'm _trying_ ," Brock bites back.

"Hey man. I'm tryin' to help." Gerard says with hands up, "I've been there. I know my way around it. I don't wanna see you and Frankie get pulled in." 

Brock lays there on his back in the grass and stares up at the bright sun. He's not sure why he feels the way he does, just that it was there. He didn't want people to worry about him. He didn't want people he wasn't super close with to know he was not okay. He didn't want to feel like a burden to others. Again. He glances at Frankie and knows Gerard is right. He knows he is dragging Frankie down with him. He can see it. His kitten wasn't meant to carry his burden. He feels worthless as both a man and as Frankie's future husband. 

"Come on, let's go join the others." Gee says playfully slapping his stomach, "We can't just wallow in our sadness, my friend." 

"Are you two done romping in the grass? Food's ready." Ray says from the patio.

Gerard stands and extends his hand down to Brock. "Come on, old man." 

With a sigh, he reaches up and takes the offered hand and pulls himself into a standing position. After brushing his pants off, he gives Gerard a smile, "Thanks." 

"Yeah no prob, man. We all care about you." Gee pats his back and moves towards the patio. 

Frank stands to meet Brock. He needs to take some Tylenol. He's gonna feel that when they get home. He watches as Ray puts the food down. Christa and Lindsey put toppings and side dishes out before beginning to serve themselves. "Eat or starve. I ain't your moms" Christa says with a cheeky smile.

He stands there in the sun a little longer, recentering, and taking a few moments to catch his breath from the running. And maybe to buy himself some time to get back out of his head. He still doesn't like the fact that Lindsey and he's assuming Christa knows what's going on with him. Gerard didn't think it was a big deal but to Brock it was. He's thankful that Gerard didn't say anything else.

Ray quietly watches Brock in the yard. He glances at Frank and gives him a nod. "He will come when he's ready." Frank says softly. 

"He's not happy that people know." Gerard says as he returns. He plants a kiss on Lindsey's cheek. 

"But if we know we can help… right?" Lindsey says softly as she looks to Brock then back to Frank. 

"Yeah." Frank shrugs, "It's getting better too. It does him good to be out and around people."

"At least outside." Christa says quietly. 

Brock stands rather awkwardly in the middle of the grass for as long as he can before it gets too weird. With a smile, he approaches the table, going to Frankie and reaching out for him. "This looks good Christa. Smells good too." 

"Thank you! Eat up! Enjoy! What would you like to drink? We have beer, water, soda or tea?" She grins at him as she stands.

"Water, please," he says softly as he sits.

After she returns with drinks, the table settles in and gets quiet as they eat. The conversation is easy and light. Frank gets up halfway through the meal and returns with Tylenol for Brock. He eats light and drinks more water than he should. After the meal concludes the group chats, talking about the experience at the dealership and the mall. They leave out details that could make Brock feel weird or bad. Frank wants to leave soon. He knows and feels that Brock is going to crash and soon. He would rather be at home when it happens.

"How are you feeling?" Frank whispers in Brock's ear. He kisses his ear and neck then his cheek.

"Tired. But okay." Well as much as he can be right now. 

"Yeah. Did you wanna stay a little longer?" He puts his lips to his love's neck as he strokes the back of Brock's head.

"We can if you want. Just maybe take it easy. I still want to see the tunnels. No more running and maybe snuggles."

"We can absolutely do that. Indoor or outdoor snuggles?" Frank asks before kissing him again, "What do you think about a bath when we get home?" 

"Yes," Brock says simply to both questions.

"Perfect. I like when we take baths." Frank whispers between kisses.

"They are pretty cute." Christa says softly to Ray. 

"Until you hear them both snoring loud from the back of the bus." Ray jokes before kissing her cheek.

"I do not snore that loud, Sunshine," Brock sticks his tongue out. "That's all Frankie."

"You both do." Gerard cringes at the admission, "Frank is usually louder than you though." 

"I believe it." Frank laughs, "I'm a tired little bear most nights." 

The rest of the afternoon was split between outside enjoying the sunshine and indoors. The group chats and laughs until Ray suggests playing a game. The suggestion turns into a debate and ends with the group playing trivial pursuit on the Xbox. Each couple is a team. The team's play rock, paper, scissors for who goes first, which Frank wins. The first question is a sports one. A frown runs across his lips.

_In which country did the Olympic Games originate?_

"Do you know sports things?" Frank asks, "I don't."

"Uh no. But I'm gonna guess Greece. Because Mount Olympis and Hercules."

 _Correct_ flashes on the screen.

Ray and Christa go next.

_Which character in the "Street Fighter" series was inspired by martial-arts legend Bruce Lee?_

Ray excitedly flails his arm and shouts, "Liu Kang!"

 _Incorrect_ flashes on the screen with Fei Long below it.

"Motherfucker." He sits back and crosses his arms.

Gerard grins and shoulder bumps Lindsey, "We got this babe." She grins back at him and presses a button. 

_What planet in our solar system has the most gravity?_

The answer pops in Frank's head; _Jupiter 'cause boys are stupider._

Brock wants to shout Venus because it has the thickest atmosphere so it's gotta be the heaviest place. Density and all that jazz.

Lindsey looks around the room and blinks. "Uh..."

"Uh… let's go Saturn… cause the rings." Gerard looks at her then the others in the room. 

Frank curls into Brock's side with a smile. He leans up and whispers his answer into Brock's ear, "Jupiter." 

Gerard looks around and picks Mars. 

_Incorrect._

"Fuck." 

It's back to Frank and Brock, Frank hands the controller to Brock and shows him how to roll.

_Which 3/4 count ballroom dance style represented a transition from historical sequence dances to the modern ballroom style?_

Frank blinks and looks at Brock, "Uh..." 

"Waltz," Brock responds quickly. 

Frank pushes the button and _Waltz_ appears on the screen. He kisses Brock's cheek. "Smart, handsome and a triple threat." 

"Wait. How do you even know that?" Gerard asks.

Lindsey grins over at him.

"There's no way you know that just off hand..." Ray trails off glaring then grinning wide.

"I know how to do the waltz. And I've had professional lessons," Brock smiles.

"No way!" Gerard replies in disbelief.

"Waltz, tango, fox trot, cha-cha…" Brock trails off at their bewildered expressions. Of course, they would be surprised. They didn't know how he grew up. "Want me to–" 

"Prove it." Ray blurts.

"Okay." Brock stands up and moves to a decent sized space. He slides off his boots, they would be rather weird to dance in, and waits for one of them to join him. "I'm okay with any of you to join me? Boys, too. I'm trained in both genders."

Lindsey stands. She's got a little dance experience. She kicks off her shoes and winks. "Do you need music, handsome?" she asks.

"No ma'am, but if you've got it on your phone I'll accept it" Brock moves to stand into the starting position.

"Take it away!" She grins as she joins him. 

"American or International? I can do the Vietnamese but it's been a while and it was never my strong suit."

"Dealers choice." 

Brock pulls her close and straightens his upper body, keeping his arms perfectly placed, before leading her across the floor to his right in several turns of the waltz in his head before he comes too close to the Toro's dining room table. He lets her go with a small bow and a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Damn Brock. I've had lessons but you're...good!" Lindsey grins at him, she is actively trying not to bat her lashes at him. She flutters back to Gee and sits. 

"Ballroom dancing was a requirement for me in what amounts to your High School," Brock says to the group. "Does, uh, anyone else… want to?" 

"I'm a little short. It'd be uncomfortable." Frank pulls his legs in.

"When I said I can dance with any of you, I meant it. I can make it work, baby. If you want to, come here," Brock gives him a soft smile and opens his hand. "Otherwise I'm gonna be a fool just standing here. Or we can go back to playing the game."

Frank stands and moves closer to Brock. He rubs his neck nervously. He's already awkward, sometimes. "How do you want me?" He asks with a weird inflection to his voice.

A flicker of a smirk graces Brock's lips before he pulls Frankie into a little spin and dips him, just because. He leans down and kisses him for a second, "Come as you are." 

Frank's cheek flush as he smiles wide. He loves that Brock's a romantic. Even if it's something he's not used to. "I'm all yours" 

He pulls him out of the dip and flush against his chest. He has to make some concessions on the angle of his arms but he makes it work. "Do you know how to do this?" 

"Not really. But I can keep up." Frank replies quietly. He's never done ballroom or anything formal before.

With a nod, Brock gently leads him through the steps, softly whispering to him the ¾ time so he would be able to follow. He does the same with the turns and just because he can, dips him again, ending with a kiss.

"I love you." Frank wraps his arms around Brock's neck once they are standing.

"I love you too, _tesoro._ Told you I could make it work," he replies with a fond smile.

"I never doubted you, love." Frank beamed up at him. 

"Well that makes one person," Brock grins.

"When would one in a formal setting you need to dance with a man?" Gerard asks with a confused face and wrinkly nose.

"My wedding, for one," he snickers, holding Frank's hand before doing the same as he did with Lindsey and kissing the back of his hand. "Birthday parties, I suppose. Really any setting that requires a dance and all the ladies are taken. Especially coming of age balls."

"What balls?" Gee grins.

"Very funny, you ass. Coming of age. Like a sweet sixteen for ladies." Brock gives Gerard a look.

"Did you have a coming of age ball?" Lindsey asks. 

"You had a very formal adolescent upbringing. Huh?" Christa says with a head tilted to the side. 

Frank gives Brock a smile. _If they only knew, my love._

"Yes ma'am. My parents were very… old-school. I had etiquette lessons as well. I know how to ride horses, play water polo, and street race, though my parents didn't approve of that one," Brock says. "I hate water polo and I'm decent on horseback. I'd rather be on the metal horse known as a motorcycle."

Frank tries to keep a straight face. "That's my husband y'all." he turns his head back to the group before turning back to him and kissing him once more. "You still wanna dance, Gerard actually has taken dance lessons?" 

"Oh no. Don't go telling people… then they will expect me to be graceful." Gee says blushing a little.

"You are anything but, Gerard," Brock laughs. "But if you wanna get swept off your feet like your lady, by all means, join me."

"I don't wanna embarrass you...with my mad skills." Gerard gets up and smiles at him. He stands up straight in front of him.

"Oh? Mad skills, huh. Yeah okay. Maybe we should switch to the tango then? Helluva lot harder to dance to."

"Let's do it. If you can keep up." Gee winks at him. He's not done any dancing like this in years. 

"Son, so you even know _how_ to tango? Or is that all talk and no bite?" Brock moves and wraps one arm around Gerard's waist, pulling him closer.

He grins and nods, "I know how to do the Tango. So let's go." He can't get the smirk off his lips. 

"Smooth tango variation," Brock says before leading Gerard through the very intimate and intricate quick-paced dance. 

Frank sits awkwardly and watches as the dance gets intimate quickly. He wishes he still smoked. He would quickly go outside right about now...

Gerard's mind races as he keeps up with Brock. _Think about my grandmother. Baseball. Not this. Not sex. Not Brock and sex._

Brock's running out of room so he decides to end it when Gerard's leg wraps around his and switches the next step for a dip. He holds it, long enough to clearly show this is intentional and he's capable…. Before he lets Gerard fall the last few inches to the floor. He rises upright with a cackle.

"Rude!" Gerard laughs from the floor. 

Christa And Lindsey gasp and then laugh. 

Still cackling, Brock extends his hand to help Gerard get up. "I'd apologize but I'd be lying. That was funny." 

"You're funny, Brock." Gee sits up taking Brock's hand and rising. "Really cute." He turns and goes back to Lindsey and sits beside her. 

Frank pats the seat beside him as he says to Brock, "Come sit and play with me." 

Brock returns to his spot next to Frankie and kisses his cheek. It's a good thing that Frankie called him back. He was getting way too tired to keep dancing. He leans in close and puts his head on Frankie's shoulder. He gives a little sigh and motions his readiness to continue the game. 

"Why don't you stretch out and relax in my lap, love?" Frank whispers to Brock.

"Not my couch," he murmurs back. "Who's next? Sunshine?" 

"Ray, can he stretch out on the couch?" Frank asks, ignoring what he knows would be a protest from Brock.

"It's our turn and please stretch out. Make yourself at home." Christa says with a smile.

With a protesting groan, Brock gives Frankie a glare. This was not okay to do as a guest in someone's home. He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers under his breath "I'm the cool uncle" several times before he convinces himself that he isn't a guest in his straight boyfriend's home with his new sister-in-law and Baby Floof on the way; he's family. They are already _his_ family. If they can be his, he can be theirs. He shifts on the couch and lays down on Frank's lap. He looks at both Frankie and Sunshine, "This pretty much guarantees me to fall asleep at some point, you know that, right?"

"If that happens, I'll wake you up when it's time to go." Frank leans down and kisses him. Frank casually runs his fingers through Brock's hair, "You're a very good dancer, baby."

"Mother made sure I was well versed in many skills. Said dancing impressed the ladies. And that a woman could tell how a man was in bed by how he danced. Said they equated it to sex. Especially the forbidden dances." Brock closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Frankie's fingers in his hair. 

"Mmm must have driven all the ladies wild. All of your wives must love it." Frank teases, he runs his fingers through the side of his hair. He massages his scalp before going back to running his finger through his hair again.

"I dunno, let me ask them," Brock turns to the others with an implying grin.

"It was pretty hot." Lindsey says with a smile and wink.

"Not a wife but you are a good dancer." Gerard nods 

"I think the harem agrees." Frank teases as he uses a finger to trace his jawline.

Brock snorts at Gerard. He's absolutely the wife to Brock. He looks to Sunshine and Christa for their answers. "Harem and harem adjacent?" 

"Harem adjacent." Christa snorts, "I think you're a fantastic dancer. Frankie Doodle is a lucky boy."

"Yeah, I mean. You have good form and you seem like you had fun. I see it. I get the sexy." Ray nods with a grin.

"Harem Adjacent is the new name of the wives club. Oh which… you're a part of now, Brock. Congrats. On Wednesdays we wear pink." Lindsey says leaning forward and winking.

"I can see the headlines now. _'The upcoming band Brock and the Harem of Emos now has expanded with lady dancers'_ live in concert every weekend," Brock chuckles, motioning with his hand into the air. You can thank Bob for that, I believe. May have been Milky Way. Also known as Life. I'm still debating."

"Milky Way is pretty cute." Gerard says as he takes his turn.

"I don't have anything for Bob. Or you, kid" Brock replies. "Feels kinda unfair to you two."

"You can always call me Gee." 

"Gee, huh. Heard the other boys call you that. Didn't seem like it was something anyone could say; more of a, uh, inside joke thing. Plus, it's not personal like Sunshine, Life, and _Gattino._ "

"Well. Maybe we just have to hang out more and something will naturally fall in place?" Gee offers, "I wouldn't mind it. I'm sure Linds wouldn't either."

"The apartment does get quiet when it's just us." Frank says as he takes a guess on the geography question and gets it wrong. 

"I knew the answer to that, _gattino._ Geeze…" Brock reaches up and thumps Frankie on the arm. An idea forms and he mulls it over in his mind.

"You shoulda said something then, Grumpy bear." Frank teases.

"You went too fast before I could say something," Brock quips back. He snaps at Gerard and points at him, cracking up, "Gee-Wiz!" 

"Oh, that's a good one!" Gee nods and smiles.

"Don't be so slow." Frank smirks. One good thing about Brock's new normal is that he gets to grow into his sassy pants again and he won't get in trouble. "Did you forget how to speak?" 

"Did you forget I can still kick your ass? Don't you sass me, boy. It may take me five minutes to get up but I can still spank you," Brock looks up at Frankie from his back and pokes him in his side.

"Yeah, sure. You'll take five minutes and then forget what you were doing…" Frank smirks at him as he jerks away from the side poke. He's safe. Brock wouldn't do shit. And probably can't at the moment, he's jello. 

"Excuse me, I am not that old just yet," Brock pokes him again.

Frank squirms again, "Don't you have a nap to take?" He fake glares at Brock. He leans down and kisses him. 

"Sure. If I can trust you to win," he kisses him back.

" _IF I CaN tRusT yOu To WiN…_ " Frank mocks him then grins.

"I'll pay you back for that, later. Like… after my nap." Brock grumbles, aware he's not helping his plight.

Frank pushes his fingers in Brock's hair. "No you won't." 

"Shut up," he mutters, rolling over to his side and watching the game on the TV. "Just for that, I'm going to help the competition."

"Make me." Frank replies but his voice turns to a warning, "Don't you dare."

"Ain't nothing you can do about it, _tesoro_ ," Brock sighs. He's fighting sleep. He doesn't want to sleep here on the couch. He doesn't want to ruin their fun.

Gerard's question: _Who wrote the opera 'La Boheme'?_

"Uh… Verdi?" He asks looking at Lindsey.

Brock has to focus on the screen hard before the words come into focus. Opera. His favorite. He gives a sleepy mumble, "Puccini." 

"Fuck yeah! Thanks B!" Gee cheers as _correct_ flashes on the screen.

"Brock!" 

"It's _opera_." 

"He's the opponent!" Frank exclaims and stops brushing fingers in Brock's hair.

"He can play on our team anytime." Ray chuckles.

"I'm already on your team, Sunshine," Brock mumbles without opening his eyes.

Frank sighs and returns to playing with his hair.

The hand in his hair is soothing, as is the warmth of Frankie and the _home_ feeling of being on the couch with his brother. Eventually, he starts to drift off, no matter how hard he fights it. He's supposed to be trying harder to stay awake longer, stay _present_ longer, to be a better boyfriend, friend, and band manager. He can't help it. His breathing slowly evens out at the same time he slips off into slumber.

Frank notices the silence from Brock and continues to run his fingers through Brock's hair. He played the game with the gang and did his best to win but he was playing handicapped. As soon as Brock's breathing softens and becomes a gentle rhythm. "You guys can play whatever you want to. He's out." Frank says softly. 

"We can play another party game like Mario Kart or Smash Brothers." Lindsey asks. 

"I'm cool with whatever. I don't want to wake him." Frank slowly and carefully pulls his leg out from underneath him to make Brock's neck not be so bent. The last thing his love needed was neck pain.

The afternoon turned into evening. The Ways were ready to leave but Brock was still napping. Frank promised he'd find them a ride home. Christa and Ray said their goodbyes returning to the couch. 

"We can start a movie and once he gets up, I'll give you guys a ride home." Ray says with a tender smile, "He looks so innocent and unburdened."

"Yeah, he always looks peaceful. I hate waking him up." Frank says softly and he kisses Brock's temple. _Unburdened_. He misses that. He focuses on the Harry Potter movie that's playing. It's one of his favorites; the Triwizard cup and Yule Ball were the best scenes. And who doesn't love David Tennant?

As the movie ends, he realizes it's almost 7pm. He's gotta wake Brock soon. He takes a deep breath and carefully rocks his shoulder. "Brock. You gotta wake up. We should go home, baby. I still wanna take a bath."

With a soft groan, he barely returns to consciousness, stretching and nearly rolling off the couch. He stops himself at least with a hand out. He's not aware just yet but he's getting there.

"You sure, you don't mind taking us home?" Frank asks Ray. 

"Nah, I can show Brock we don't need a new car because we have a nice car already." Ray grins. 

"He won't change his mind. He's stubborn." Frank says softly as he slips his hand inside Brock's shirt through the neck. 

"'m not stubborn," Brock mumbles.

"More stubborn than most bulls." Frank replies, stroking the skin on his chest.

"Only know one bull. Now two and a half," he gives a sleepy grin. 

"Hey, uncle jokes for the win!" Ray laughs.

"Don't encourage him." Frank grumbles, "You don't get up now, you're gonna get a crick in your neck and you're gonna grumble and whine. Get up, ya bum." 

Brock chuckles deep in his chest before sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "I'm not a bum. This is all your fault for being so warm and soft. Maybe Christa's too for such an amazing couch. And Sunshine for being _home_."

"Home, huh?" Ray chuckles.

"Come on, good lookin'. I'll give you guys a ride home." Christa pats Brock's knee.

Frank ponders Brock's wording. _Home._ _Interesting choice._

"It's not… it's not like that. I swear," Brock backtracks, stilling and suddenly realizing how his words sounded. "I don't mean– it's not a– uh, fuck." He runs his hands through his hair. How to describe this? "I'm sorry, Christa. Sunshine's not American? I, uh, oh hell. You… you feel like _Home_. Italy. Like my brother. I can trust you and tell you things like I would my own parents or siblings. It's such a stark contrast between you and the rest of my little viewpoint of the world. It's… it's a relief to find something familiar that I've not had in years outside of Frankie. He's not my brother, you know. It's not… it's nothing like… I'm sorry. I won't say it again." He stands abruptly. "Let's go Frankie. It's bath time and koala time." 

"Would you stop apologizing…" Ray rises and grabs his arm. He pulls Brock back and into a hug, "I love you too, Brock. I am glad you are in my life. I am honored to be your brother."

"Love you, brother. And you'd better be. I'm the awesome uncle. It's totally a privilege to be my brother. Mom's gonna love you when you guys meet her," Brock relaxes into the hug and teases him, patting him on the back. "You might have to fight Jack for 'best hair' award though. His curls when he forgets to get them cut are a rival to yours. But I love yours more. His are flat. You're Floof."

"It's all about the thickness and the upkeep. I mean it, Brock. You never have to apologize for how you feel or what you want. You are family. I am glad that you are comfortable around us. It means that you feel safe with us." Ray hugs him a little tighter and pats his back.

"I'm working on it. I am. I'm trying to get better. For everyone. I did _not_ mean to sleep on your couch, Madame Moretti would roll in her grave if she knew." Brock pulls back from the hug with a grin before going to Frank and taking his hand. 

"Fuck Madame Moretti. You can nap anytime, my friend." Ray says before disappearing. 

"No no no that's just a gross no. Even if I was straight. No, she was an old bird of a lady. Scary that one. None of us boys wanted to ever piss her off." He gives a little grimacing shudder and goes for his boots. "Effective methods, though. It was rumored she was one of the tutors for the Pope but nobody knew for sure. Hear her in my head when I do things not allowed as a guest in people's homes. She would have whipped me for taking off my shoes." 

"Well she ain't here. And I ain't her. You can be barefoot and napping on my couch. Hell, snoop through my medicine cabinet. You're family now, Ray just made it so." Christa wraps her arms around him and squeezes. 

He gives a little laugh and hugs her back, gentler though. For the baby's sake. "As I told him upstairs, one day I might. Baby steps though. Give me a couple of years and you'll be begging me to leave."

"Never. Please come back any time." She pats his back, "I'm driving you guys back home. Ray's gonna be my navigator."

"Yes ma'am." Brock takes Frankie's hand again after he finishes putting on his boots. "We could just call a taxi though. Don't want the old married couple to be out too late. Shouldn't you guys be in bed by 9? 10?"

"Oh, we'll make sure the _old_ married couple is in their apartment before 8." Ray smirks as he comes around the corner. He hands Christa her purse and car keys. He opens the door for her and lets her exit before him.

"Ha freaking ha. You know, I was going to say what a nice husband you are to your lovely wife and rate you five stars but now that you've insulted your _guests_ , you get one. Maybe if you sweet talk Frankie, he'll give you two."

"Honestly, it's four outta five stars. Only losing a star cause my Cleo kitty never came back…" Frank grins wide.

"I wanna dock another star because we were promised tunnels and I didn't get to see them," Brock tells Frankie. 

"Oh shit! We can still see them. Chris, get the flash lights. It'll be like ghost hunting!" Ray grins, "You might not be home in time for Golden Girls but definitely Murder She Wrote." 

"Boy, do not make me beat the shit outta you like I did Gee-wiz. You may be the favorite but that doesn't mean you are exempt," Brock lightly threatens Ray. "Also I hate that name now. Doesn't sound right." 

"He missed Murder She Wrote but he'll be home in time for 60 Minutes then Perry Mason before bed." Frank replies with a straight face.

"I don't even watch those! Come on! You're supposed to be on my side!" Brock laughs.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. He usually passes out during the First 48." Frank wraps his arm around Brock.

"You little shithead!" Brock turns and grabs him, tickling him hard.

"Oh no. No. No!" Frank shouts as he wiggles, "It's just. Just the. Reruns!" He laughs out the words.

Brock grimaces and wraps an arm around him, tickling him harder, aiming for the sweet spots. His focus is lasered on his boy and making him laugh. "Say sorry! Say it! I won't stop until you apologize!" 

"No!" Frank manages out between laughs. "Grampa! Grampa!" He knows that will not do anything but make it worse. But oh well, never surrender.

With a laugh, Brock spins Frankie around in his hold and lands a hard spank on his boy's ass. He doesn't care that both Sunshine and Christa are watching. He only cares to make Frankie submit and apologize without expending too much energy. He swats him again. He says low for his husband to hear, "Say it or I keep spanking you right here until you're red. Do you want to cum in front of them?"

Frank's face reddens immediately. The spanking filled his chest with a confusing feeling. His ears burn as the tingle of the spank runs down his legs. _Did he just… that motherfucker_ … "I'm sorry." He mutters. 

"Good boy," Brock purrs softly in his ear. "Keep being good and we might continue this later after a bath."

Frank is still a little caught off guard, just blinks in response. "Motherfucker." Is the only thing he can mutter out again. 

"Good boy," Brock repeats rather smugly and in a normal tone.

"Wow… he broke fast." Ray comments unfazed.

"He didn't break shit." Frank exhales and returns to his regular voice. He's trying to be cool even if he is caught off guard.

"Excuse me?" Brock says in a rough tone with a hint of a growl. 

"Nothing!" Frank tightens up everything. He stands up straighter and keeps his lips shut. Even if his head was saying to push back… just a little. _In the car._

"That's what I thought." Brock nods. He had a really good nap. He feels good. Maybe he needs to buy that couch. "Let's go, shall we?" 

"Yes, sir." Frank nods. He turns to walk out the door as Christa walks past them chuckling. He got swatted and Commander Rumlow'd in a matter of seconds.

"Christa, sweetheart. I want to buy your couch. Apparently it's done wonders for me. I feel pretty good after my nap."

"I can get in contact with the manufacturer and get you a couch probably in a week. It's from Norway." Christa turns before stepping backward and looks at him. 

"Or… I can give you ten thousand and I buy _yours_. You get a new one," he laughs only half-serious. 

"The couch was only a thousand when I bought it. I can't take… No. I can just gift it to you, if you really love it…" she sputters for a second almost tripping but recovers, "Or. I could redecorate your living room so the couch flows with the decor."

"Careful, Chris. He wants to buy us a car." Ray warns playfully as he opens her car door.

"We don't need a car. I just bought this car earlier this year. It's only had one owner before us." Christa tilts her head and looks confused between the two men.

"The horror! A used car!" Frank adds with fake fear in his voice as he pulls the rear passenger door open and sits inside the car.

"Don't think of it as a new car for you then. Consider it a family car for Baby Floof to drive when he or she is older."

"No. Baby is just a lima bean right now. He is fine with the car we have… don't waste your money on a car, silly sweet man." Christa says sitting in the car and putting her seatbelt on before shutting the door.

"I'm a multibillionaire," Brock says casually and softly. He's never told anyone what he's worth but it feels okay with them. And because he can afford to be frivolous if he freaking wants to. And he wants to spoil his people. He takes care of his people. Sunshine, Christa, and Baby Floof were his people.

Frank blinks. _Multi. Billionaire._ He looks over at Brock. He knows he looks shocked. It's not the first time today. 

"Yeah. Okay but you don't need to buy us a car." Christa says unfazed again. "Get us a nice baby pram." 

Ray chuckles. "Oh B." 

"Deal," he says quickly. He's already pulling out his cell phone and searching for nice baby prams. "Thank you." 

"He'll find the one that walks itself." Frank snorts.

"They roll. But I probably could hire someone to design one that does? That would be so weird though. I'm not doing that."

"Oh _that's_ what's weird." Frank snorts again.

"We appreciate anything you would do for Baby and us, Brock." Christa says looking back at them. 

"Exactly! We love you Brock." Ray adds.

"I love taking care of my people. That's you guys. The band. Frankie. This is one of the ways I do it, okay? Just let me buy you things. It's a love language thing." He turns to Frankie, "And if _we_ want to drop nearly a hundred forty grand on a new car, _we can_. And not even notice. I know you worry about that _tesoro_."

"Uh yeah. I fucking worry." Frank replies, he'd forgotten about the car. "Money can go away...

"You better drive this car too… I swear if you spent it for me, I'll… I'll do something." Frank backs down. 

"What's mine is yours is ours, sweetheart. I didn't spend it. You did. I just provided the plastic. And the car's in your name. I've got no intention of driving it, except on occasion. I like my Lambo." Brock smiles at Frankie.

"I'm giving you my royalty check. And Beauty isn't practical in the winter… right?" Frank says looking at Brock. He's not taking no on this.

"If it makes you feel better, you can deposit the check into our checking account, yes. And Beauty has got me through several years of winter. Though I do try to fly South for the winter when I can. I don't do well with cold. The car usually sat in storage when I was out on a job or when I flew home to Italy."

"Huh." Frank replies. His eyes searching Brock's face, he's not sure for what. He feels like he's being satiated with Brock agreeing to put his money in. Or it's genuine. He's being suspicious for no reason.

"If you're lucky, we'll be in California in the winter. Recording." Ray says. He's enjoyed their interaction.

Christa looks over at Ray and gives him a smile.

"I'm hoping so. Doctor ordered me plenty of sunshine and being outside. I do find the high heat to be nice."

"Good. Cause it's looking more and more like a reality." Ray smiles as the car slows to a stop outside of their building, "It was a good day. Thank you for coming over." 

"Yes! I am so happy that I finally got to meet the famous Brock. I see why they all love you!" Christa says with a bright voice, "Please don't be a stranger." 

Frank leans forward and hugs Ray. He kisses Christa's cheek before sliding out of the car. Brock does the same, kissing them both before promising to text them later about taking their couch, the pram, and hiring Christa to decorate for them. He hugs them both and even whispers a bye to the baby before sliding out of the car and well and going to Frankie's side. He waves bye and watches them leave before heading inside. He's ready for a bath and koala time. Maybe some play since Frankie was good. It'd be terrible of him to back out now. Though he does have an idea that should help.

Frank opens the door and walks into the apartment. He holds the door for Brock before kicking off his shoes. "I'll go start the bath." Frank says as he turns around to face Brock.

"Sure. Thanks love. Are we doing one bath ball today or two?" Brock toes his boots off and places them at the door.

"I dunno. I'll surprise you." Frank says as he stops behind him. He has no expectations of anything coming from earlier. He knows that Brock was going to burn out. 

"Okay," he replies with a grin and follows him.

Frank turns into the bathroom and runs the water for the bath. He pulls the bath bomb out and towels for them. He pours the lavender oil and bubbles into the water and lights the leftover candles from the night before. He steps out of the bathroom and strips down to his undies. He leans against the bathroom door frame and watches Brock. _He still loves you. Don't listen to the demon in your head._

"Bath is almost ready." Frank says as he strips himself naked and returns to the bathroom. 

"Good. I need my koala time," Brock gives him a soft and lazy grin as he too strips. "Especially with bubbles."

"I can do both of those things for you." Frank bites his lips as he lingers a little longer to watch Brock's body. He focuses back and goes in to drop the two bath bombs. He waits patiently for Brock. He is ready for some koala time. 

After the bath, they'll slip in bed. Brock might not cling so tight to him. He can do a little work, emails, and such. He'll call his mom. Then in the morning, he will get up early. He'll set an alarm and go for a run. His plan should work. 

Brock leans over and shuts off the water when he's sure it's the right height it needs to be with both his and Frankie's weight inside. He steps in and carefully eases himself down into an angled sitting position before reaching up and helping Frankie join him. As soon as he's in the water and on his chest, Brock wraps his arms and legs around him tightly. He sighs with contentment.

"I think I'm getting another tattoo." He says with a sigh. 

"Oh? Where? Better not be near Scorpio." Just to prove his point and just because he leans down and kisses his little scorpion.

"No, I have plans for that." 

"As in no plans to ruin my baby, right?" Brock teases and kisses Scorpio again. "You leave him alone."

Frank swallows a little harder. "I was thinking of getting a cover up done." 

"For which one? My doves are out and so is my hope heart and Halloween." Brock lightly grazes his fingers over each tattoo by name. 

"The name. I don't know how but I wanna get it covered." He lifts his hand out of the water. A little twinge of guilt hits him. It probably burns to see her name on his body.

"Mmmm. Replacing it with mine?" Brock says, voice dropping as he kisses Frank a little harsher than before. 

"Would you be okay with that?" He asks. He's toyed with the idea but didn't know how Brock would feel. He deserved his own tattoo. Not some reconfiguring of an old one. Though he's already got at least two tattoos planned for Brock. "It's not the only Brock tattoos I want on me. Just so you know." 

"You know how much I love staking my claim; marking you up. This would just be in a more permanent way and you know I think ink is sexy." Brock kisses him again, harsher than before.

"Then it's settled." Frank says with a confident smile. He kisses him on the cheek. "We cover up the name and replace it yours and I get the scorpion covered with a bear in a crown." 

"Don't you fucking dare. You leave my Scorpio alone, you heathen. And a bear in a crown sounds silly. Like a circus thing. Please don't get that."

"I won't. Relax silly." Frank pauses. "Steve called you yesterday morning, did you ever talk to him?" 

"Steve? Huh, I'll have to check my missed messages," he hums in response as he pulls Frankie tighter into him. One hand roams over Frankie's body.

"I was thinking. Maybe you'd want to try back at the gym… it might help you bounce back." Frank says gently, Brock knows he's in fantastic shape but the words could be taken wrong.

"I'm not that round," Brock teases gently. "Just because I'm a meatball… " 

"Oh you are not round. Working out should make you feel better. Not 'cause you are fat." Frank chuckles.

He laughs softly, focusing instead on the feel of Frankie beneath his hands. He leans forward and kisses him again. Capturing his lip between his teeth, he nips gently before pulling away for a breath.

He pulls his head back slightly, shifting his body a little, then kisses Brock. "Is this a check you can cash or is it going to bounce?" He's not sure how to ask it without sounding like an asshole. He presses his lips to Brock's jaw. He's scruffy. He enjoys Brock scruffy. 

"Depends on what we do. I've got a bit of an idea I think I can pull off."

"Ok. I don't want you to hurt your own feelings." Frank replies before kissing him again, "Your idea, you get off too, right?" 

He hesitates a little before shaking his head, "No. It's too draining. I need to conserve energy. Like I said, I have the will but I know I can't follow through. But I do want this. I want you. And I want to watch you cum for me."

"You wanna watch _me_ cum?" Frank tilts his head. "Like… I jerk off in front of you? When?" His heart skips a little beat. This is interesting. 

"Now. Though, maybe in the bed. Don't want you to slip and fall in here and I think I want to suck you too. In fact, I know I do. Low energy task and I get the pleasure of your cum in my mouth. Sam said we should try some small things. I want to. I want you," Brock pulls him in for a kiss.

"You do?" The genuine surprise in Frank's voice makes him feel like he's a virgin or something like it. He blinks at Brock. He wants to touch him. A familiar feeling tingles in his things. The words made his heart flutter. "You want me, still?" 

"I've never _not_ wanted you. I mean, just because I didn't have any interest in sex, didn't mean my lack of interest wasn't because of _you_ but because of my chronic fatigue. Does that make sense?" He frowns confused and concerned. He gets a terrible idea. "Did you think that I wasn't attracted to you anymore? That I didn't want you?" "

"It makes sense. It's just more than sex. For a while… nevermind. I knew that you loved me. I don't know how to explain it." Frank stumbles over his words. All the awful things he'd been feeding himself comes back in a rush of words. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. I think I owe _you_ an apology instead. For not really communicating very well though this. It's hard for us both. I don't know how to explain very well but I'm willing to try." Brock holds him tighter. Earlier plans are now pushed aside for a moment. This was far more important to their future marriage. It was important _now_.

"I don't know how to explain it either. I don't know if I can. But I'll try too." Frank curls his fingers around his wrist and squeezes. "I know you love me. Logical me says, it's the depression. But crazy me says, you have gotten _too_ soft. He doesn't _like_ that." He hates admitting it. He hates the words coming out. He hates himself for even thinking about them. "I'm sorry. You're already carrying a bigger burden… I'll stop." 

"You have depression too?" Brock carefully measures his words, voice soft and sad. "So what Sam said about caregiver fatigue, and me bringing you down, is true then?"

"You are not bringing me down. Get that out of your head." Frank says firmly. "I don't have depression. I'm fine. I promise." He tells himself that he shouldn't have said anything. He just had to fuck things up.

"You just said you did?" Brock frowns, confused. Frankie is lying to him. Probably even to himself. He's not okay. Neither of them are. At least one of them needs to call Sam. 

"No. No. I meant that it's your depression. Not me. I. Sorry. I wasn't clear." Frank said, realizing that he misspoke. "I'm ok. I mean it, baby." This didn't help. He's making it worse. Now he sounds like he's backpedaling. Fuck.

"Oh. Okay," Brock nods. "Sorry." 

"It's ok. I didn't want to be a buzzkill. I'm really failing at it." 

"No you're not," Brock nuzzles him. "I just heard wrong. I'm sorry, love. Go back to explaining?"

"Okay. So, I know you love me." Frank says as he lifts Brock's hand and places it on his heart, "but I was telling myself it was more than it is or was. Does that make sense?" 

Brock nods. “Yeah. I get that. I do it too. How can I help? Or at least kind of kill some of the gremlins?"

"I don't know. I'll work it out. I don't want you to worry." Frank leans up and kisses his chin.

“I don’t want you to work on this by yourself. And I would worry if we didn’t address it at all. Because if you have something bothering you, then it’s probably in my head too. Healthier together.” Brock lightly kisses Frankie’s lips.

Frank was skeptical about that. He knew that war in his head was a one-sided deal. "Is there anything you need to get out?" He asks, feeling sheepish at the words.

“I feel,” Brock starts then stops, hesitating on his word choices and the right way to explain this in such a way that made sense. “Guilty for the way I am now; in my new normal. I know I shouldn’t sleep so much. I am not eating as much as I normally would. I’m tired more easily and far too often. I know that pushing myself and working harder will get me through this and I worry I’m not doing enough. I tried not to fall asleep on the couch today. And I shouldn’t have played with Gerard. It cost me too much and yet I know that doing fun stuff changes the cycle I’m in now. That was a rambling mess, I’m sorry.” 

"It wasn't rambling. It made sense. You shouldn't feel guilty. You're a work in progress. You are getting better. You should eat more, that worries me." Frank speaks softly, "I encouraged you to take a nap. I think you're allowed to nap at a friend's house… no matter what some old bitty said to you once upon a time." 

"Also you sleeping more gives me time to do dumb shit that's I'd be too distracted to do normally." Frank adds with a big grin. 

"Dumb shit like what?" Brock asked sarcastically.

"Online shopping. Research." He hesitates for a second, "I went for a run this morning. So that's new."

Brock pulls back with a raised eyebrow and a grin, "Oh really? Wow. How did that feel?" 

"Good. I guess. I'll do it again... I've got a goal." Frank looks up at him, "What?"

With a little chuckle at Frankie, Brock shakes his head, highly amused at the image he's got of his boy running. "Why are you running? Surely it's not for your health?" 

"Maybe it is for health… I quit smoking and drinking. Maybe I'm looking to get a runner's body?" Frank turns to face Brock full-on, "It's not like running requires skill. It's not boxing. That takes skill." 

“Why are you trying to get a runner’s body?" Brock’s lips pulled to the side in amused confusion.

"Get a little leaner. Tighten up." Frank shrugs. The bathwater is getting cooler. The bubbles are beginning to dissolve. He runs his fingers along the surface of the water for a moment before shifting again. The less he has to see Brock's face the less he feels like he's going to burst.

“Leaner? Hmm. Little Twinkie getting smaller? Is that for me or for you?” 

Frank stays silent. How does he answer? Getting leaner isn't for him, it's to keep Brock interested in him. "We should either drain then add more water or think about getting out. Water is getting cool."

Brock’s eyebrows pull down in a confused and concerned frown. It’s not like Frankie to dodge a question. Which meant that he was not sure that Brock would like the answer in some way. He doesn’t think any answer his love could come up with would be something he could hate? “I suppose we could get out. Considering I had plans to watch a very nice show. But you didn't answer my question.”

"Who am I getting lean for?" Frank asks looking at Brock. "Me, so that you still want me. I stay a tiny, you stay here."

“Sweetest, I’m here until the end. And by the end, I mean me being an old cougar and far too ancient to do anything other than eat mush and drool over myself. I will always want you and I’m never leaving you. We are gonna get married. And at some point I’m actually gonna be a fat meatball. I’m assuming you’ll still find me attractive even then,” Brock kisses his lips and then each cheek. “Lust may come first in a relationship, but it’s not what it’s founded on. You staying tiny might get my cock hard but it means nothing without love. Love is far more powerful of an attraction no matter what size you are.”

"I _highly_ doubt you'll ever get fat." Frank smirks, "But if you do, I'll still love you and I'll take care of you. I know that love is more important than looks. Doesn't mean my head believes me when I try to use reason or logical thinking. I've gotten a little soft in the middle." He pokes his own stomach. He is trying to keep it light but he knows it will sink like lead.

“You mean you have a squishy pillow that I _get_ to lay on? I love that. It’s cute and soft and I don’t want the squish to go away, baby,” Brock runs his hands over the doves and the slight pudge at his husband’s waistline. “You are healthy and that is far more important to me than anything. I don’t want you to drop weight simply because I find it sexually attractive. It’s not the _only_ thing about you that I’m here for.”

"You sir, are for more charming than I think is legally allowed in this country." Frank sighs, one touch and a few words can fucking break him. "I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. 

"But I still kinda liked running. It burned off extra pent up… _energy_." Frank adds.

“Guess I need to fix that. And why don’t I join you on your runs? Unless you’d rather do it by yourself? You know as well as I that I’m gonna crash hard afterwards but it’s worth a shot,” Brock says, moving to get them up and dried off. 

"If you wanna come along with me, I would like that. I might be able to keep up with you now. I like to go in the morning. In the park it's quiet." Frank says as he blows the candles out, "How are you gonna _fix_ my pent up energy?" 

“You still owe me a jerk off show. And I owe you a blow job.” Unsexy, he knows but he’s also trying to get out of the tub without slipping _and_ dry off _and_ mentally switch gears. So he’s not a romantic right now, Frankie will hopefully forgive him.

Frank offers his hand to help Brock. "A jerk off show huh? Is it like a peep show?" 

"Look, I'm sorry that was the least sexy thing I could have said and I'm sorry," he laughs. He takes Frankie's hand and wraps the towel around him. "Every now and then, the old married comes out and ruins the romance moment."

"Don't be sorry. I love when you turn into my old man, it's cute." Frank grins and leans up to kiss Brock, "Come on old man." Frank turns around and starts to walk into the bedroom.

"My only defence is that I was distracted," Brock says as he follows.

"Distracted huh?" Frank turns and walks backward, "Did you forget where you were? It is getting late..." he bites his lip, he's trying to keep the smile off his face but he's failing.

"No, it was that tight ass teasing me as you walked. Miss burying my cock deep inside you, making you fucking scream for me as I fucked you hard into the bed," Brock keeps his eyes locked on Frank's.

"Oh I. Fuck." Frank forgets his train of thought. He's stopped walking and watches Brock. His stomach clenches at the words absorbing in his head.

A smug smile slowly spreads on Brock's lips. He approaches him, still managing to maintain eye contact. One hand goes around Frankie's waist while he other comes up and buries in his hair, just as he slowly leans down and captures Frankie into a kiss.

Frank kisses him back and melts a little in his arms. His brain turns to static. The little butterflies in his chest come alive. He misses this. He moans a little against Brock's lips. 

Pulling back just a little, Brock ghosts his lips across Frankie's jawline all the way up to the shell of his ear before whispering, "You're gonna show me what I've been missing. And then you are going to mouth fuck me. Because you are a little cocktease and I like choking on your dick."

Frank moans at the words. He nods softly. His head fills with all kinds of ideas. He can't form words yet. He's not even sure what he is really expected to do. Does he just stand here and jerk off? Is the room going to be silent? He is overthinking it. "How?" 

Brock moves to the bed and sits on the edge and pulls Frankie over in front of him. He runs his lips over Frankie's beautifully pale skin before flicking his tongue out over a nipple. Lips latch on and he sucks on the hard nub before teeth clamp down on it, grazing the flesh. His hands roam over his skin, enjoying the touch. He mimics the action on his other nipple before whispering, "What do you normally think about when you touch yourself?" 

The question catches him off guard and pulls him from the excitement of being touched. This low stomach and inner thighs tingling with anticipation. He'd been so sexually satisfied with Brock before the breakdown that he'd not masturbated in a _while_. The memory flickers to life, "Oh, it was you..." His imagination had taken their initial meeting and ran with it. Using the flirting and blossoming to everything he had wanted that day. 

Brock rakes nails down Frankie's sides and back up again. "Oh? _Show_ me how you do it." 

Frank's brain panics for a moment. He's never done it with another person right in front of him. He wasn't rock hard but he'd be there soon enough. He takes a moment to enjoy the sharp feeling of his lover's nails. "I would _usually_ do this in the shower." He speaks softly before leaning into Brock and kissing him deeply. 

"Okay. You're in the shower. Hot water sprays down on you," Brock lightly ghosts his nails over Frank's skin. He blows hot breath against his chest and arms. "Steam is filling the room. It sounds like it's raining against the tub and tile. Can you feel it?"

"Mmhmm." Frank replies as he closes his eyes, "It's the first time we met." 

He lets himself relax more believing the fantasy. It always starts with Brock's face. That first smile. The way his voice changed from cordial to playful. Instead of leaving, things heat up between them. He wanted to kiss him that day. He grips his cock, using the precum to slowly start stroking, lazy and half-hearted strokes. "I wanted you so badly." 

"You and me both," Brock hums to himself. "Wanted to rip off those jeans, pick you up, and slam you against the nearest wall and fuck you so hard."

Brock's words hit him harder than he expected and he lets a groan out as he tightens his grip around his cock. Wanting to feel Brock's hands on his skin. "Yes please..." Frank replies as his mind gets away from him, "I just wanted you to touch me." 

"I want to touch you too, baby," Brock says in a low and husky voice. "But not here. We should go to the changing room. Get you out of those jeans. Show me that gorgeous cock of yours. Better hurry before the security guard catches us."

"Fuck." Frank moans out as he strokes his cock with a good pace, "I want you inside of me but you can't get it this easily." His mind fills in the missing pieces, Brock's hand controlling his chin as he kisses him. He wants the roughness of Brock's hands pulling at his jeans and shredding them from his body.

"I wanted you to take what's yours." Frank says with a shaky voice. He's fighting the moan that's building in his chest. 

"I get you into the first open dressing room. Can't wait anymore. The stupid door won't latch because I'm trying to hurry. As soon as I get it, I shove you against the wall, kissing you." Brock stands carefully and kisses Frankie, pouring the frantic neediness into the kiss to match the fantasy.

The kiss throws Frank's rhythm off a little. His heart is thumping harder in his chest as he adds a twist around the head of his cock that makes his knees feel a little unstable and causes him to moan. "Needed you to invade my space. Make me yours. I need to come. Need you to…" his brain clips off the last part as it pulls him out of his head. He opens his eyes and looks up at Brock, "Please?" 

"You wanna come? But I haven't fucked you yet," Brock mutters before he keeps the fantasy going, attacking Frank's neck and nipping Scorpio before sucking gently. 

"Oh god." Frank whimpers at Brock's mouth on his neck. He strokes himself faster. "Please fuck me. I need it. I need you!" 

Brock sits back down as he kisses and nips along Frankie's chest and stomach, working his way down to meet the thrusting fist. He's not sure if he wants to continue with the guided masturbation or if he wants to do what else he promised. His fingers dig deep into pale skin. One hand comes up to halt Frank's wrist, his gaze casting up to watch his love's face. "Hold still, baby." 

Frank nods his head quickly, he keeps his grip on his cock but doesn't move his wrist at all. He's worked himself into a frenzied feeling that has reached a point where it is beginning to feel anxious. The twisted knot in his gut grows heavier as the seconds go by. His chest is flushed and so are his cheeks. Frank holds his breath to keep himself from acting. Moving. Anything that deviates from what he's been told to do. 

"Good boy," Brock whispers. He taps on Frankie's wrist to signal him to let go of his cock before he takes it in his own hand. He gives it a few strokes, enjoying the velvet feel and the firm weight in his hand before he bends down and wraps his lips around the tip, tongue lapping at the slit. He pulls back after a little bit and orders Frankie to lie down on the bed.

Frank moves on to the bed and lies down. He leans his weight into his elbows allowing himself to see Brock. He's giddy even with a heavy and aching cock.

He gives a little smile as he moves to lie down on the bed in between Frankie's legs. He's hoping this will work. With him lying down, he shouldn't have to do too much in the way of physical exertion. Not that it matters much, simply because even though he's not doing a lot of physical activity, even keeping up the mental fantasy was taxing. He runs his hands over Frankie's hips and thighs before kissing the doves in greeting. He works his way down and slides his mouth over Frankie's hard cock in a single move until his nose is pressed against clean-shaven skin.

Frank whines as he watches Brock swallow him down. His hips arch slightly as he clenches his thighs. "Oh my god, Brock!" His head drops back. 

Brock wraps one arm under Frankie's thigh to come up and rest on his hip, supporting Brock on his elbow. His other hand grips Frankie's cock at the base as he bobs his head a few times, sucking hard and swirling his tongue. He stares up at Frankie, watching his husband's face contort with pleasure.

He is in his head again. Frank lets out quiet soft moans as Brock works his tongue against his cock that was aching for relief. His mouth falls open as he curls his fingers into the soft blanket beneath him. "Fuck, baby. Please don't stop!" he pleads with his lover for more.

Brock pulls off for a second to breathe. He licks his hips before huskily whispering, "Mouth fuck me. Remember the bus, baby? You grabbed my hair and made me choke so good. I wanna _feel_ that again. Wanna taste your cum in my mouth."

"I remember. Fuck I remember." Frank whines out. He wants that. He just wants all of Brock. "I can do that!" Frank smiles eagerly at Brock. His fingers snake into Brock's hair. He eases Brock down on his cock, going easy to start. He thrusts his hips into Brock's mouth as he keeps his head steady. He pushes his partner's head down until his nose is pressed against his skin. His eyes flutter at the feeling of Brock's throat around his needy cock. He releases Brock and lets him breathe before going back to fucking into his mouth again. The sight and sound satisfying enough to elicit a moan. 

"Oh fuck! Your mouth is perfect," he says before forcing Brock's head back to his skin. The sensation of Brock's struggle makes something in his thighs tighten and shake slightly. He's not going to last much longer. 

He'd forgotten how much he loved this. Each time Frankie fucks into his mouth, each time he shoves his head down and forces him to fight for air, Brock feels the pleasure spike in his head as it spreads all over his body. He didn't think he could react like this anymore. He didn't think he could _feel_ anything beyond the general apathy that seemed to be his constant companion. And yet, he was starting to respond to Frankie's perfect cock in his mouth. As a teen, it used to embarrass him that he could get off on sucking dick. As a dominant, it was expected of him to never engage in a submissive role. But he always enjoyed giving head; enjoyed watching his partner's face twist from the waves of pleasure _he_ was the cause of. Now, it's a blessing as his own dick finally starts to harden in some form of a Pavlovian response. He doesn't care about the whys or hows. This is a burst of color in his dull world. The more he struggles to breathe around his stuffed throat, the harder he gets. Frankie tastes so amazing. He sucks him like he's a starving man because in a way he is. His boy is close; he can taste it. He needs to hurry if he's going to join him. His instincts tell him this will be quick for him anyway. He's just happy this is happening. He shifts in the bed, putting more pressure on his cock and switches from letting Frankie take control, to _helping_ him fuck his mouth. His hips cant into the mattress and he moans at the dual feelings.

Frank's happy to hand over the control. It always felt like he was breaking a rule. He lets out a moan as he lets his head fall back again. "Oh fuck Brock!" His hips keep moving, trying to meet his lover's mouth. He pulls his head back up and opens his eyes to see Brock shifting his hips. _Is he? It looks like it…_ Frank isn't sure what he's done but he will keep doing it if it creates this result.

It doesn't take long. Brock actually is surprised, relieved, and disappointed all at the same time that it barely took a minute before he's groaning deep around Frankie's cock while his own spasms and sputters weakly into the bed sheets beneath him. It feels wonderful but there's a piece of him that warns him that he shouldn't have done this. Orgasms bring exhaustion. And he was already rather done with this before he even got into the bed, not that he will tell Frankie. It's not his fault and his husband would blame himself for Brock's inability to stay focused or keep any interest in something for very long. It may have been only a few minutes to go from baseline to humping the bed like a horny teenager and cumming way too quickly but he's thankful it happened. 

Frank whines as the feeling of that heaviness in his low stomach drops. 

His legs tighten as he feels every part of him let go. He's been holding back expecting something, he's unsure what. The second he lets go at the feeling of himself buried down in Brock's throat is what he needed to come. He curses over and over again as his hands clench the bed and hold. Warm relief washes over his body as his mouth falls softly open. Breathing in to start calming his heart that is beating fast inside his chest.

"I love you. You're perfect. Thank you," blurts from Frank's mouth and immediately he turns a shade of pink. He sounds like a fuckin' kid.

Brock swallows quickly to keep from choking for real on his rapidly filling mouth. Frankie's cum always tasted rather sweet instead of overly salty and he eagerly laps it up. Once his mouth is empty, he moves to clean Frankie's very sensitive cock with his tongue as gently as he possibly can before pulling away and resting his head on one of the doves. He takes slow breaths to regulate his beating heart and fights to close his eyes. He doesn't want to move just yet.

Frank strokes the back of Brock's head and enjoys the weight of him on his hip. He wants to ask. He's afraid of the answer. He already knows it will hurt his feelings. The demon in his head telling him that Brock was just playing along to get you off and how he's selfish. 

"Well that was fun. Love the way you taste," Brock murmurs with a grin. He's feeling really boneless and even though fatigue is setting in, all he can think about is _It was worth it._ He came! His groin is warm from his body heat and the mess he made and he knows he needs to get up and take care of it but he hasn't mustered the energy just yet. Besides, Frankie was a very nice pillow.

"That was more than fun, it was great." Frank speaks softly as he keeps petting Brock's head. "Did you want to come up here with me?" 

"Mmm sounds good. I need to go to the bathroom and clean up first though. And change sheets," Brock says with a lazy grin. 

"Clean up? I just changed the sheets like three days ago." Frank asks as he twirls hair in his fingers. 

Brock realizes that Frankie has no idea what happened and decides to have a bit of teasing fun. He fights to keep his voice from changing too much into happiness as he tips his head up at the fingers in his hair. "I kinda wet the bed." 

The words don't fully process. He blinks and blinks again. "Wait, what?" Surely he's misheard Brock? Wet… as in _wet._ He's not qualified yet for this… right. He keeps himself calm to not embarrass Brock.

"It was really unexpected. It happened so fast." Brock looks up at him with wide dark brown eyes.

"Oh. I mean, it happens. It's fine we can get it cleaned up." He's careful in the words he uses, "Though. We shouldn't probably get up and strip the bed before it stains…" At least he knows how to use the fucking washer and dryer in his apartment. Granted the tiny room makes him feel uneasy, but he'll be fine. "I'll just throw it in the washing machine and I'll get the baking soda."

"Not sure why you need baking soda but sure. Is that some hobo trick you know?" 

"Hobo?" Frank asks. He's reminding himself to not be a dick.

"Mmhmm. Homeless kid like you probably has all sorts of tips and tricks that I wouldn't know. See, I would just throw the sheets in the washer. Let the maid take care of it. Put new ones on. Hell I might not even change sheets. Might just throw a towel over it. It's really not that bad. Felt pretty damn good in fact."

"Ew no. What the actual fuck, Brock?" Frank snaps.

With a cackle, Brock rolls over onto his back and off of Frankie, the air hitting his sticky dick making him feel weird and gross but it's totally worth it to see Frankie's face as he realizes Brock was not, in fact, speaking about him pissing the bed. His body heat was keeping the small puddle of cum warm but now it quickly cools and he wrinkles his nose at it. Still worth it.

"I don't think this is very funny Brock." Frank wrinkles his forehead. He sits forward. He's annoyed. Apparently, depression has turned him into a crazy person. He's expecting a distinct smell but it doesn't happen. Confused, he turns and looks at Brock. "That's. What?" 

Maybe he's dreaming this whole fucking thing and that's why he is confused.

"I came," Brock says quietly. He's rather proud of this, all things considered. Especially since it's been a few weeks. And the depression kicking his ass. He didn't think he ever could do this again.

"Wait, really?!" Frank grins wide. He can feel his body flutter a little. He _wasn't_ playing along.

"See for yourself. Told you I wet the bed. Just didn't say _how_ ," Brock snickers. "It's not a lot. Maybe some wet wipes and a towel to dry it up."

He doesn't care about the fuckin' bed, he slides down a little and pulls Brock in for a deep kiss. This is an improvement. Progress. He cups the sides of his face as he pulls back, "I love you very much." 

"I love you too, Frank. With everything I am. Guess Sam was right about some things." Brock whispers before kissing him lightly again. "This is the first time I actually felt… something other than pain or this permanent blah feeling. Color in a dull world. I'm exhausted and definitely will be sleeping as soon as I clean up but… the fatigue is worth it. I didn't think I would ever feel like this again, even if it's only for a moment."

"It will come back. I promise. This is progress. A day ago this wasn't even possible. You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of it." Frank kisses him again and once more for good measure. He's not showing how hard the words hit him in the heart. "New sheets or a towel?" 

"Let's try a towel first. See if that works." 

Frank nods and slips out of bed and returns quickly with a towel and wet washcloth. He places the dry towel down and offers the wet one to Brock. Having experience in dried cum on his skin more times than he ever thought he would, knows it's about to get uncomfortable if he doesn't clean up. "I can change the sheets tomorrow when you get up." His mind thinks of the new bed set he wanted to order. It was colorful, beyond the grey and white Brock had been using. 

"Okay. We'll just let it air dry a bit or sleep off to the side. Thanks for cleaning up," Brock says as he wipes down his soft groin. 

"You mean sleep on my side of the bed?" Frank says as he sits behind Brock and rests his head on his back. He already can feel that Brock will sleep hard and not keep him suction cupped to him. "I could have done this part too. I'm sorry, babe. My head is full of water." 

"It's okay. I'm not _totally_ an invalid. I can clean up myself. But thank you though," Brock grins at him. 

"Yeah, true. You still function well enough to have jokes. I outta make you sleep on the floor for the whole wet the bed thing… shithead."

"That was funny and you know it."

"If you think making me panic is funny then yes. Didn't want to be a dick but I am also not good with bad smells. Last thing I want is to clean up puke and urine." Frank says before kissing Brock's shoulder. 

"So when I'm in my eighties, I'll be hiring a home nurse to change my diapers and stuff. Gotcha. Didn't mean to make you panic. Actually I thought you knew considering I humped the bed like a kid. Came just as quick too. When I realized you didn't… well. My intentional poor choice of words were amusing to me. I'm sorry."

"I kinda thought you were just playing along to be a good husband." Frank pauses, "Don't be sorry, shithead. No need to hire a nurse. I'll take care of you. Gotta man up sometime." He kisses between Brock's shoulders, "I'll always take care of you." 

"I know you will, baby. But sometimes taking care of someone doesn't look like what you think it should. Sometimes taking care of someone means hiring those who are best qualified. Just like being a man means knowing your limits and accepting them. Something that I'm relearning." Brock shifts off the bed and grabs the now cold washcloth and makes his way slowly into the bathroom. He rises it out and relieves himself before grabbing clean underwear and pulling them on. With a heavy, tired sigh, he crawls back into bed, curling around Frankie.

He returns to playing with Brock's hair. He chuckles at a memory as he relaxes into the bed. This whole thing makes him think back to being a kid, no older than maybe 13, and the dumb shit he used to do to get off. His fingers twist the ends of Brock's hair and release before moving to the next piece. 

"What's so funny baby?" Brock purrs softly. He loves his hair being played with. Just like he loves massages. And back scratches. He loves being touched.

"The stupid things I did as a kid." He sighs. "I think I was maybe 12. I had a friend who told me, very naive me, that the inside of a feather pillow was just like fucking a girl. I stupidly believed him."

He wonders how cute his boy was at 12 before he winces at the imagery. "Ow. I feel like that would hurt." 

After taking a moment, Frank continues, "I cut a hole in one of my mother's stupid throw pillows for the couch spilling feathers every where. Made a huge mess for nothing because it didn't feel good."

"I bet Linda was _pissed_."

"Yeah, she caught me mid act. I was grounded for like a month… I'm glad that girls liked me enough to date me when I was younger." He replies, rubbing the pads of his fingers into his scalp.

"Oh my god," Brock chuckles. "I can only imagine her horror at her baby hitting puberty… on her couch."

"Yeah she went through parts of it with my brother but I, as you know, enjoy sex." His fingers pressing deeper as he sighs. 

"Mmmhmm. Good for me too because normally I'd need it every day. Sometimes twice a day. I have a high libido. Did." Brock sighs sleepily and nuzzles Frankie more. "How's your _energy_ levels now?" 

"It's the same just a different energy now. But it's okay." Frank sighs, he's content. He feels good. "Not did. Do. You do have a high libido. It's just on vacation."

"Just like us," Brock giggles. He's mostly asleep now and quickly crashing. He pulls Frankie in as tight as he can, wrapping his limbs around him.

"Oh yes, just like us." Frank squeaks out as Brock grips him tight. He might not be able to roam like he's been in the past few nights. He sighs, "Suppose this means that you are feeling extra snuggly."

"You mean I haven't been? Darn. I need to work on that, _tesoro_. Must be the depression," Brock smiles into Frankie's neck.

"You've been less octopus than normal." 

"Aww. 'M sorry baby. Didn't mean to make you miss cuddle time."

"I did miss it." Frank says softly, he did like the freedom to roam. But he would rather have Brock hold him. 

"Got you now," Brock replies softly as he slowly drifts off. Moments later, his breathing evens out.

"Until you pass out." Frank says softly. He already knows Brock will loosen soon enough and he can do his usual things. Until then he's stuck with his own head. Again. Their _new normal_... 


	17. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the 4th of July break, the band returns to the road with a new normal. Things don't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst continues!
> 
> Just want to take a moment to shout out the fans who have stuck with us since the beginning. The comments are important to us. We love hearing the feedback. It gives us reason to stay excited and stay writing this couple. 
> 
> As usual, all mistakes are our own and this is a work of fiction. The places mentioned in the story are always real, however!

Frank sits in the passenger seat of Brock's car as they pull up to the airport. He can see Gerard unloading a bag from the trunk of Lindsey's car. A tiny trace of dread fills him. He is confident that the break was not long enough. Brock wasn't back to himself. He put on a tough face but Frank could see right through it. 

"You don't have to come if you're not ready," Frank says quietly as Brock kills the engine. Jack is in the backseat quiet, it's almost like he could sense that this was going to be _something_ , an argument most likely. "You can always take a little more time. We have done this before without a leader." 

"I've made good progress."

"You have but I don't want to push you backward," Frank says not looking up. He feels awful for even suggesting it. 

"I know baby. But things won't be the same as they were last time. And I have you and the boys now to help kick my ass if I get off track. I'll take it easy if needed. I promise. I don't want to leave you or the band."

"Ok. I'm just worried, I guess." Frank sighs. His head hurt, his shoulders aching and his stomach was in knots. "Are you ready, my love?

"Yeah. We'll be okay. We're better together." Brock gets out of the car and grabs their bags from the trunk.

"We do work well together." Frank smiles but it feels more like a wince. "So, the plane. Who is sleeping with us?" 

"Sleeping with you?" Jack teases as he too gets out of the car. He goes around to the back to help if needed and to say goodbye to his brothers. He at least got to spend the last few days of their week here with them. "Wasn't aware you two were into sharing nowadays." 

"Har. Har. Har, sleep in the same bed with us during the flight." Frank shakes his head. He pulls his duffle bag out and stands back. _'It is going to be Ray,'_ Frank thinks. Once Jack is clear of the trunk, Frank hugs him. Probably a little unexpected but he wishes Jack would come along but knows he can't.

Jack hugs Frank back tightly with a small laugh, "I'll miss you too, bärchen. We can always face time if you miss my ugly mug. Happy to text too, as long as I'm not dealing with business of course."

"I already plan to text you. I wish you could come along. At least to keep that one in line," Frank says nodding to Brock.

"Nah, you wouldn't want me on the bus. You'd get tired of me quickly," Jack laughs, still hugging Frankie. "If he steps outta line, just tell me and I'll call him up and yell at him. How's that?"

"Deal." Frank laughs, "You can always just call and harass him like once a week works too." 

"I might. Just to chat with my new favorite brother. Brock's been replaced," Jack giggles.

"Jerk," Brock sticks his tongue out.

"Love you too," Jack finally lets go of Frankie to hug Brock.

"Aw,, I'm the new favorite!" Frank grins as he picks up his duffle bag, "Are you going home for Christmas?" 

"Yes actually. It's a tradition. I'll get there for the whole month of December. Possibly the first week of January."

"A month. I bet your mom loves having her boys home." Frank smiles as he leans against the car. 

"Begs us to stay every year," Jack grins.

"Aw, that hurts a little huh?"

"Nah," Jack laughs. "At first, sure. Now it's just a joke and something we do out of habit."

"Besides, mom has Brooke there living with them. She's a happy camper anyway," Brock adds.

"Now a part of me says you better go before you miss your plane but…. All things considered," Jack shrugs. "It's more like I want to go home and play video games. Not what I'm going to actually be doing but not the point."

"Don't forget to shower and maybe call Lauren and go on a date..." Frank laughs and shakes his head. Jack's like a murderous teenage boy.

"We're not _dating_. I don't _date_ if you get my drift. We're in an agreement. And that's not the sort of business I'm doing tonight, bärchen. I'd rather be playing video games," Jack smiles.

Christa drops Ray off on the other side of Brock's car. He kisses her and crawls out as he pulls his bag from the backseat. He stands up and looks directly at Brock. He gives Brock a wide grin. 

"Hey, Brock!" Ray says as he approaches.

"Hey, Sunshine. Hi Christa!" Brock bends a little and gives her a wave through the window.

"Hi honey! Take care of Ray for me. He needs to be fed twice a day and watered often," Christa says softly with a grin.

"Yes ma'am. Promise I'll take great care of him," Brock grins and tips an imaginary hat.

"I'll be sure to let you know if you're having a niece or nephew the moment after I tell him." She says with a grin.

"You'd better, bella. I'd hug you bye but you are kinda confined."

"I'm also nauseous as hell, so probably for the best. Take care of yourself too, mister." She touches his cheek and smiles.

He kisses her wrist at his cheek, "I will. If only for Baby Floof. I'm gonna text you later for help on a birthday party for your man. If you are feeling okay, think you can facetime him? As a surprise?"

"Maybe I can fly out to you guys? Bring the wives club?" She suggests.

"I can arrange that. Use the family plane, it's less turbulence so you don't get sick. Plus it's faster and free. Got a full bathroom in case you get morning sickness and a couch you can lay on." He's already planning on how he can make this happen. He'll find a way.

"I suppose I can't get out of using your private plane can I?" She asks with a grin.

"If it bothers you, think of it as me doing it for your son."

"Oh, it's a boy?" She smirks.

"Darling, have you _seen_ your own nursery? Or did morning sickness fry some memory cells there, love? I'm hoping for a girl to be honest. I love spoiling princesses."

"It's supposed to be gender-neutral…" she says softly.

Brock snorts quietly. "Grey is usually a good choice. Doesn't matter. Either way, Baby Floof will be loved. Take care of yourself. Call or text me if you need anything. I'll send my brother over or something. Call a professional. Whatever. You know what I mean."

"I do. Thank you." She leans up and kisses his cheek, "Be safe. Go before they leave without you." 

"It's my plane and my pilot. These boys had better _not_ leave without me," he giggles. He pulls away, still smiling. He pats the car before going back over to his boys and brother. 

"You done flirting with the lady?" Jack smirks. 

"Not flirting. Though she has joined the harem," Brock snickers. "Christa and Lindsey are now the background dancers of my harem show."

"You've ruined my joke with that whole mess of a sentence," Jack says, pushing up his glasses.

"Yeah, maybe don't flirt with my wife too hard. You'll get her hopes up." Ray chuckles as he pats Brock's back. 

"Ok… love you, Raymond. Love you, Brock. I'm going home to throw up at least once more." Christa smiles weakly, her face a little pale.

"Be careful, okay? Pull over if you need to. Drive safe. Love you too," Brock waves a little.

"I'll text you both when I get home." She smiles and nods before backing out and heading away.

"I told her I'd call a cab to get here but she refused to listen to me." Ray sighs, "I love her but she drives me crazy cause she is stubborn." 

"Well, she is a Toro. Stubborn as a bull," Brock grins wide at Ray. 

"That's for fuckin' sure." Ray drapes his arm over Brock's shoulder, "You ready to fly?" 

"You mean sleep. Dunno about you guys but I'm ready for bed," Brock glances at Ray first then Frankie. He knows Frankie didn't sleep well last night. His sleep wasn't the best either. They both woke up early this morning and attempted to run. That was interesting, to say the least.

"So he is sleeping with us." Frank says softly, "Does this mean I'm sleeping at the foot of the bed? Like a cat."

"What? Why would you do that?" Brock tilts his head.

"If Ray's the big spoon, you're the little spoon and I'm the weird tiny fork off to the side," Frank says softly.

"No, you'll be my little spoon. No forking allowed," Brock grins, winking at him.

"Good point. Maybe you should wait until you get to Austin to ride the bull," Jack smirks. 

"Yeah, let's not grab the bull by the horns just yet…" Frank grins.

Brock flushes hard. An image forms unbidden in his head and it makes him feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. Suddenly he feels not much different than when they were at the mall. He wants to step away from Sunshine, put some physical distance between them. He hates this and decides to not say anything. Stupid fucking video. He doesn't know how to deal with this. Instead, he picks up the bags and tries to just head for the group waiting on them. They need to leave.

"You guys need to stop." Ray grumbles, he is focusing on Frank, "It isn't funny. He is uncomfortable with it. And you both know fucking better. He's seen the fucking video."

Frank's eyes drop to the ground as Ray grabs Brock's shirt and pulls him back. Frank knows that if Ray is speaking like this, it's serious. 

"He knows we're just fucking around. That night was pretty hilarious," Jack says.

"Yeah and maybe you are but it hurts and it makes him uncomfortable." Ray doesn't budge, "He is embarrassed by what happened and the fact that there's a video of it. You need to delete it."

"You thought it was hilarious too, Ray." Jack turns to his older brother, who looks like he's trying to will himself into the ground. He frowns at the sight. This was twice now that Brock didn't tell him something important. It hurt. 

"Yeah, I did until he and I had a conversation. It fuckin’ upset him to the point he didn’t know if he could go into my… guest room cause it 'gave the wrong idea.' Ray censors himself in case others were around to hear.

"Brock?" Jack asks softly, brows furrowed in concern. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I did. The next morning after the video. What you said– I told you it was wrong. I don't. I _never_ have wanted… that. Not with Sunshine. Never. It's just wrong," Brock's voice cracks a little. He can't explain the wrongness and how it feels. It was deeper than a physical wrong or an incorrect act. It was the sort of wrongness that was in the psyche or soul. 

"I'm sorry Brock," Frank says softly. He feels awful. Things fall into place and it breaks his heart even more. He knows that he is tired but he's keeping himself together with strings, "The shower." 

"Yup. And you guys kept pushing it. You say that you want him to get better but joking about this makes it fuckin’ worse." Ray snaps at Frank.

"Sunshine, please don't get mad. It's not entirely their fault. I didn't say anything more than the one time and it _does_ look like we're… more. It's my fault too," Brock says quietly. He's thankful on so many levels for Ray saying something, but he's worried about Frankie. "I suppose I should get used to it. If we're gonna… you know."

"Sorry but he knows better." Ray turns his attention to Brock, he doesn't want to be a dick but he feels strongly about this. 

"Brock, I'm sorry. I'm aware of what is and isn't going on between you two and I exploited your embarrassment unbecoming of me as your brother and second. Mostly as your annoying little brother. I realize now, thanks to my hair bro, that my behavior was no different than those that hurt you in the past, and instead of supporting your friendship bond, I have been making things worse. I won't do it again. You have my word," Jack says before going to him and wrapping a hand around the back of Brock's neck and touching their foreheads together. 

"Forgiven, little brother. And thank you." Brock pulls him into a proper hug.

In the space that Jack takes up, Frank moves to join the other guys in the group. He listens to Mike talk about the new bass he was picking up in LA. He stays quiet. He's a dickhead. He makes three steps forward and four back. 

"What's going on with the lovefest over there?" Bob asks. 

"Just saying goodbye." Frank says quietly, "Are they letting us board anytime soon?"

Jack pulls away and pats Brock on the shoulder before getting into the car. As Brock and Ray walk over to the others, Jack honks his goodbye before driving away into the night. Brock tightens his grips on the duffles, feeling a weird sense of oddness at the conversation they just had. He needs to talk with Frank but the fact that his boy left, tells him he's not ready yet. Brock doesn't want Frankie to beat himself up over this. 

"Thank you," whispers Brock. It's for so many things he can't even begin to describe.

"Don't mention it, bub." Ray says with a smile as he pulls Brock's head closer and kisses his cheek, "You'd do it for me." 

"Damn right. You are my Sunshine. My only Sunshine. You make me happy. When skies are gray," Brock sings terribly, laughing. He's ignoring the flushed feeling that he's starting to become used to when it involves The Floof. Sunshine was his best friend and brother from another mother. His joy was infectious and his grace knew no bounds. He was proud to call him his own. "But seriously though. I protect my own." 

"I know you do. Someone has to have your back when you need it." Ray says with a smile and a nod. His voice softens, "Besides you're my kid's cool uncle, you're family now."

Frank watches Jack pull away. He feels his defenses go up but he's too tired to keep it internal. He crosses his arms over his chest. He watches Ray kiss Brock's cheek as they approach the group. "I'm ready for bed." 

"Me too," Brock replies. He goes to the others and after a moment of awkward hesitation, gives them all a hug in greeting. He hasn't seen Mikey or Bob in the whole week they were on vacation and he missed them. At least he saw Gerard a few times. "Come on, boys. We have a different way of getting onto the plane than the rest."

Gerard hugs him back. He's a little confused about the relationship between Brock and Ray. 

"Lead the way, boss," Mike says with a sleepy voice.

Striding through the terminal, Brock gets some assistance from the staff and they escort the band onto the runway to where a large plane was sitting. On the side near the tail, in large cursive, was the word _RUMLOW._ The stairs are already extended and a female attendant is waiting for them. Brock gets off the little cart they rode on and grabs his bag.

"Holy shit, Brock," Bob says with a trace of wonder in his voice. The band follows Brock's action, acting like little ducklings. 

Frank is the last one to grab his duffle. He climbs the stairs and stops the second he's inside the plane, "Jesus Christ." He glances around the plane. The entire inside is beautiful. It looks too nice to be a plane. "Feel like I'm going to be accused of theft in this plane," mutters Frank as he walks in. He places his bag on the ground and sits on one of the couches as the band chats with Brock and looks in awe at the plane.

"Feel free to walk around and check out everything. These couches fold out and latch together to make a bed that three of you will be sleeping on during the next eight to ten hours. There's a bedroom in the back that will fit three as well, and is mine and Frankie's," yawns Brock as he pulls Frankie into his lap.

"Thank you, Brock," Mike says sitting beside him. 

"Yes thank you, Brock," Gerard says as he watches Brock, "Who's sleeping with you guys?" He gives a smug smile; it's gonna be him. They have a thing. Maybe more than a thing.

Frank looks to Brock as if to say, _'yeah… who's sleeping with us'_. He takes the lead and inhales before speaking. "Ray." He tries not to yawn but it happens. He follows his instinct and rests his head on his husband's shoulder. He wants to go to bed now but they have to play nice. "Take me to bed." He whispers in Brock's ear. What he doesn't see is Gerard's face fall and look in disbelief at the two men.

Brock agrees wholeheartedly with Frankie's request. He's just as tired as Frankie is but on a slightly different level. He nods with a whispered "Okay" and gently pats Frankie's thigh to signal him to hop up. He turns to the others, "Luggage will fit in the overheads. The mini-fridge here has alcohol, water, and sodas in it. You can thank Jack. Don't drink my wine. If you want something to eat, we have a menu along with a kitchenette and Isabela will fix it for you. Marco is my pilot and good friend and will take great care of us. There is a shower and bathroom combo you guys are welcome to share. I had the 'walls' of the bathroom and bedroom insulated to block out noise."

Frank rises to his feet. A very big part of him misses being carried but he quiets that and covers it up. He waits as patiently as he can. He nods at Ray and glances at the bedroom door. He felt like Brock's spiel was going on. He just wants to pull off his hoodie and crawl into that bed and not exist for a few hours. Ray nods back and Frank moves with him to the back. 

"Good night, boys," calls Brock over his shoulder as he leads Frankie and Ray to the bedroom. It was times like these that he hates being a host. Pushing open the door, Brock enters the white marbled bathroom with its dark blue accents and trim. Across from it is another door and he opens that too, to reveal the bedroom with a Queen sized mattress, blackout curtains, plush pillows, and soft carpet beneath their toes.

He likes this bed and as soon as he's in the space, he begins to strip down, starting with his shoes first. He'll leave his tee and underwear on. Should he wear pants? He opens his duffle he brought with him and searches for his only pajama set. He hates pajamas. It wasn't like Sunshine hadn't seen things or seemed to care. Maybe he can get away with just underwear.

Frank drops his pants and pulls his shirt off with his hoodie. He pulls his underwear down and double-checks they aren't see-through or holey, which they are not. Hot pink and lemon print covered the fabric; he didn't remember picking this one but ok. He doesn't care about blankets or pillows at this point. He plops down on the bed and rests his head on a pillow.

"You okay baby? Besides being dead tired," Brock asks as he steps out of his pants. 

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" Frank keeps his voice low. 

"Yeah. I think so. Will be better once I'm in bed with cuddles. It's been a long ass day and I know you are so done." Brock decides to forego the pajamas. He doesn't like them, doesn't want them. And it's his bed and his plane and his boys. And if Sunshine or the other kids care about him sleeping in only boxers, they can kiss his ass. It's going to be so weird to have Sunshine in the bed with him though. It's big enough that there's going to be some space between them. It'll give the illusion that they are alone. He's not sure he can stand spooning. He wanted to try it again but now that he thinks about it, now that it's right here in front of him, the more he can feel the panic rise. The more he thinks about it the more his stomach twists with anxiety so he just tries to avoid the other man and slide in next to hishusband and pull him in tight.

"Are you going to panic if I touch you in my sleep?" Ray asks, stripping down and placing his clothing neatly in his backpack.

"I don't think so. I've been sleeping harder now than I ever have in my life. But I did keep the gun in my duffle. Already pointed it once at you. I'd rather not make the same mistake," Brock says quietly, clinging to Frankie. 

"Thanks for that B." Ray chuckles as he crawls into the bed. He's tired but not like Frank. Though part of him thinks Frank wanting to sleep is a way of coping with the fact that he growled at him for his unfair jokes at Brock's expense.

The bed dips under Ray's weight and with it, Brock's stomach drops. His fingers tighten in Frank's skin as he clutches his koala for dear life. He's made progress, yes. But he's still learning and for a moment, a spike of fear whispers to him that it's not enough. He can't do this. He trusts Sunshine. That's why he picked him. And if he can't do it with someone he trusts, how can he ever hope to be able to accept the fact that it's okay to touch people in a totally platonic and acceptable way. Dammit, Jack for ever suggesting this! Fuck you Sam for encouraging this. Right now he hates them both. 

Frank is quiet and keeps his eyes closed. His husband's arms around him settle his screaming head a little. He just needs sleep. It's not like he can wander. "It's gonna be ok," Frank says out loud quietly even if the thought was meant for inside his head.

"Logic vs feels," Brock says with a hushed voice. He knows he's safe. He knows Sunshine's safe. But he also knows there was no way Frankie was really okay with this. Knows there was no way that Sunshine wanted to be here with them either. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He needed to stop overthinking this.

"As your husband, I'm filing a formal complaint with the emotions department in your head." Frank giggles at the idea.

Brock can't help the questioning noise in the back of his throat. "What?" 

"The emotions department in my head is a three-ring circus." Frank sighs and feels himself losing his battle with sleep, "I'm sorry for everything."

"Forgiven, _tesoro_. I love you. We'll be okay. Sleep," Brock nuzzles and kisses Frank's neck. His husband's cuteness provides a nice distraction from his anxiety.

"I love you more, _polpetto._ " Frank mumbles, "Best Husband." 

That makes him chuckle, kissing Frankie's neck again before tightening his hold further. He sighs, content. Though there is a part of his brain that is hyper-aware that Sunshine is behind him. No forking. Only spooning. He giggles softly at the thought as he drifts off, despite his anxiety.

Ray smirks as he relaxes as he closes his eyes. The bed was comfortable and it was nice having people near him since Christa wasn't there. Soon enough he was out like a light.

~~

As soon as the door closes to the back of the plane Bob turns and raises an eyebrow at the group. "Wonder what that's about?" He says with a smile.

"Looks like you might have been replaced there, Gee," Mike smirks as he stands from the couch, "So this thing turns into a bed… but how?" 

"Oh this looks like instructions… but they are in Italian. Or something," Bob says with a tilted head.

"Maybe lift and pull?" Mike says as he pulls the cushion up but needs assistance to get it to move. Bob moves in and helps to unfold it. 

"Hell yes team misfits for the win!" Bob high fives Mikey. The three men slip on the bed with Gerard on the outside. They talk quietly about the upcoming show and light topics until the cabin slowly becomes quiet. Gerard is stewing in his irritation. His brother is right. He's been replaced. Twice. By Ray! Big goofy Ray. 

_Wonder how long until Brock ditches Frank for Ray?_ He'll be there for when Brock breaks Frank's heart. He always knew he would. It was only a matter of time. 

~~

Frank had strange dreams. Brock was pissed at him. Refusing to touch him or kiss him. His words were clipped and harsh. In the dream, Brock made it a point to give all his attention to Ray. The last thing he remembers is walking into their room and finding Brock with his _sunshine_ in bed. His eyes pop open as he struggles for air. He tries to move a little in Brock's grip. ' _Relax. You need to breathe. It was just a damn dream,'_ he tells himself to get his panic to subside. The more he moves the more Brock will hold on. 

" _Go to sleep, love_ ," Brock mumbles in Italian before holding him tight, the muscles in his arms tensing and holding the contraction just moments before Brock rolls over to face Ray, taking Frankie with him.

It's a quick movement that sends him in the air, that moment of panic strengthens until he hits the bed and Ray with his limbs, "Ow..." Frank grumbles as Ray's eyes pop open. 

"Why are you awake?" Ray whispers.

"I got launched into you," Frank speaks with a voice just above a whisper.

"Oh."

"This is Octopus mode." Frank says trying to shift a little as his arm is pinned under his side, "he'll tell me to stay still next." 

"He really is an octopus." 

"Watch this." Frank squirms a little more to prove a point for Ray.

" _Be still_ ," Brock mumbles in Italian before hooking a leg over Frankie and shifting so he's more on top of him. His arm brushes Ray and immediately snakes out and grabs him, pulling him into the hold too. "Sleep." 

"Oh, he went full blanket. That's usually if he can't control me." Frank says from under him, "Good news is you are now cuddling with me and him… bad is you can't escape." 

"He's always like this?" 

"Most of the time," Frank sighs as he shifts so he's on his back.

Brock snores softly into Frankie's neck, completely unaware of what is going on with his boys. His subconscious feels Frankie settle and he slips into a deeper sleep, dreaming about zombies.

"Is there a way to get him to move?" Ray asks.

"Not really. Though, I haven't tried this..." Frank groans, his hand tries to move but can't. 

"Brock." Frank says loud enough to hopefully wake him, "Brock, you're hurting me. Please move." 

Brock shifts and opens one eye before letting them both go and rolling off of Frankie and next to Ray. Mostly on top of the younger man. He's not fully conscious yet but something was wrong. "Safe?" 

"Yes go to sleep," Frank says softly.

He pulls Frankie back into their normal spot with a heavy sigh and a kiss on his neck. He's a little cold now so he reaches behind him and seeks out warmth. Brock mumbles in sleepy Italian, " _Cold_." 

"Ray, if you cuddle close behind him, he will stop hitting you," Frank says softly.

Ray scoots closer to Brock and curves his body to match their shape. His arm drapes over Brock's side. "Better?" He asks quietly.

Pulling the warm weight that was on his side closer, Brock snuggles down between the heat and heaves a shuddering sigh. He slips back into deep sleep after hugging Frankie close with a barely understandable _I love you_ in English.

"He's very good at snuggles," Frank speaks with a sleepy voice. He soon falls asleep, missing the sound of their door opening and the bathroom being used by Gerard.

~~

As Gerard gazes upon the three men in the bed, a small flicker of anger and jealousy begins to grow. It's a bunch of bullshit. He exits the door and tries to slam it but it's too fancy to slam and eases back into the frame. "Buncha bullshit." He grumbles as he slips back into bed and tries to sleep.

~~

Ray wakes up what he thinks might be early. The room is still pretty dark even with the faint light seeping from the edges of the curtains. He stretches long as he extends his arms and legs out. His hips push forward into the body in front of him then he quickly retracts as he remembers Brock is in front of him, not his wife. Nothing like pushing your morning wood into your boss's ass as a good morning surprise.

The bed shifting alerts the security part of his brain and Brock partially wakes up, opening one eye and looking around to check his surroundings. He feels Sunshine behind him shift again and he looks over his shoulder and whispers, "You okay?" 

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Just stretching." Ray replies softly, "You good?"

Humming a yes with a nod, Brock shifts to turn back over and return to sleep when he feels the line of Ray's body against his own. As well as the break in the straight line that usually wouldn't be there. Well. Good to know Sunshine is a human male like everyone else he knows. Except. What's he supposed to do? Ignore it like it's nothing that sounds like a great option. But he's also the band manager and it's his job to take care of his boy's every need. And he takes his job very seriously. A nauseating thought enters his mind about if Alan ever tried to take care of these kids in that way. A bunch of boys cramped in a shared space for months would inevitably result in at least some form of semi-public masturbation. He vaguely recalls Frankie mentioning that he's all heard the others do something of that nature. Even Gerard and Sunshine have said something to that effect. He's not sure what he should do but duty tells him he should offer assistance at the very least, no matter how much the idea rather unsettles him that it's _Sunshine_ and not one of the other kids he can easily blow and not blink an eye. They weren't his brothers. Sunshine was. Even if he did enjoy sucking dick.

With a hesitant frown, he whispers, "Want some help? I'm good at BJs. I like doing them too. I, uh, dunno if Alan did that sort of thing–oh god I hope not–and… it's not exactly in the handbook... but my job… said to take care of all…. Needs?" 

Frank shifts his body and turns into Brock's arms. A hand carefully eases onto Brock's chest as his forehead pressed into his husband's warm skin. He can hear Brock's voice but the words aren't clear. 

"Nah man, I'm good. It goes away. Besides, your husband and my wife might disagree with that choice." Ray chuckles, "But thanks though!"

The relief flooding through him is palpable and he exhales hard, "Oh thank God. I love you but not like that. I take my job seriously and would have but it would just be weird and wrong."

"Yeah, I respect the professionalism but I feellike the only cock that should _ever_ be in your mouth is on the other side of you. The wee one in your arms." Ray snickers as he yawns, "I didn't know he talks in his sleep." 

"Didn't know either. Are you getting up or staying for cuddles?" Either way, he's going back to sleep. Maybe. 

"I'm gonna lay here for a bit. I'm warm and comfortable. He was babbling about Jack and Italy. Sounded upset," Ray yawns again and pulls his hair back into a messy ponytail.

Frank curls his fingers into Brock's skin. He's conscious but can't wake up. He tries to tell them he can hear them but it's just mumbles. 

"Probably just bad dreams," Brock yawns again, nuzzling Frank's hair. He's weirdly comfortable even knowing that he was being cuddled– being spooned– by Sunshine. Which wasn't how they went to sleep? "Not gonna poke the anxiety-bear but when did you get so close?" 

"After you body-slammed Frank between us. He demonstrated octopus mode in its three phases then was thrown back into his original place." Ray chuckles. He leaves out being pulled in for Brock's sake.

He snuggles back down between them both and pushes back against Sunshine, wanting the tightness of a cuddle as he starts to drift off again. He kisses Frankie and closes his eyes. He doesn't care about morning wood. He wants snuggles. "Don't remember this but sorry." 

"It's all good, my dude." Ray sighs as he closes his eyes, "Don't know how you sleep next to the king of the dance there."

"Octopus mode," Brock sleepily mumbles. "Stay and sleep. I make you stay." 

"No!" Frank blurts, finally getting words out. Now if only his eyes can get on board, things might be good.

"Hi _gattino_ ," Brock grins against Frankie's head. He kisses him softly. "Don't have to sleep but cuddle yes. Koala Time. I'm still sleepy."

"Koala time?" Ray asks softly 

"You're not leaving me in Italy with Jack and your dad right?" Frank asks softly. His tired confused brain can't process everything.

"Never leaving you, _tesoro_." 

"Ok. I'm sorry. Love you." Frank yawns and cuddles closer to Brock.

"Poor kid is tired," Ray says softly.

"Neither of us slept well last night. Well. The night before last now, I suppose. He's worried that I'm not going to be okay enough to go back on tour. I can't say that he's wrong either. But I also know that not doing this will just make things worse. I've never been one for idleness. Outside of cuddling." He sighs and snuggles down some more. It's still too early for him.

"Promise me, if you feel like you are sinking that you will say something, please?" Ray asks. 

"I'll be your water vest thing," Frank adds with a sleepy smile.

"I promise you both that yes, I will say something. Because you are my boyfriends," Brock says with a sleepy giggle. "Emotional Support Boyfriend. Boyfriends?" 

"Boyfriends for sure, remember. I'm your straight boyfriend. He's your gay one." Ray smirks.

"Perfect," Brock mutters, half asleep. He drifts off again not much longer after.

~~

Gerard wakes up to Mike's laugh. He sits up and is immediately confused for a full minute. "Plane. Right..." He mutters out loud. 

"When did we land?" Bob asks the others.

"I don't even know. I woke up to pee at four and I couldn't tell." Gee yawns as he wipes his eyes. 

"This hideaway bed thing is pretty comfortable," Mike stretches. 

"Do you think the lovebirds are awake?" Bob asks, "And Ray." 

"I don't think so. Brock would be trying to feed us." Mike grins, "Though his food choices have never been wrong. It's like he's got a magic touch or something." 

"He's got something." Gee grumbles a little, "What are we doing for Ray's Birthday. It's next week. We'll be in Salt Lake City. Or Denver." 

"Get him drunk. You old dudes are pushing 30." Bob jokes. 

"Yup. Get Frank to come along. Think Brock will?" Mike asks. 

"Probably not. He's so worried about being Alan, I think he's gonna stay as sober as possible." Gerard says as he sits cross-legged on the bed. 

"I gotta pee. I'll check to see if they are awake." Bob groans as he rises. He pushes the door open and slips into the bathroom, as to not disturb the dead. 

"Hi, Bob," Ray says as his friend exits the bathroom and enjoys watching him jump. 

"Fucker. Scared the shit out of me!" Bob snaps loudly.

"Hehehe. Gotcha motherfucker." Ray laughs as he sits up. 

"We're getting hungry. Did you want to get up and go get food? Leave Shrek and Fiona here?" Bob jokes.

"I can see if they wanna come, but that sounds good to me," Ray yawns.

"See you in a few," Bob says before closing the door.

"Frank. Wake the beast, we gotta go do stuff." Ray says as he reaches over Brock to shake the small one.

"I'm awake," Brock grumbles softly. One hand comes up to pat Ray's arm.

"Get up buttercup, it's a beautiful day," Ray says cheerfully before swatting Brock's ass. 

Brock _eeps_ a little at the swat. "Sunshine… please don't be literal this early."

"It's too good of a day to be bumps on a log. Ya gotta get up!" Ray lies behind him as close as he can get as he speaks, "No more sleepy."

"If you don't tone down the brightness of your voice, I'm going to kiss you. On the lips," he threatens as he rolls over onto his back and nudges Frankie to wake up.

"That sounded like a threat but really if that's the worst you can do…" Ray pauses, "It's a bright beautiful day and we have to conquer it, sugar britches!" His tone of voice is bright and sugary. 

Frank curls up a little tighter and tries to hide under the covers. If they can't see him, he doesn't have to participate in waking world things.

"I'm not fully awake yet to threaten properly. Gimme five more minutes and I'll come up with something worse. I'm _moving_. God, no wonder Christa is happy to kick you out on tour. Do you always wake up like a songbird from some Disney movie?" 

"She wears earplugs so she doesn't have to hear me until she's ready." Ray grins. His tone is consistent and cheerful, "Get up! Come on! There are great things like coffee and waffles. We're in a new city, it'll be fun!" 

"If you don't move, he'll go away like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park," Frank whispers under the covers. His eyes closed as he drapes himself on Brock's side.

"Oh I hear you under there… you can't hide from this great fun day!" Ray beams as he stares at the shape of Frank and pokes where he assumes is his side. He watches Frank jump a little and chuckles. 

"Brock," Frank says softly.

"Brocky poo! Get up!" Ray says as he pulls the blankets back to reveal Frank, "Up and at 'em little rat." He reaches over and boops Frank's nose.

"See that's the sleep in police coming to pull you out of bed," Ray says poking Frank's side then Brock's stomach as he rises. "Wakey wakey!" 

"I would move but you are currently on top of me," Brock growls without heat. He makes good on his threat and surges forward and kisses Ray quickly. "Next time I kick your butt back to Jersey. With my boot." 

Ray freezes. He's shocked at the kiss. He snaps back and grins, "No you won't. I'm your second favorite." Ray pokes his belly again and boops Frank.

~~

Gerard manages to get all of the things he needs to look normal for the day in one arm. He opens the bathroom door open and pushes back the hood on his skeleton onesie before stepping in quietly. The bedroom door was still oopen. His eyes scan over a lot of bare skin with Ray draped across Brock's hip and Frank somewhere around there. Seeing Brock rise from the bed and plant a kiss on Ray's lips makes his stomach drop. He was passed over again. He quickly backs out. His head is on fire. _Ray doesn't even swing that way?! What the actual fuck??_ Gerard throws his things down and sits on the couch.

"I'll help you hide the body." Frank growls, "Please Brock."

"I tried. We're both screwed and not in the fun way. Come on, _tesoro._ I'm up now. More than awake. Sunshine's right. I won't kill him. Dammit. The Floof wins," Brock sighs.

Frank sits up with messy hair and an extremely angry face. "I will fight you, Raymond." Frank glares. 

"No, you won't." Ray stands up and stretches wide, "You're about as scary as a munchkin kitten. And we both know, that B won't let you hurt me…" He sticks his tongue out then smiles.

"I'm kicking you in the balls on stage then. Brock can't protect you there." Frank grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest. 

"No you won't," Ray replies with a sing song voice as he pulls jeans on.

"Behave you two," Brock groans as he gets up with a wince. He stands and stretches. His lower back and shoulders ached a little. With a wince, he reaches up and rubs at his shoulder.

Frank glares at Brock before falling back in the bed, "No." 

"I will spank you if you don't. Now get up and I'll get you coffee." 

Defiantly, Frank rolls to his stomach and cradles his head with his arms. "Don't overexert yourself. 

"I do love coffee…" he says quietly. He's arguing in his head, up time means coffee but bed means sleep. He tosses each back and forth. 

"I have a tattoo appointment today," Frank adds.

"Do you want a shower first?" 

"I dunno." He rolls to his side. He motions for Brock to come closer to him. He grins wide at Brock.

Glancing at Sunshine, he moves to the side of the bed with Frankie and bends down, expecting a kiss. “You going to get up, love?”

Frank kisses him. "No. And you shouldn't either." He wraps his arms around Brock's neck. He debates on pulling him onto him

“I have to. We have to get off the plane. And be tourists,” Brock kisses him back.

"Mmm, but what if..." Frank pauses and looks at his face, "I can't convince you with sex, can I?" 

"I'll head out and leave you to handle this boy." Ray chuckles as he opens the door and quietly leaves.

“You can convince me in other ways but I’m not doing anything in this bed on the plane, _tesoro_. I love you but no. Sunshine is right. We need to go. I… I’m actually hungry.”

"You're hungry?" Frank grins at him. He can't say no to that. He kisses him again, "I'll get up." 

“Yeah. I was thinking maybe pancakes? Or muffins. I really don’t know what I’m craving but, yeah.” Brock nods. He moves to their duffles and slides on pants and a tee. He’s not utterly starving but he’ll take some food.

Frank gets out of bed. He picks out random clothing, a shirt and cargo shorts, and dresses quickly. He looks at Brock and nods. He opens the door and exits the room. "Morning fuckers." Frank grumbles at the band. Something feels off, he feels off. There is something wrong. He'll keep it to himself.

Following behind him, Brock grins at the band in greeting, moving around Frankie to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, “Morning guys. Sleep okay?”

"Once we figured out the way the bed unfolded and got out the late-night weirdness, like rocks." Bob smiles, "How about you guys?"

"I had weird dreams about birds chasing us. But not really violently, like menacing." Mike says as he stands up.

"Fine," Gerard replies with a frown.

“Birds? Weird,” Brock says with a small shake of his head. “We slept better than last night, and only with one mishap so that’s a small consolation. Who’s up for breakfast? I’m hungry.”

"Yes! Food!" Mike nods as he picks up his wallet and phone.

Frank hands Brock his phone, "You have a missed call from Maria and Brooke."

_Mishap like your dick in Ray._ Gerard glares at Brock. "Pancakes sound fine." He replies and rises to his feet. 

Frank tucks his phone in a pocket before running his fingers in his hair. "Can I have a water?" asking Brock softly.

"Of course baby. You don't have to ask. You can have whatever you want," Brock says, taking a drink of his water and grabbing his phone. "Anyone can. Except for the wine. But that's a given to anyone. Does everyone have their things? Don't want it lost on the plane. It's going back home after this."

"Are we going to the busses then out into the world?" Ray asks, his voice is business-like, "I have some equipment in one of my bags." 

"The busses were supposed to meet us here, so I would say yes. Will it be okay to keep with you for a bit if they haven't shown up?" he asks as he moves towards the exit door.

"Yeah, it's a couple new pedals and straps." Ray shrugs, "I can keep a hold of them if I need to."

Frank opens the fridge and pulls a water out. He quietly takes a big drink. He picks up his duffle bag and follows the gang off the plane. The warm Texas air greets him as soon as he steps on to the stairs.

"Ohhh this feels like home. Hot and sunshiny. Far more humid though," Brock comments stepping into the sun and sliding on his new shades from his duffle.

"You're home is humid but not hot?" Gerard asks as he squints in the bright morning sun. He scans the area to see if he can find the bus. He could live in a place with the weather like this.

“No, hot and less humid. It could be in the upper nineties or even hotter and it not feel like it. At least to me. Also, I live on an island so that plays a huge factor,” Brock says, also scouring the area for the busses. “The busses could be up by the entrance. Security probably wouldn’t let them drive onto the runway. Let’s go inside or find someone willing to drive us.”

"I could live on an island," Frank says softly. He moves closer to Brock and keeps pace with him and the others. The heat felt nice and he could spend the day in the sun and be content. He opens the door for Brock and the band, feeling the cooled air pouring out. The noise of the airport is overwhelming and makes him feel like he is going to puke. Maybe it was going from hot to cool which is making him feel weird. 

He heard Frankie’s little comment and he smiles at him before taking his hand tightly in his own. The airport is jam-packed and the last thing he wants to do is lose any of his boys. He leans over to Frankie and has to shout to be heard, “Take a hand and form a line. I’m not losing you guys to this god awful crowd.”

Frank holds his hand tight and looks back at Ray and nods. Ray waves an arm for the others to keep up. They move through the airport until Brock stops and asks a security guard where they were supposed to go. The guard leads them to the correct door and back into the heat where their bus sat waiting for them. 

The group boards and unloads their bags into the bunks before returning to the front of the bus. Frank sits on a bench and pulls his feet up. The quiet chatter is silenced when Brock returns from the back of the bus. 

"Food," Ray says with a nod. 

“Yeah,” Brock nods, frowning at the sudden hush. Was there something wrong with him? Were they talking about him? Did they, too, think that he wasn’t ready for this? Was he?

"We were thinking that maybe, we could treat you to breakfast as a sad thank you for the plane ride." Ray says as he glares at the cowards who didn't want to speak up, "So pick a place and it's our treat." 

“You guys don’t have to,” Brock says softly before shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s still unsure about the sudden quiet and his gremlins are spreading lies that they are talking about him and his current _issues_.

"We don't have to but we want to. That's the difference. You've been such a kick-ass boss and we don't know how to thank you. And we didn't wanna offend you," Mike says with a smile that feels hopeful.

"I told you he won't be offended." Frank sighs with a tiny grin, "He'll get all bashful and cute."

“ _You’re_ cute,” Brock retorts back softly. He used to be ‘offended’ by others spending money on him. He likes to think he’s growing into proper friends.

"So, what is for breakfast, boss man?" Bob asks as he leans back.

“I was originally thinking maybe pancakes but… something pastry.” Brock waffles on what he wants. He’s not sure of anything other than it’s sweet and bread-based. “I’m not really sure what I want exactly. Sorry.”

"The breakfast bar," Frank says without looking up from his phone. "It's got a little of everything but it looks kinda fancy. Sweet cream pancakes. Red velvet waffles. Uh, omelets. Steak." 

“Sure. That works. Thanks, love,” Brock nods. “Red velvet waffles sounds weird though.”

"We don't have to go here. I was just looking. Sorry, if it's not what you want." Frank says nervously.

“I don’t know what I want other than carbs. You had me at pancakes. Do they have regular waffles?” Brock sits down next to him and peers at his phone.

"They do. They also have Flights of French Toast, not sure how that works but kinda fun." Frank hands his phone over and lets him look.

“French toast is pretty good. Might get that. I actually like IHOP’s stuffed french toast even though I hate diners,” Brock replies. He looks over the menu on Frankie’s phone and finds quite a few options interesting. At least they have regular waffles as well. Red Velvet is just gross in his opinion. “I think this place doesn’t sound too bad. Not getting the seafood anytime soon though.”

"It's why I don't eat fish," Frank says softly before kissing his cheek. 

"Let's do this then!" Ray says as he stands up, "I'm starving and I kinda wanna explore the city." 

Brock rises and offers his hand to Frankie, “We just need to pick up the rental car. The bus driver will meet us at the hotel. We are officially touring tourists.”

"I'm gonna wait outside while you get the car," Frank speaks low as he takes his hand and stands.

“You okay, baby?” Brock whispers in Frankie’s ear.

He nods. He laces his fingers between Brock's and looks up at him. "I'm good." 

The band follows them out of the bus. The noise of cars and announcements makes Frank's headache a little worse. Gerard and Bob head to the smoking section while Frank sits just outside the door. 

Ray accompanies Brock to the car rental desk. "Hopefully they don't give you a small compact car." He's joking but it is a concern.

“Well I do like things tight, but not like that,” Brock jokes back. “I don’t think they would give us a small car considering the band.”

"You do manage to fit yourself into small things, so it makes sense." Ray chuckles, "Our first tour in Europe they gave us a Camry sized car for our first couple days. Which is fine but we had equipment and duffles. The only thing we were not carrying was the drum kit. It didn't last long after Gee and I threatened to quit." 

“You poor man. How did you not have neck problems from way up there?” Brock laughs as the line moves forward.

"It's been rough..." Ray laughs, "You would be impressed with how hearty we all are… we couldn't last in combat conditions but we could maybe survive the apocalypse." 

“You will as long as I am around,” Brock grins wide at his best friend. The line moves forward again and he spends the next ten minutes getting the key to the rental and signing paperwork.

Frank is enjoying the warm breeze. He can hear Gee, Bob, and Mike laughing. Part of him wants to join them but the other part doesn't want to move. He closes his eyes and pulls his legs up. 

A car horn makes him jump out of his skin, he glances over to see Brock rolling closer in a bright red SUV. He waits until the vehicle stops before rising to his feet. He smiles at Brock before getting into the backseat. The interior is dark and crisp. 

"Is this brand new?" He asks.

“I’m assuming and pretending,” Brock laughs. It’s probably not because rental cars are nearly never new. But he’s going to tell himself that the new car smell is real and not something from a bottle and a vacuum.

"This is a pretty nice car," Frank says looking around as he buckles in. He leans forward and touches Brock's shoulder. A reassuring gesture more for himself than Brock. 

“Not nearly as nice as your new one though? Is that it?” Brock snickers as the other guys get in the backseat as well.

"Yeah. She's a unicorn though. So really, nothing can compete with her." Frank leans his head on the back of Brock's seat, "I have a pretty wonderful husband who helped make her into a unicorn."

"YOU GOT RID OF RITA?" Mike asks shocked. His eyes wide, "Brock you must be a magician cause we figured he'd be buried in that damn death trap."

“Did you seriously name the new car, Unicorn?” Brock asks, utter incredulous and highly amused. He can’t help but envision Frankie decking out the Porsche in glitter and sticking a horn on it within the first week his husband gets to drive it. The image makes him giggle far more than it probably should.

"No. It's just her nickname. She's not been truly broken in. So, she'll get a name once I can get a feel for her. But she is pretty majestic." Frank grins as he rests his chin in the shoulder of the seat looking at Brock in the rearview, "She could be a Buffy…I mean we have a Betty." 

“Fuck you, she is not Betty.” Brock pulls away from the airport and heads towards the city.

"Who's Betty?" Ray asks curiously.

“The Lambo. I’ve been calling her Black Beauty. Frank’s being a cute lil’ stinker and has taken to calling her Betty just to irritate me.”

"Stinker. The last time I called her Betty he called me a fucker and threatened to beat my ass in public." Frank snorts. "Black Beauty is a Betty. She's a hot car. So she's Black Betty." 

“She is not Betty, stoppit,” Brock grumbles. “I’m going to come up with the worst possible name for Unicorn just because I can.”

"You two bicker like an old married couple." Gerard comments from the way back. 

"He's just mad cause she is…" Frank snickers after trailing off.

“We _are_ old marrieds. Ain’t that right baby?” 

"Hell yes, we are, _polpetto."_ Frank grins back at Gee, "He somehow turned me into a happy housewife." 

“Damn right I did. Knew I was right about you the day we met. Perfect in every way. Haven’t regretted it since. Now, where the hell am I driving?” Brock looks over to Ray, who has the directions pulled up on his phone.

Ray smirks, "You’re takin left on, not this street, but the next one." 

"Oh, I have a regret," Frank says softly. 

Brock feels like he’s just been slapped with those words he isn’t sure he’s supposed to hear. What could Frankie possibly regret since meeting him? He’s done nothing but try to take care of him, the boys, and prepare for their future. Everything he’s ever done has been for Frankie. The only time he’s ever done something for himself was to be stupid enough to tell his secrets and deal with the aftermath. He focuses on the road instead, biting his tongue to keep from asking, too afraid to know the answer.

"Well fuck, if no one is gonna ask. I will. What's your regret, Frank?" Mike asks.

"Not giving him my number the first day we met." Frank says with a little voice, "I was too scared to do it."

"You know, the’re probably a hundred different ways you could have said that, you dramatic little dick." Ray replies looking back at him, "Don't make me kick your ass, Iero." 

Bob sits beside Frank quietly and nods in agreement with Ray. The Ways both remain silent. The obvious tension doesn't need their input.

"I'm sorry, Brock," Frank says looking at the rearview mirror. He wants him to look at him but he's avoiding him. 

“It’s alright, _tesoro_. You just gave me a mini heart attack that’s all. You can’t inherit Black Beauty until after we are married, so no killing me off just yet,” Brock teases and winks at him in the mirror, the whole thing already forgiven.

"Thought Jack gets the car?" Frank asks.

"Take a right." Ray reaches over and touches Brock's arm.

Gerard sees the touch and feels a little fire in his chest.

“Marrieds take precedence, _gattino_. You’d get it all,” Brock glances back at him with a bit of weight in his eyes before taking the right Ray indicated. 

"I'd rather just have you." 

"Should be the next left." Ray says looking back at Frank with a frown, "It doesn't look busy either. So perfect." 

Brock pulls into the parking lot near the entrance and parks before getting out. He waits for Frankie to exit before taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze and a smile. He leans over and kisses his cheek before whispering softly, “Forgiven and forgotten. I can see your wheels turning, sweetheart. Let’s go get me stuffed.”

"I thought I was the only one in the relationship who gets stuffed..." Frank smirks up at him, "I am sorry and I regret nothing beyond being a chicken the first day I met you." 

“I’m your meatball, remember?” Brock replies with a grin. 

"Just like I'm your Twinkie." He beams up at him. The smell of food makes his stomach turn a little sour and he makes a face. 

“You okay?” Brock asks again, a concerned frown on his face. Something was wrong with his husband and he didn’t like not knowing. “What’s wrong, Frank?”

"I'm okay, I think. Just a weird smell that's all." Frank looks up at him. How does he explain he feels off. It sounds hokey to even him. 

“What are you feeling? Symptoms?” Brock asks, leading him into the restaurant after the other guys. 

"I have a little headache and my stomach's being weird. I'm ok. Please don't worry." Frank says. He didn't wanna say anything. Brock doesn't need to worry about him. 

“Well, the nausea is probably due to the headache. Maybe some food into your stomach will help you feel better. Something light though, okay? Hopefully, you didn’t get the same food bug I did.” Brock makes a face, remembering the horrific feeling of his food poisoning he got from eating bad shrimp a few days ago, causing them to miss the band family dinner.

"It's why you don't eat seafood. It's Poseidon's revenge." Frank smiles as he sits in the booth and waits for Brock to sit beside him, "I was thinking like eggs and toast. You need to eat something really good for me, please." 

"Yessir," Brock replies without any sarcasm. He knows he needs to work on his appetite.

The hostess puts menus in front of each member of their party. She takes the drink order before fluttering away. Mike passes around his phone and explains the little vacation that he and his girlfriend had to a bed and breakfast in Ontario. 

"I was thinking that I might want to keep her around for good. But I don't even know what I'm doing so… I chickened out." Mikey says quietly. 

"Good for you Mike. As the only one who is _legit_ married here, maybe you can ask Sunshine for advice? Other than getting a ring and bending the knee, I wouldn't know how to help you Mike-n-Ike. But I'm happy for you, man," Brock says as he glances over the menu. He’s very proud of Mikey’s new nickname. It was far better than Life. He’s certain it’s gonna stay.

"Well, make sure you're ready. Also, make sure that it's what she wants too." Ray smiles, "Get the parents’ permission. Just have fun with it. Oh, get the right ring size too." Ray chuckles.

"Oh yay we've been doing it right, Frankie," Brock grins. "I'll need to get your ring size later though." 

"Oh if I'm proposing, I have it all planned out." Frank grins.

"If, my ass. You'd better not. That's my job, _gattino_." 

"I mean, I just gotta get your parents’ permission and then pull you out on stage and do it in front of thousands of strangers…" Frank grins, this is absolutely not his plan if he needed one.

"You had better not. I will spank you in public, hellcat. You know I will," Brock warns lightly.

"Maybe do it on a TV performance… write it on my t-shirt." He leans up and kisses him.

"I was thinking of taking her to like Japan or someplace she wants to go and doing it there," Mike says to Ray. 

Ray nods, "That's a good plan." 

Frank leans his head on Brock's shoulder and closes his eyes. He is hit with another wave of nausea rolls through him. The waitress approaches with a smile to take their orders. Frank doesn't want to eat. He listens to the others place their orders. He looks up at Brock when it's his turn. 

"I'd like to get the Big Breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon, please," Brock says, handing her his menu. 

"Eggs and toast." Frank looks at her and hands the menu over. He notices the waitress's expression to his order. She probably thinks he's got an eating disorder. 

The group talks amongst themselves. They have made plans for stops during their free day. Even Brock requests to stop somewhere. He closes his eyes and listens until he can feel himself nodding off. 

"Can you let me out babe?" Frank asks quietly. He doesn't know if he needs to puke but you never know.

With a nod, Brock slides out of the booth and lets Frankie follow. He fights himself to go with him as his love makes his way to the bathroom. Instead, he chooses to give him some space for now. He'll do another check-in after breakfast. Hopefully, the toast will settle Frankie's tummy and make him feel better. He silently prays it's not food poisoning. Though, of all days, today would be the best for something to happen. 

Gerard waits a beat before sliding out of the booth and moving for the bathroom. He is a little worried Brock might say something but he goes for it. He pushes the bathroom door open and hears the toilet flush. "Frankie?" He asks gently.

"What." Frank is unamused by the intrusion. Can't a dude puke in peace?

"You cool dude?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. Cause what the actual fuck Iero!" Gerard raises his voice. 

"What did I do now?" Frank says defeated. His head rests on his arm as he hugs the toilet.

"Toro. Fucking Toro! It's bad enough that you picked Brock over me. But you guys pass me over for Ray?" Gerard starts, a little less composed than he planned, "What happened to it's a 'closed' relationship? It's me…isn't it?"

"I'm not sure what you are babbling about but I can assure you, you are not being passed over." Frank groans as he sits back. "I think there is something wrong with me." 

"I wouldn't put it past him to make some shit up about touch deprivation just to get you and Ray in bed," Gee replies with venom to his words.

"Don't you dare start that shit." Frank crawls slowly to his feet, "You don't get to use this against him. You don't get to make him feel like shit cause you're a jealous man. I may be tired and nauseous and once I can see straight, I'll fight you if you wanna go this route."

"Your vision is blurry?" Gerard asks.

"I just puked my guts out. Yes." Frank grumbles, "Just drop it. We ain't fucking Ray. He's just Brock's friend."

"Hmmm," Gerard frowns.

"Don't say a word to Brock about this." Frank points a finger at him, "It's bad enough that I am making him worse. We don't need this bullshit." 

"Whatever," Gerard says as Frank goes back into the bathroom stall. He returns to the table with wheels turning. He sits down and takes a drink of his coffee. 

"Frank's having a rough morning. Sounds like he's throwing up." Gerard says casually.

"Shit," Brock breathes out before getting up quickly and striding into the bathroom to go find Frankie. Several scenarios enter his head from what little he knows of Frankie's symptoms. Once he checks on his husband, he's going to call Linda. She's a nurse. She'll know what to do.

Frank's legs are curled up underneath him, it's a fuckin public toilet and he shouldn't be resting in there but the coolness of the porcelain felt good. Maybe it's just the flu. It can't be his stomach issues. He's never exhausted. Usually, it's just throwing up and normally within hours of eating bad food. He's never tired. He's been fighting the lack of interest for everything all week. He's put on a good face. Even fooled himself. 

He hears the bathroom door open and just knows from the sound of his steps it's Brock. That fucking bastard Gee just had to tell him. "Handicap stall." He says with a sigh. 

Gee sits at the table satisfied.

"What's wrong with Frank?" Ray asks.

"Just puking. Hopefully, it's not the flu cause you're gonna get it." Gerard's lack of interest in the subject is apparent in his words.

"He's been under a lot of stress." Ray sighs, "Brock says he's been doing both partner things since he's fallen deeper into the depression. He's probably just stretching too thin." 

"Poor kid," Bob says quieter as the food arrives. 

Ray looks at the waitress, "Is there any way to keep this from getting cold?" 

"I could put it under the heat lamp," she says with a confident smile.

"Excellent. Once they come back, would you be able to bring it back?"

"Yeah of course!" She nods and disappears into the kitchen.

"It's cute how you take care of your new boyfriend." Gee pops off with a sneer. 

"Uh. I'd do it for you if you were sick." Ray blinks at Gerard unfazed by the bitchy attitude.

"Didn't know you jumped ships? Does Christa know?" Gerard puts a palm on the table. 

"Frank is my friend and Brock is quickly becoming my best friend. Don't be this way…" Ray groans as he rolls his eyes, "I should see if they need anything." 

"Maybe give him a few minutes. We all know Frank is a crier when he pukes." Bob says hesitantly. 

"Yeah… true," Ray says, fighting the need to get up. 

Brock makes his way to the handicapped stall and slowly pushes the door open. Seeing his boy on the floor looking utterly miserable just about breaks his heart. He steps in and locks the door behind him to prevent another guy from interrupting. Going over to Frankie, he kneels and touches a hand to his forehead to see if he's running a fever. He's definitely calling Linda.

"Oh baby, how's your stomach now? Feeling better or still pissed off?" Brock's voice is soothing as the hand on his forehead moves and cards through his hair.

"Sour. I don't know what's going on…" Frank stops talking for a moment thinking something was stirring but relaxing enough to calm his stomach, "I'm sorry. I just need a minute and I'll be ok. Don't worry about me." The relief is short-lived as his stomach reacts and forces him to throw up bile. 

Brock rubs his back in small circles as his baby love purges bile. He gets up and grabs a paper towel and wets it. Grabs another and does the same before bringing both back to Frankie. One wet towel goes on his forehead and cheeks and the other gets passed over for Frank's mouth. "Here _tesoro_. I hate to say this but you need to eat the toast you ordered. Not the eggs but the toast to settle your stomach so it doesn't try to puke acid."

"Ok." Frank nods. He's too tired to do anything other than agree, "I'm ok. I'll be ok." He looks up at Brock. 

"That's right," Brock nods. "You will be okay. I've got you. I'm here." 

"I'm not gonna ruin today. I just need toast and water." He wipes his mouth again then turns into Brock. He hugs him, "I'm just a little tired." 

"Yeah I bet, baby. And you never ruin anything. You're perfect just the way you are. I love you. You think you are ready to go sit back down?" Brock kisses his neck in the hug.

"Yeah, let's go. You need to eat." Frank says softly as he touches Brock's back.

"I will if you will. And hey my breakfast is huge. I get two pancakes, two eggs, two bacon strips, and grits. I totally get a gold star for this," Brock laughs as he picks up Frankie and cradles him, heading out of the bathroom.

"You'll get two gold stars if you finish it." Frank rests his head on Brock's chest. He remembers that Brock still hurts and carrying him could be a drain, "I can walk baby. You shouldn't waste your energy on me." 

"Oh," Brock halts a little as he tries to manage the door. "I, uh, didn't notice." 

"Oh. Ok. I just worry about you." Frank says with a soft voice as he reaches out and helps Brock pull the door, almost missing it. 

"What a pair we make, huh?" Brock giggles and uses his foot to catch the door and open it properly before heading back to the table.

"Yeah, I love you. Thank you." Frank says softly as he kisses his chest.

"Love you more, _tesoro_ ," Brock leans down and lifts him higher to kiss him properly, still managing to walk down the aisle and not tripping. He reaches the table and sets him down in the booth, sliding him over before doing the same.

The waitress brings their food out as soon as they settle before Frank can open his mouth. He smiles weakly at her and feels awkward. "Sorry guys," Frank says, trying not to look at the food. He picks up his water and takes a drink. He places the glass down and picks up his toast and takes a bite. It tastes awful but he needs it. 

"You're good, Frankie. How are you feeling?" Mike says kindly as he sets his silverware down. 

"I'm ok." 

Brock kisses Frankie's temple and holds him under his arm as close as possible as he eats his eggs. "Whoever said for them to wait on bringing us our food, I love you. Thanks."

"No worries, B." Ray winks as he takes a bite of red velvet waffle.

"How's the waffle? Is it decent?" Brock asks him.

"It's pretty good. Wanna bite?" Ray offers with a chipper voice.

"I bet the red velvet cinnamon rolls are good too," Bob says as he stabs at the piece of pineapple.

"I've never liked red velvet before but I like waffles. Sure, I'll try a bite if you don't mind."

"They are sweeter than red velvet," Ray says as he extends his fork to Brock. He lets him take the fork.

Gerard's mouth drops slightly and glares at Frank. ' _Fuckin liar,'_ he thinks. He cuts his pancake a little harder.

Brock takes the bite and slowly chews. It's not too terrible. Sunshine was right; it was sweeter than normal red velvet. "Hm. Not totally gross. It is sweeter. Wanna try the pancake? I swear they mixed in some form of sweetened milk in. I might have to try this at home."

"Yeah! It's the sweet cream, I've never heard of it in pancakes." Ray nods with a smile, "Christa makes delicious cinnamon pancakes. She'd love this recipe."

"Okay, now I have to try that the next time I come over," Brock says, taking a bit of his pancake and giving Sunshine back his fork.

Ray looks at him after eating the bite, "that's delicious." His eyes scan to Frank who seemed paler if that was even possible. He looks back at Brock and nods a little. 

"You're looking a little green, Frank," Gee says a little callously.

Brock tenses and gets ready to move quickly if Frankie needed to run to the bathroom. "You okay baby? Need to go?" 

"Nope. No, I am ok," saying the words more for himself than anyone else, Frank looks up at him. "Just need some toast and Tylenol. Eat. Please."

"I am. But you need to tell me if you are going to be sick again. And you aren't okay yet but you will be," he replies, pulling Frankie closer before eating his bacon and pancakes. He reaches over and stabs a piece of pineapple off of Bob's plate with a grin.

"I didn't realize I needed pineapple in my breakfast but I now need it," Bob says with a huge smile.

"I love pineapples," Frank says softly. He takes a bite of his second piece of toast. 

"Me too," Brock says before suddenly giggling at a memory.

Frank looks up at him, "Both kinds of pineapples." He smiles and inhales deep. He's ok. 

"So… where are we going next?" Mike asks, "Shopping? Museums? Hotel?"

_'I'm taking Frank to the hotel and he's going to rest,'_ Frank thinks as he takes a sip of water. Frank wants to try his eggs but is nervous they'll make him puke.

"Maybe something indoors. Get out of this heat. Not too sure about museums but if you guys want to go, I'm on board. We should look up what's the touristy things to do in Austin and go from there," Brock says, eating some more pancake. He likes these.

"Waterloo Records," Frank says looking up at Brock. Anytime he can find a new record is a good time. 

"Deal. What else, boys?" 

"Austin books and comics. It's an entire strip mall full of books and comics and all kinds of things…" Bob says looking up from his phone. 

"What do you wanna do, _polpetto?"_ Frank asks as he pokes the egg on his plate, "Did you wanna go look at clothing. They have art stores. Gun stores…" 

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I spend it with my boys. But I do like the idea of the gun store. And maybe the art store. Mother would probably like a new painting for her birthday next month. If that's alright with you guys?" Brock asks the table.

"Sounds good to me!" Ray grins wide and nods. 

"Can regular people go into gun stores?" Mike asks, a little confused sounding.

"Why wouldn't they, Milky Way? I mean if you think about it, one in every four Americans own a gun. They're regular people just like you." Brock finishes his bacon and eggs.

"One in four?" Ray asks. 

"I have one," Bob says with a shrug.

"When I lived at my old place I wanted one." Frank offers. He doesn't have to worry about it much. 

"Please don't ever get one _tesoro_. I can't imagine you with one, to begin with and I like being your protector. I'm your gun," Brock says with a wide grin and makes a finger gun to be a dork. 

"I don't need one. I know that my big _scary_ husband has enough weapons on his person I never have to worry." Frank chuckles, "Besides anything can be a weapon with enough confidence and anger behind it."

"Oh I'm always packing, that's for sure," Brock smirks.

"When's check-in?" Gee asks break-in from his anger. He's concerned about Frank's even more pale appearance.

"Check-in is at three pm to two am. We've got time. Unless you needed or wanted to head back to the hotel first?"

"No. I was thinking more about this one here." Gee nods to Frank. 

Frank looks up from stabbing at his eggs. "I'm fine. Just debating on eating this." 

"Give it a try and see how you feel?" Ray suggests as he sets his silverware down on his plate.

"I don't think you should. While your stomach is upset, you probably would do better with the B.R.A.T diet. I'm sure they have a banana you can slowly eat," Brock comments, running his fingers through Frankie's hair before checking his temperature again.

"I feel like there’s a missing sex joke in there…" Ray smirks. 

"I'll stick with toast." Frank nods, "I'd rather not spend my free day in a hotel room." 

"Don't blame you there. We rarely get free time on the road." Bob says as he takes the last bite.

"Speaking of free time, I have a schedule for you guys that I made. It's open for discussion and reasonable adjustments but overall I expect you boys to stick to it." Brock opens up his note app on his phone and slides it over for them to look at.

"Seems reasonable." Ray nods and looks up at Brock. The item that would get pushback is the curfew.

"11. We have to be in bed at 11 pm..." Mike asks 

"I had a later curfew in high school," Frank adds. He's probably not the best example to use considering he shared the Rita story. 

"And none of you boys are _in_ high school. This means proper amounts of sleep is critical to you being alert and on point on show days. You guys can't keep staying up late and partying all night and expect you to still be able to run on a few hours or less of sleep. Keeping you to a bedtime routine is healthy overall for both your bodies and minds. Even if you don't sleep at eleven at night, you resting in bed or the bunk is acceptable. It will help you relax and hopefully, you'll fall asleep earlier."

"Studies have shown that 7 hours is the perfect amount of sleep for adult males to function the best. I think an 11 pm wind down is perfect." Ray nods after taking the last sip from his coffee.

"Of course you support your boyfriend." Gee rolls his eyes. 

Ray rolls his eyes, "I think it's a great idea. It's not like any of us need to be out drinking until closing time." 

"Do we have to do these things at their exact times?" Bob asks. 

"Each show day will have different times for things like your press events and show preparation. Obviously things of that nature are not negotiable. But most everything else can be adjusted, yes. Curfew is not one of them."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Frank asks.

"Yeah, I have an idea as well," Mike says, putting his hand up a little like he was waiting to be called on. 

"Of course, go for it." Brock takes a drink of his coffee.

"For press events can you possibly find out who is required to be present, sometimes they only wanna talk to Gerard and the rest of us are kicking it in the green room until he's done," Frank asks looking up at Brock. 

"I was thinking that maybe since we are going to be on the road, maybe we can stock up on like… healthy items for our fridge. Sandwich making things. Carrots and stuff. So we aren't eating fast food all the time." Mike asks 

"Done on both. Anything else I can do for my favorite team?" 

"Have you heard anything from the label about recording the new album?" Gerard asks.

"Not yet," Brock says with a wince. "I'm sorry. I've been rather preoccupied. I will do that after we are back at the hotel, promise."

"Okay cool. We have been working on new material and I think it's going to be good." Gee gives him a nod. 

"Do you really want to rent out a mansion and record there?" Frank asks

"A haunted one, yes." 

Frank sighs. He's too tired to point out the obvious.

"You know that's how you get possessed, right? Like in the movies, that's how this happens…" Mike looks at him and throws his napkin at Gerard.

"Can you move?" Frank asks Brock quietly. 

Brock hops up quickly and lets Frank slide out of the booth. "Want me to help you? I'd offer to hold your hair back but it's not that long yet."

"You don't have to have to leave, this is important," Frank says quietly. His guts are twisting. It feels more like pain than anything else. He rests his hand on his stomach before turning and quickly moving to the restroom.

"It's not like… the flu right?" Bob asks Brock with concern on his face.

"I don't know." Brock sits back down with a sigh. He hates not knowing what's wrong. He hates not being able to fix things. He hates feeling like crap himself, even though today is better. He's worried about Frankie. Something is wrong and he knows it. He just doesn't know what. He tries to focus on his mostly finished plate and finds he doesn't want it anymore. He sighs. So much for a gold star.

"You've been taking his temperature, covertly. Is he warm?" Ray asks. 

He shakes his head. "No fever. I don't think it's the flu but maybe it's the stomach bug? I somehow may have passed it onto him while he was taking care of me? I don't see how though, considering he practically hid in the living room and let me suffer. I want to call Linda. See if she knows what it could be."

"She's a nurse and mom. She'll know what to do." Mike nods, "Our mom might say give him a shot of whiskey and a cigarette, he'll be fine." 

"Just needs a little of that rum and it will make it better. Burn it off or puke it out. Either way… issa win," Gerard does a heavy New Jersey feminine accent as he rolls his eyes. 

The waitress comes back and clears plates. "Are these on separate tabs?" She asks with a bright and warm voice.

"No, on one," Ray says before anyone else can speak, especially Brock.

"Perfect. I'll just leave this here." She places the black billfold on the table. Ray snatches it before Brock's big hands could get a hold of it. He puts a credit card into it and hands it back to the waitress.

"Sunshine," Brock groans. He'd forgotten about it being "their" treat.

"Brock 'n Roll?" 

He sighs and just shakes his head. "Nevermind. I forgot." 

"You've been dealing with a sick kitten." Ray reminds him with a warm smile, "We got you." 

"And this is why I love you. I'm going to go outside and call Linda where it's quieter. Keep an eye on him," he says, standing. He takes a last drink of his now cold coffee and heads outside.

"Will do. I'll go check if he's not back soon." Ray nods.

Brock pulls his cell phone out and notices that again he has missed calls from his mother and sister. He swipes those away. He's not ready to get a lecture right now. Instead, he pulls up the contact for Linda and calls her.

"If it isn't my favorite son in law..." She answers quickly. Her voice is cheerful and bright.

"Hi Linda Mom," he breathes the words, letting some of the anxiety show through. He's hoping she can fix this.

"What wrong honey? I can hear it in your voice..." She asks, putting on her calm motherly voice.

"Frankie's sick and I don't know what's wrong or how to fix it." The words come out in a rush. He runs a hand through his hair in a piss poor attempt to self-soothe his nerves.

"It's okay, honey. What’re his symptoms?" Linda’s words are meant to help calm Brock so he can think clearly. 

"He's been vomiting. Pale, clammy. No fever. Just started this morning." 

"Is he drinking water?" She asks, then pauses, "What's he eaten in the last twenty-four hours?" 

"Uh, let's see. We went out last night. He got some parmesan dish, eggplant, I think. Looked gross but he was happy."

"No red meat? Steak, right? Eggplant is a nightshade vegetable. So are tomatoes, damn it, Frank." Linda sighs, "He's taking his meds right? How much coffee is he drinking?"

"I- I- Shit. I'm so sorry. I don't know. I'm sorry," Brock stutters a little. He paces by the car just to do something.

"Brock it's ok." She says gently, "I know my kid and he probably did tell you about it and hasn't been taking the meds. How's his stress level been?" 

"He mentioned it like the first few days we were together and I just… forgot. I forgot to take care of him. I don't know if he's been taking his meds, I've never seen him do it. And stress…. With everything that's been going on with me…" 

"Hey, breathe Brock. It's okay." Linda coos into the phone, "This isn't your fault. I know where this rabbit hole is taking you and I'm going to stop you there. Okay?"

"He knows that he shouldn't eat certain foods. He's also got to manage his stress because it can make it worse." Linda pauses.

"I think he's in caregiver fatigue," he whispers.

"That's ok. It does happen and it is not your fault." She continues, "He's happily and willingly taken on a role that he didn't expect to be as hard. We know Frankie and we know he always wants things to turn out perfect and right the first time."

"I know for a fact he's not talking to me about how he's feeling. He shuts me down. He's pushing it down. And I bet he's not called your VA guy either. Stress makes his stomach issues worse. It's all trickle down stuff, baby. It's nothing you've done wrong and it's not your fault."

"Brock?" Linda asks at the silence on the other end.

"I'm here," came the wet reply.

"Where is he now?" She asks.

"Bathroom. We're in Austin and I wanted breakfast. Boys and I went out. He's been in there most of the time, over the toilet." Brock wipes away tears.

"Okay. So, what I need you to do is breathe. You can't help him or yourself when you're upset." Linda says firmly, "We need to know if he even has the meds with him. If not, he's going to call a pharmacy and refill it. He's gonna be miserable for the next couple of days. Bland food and a lot of water."

"Now, how are you doing?" 

"Improving. I think."

"That's great, sweetheart! You sound better. I am proud that you are making progress!" Linda’s voice brightens, "So what's our plan?" 

"Bland food and water. Get him meds and make him take it." He takes a deep breath. "Make him call Sam. And you."

"What are you gonna do for yourself to keep yourself from slipping back?" She asks him.

"Uh, call Sam. And you?" He blanked and pretty much said the first thing he could think of. "And my own mom? I dunno..." 

"Yeah. Talk to someone and keep taking care of yourself." She chuckles, "You got this. I promise and if his little ass gives you hell call me back and I can set him straight. Remind him that if he doesn't take care of himself that he will wind up in the hospital if he doesn't listen to you."

"Yes ma'am" he nods into the phone before realizing she can't see him. Still, it was good to have someone remind him of the things he needed to do. It seemed to be one of the things he was still struggling with.

"Alright love. Let me know how it goes, ok?" Linda says kindly.

"Yes ma'am. Promise." 

"Ok, you've got this. I'll talk to you later. Love you sweetheart." 

"Thanks momma. Love you too. Talk to you later," Brock says softly. "Thank you for your help."

"I'm always here, honey." She says before saying goodbye and hanging up.

~~ 

Ray peers into the bathroom and can hear Frank flush the toilet. 

"Babe, I'm fine." Frank groans.

"Well, I know I'm _fine_ but I ain't your babe." Ray jokes.

"He sent you?"

"Eh sorta." Ray leans against the sink, "You gonna survive?"

"God I hope so."

"Just food and acid right? No blood?" Ray checks in with him. 

"Yeah. I don't need a hospital yet." Frank groans, "Where is he?"

"Talking to your mom."

"Fuck."

"This sounds like it's gonna be a fun car ride." Ray snorts.

"I'm about to get a lecture."

"Do you deserve it?" Ray asks, trying to not smile at Frank's plight.

"Yeah…" Frank sighs as he gets up and walks out of the stall. 

"Then don't bitch. Take it and do better." Ray nods as he hands him a paper towel.

"I will." 

Ray puts his arm around Frank's shoulder and escorts him out of the bathroom. The band is waiting by the front door for them. Frank feels his cheeks flush as he realizes they had been waiting for him. He looks for Brock but doesn't find him. 

"Hey! How you feelin' Frank?" Mike says gently as they approach the group.

"Like I just drank hot Cheeto dust."

"Mmm appetizing."

"Try living it. Is he outside?" Frank asks.

"Pacing by the car," Gerard says as he pops a toothpick in his mouth.

"Pacing," Frank repeats. One of two things is happening. He's mad upset or he's sad upset, neither aren't any option he wants.

"We should go before he wears down the pavement," Ray says, moving the group forward to the exit with his arms like he was herding kittens.

Hanging up and putting his phone in his pocket, Brock turns and sees the group exit. He gives a small smile, happy to see his boys, especially Frankie. "Hey, guys. Sorry that took so long." 

"It's all good. Had to collect all the kittens and move them to the exit." Ray chuckles. He moves Frank forward feeling the other man's hesitation.

"Sunshine the kitten herder. New title," Brock laughs, pulling Frankie in tight for a hug and a kiss.

"I want that on a business card." Ray jokes.

Frank hugs him back and buries his head into his chest. " _'_ m fine." His words are muffled by Brock's shirt.

"Do you have your meds with you?" Brock asks.

Frank shakes his head no. Maybe hiding his face will spare him from having to get a refill.

"First thing we are going to do is go to the pharmacy and get you a refill. Then you are going to take them before we do anything else." Brock pulls out of the hug a little. 

"But. I'll be ok and I really will." 

"This isn't up for discussion, _gattino_."

"Mom's orders, I take it." He says dryly, "I don't like taking pills… Just tums and water _usually_ does the trick."

"He informed me that he's not puking blood up so that leads me to believe that happens… when this happens?" Ray says with a shrug. He doesn't care if he gets called a narc.

"Yes. No more tomato or eggplant or potatoes or other hidden deadly nightshade things you are allergic to that I know nothing about," he lectures, though without meaning to.

"Do you know if it's something he takes daily?" Ray asks going to the seat behind the driver’s door and leaning on the car.

"No. I don't. He mentioned this once like the second day we met and I assumed things were either safe to eat or he was taking the meds. Actually I… I forgot. I forgot it was even a thing for you, Frankie. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I haven't taken the medicine in like a _year_. It's my fault. I can usually manage without it." Frank goes quiet when he says how long it's been.

"Why don't you take the meds?" Bob asks as he squashed his cigarette out.

"The medicine is kinda expensive and I just forget." Frank shrugs. He's become aware of how many of them are aware of one of his issues and he feels embarrassed. Almost nervous about it. Now they are gonna monitor what he's eating.

"So no nightshades or whatever those are?" Ray asks.

"Nope." Frank sighs, "Or red meat."

"You poor child." Mike jokes.

"That's like half my country's cuisine," Brock laughs before kissing Frankie and hugging him. "Let's go, sweetest." 

Frank nods and moves to the passenger seat. "How's this gonna work when I go home with you?"

"Yeah, he's gonna starve." Ray jokes.

"I'll ask the Google about alternatives. Where to first after the pharmacy?" Brock asks as he starts the car and pulls away.

"The comic book store and gun place are a block from each other. Let's start there." Ray says as he pinches the screen on his phone.

"Thank you, Navigator." 

"Any time. Head north." Ray adds.

After the not-so-quick trip to the pharmacy, where Brock discovers just how much those meds cost and complains like an old dad the entire time they are waiting for it to be filled. He decides to take them to the gun store next. Which is great because Brock is so fired up over the cost of medication, he needs to shoot things. He's hoping he can shoot things. 

Frank warned him how much the meds cost but he must have believed he was exaggerating. If he had insurance, it might be cheaper but that's not something he's got. He sits quietly listening to Brock and the guys chat as he watches out the window. Ray gives directions to the gun store which Frank watches the grin grow on his love’s face.

Gerard sits quietly next to Ray. He feels himself glaring at Brock then Ray. He can't let it go. He has no claim to Frank or Brock but if anyone got to be the third person in the relationship, it should be him. He's been there during sexy times. That counts for something. It has to. 

"I'm not complaining about the fact that it was _two_ _thousand dollars_ for me. I don't care about that. I can afford it. You can afford it. The whole fucking band can afford it. But why the hell do you guys not have fucking insurance?! And what if some other Joe needs the same pills? Stupid healthcare system," Brock was _still_ ranting over this. He opens the door for the guys and let's them in the gun store.

"Now you see why I wasn't taking the meds." Frank sighs as he wraps his arm around Brock's waist. He can't help but smile over his old man rant.

"I need to shoot something. Like now. Preferably with something that makes a very satisfying big bada boom."

Ray wanders to the big assault rifles in a tall case. He's always wanted one but Christa says no. He doesn't need one. He moves around the case with wide hopeful eyes.

"I've never fired a gun. Like a real gun before." Frank says as Brock steps to the counter. 

"Wanna watch me first? Maybe fire one yourself? No buying. Other than Bobby, I'm the only one with a permit." 

"I can watch you. Maybe I'll shoot later?" Frank asks, "What if I want to get a permit?" 

Bob has disappeared and is already getting ready to shoot.

"God they are pretty," Gee says, looking at the large knives in a case a few over from Frank. 

Brock glances at Gerard briefly before replying to Frankie, “I don’t feel comfortable with anyone really carrying any weapons, outside of me, but as you are all adults, I can’t legally stop you.” Brock turns to the attendant and pays for his usage of the range.

"I don't need one. Just curious." Frank said looking up at him, "They are shiny though. Have fun, baby." 

Grinning wide with pure excitement, Brock steps into the gun range and puts on his headphones before loading up the paper target and setting himself up to shoot. He never realized just how much he had missed this in the last few weeks. The weight of the gun in his hands was both foreign and familiar, as it was not his own firearm. It was a good size, maybe a little bigger even. He practices picking it up and aiming several times to get used to the size and weight before sighting down the barrel and firing off the first shot. Curious he brings forward the paper target to see just how off he was. It wasn’t bad, just a few inches off to the right. It’s an easy adjustment and with the flick of a switch, he sends the target back. Taking a deep breath to center him and curb his excitement, he draws the gun again and without hesitation, rapidly empties the clip.

Frank watches from behind the safety glass. He can see just how much Brock's demeanor changes. Like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Maybe this is something Brock could do to unwind? 

It feels so good to be firing a gun. As soon as the pistol in his hand clicks empty, he grabs another, pops it in, and empties that one in a matter of seconds. He’s sure the paper target is shredded at this point, either in one single hole if his aim is true, or in a giant spray. He doesn’t care. This felt much like him in the ring with Steve. Here he could metaphorically shoot away some of his feelings. Process through the things he couldn’t really face head-on. Like his current state of wellbeing. He hates his depression; hates the fact that he feels like this and that it seems to last forever. He hates the fact that his moods swing as if he was bipolar. One minute he’s happy and enjoying himself and the next he’s ready to cry from the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and sadness. Fatigue lurked under his skin even in the happiest of times. Today seemed to be a good day at least. He missed those. Another clip gets emptied and he switches focus; letting his mind ebb and flow at the melodic and rhythmic sound of gunfire. He’s certain his new normal is putting a strain on the band. Especially Frankie. Linda’s words come back to him and they provide both a source of comfort and shame that he had completely failed to take care of Frankie like he said he would. It was his fault for dismissing and failing to remember that Frankie had dietary restrictions. It was his responsibility as Frankie’s husband-to-be and Dominate to ensure his boy was taking care of himself properly. It was his duty as the tour manager to ensure all of the band’s needs were met, whatever they may be. And he’d failed at all of it. Another clip gets inserted; the action now automatic. Seconds later the gun clicks empty and his hand reaches for another only to touch air. He blinks out of the headspace he was in to realize he had gone through everything he had purchased and the paper target was missing its torso. He needs… more bullets. He’s not finished just yet.

Frank is leaning against the wall near the shooting gallery. He had been watching Brock but had received a stream of messages from his mom and sister about not taking his meds. He glances up to see Ray going in with a target and bullets. The range guy leading Ray past Brock who pats his husband on the shoulder. He adores their relationship, Brock needs strong friends to keep him happy and mentally healthy. He looks at Brock and smiles.

Ray happily sets up his target and sends it back. Removing the safety from the small handgun. He places the gun down then ties his hair back in a ponytail. He picks up the gun and unloads on the target. His aim is not good but he makes the paper. 

Curious because he never thought Sunshine would ever fire a gun, Brock leaves his cubicle and walks over to Ray’s. He watches him for a moment before he pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Frankie to please purchase another target and at least six clips for his Desert Eagle and that if he wanted to join him, he was going to help Sunshine with his aim. After he pockets his phone, he moves closer to Sunshine and gently taps him on his shoulder.

Frank looks up and blinks. He nods and moves to the counter. He waits for the female in hopes she won't laugh at his lack of knowledge. She's young and had black hair and paler skin than him. 

"How can I help you?" She asks with that sweet drawl at the tail of her words.

"So my husband is in lane 5. He has a Desert Eagle and he needs bullets. I know nothing about guns. Can you help me get more rounds for him to fire in there?" Frank asks, glancing over at Brock with Ray. 

"I sure can. Does he need .50AE or .44 Magnums rounds?" She asks with a smile.

Frank texts him the question, "I'm so sorry."

"You seem more like a knife guy than a gun guy." She looks into the range as Brock.

"I mean I haven't shot a gun before but I am open-minded to the idea." He says a little flirty. 

"I'm gonna assume the .50 because it sounds bigger," Frank says with a shrug. 

"Fifty is developed for the Desert Eagle so, let's go with that. How many?" She smiles and what he thinks is bats her lashes at him

"Three boxes. And a couple of targets." Frank grins and feels his cheeks flush a little. 

"Let him know it will be waiting for him in the box marked 5." She says as she hands over the items to another man. She rings up the bullets and targets. "I like your accent. Where are you from?" 

"New Jersey. I like your accent. It's cute." Frank grins. 

"What are you doing down here from New Jersey?" She asks with a wider smile, "Why would you leave the east coast to come here?" 

"My band is performing tomorrow at South by Southwest." He smirks, "Today's our free day. You have a really cool city… so far at least, everyone has been nice."

"Well, you're adorable so that is probably why they have been nice." She hands him the receipt.

"Oh… thank you." Frank grins wide. It's nice to hear those words, "You have gorgeous green eyes." 

"Thanks… I grew 'em myself." She says struggling to keep a straight face before laughing. 

She's got a nice laugh too. He offers his hand. "Frank." He grins at her.

"Clara." She shakes his hand, "What's your band's name?" 

"Uh." Frank pauses then lowers his voice, "My Chemical Romance."

"Huh. Never heard of you guys." She says nodding. 

"Do you like… like Taking Back Sunday or The Used?" He asks. 

"Yeah, I have heard some Taking Back Sunday." She leans against the counter. She's prettier up close. She looks soft. _Don't touch the stranger, Frank._

"We are touring with them! Well, not right now. We are with Killswitch Engage and Sense Fail but I think soon we are going to meet up with them." Frank babbles, "Anyway, you should come to our show! I can get you tickets."

"Oh… ok! Yeah, that could be fun!" She hesitates for a moment, "I've got nothing to do tomorrow." 

"Rad! It's nice to get pretty girls into our music! Even if you think we suck, at least you get in for free." Frank grins. 

"I mean, if your bandmates are cute too, it's worth going." She smirks. She presses the feed button on the receipt printer and pulls a pen. She writes her name and number down, "Clara Garza. You can text me if you wanna hang out after the show too." 

She winks at him and goes to help another gentleman at the counter. Her niceness toned down. He moves back to the windows and smiles. He just got hit on. He's still got it and she was pretty. He looks up at Brock and sighs. He wonders if B saw any of that… he kind of hopes not. He glances around and watches Gerard and Mike slip outside, probably to smoke. 

~~

“How does that feel?” Brock asks, raising Ray’s arms a little more again after he has fired a few more rounds.

"That feels better." Ray nods. He grins wide at Brock. 

“You thinking about buying? Can’t imagine Christa being okay with you owning a gun,” Brock crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

"She's not. But… oh well." Ray smiles, "It's for protection."

“You don’t need a gun for that. You have me. I’ll keep you and the family safe.”

"You can't always be around." Ray points out.

“No, but I can have _private security_ patrol the house nightly. All night, every night. Better than any guard dog, I promise,” Brock grins and winks. “And if you are really worried, I can assign a bodyguard. I’d offer it to the others in the band but they would ask questions I’m not sure I want to answer just yet.”

"How about her and I discuss things before we make any decisions?" Ray asks, "I know you're worried about Baby Floof."

“Clearly not as much as you if you are considering buying a gun. I would have if there was a record of burglaries in your neighborhood, which I don’t think there is, but I think this might be a little preemptive, Sunshine,” Brock light taps the barrel of the gun.

"Yeah. You're right. And I don't think Christa would never use it either." Ray sighs. "She isn't the gun type."

“No, she wouldn’t. She would raise all sorts of hell. And _then_ turn on you,” Brock laughs softly. “I understand your fears. I would have them too. Hell, I do have them, on some level that is nowhere near yours. I protect my own. You are family. Talk to Christa. See what she says. But if this is a concern that won’t leave you, please, let me handle this, Sunshine. It’s what I do and what I’m good at. And you know I’ll only provide the best for Baby Floof. You have my word.”

"I promise we will talk about it and let you know. I know she isn't going to tell you." Ray smiles and pats Brock's shoulder. He glances back and gives Frank a small smile. He sees Frank talking to a stranger.

Brock smiles and feels his phone buzz with the incoming text. After reading it that indeed Frankie got him his new bullets and targets, he grins happily. He’s enjoying this so much. “I’ve got a new supply. You are welcome to watch a professional or continue to practice but I’m heading back to my little happy corner. I blew through my warm-up and am ready to hit it heavy and hard. See if I can top my range scores from back in the day.”

"I'm almost done. I'll join you in a few minutes." Ray grins, "I think Frank made a friend." 

Brock glances back and up to see Frankie speaking with the lady cashier. He seems pretty happy, judging from his body language. At least he was having fun. He can’t imagine Frank enjoying just waiting around while he fires dozens of rounds at a piece of paper. “Friends are good. He’s having fun at least. Seems to be less ‘bubonic plague’.”

"Probably puked it out. He's still pretty pale but he's just naturally pale." Ray chuckles, "She's cute too. I bet she thinks she's got a chance." 

Brock snorts in heavy disagreement. With a little pat on Sunshine’s shoulder, he heads back to his new happy space called box number five and unholsters his Desert Eagle. He sets up the new paper target and sends it flying backward to meet the standard military range, slipping the headphones back on. He takes aim and fires, aiming for all the kill shots. After the first three successful shots, he runs the target back further, several meters before adding two more shots. After switching out the sheets and sending it even further, he quickly shoots off another several rounds, all kill shots.

Frank wanders to the bulletin board and scans over the flyers. A couple of random-looking for help ads but one that catches his eye is bright red with the white letters reading ax and hatchet throwing. "That could be fun..." He says quietly. 

"Yeah, it could!" Gerard says behind Frank. He watches him jump. "You think Brock would let us?"

Frank turns and smiles, "Yeah, I think so! It could be fun!" He glances at Brock and sees Ray standing behind him, "I mean, it looks like this place is just down the street. We could always go check it out. I need fresh air." 

"Yeah? You sure?"

"As long as we don't linger long. It'll be fine." Frank says with a confident nod, "I'm getting a side cramp. I need to move." 

"Let's go then." Gee smiles. He waves for Mike to tag along as they exit the building. 

Frank thinks for a second about texting Brock but he's with the guys. It'll be fine. The boys travel down the street to the warehouse looking complex that screams murder. The three quickly turn around and abandon that plan. 

"The windows had bars..." Gerard says in shock. 

"Did you see the white windowless van?" Mike asks.

"That screams human hunting…" Frank says inhaling as his side screams a little. Gee pulls the gun range door open for them, allowing them to enter before them. They sit in the small seating area and wait quietly. 

"We shouldn't mention that to Brock. Or Ray… " Frank says softly. Gee and Mike nod in agreement. The men chat and play on their phones until Bob joins them. He chatters on about the gun he wants to buy and how much fun it was until he goes quiet. 

Not long after, Brock fires the last of his rounds and begins to pack up his things. He feels a sense of satisfaction at being able to let some things work themselves out at the gun range. He feels a little less like crap in his soul. He needs to do this again, for sure. When he's finished, he smiles at Ray and motions to him to head up and leave. They rejoin the others and he heads to the counter to go ahead and purchase the gun he warmed up with and more bullets for his Eagle.

Frank watches Clara ring Brock up for whatever he was buying. He could swear she was staring past him and looking directly at him. Brock seemed relaxed. His shoulders weren't pinched back and tight. He needs to do this again if it helps. He watches Clara look up at Brock and give a smile. Then looks in his direction and smiles again. _'Oh, he's about to break her little heart.'_ Frank thinks as Brock model walks towards him.

Grinning wide, Brock goes over to him with an easy smile. He's feeling really good. "Hi, baby. I got a new toy." 

"What did you get?" He rises to his feet and grins up at him. He chooses to ignore the pain in his stomach that had gotten worse since their adventure to the murder warehouse. He rests his hands on Brock's hips. 

"A Glock 19. Great for concealed. And I can keep my Eagle at my side. Need to practice with it though," he replies, still keeping his easy grin. His hand comes up and pulls Frankie closer to him before kissing him.

"Yeah? That's fantastic!" Frank beams up at him. He has no idea about guns but Brock is stoked so he is too! "Do you feel a little better?" 

"I feel good. Very good," Brock nods. He's not sure how long it will last but he doesn't care. "I had so much fun. Thank you guys for letting me come here. For suggesting it. I can't wait to do it again."

"Anytime man!" Bob stands up and smiles at him, "I had a blast so I am never gonna say no!"

"I didn't even know you were into shooting! That's awesome, man. We can totally hang out at the range together," Brock says excitedly.

"Yes! I have a friend who has an outdoor range." Bob nods and smiles at him, "We can get free range time if you want." 

"That's awesome. I'd love that. Oh, you know what? We should do paintball." 

"I can get down on some competitive paintball." Bob says with a grin, "these boys could even participate."

Brock looks at Frank and the others with an excited grin, "Yes! Totally. What do you guys think?" 

"I'm in. Could be fun!" Frank nods.

"Yeah! I liked it when me and Mike went a few years ago." Gee nods as he stands up, "We'll be there!"

"I might even have a little extra fun if you boys don't mind," Brock says, his grin turning from playful to mischievous. He heads outside, pulling his shades on.

Mike head tilts to the side, "Huh?"

Frank follows behind him. His hand resting on his stomach as a way to keep it from hurting worse.

"If you don't mind, I was wondering how you guys would feel about it being a skill exercise for me? A one on five deal. Practice my hunting skills."

"Oh. Yeah! That could be fun." Ray nods as he opens the back door of the car. 

"I think you might underestimate the level of hiding skills I possess, Brock," Frank says with a playful smile.

"It's literally like the movie predator situation." Bob chuckles.

"Yeah, pretty much. And I think you underestimate my ability to hunt down my target, Frankie. Professional, remember?"

"I know you have skills, my love, but I'm compact and low to the ground. I can be easily concealed." Frank smirks as he pulls the car door open. "I think I can last a while before getting caught. In fact, I know I can." He purposely makes it a challenge, Brock can't help himself most of the time if he's challenged. This is one that could go either way...

"We'll just see about that, _passerotto_. I spent twenty years being essentially a hired hitman under the authority of the military. You will not last long." Brock smirks at Frankie before getting into the car.

"I know you are a professional. You might just be surprised, babe." Frank shrugs, "Ray said the next place is what, a block away? Which direction? Not near the murder warehouse right?" 

" _What_ murder warehouse?" Brock turns to look at Frankie, eyes wide and jaw dropped. He looks at the others as well to see if they know what the hell his husband is talking about.

"Nice one, Frank," Gerard grumbles.

"We uh, went outside and took a walk. There's a warehouse down the street from the gun place that looks like they kidnap and murder people… barred windows, white windowless van, sketchy looking dudes outside…" Frank decides that confidence was the right move and keeps his voice steady as he speaks, "We noped out and came back quickly." 

"Jesus. Did you call the cops? Put in an anonymous tip or something?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot and driving down the block. 

"Nah, we ain't snitches." Gerard says as he stares out the window, "People gotta make a living somehow." 

"Yes. That and we are out of towners… it could be a lawful establishment." Frank shrugs, "Just looks sketchy."

Brock isn't sure if he should be thankful for Gerard's comment or be worried. It does make him wonder though what would happen if they knew his actual job. He pushes that aside in favor of just being thankful his boys are safe. He pulls into the comic book shop moments later. After getting out, he takes Frankie's hand and they head inside.

The place is massive. Display cases with figurines line the wall. Bookcases and bins are full of comics and books. It's a nerds paradise that Mike and Gee were in. Frank walks casually with Brock through the place. "I'm not much of a comic book guy," Frank comments as he glances into a case full of Marvel figures inside.

"Hey, look, this guy kinda looks like Steve," Brock points out a dude wearing what appears to be an overly patriotic onesie.

"It is quite Dorito shaped. That's Captain America, babe." Frank curls into Brock. 

"That's a dumb ass name. Didn't know a country can achieve an army rank. Is this like some game that personifies the countries and they go to war?" Brock asks.

A younger kid in glasses stares up at Brock like he was offended. 

"No, he's a superhero from a comic that originated I believe around world war two." He chuckles, "Would you be Commander Italy?" 

"Totally. But I'm not sure I want to wear my country's flag as Spandex."

"We both know you'd be a better villain than a hero. The villains are always hotter than the good guy." Frank says with a sly smile.

With a grin, Brock leans over and kisses him, uncaring there were kids around. He did however care about the parents. He didn't want a repeat of the book store in the mall from a few days ago, so he keeps the kiss short. After a quick glance around them, his hand sides down Frankie's back to grab his ass for a second. He focuses back on the display case when someone walks by them. All of the figures are brightly colored so he assumes they are all heroes. Maybe villains don't get a display case.

"If I'm going to be an awesome bad guy, I need an awesome bad guy name. You can be my sidekick. Villain in training. Where are all the bad guys in here? I'll steal one of their names."

"Well… what do you want your name to be?" Frank grins up at him, "Cause we have Loki there." He points at the figure in the case. The kiss though brief made his heart skip a little. "There's uh Magneto. Um.… a cool Ultron statue. Dark Phoenix. Crossbones, he uh, kills Captain America. There's also a couple of DC villains too… Joker and Harley. Bane. Riddler." 

"They all sound so cheesy though," Brock laughs. "Do any of them look cool at least?" 

"I mean, that's subjective I suppose…" Frank gives him a small smile. 

"Isn't everything?" Brock moves on to wandering the store. This wasn't something he was interested in beyond general curiosity.

"You said you wanted to see if there was an art store? Did you want me to look that up?" Frank asks as he tightens his grips on Brock's hand a little. The meds must be starting to work but his guts still hurt. 

"Sure. We don't have to though. Only if the other guys don't mind."

"I can promise they won't mind."

"Yeah but still. I'm the cool team leader that gets the guys’ opinions and doesn't just make decisions on my own," Brock snickers.

"Maybe we can _ask_ the guys. And when I'm right, you owe me… something." He pretends to think, "An old school make-out session… yup that's it."

"I just want to be nice. But sure. I think I can swing that," Brock pulls Frankie in for a kiss on the forehead.

"Oh, I'm playing around. Relax." Frank says as his eyes scan over his first name on a brightly colored poster. He lets go of Brock's hand as he stops and looks at the case. _Frank Miller. Huh._

Gerard looks up and sees Brock and Frank wandering around. He's still sour about Ray. His feelings had begun to grow a sharpened edge. How dare they pass him up… He glares and goes back to looking. 

"What about being an anti-hero babe?" Frank asks as he walks away from the signed poster. 

"Sounds more like me, all things considered. I like to think I'm nice with a dark side." Brock says, following Frank.

Frank nods as he grabs Brock's hand again, "And I don't want you any other way." 

After spending what felt like hours inside the comic shop, Brock manages to wrangle his clutter of kittens. Pulling up to the large building that looks more like a building full of offices than a hotel, the band unloads from the car. The glass façade gives way to a large open space with shiny dark floors. The sunlight bathes the entire place with a warm golden glow as the band waits quietly near the elevator bay as Brock checks them into their rooms. 

"We should totally start gaming after curfew. He never said we had to sleep." Mike offers with a smile. 

"Just don't get caught. Then he'll add a 'no devices after 11' clause." Ray chuckles, "Even if he is not wrong."

"Yeah, we all know you're gonna side with him, teacher's pet," Gee grumbles. 

"Can you guys just be covert about it? You get caught he'll whoop your asses. Or worse, he'll spank _my_ ass for your bad behavior." Frank half-jokes with a smile.

"Not like you don't like it, Frank," Ray says with a smile.

"Gee, you're just a little salty cause you're not his favorite," Ray grumbles back. 

"I am not. Fuck you, Toro." Gerard hisses back.

"Alright, enough." Bob says rolling his eyes, "We all know I'm the favorite." 

The group laughs loudly. 

"What do you mean you don't have anything else available?!" Brock says with a loud and irritated voice. 

Frank glances over and watches Brock get tense.

"There must be some mistake. This is not what I booked!" Brock rubs his head, clearly agitated.

"My confirmation says _five_ king rooms. Not two."

"I am calm! As much as I can be. This is fucking ridiculous. If it was an issue, why the hell did nobody call me? We just flew in. I've got band members needing rooms and now you tell me you've got _nothing_?!" Brock seethes. His voice probably echoes in the marble and glass atrium but he doesn't care.

"Maybe you should go check in with him, Frankie," Ray says nervously.

"Why me?"

"You're his husband," Gee replies unamused.

"I'll give it a shot." He hesitates. 

"Fine. It'll have to do," Brock grumbles. He sighs and continues the check-in process. The receptionist offers a discount and he shakes his head. "Money isn't the issue. It's the lack of rooms. You said about tomorrow that there would be some available, right?" The receptionist informs him that indeed they will have the rooms he wants, but with a catch. There are only four rooms available and not the requested five. He hates that someone will be sharing but there's nothing anyone can do about it. He agrees to take the four king rooms tomorrow. Tonight they will have to share three to a room.

Frank quietly joins Brock at the desk. His hand resting on his lower back as a comforting touch. He stands beside Brock listening to the poor desk clerk try to make the situation right. "Everything okay?" He asks softly as he strokes Brock's back with his fingertips.

"They don't have the rooms I booked for us. Some computer glitch overbooked us. So we're stuck with three people in one room for tonight and tomorrow we'll have four out of the five rooms we need."

"I know it's not the point, but it's not the end of the world. We can make it work." Frank offers gently, "Think of it like this, it's a sleepover." 

"Sure, though I'm sure the guys want their own rooms. I'm trying to give them as much privacy as I can outside the bus," Brock comments as he signs the paperwork.

"I know. One more night is not going to kill us. You're doing a really great job and we all appreciate it, Brock," Frank says, as he rubs his back. 

"Will you mind if Sunshine bunks with us again?" he asks softly.

"I don't mind at all," Frank replies with a small smile. He leans up and kisses his cheek, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind either. I can ask him if you want?"

"Yes, please. I'd rather have my brother than someone I'm not ready yet with. Thank you _tesoro_ ," Brock says, kissing Frankie. 

"Of course! I'll go ask. Thank you for taking care of us, _polpetto._ " Frank squeezes his hand and heads back to the group. 

"Hey, Ray! Would you wanna share a room with B and me?" Frank asks with a smile.

Ray nods as he sits forward. Gerard springs up and pushes past Frank nearly knocking him backward. He marches directly to Brock as he is turning to face the group with the room keys. Once he is close enough to Brock he balls his fist, swings, and lands his hit into Brock's jaw. "Fuck you." He storms out to prove a point. 

Brock stumbles back from the hit, his hand flying up to his jaw. Pain flares all up from jaw to his head. He glares at Gerard's retreating figure, shouting at him, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" 

Ray reaches out and grabs Frank who was trying to go after Gerard. "Drop it. It's not between you and him." Ray says firmly. 

"What the fuck?!" Mike says speechless. 

"Let me go." Frank growls in a low voice, "I wanna check on my husband." 

"You go for Gerard and I will take you down, Iero," Ray warns as he loosens his grip on the smaller man's arm. 

Frank hurries to Brock, "Are you alright, baby?" He wants permission from Brock to beat Gee's ass. He would love to hit that smug smile off his face.

He rubs his jaw a little and runs his tongue over his inner lips, tasting blood where he bit a little. Brock has no idea what the hell got into Gerard but he's about to find out. He turns to Frankie with barely contained anger, "I'm fine. Bit my fucking lip but I'm fine." 

"Did he say anything?" Frank touches his cheek carefully.

"Just told me to go fuck myself," he replies with a bit of a wince, shying away from the touch. He's far too tender right now for that.

"Sorry." He pulls his hand back, "I can go _talk_ to him." He tries to keep his feelings dampened but he knows he isn't good at that when it comes to Brock. Fucker sees right through him every time.

"Oh, I _will_ be doing that. I do not tolerate this sort of fucking bullshit," Brock fumes. The talking is not helping his aching jaw or split inner lip. He needs to go to the bathroom and rinse his mouth. The time alone will allow him to cool down before he finds Gerard. He's too livid right now. He holds up the hotel key to show the boys and motions for them to follow him. He heads for the elevator.

Frank walks behind him. He doesn't want to crowd him, instead he keeps pace with Ray. He glances up at Ray and gives him _I don’t know_ look and frowns. Ray shakes his head as if to say drop it.

When they get to their rooms, Brock shoves the other key in Mikey's hand with a quiet hiss, "When your brother is done throwing his little temper tantrum, send him my way. We need to have a little _talk_. Am I clear?"

"Uh… yessir." Mike nods and looks at him, "Maybe don't punch his face in..."

"I won't for the sake of the band and its image. But that's about it," Brock says, turning and opening the other room, letting Frankie and Ray inside first.

"I'd knock his skinny ass out," Bob growls as he opens the door for Mike. 

"Trust me, Bobby. There's nothing more that I want right now than to do just that. But it's not a good idea. You boys have a meet and greet tomorrow and he needs to look pretty," Brock growls out. 

"If you'd let him, you know your little bruiser would handle it." Bob snorts, "Sorry he's a little bitch, Brock." 

"I know." Without another word, Brock strides into the bedroom and straight for the bathroom to spit blood

Frank sits quietly on the bed. He is itching to pick a fight with Gee. But refuses to push it. He watches Ray sit down in the desk chair and waits for Brock.

"Do we have any ice?" Brock calls from the bathroom, still spitting blood. His jaw aches and is swelling. He's got a pounding headache.

"No, but I can get you some," Ray calls back. 

"Please. And Tylenol with water. Head's killing me."

Frank grumbles to himself as he pulls out the Tylenol from his backpack, "Finally gets back to being himself and little bitch just has to ruin it." He walks into the bathroom still growling under his breath, placing the pills and a bottle of water on the bathroom counter.

"Thank you, baby," Brock says quietly. He quickly pops four pills and takes them with a drink of water. Finally, it seems his lip has started slowing down with the bleeding. With one last spit, he shuts off the water and takes the things to the bed and lays down to wait for the ice. 

Ray returns with a bag of ice, stopping in the bathroom to grab a hand towel. "Here ya go, B." 

Frank sits quietly at the foot of the bed. His legs folded neatly under him. He has to bite his cheek to keep from saying anything.

"Let him handle it, Frank." Ray reminds him as he rubs the kid’s head and takes his seat.

Brock takes the ice and places it on his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut from the sharp pain. "Thanks, Sunshine," he says softly. "Either of you got any idea why this happened?"

"You have about as much clue as I do, B." Ray says shaking his head, "He's had a bad fucking attitude the last few days."

"He's a fucking asshole," Frank says before leaning over and stretches out. 

"Did he say anything before storming over to wallop me? Or did you guys say something? There's no way he punched me just because he felt like it."

"He called me a teacher's pet… but that isn't a reason to hit you," Ray says confused. 

Frank grumbles to himself as he lies on his back. 

"Teacher's pet? The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Brock closes his eyes, confused and getting a migraine.

"He's jealous. He's not the center of attention." Frank grumbles. 

"Brock is just my best friend… it's not like I'm joining your relationship." Ray says confused.

Frank sits upright and looks at Brock. His eyes are closed. "He really thinks we are fucking Ray." He blinks and looks at Ray. 

"Say what now?" Brock says.

"He thinks that you and I are fucking Ray. When I was sick in the bathroom, he whined about being passed over for Ray. I wasn't thinking anything of it considering I was trying not to pass out." Frank says shaking his head, "He thinks he's entitled to something that doesn't exist." 

Understanding clicks in Brock's head and he can't help the soft, "Motherfucker." 

"Yup. He's a jealous little bitch." Frank moves his position on the bed with his head near Brock's hip. He doesn't want to cause him any discomfort.

"He _did_ have a crush on you." Ray reminds Brock. 

"Oh. Right. _Shit_. This is what I get for letting him watch," Brock groans. Then winces because of his headache.

"Letting him _watch?_ " Ray asks with his head tilted.

"Frankie and I in bed. It was a few times to explore a kink. Nothing serious," Brock replies.

"Oh," Ray says quietly. 

"Yeah… it was my thing. Brock's a good boyfriend." Frank says softly.

"Not that it's any of Gerard's business, but we haven't done anything since the start of my depression. So I don't know what the fuck he thinks he's missing out on," Brock grumbles. "Sorry baby."

"It is what it is, Brock," Frank says without emotion to his voice. They have a new normal and he's beginning to get used to it.

"But okay, so you let him watch. He still isn't part of your relationship." Ray says shaking his head, "He's making a big leap to thinking he gets to jump into bed with you guys."

"I told him we were in a closed relationship and that I wasn't interested in _sharing_ Frankie with anyone. Least of all Gerard, considering their history. He and I still argue over the fact that he thinks he has some claim on Frankie. I know he's pissed that I ‘stole’ him. You remember the bullshit he pulled when we first met? Practically pissed on Frankie like some dog marking territory."

"Oh. I remember. He and I got into a fight about it. He thinks that he has some kind of claim to Frank when he was with the ex-girlfriend. It's ridiculous and childish." Ray sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "I have been team Brank since the day I met you."

"Brank?" Brock chuckles before wincing. "Ow ow ow. God my head is killing me." 

"Yup. Brank is the new Brangelina." Ray snickers as he leans against the desk.

"If my headache wasn't quickly turning to a migraine, I'd get up and smack you for that," he snorts in reply. "I suppose it's a good thing he hit _me_." 

"I figured team Frock was too much." Ray smiles. "If I get to be involved in any part of the wedding, #teamBrank is going to be a thing…"

"Well since we are on the subject. I was going to ask you at a later time… but I was hoping you and Jack would both be my best men," Brock smiles at Sunshine.

"I would love to be your best man!" Ray says as he rises from his seat. He waves his hand for Frank to move before laying on the bed beside Brock. 

Frank takes the seat by the desk. He isn't going to ruin a bonding moment for Brock and Ray. Instead, he pulls his phone out and begins searching for outdoor paintball courses. He isn't going to let this idea just be that… he kinda wants it to be a thing. 

Brock can't help the whimper at Frankie leaving to go sit at the desk. Which is pathetic and childish and something he's not but his head hurts so he's going to use that as an excuse. He looks at him for a few moments to see if he's going to come back to the cuddle hug.

Frank glances up feeling eyes on him and locking on to Brocks warm cocoa eyes. "Yes?" He asks playfully.

"Why'd ya leave?" 

"I didn't want to crowd the brother moment," Frank replies with a small grin.

"Nah. I always wanna cuddle my two favorite guys. My third favorite is back in New York and cannot complain that I am excluding him. Gerard is _not_ a favorite no matter what he thinks and he can kiss my ass."

"Where do you want me?" Frank asks as he rises to his feet.

Brock crooks his finger at Frankie before pulling him into the curve of his side. He sighs once they are all settled and moves his melting ice pack to his forehead instead of his jaw. At this point, his head hurts worse than his jaw, though, with the way it's all throbbing, it doesn't really matter. The nerves are on fire from both ends and the pain is stuck in some form of infinity loop. He's utterly miserable, having already been stressed out with the receptionist and overly sapped from the heat of the day. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses both his boys close.

"I'm sorry he hurt you," Frank whispers.

"I've taken hits harder than this before but that was when I was normal and not… you know. Fucking migraine hurts worse I think. I blame the fact that I was already tired and drained. And in retrospect, I'm glad it was me," Brock whispers back

"Why are you glad it was you?" Frank asks. His fingers drawing small circles into his skin. He would rather it been him, he'd beat Gerard's ass for this bullshit. He probably would have puke afterward but it would have been worth it.

"Because had he hit either one of you, I probably would have killed him," Brock whispers back with an edge to his voice. He absolutely means it. At the very least there would have been a broken bone.

"Yeah, we really don't need you going to prison for murdering him." Ray sighs.

"Nah. I'd have beaten his ass if he'd have hit me." Frank yawns and snuggles closer to Brock. He still wants to. 

"I protect my own," whispers Brock. He doesn't know when he turned into a sappy soft dude but he thinks it has something to do with these two kids. These two that he would walk through fire and hell for. Would burn the world for. He loves them both. Each is different but equally powerful ways. They make him stronger by allowing him to be vulnerable. He's safe with these two and that's the best he's felt in years. He didn't even realize he had been spending the last five years in fear. He didn't even check the room for security hazards. The revelation brings more things into focus. He hasn't had a PTSD-related panic attack since the plane ride and even then it was only the second since meeting Frankie. Did he really sit in a _booth_ at breakfast? With people behind him and not a wall to keep an eye on all the exits, no less. He hasn't tried to shoot anyone recently so that was a bonus but his team hasn't been startling him awake either. Could he actually be getting better?

Frank lets himself fall asleep. His fingers hold Brock's shirt as he drifts off.

"We know you protect us." Ray keeps his voice soft, "I am thankful you met Frankie, don't tell the kid this but I think you've made him a better man." 

"I was just thinking the same thing. How much meeting him, you, the band, how it's changed me as a man. At first, I wasn't sure that me being this sappy soft guy was a good thing. But then I realized that I've spent every day since leaving the service with fear. My PTSD is fear. Since meeting the band, since you and he came into my life, for the first time I feel safe. Before you, I couldn't have sat at a booth and not felt panic. On our first date, I dragged Frankie to the back of the restaurant so I could keep sightlines on everyone in the place. Every door. I'd glance at every person to see if they were a threat or not. You guys have changed me."

"I think the biggest thing is that you let us change you. The fact that you've _let_ yourself open up to Frank. That you _let_ yourself relax. We maybe have led you to that threshold but you chose to walk through it. You gotta take some credit, Brock." Ray speaks as he rests his hands on his belly, "You found your home in someone who would do anything to make you happy or feel safe. Frank and I have had conversations about you. He's said several times that he'd give it up for you. All of this if you said you needed to be done. And bonus, you gained some friends along with your missing piece."

"Damn Sunshine, that was nearly poetic. 'bout had me feeling like I was in a chick flick. Feels like I'm supposed to kiss you now. No wonder Christa married you" Brock laughs quietly and lightly shoves Ray. "But you're not wrong. And I would do the same. It's just not as easy for me as it is for him to walk away."

"Christa married me for my luxurious hair and good looks… trophy husband." Ray jokes, "If Frankie wanted to be done because the band was causing you trouble like it is now, he'd bow out. I don't want him to go but I'd understand." 

"Also how are you feeling? Doing this job, I mean?" Ray asks softly.

"I love how you are the only person besides Frank that actually cares enough to ask that," Brock says softly with an equally soft smile. "Not going to lie, I'm not okay. But I'm better than I was before the break. Frankie tried to get me to not come back in the car on the way to the airport. I told him that I had a good support team. We got closer over the break. Literally. And it's because of that, that I don't want to quit. I don't want to leave you guys without a proper manager and I'm not okay with Frank touring without me or the band going on without him. Or quitting."

"The others do care but I think that they don't want to make you uncomfortable or intrude. We have all talked about what we would do if something happens and you have a flashback or a breakdown. Mostly it's been Frank setting things up to protect you but." Ray takes a moment to collect his thoughts, "Do you need help with the job? I've done aspects of it before. He and I have. So has Gerard. We will help as much as we can, you just gotta ask."

"Oh you are just working on my pride and humility," Brock teases quietly. He takes a breath and removes the melted ice pack and in a moment of childish laziness, tosses it onto the floor. He's too comfy to get up. And yet, not comfortable enough because he then toes off his boots. Frankie has the right idea about napping. Though he is enjoying talking with Ray.

"Is it working?" Ray turns his head and grins at Brock, "Is he asleep?" 

"Maybe and yes. In that order. Not a bad idea. Maybe it'll help with my headache."

"The second you start to drift is the second hurricane Way is going to tear through the room." Ray points out. 

"Use your gorgeous floof to hide me then," he snickers softly. 

"Yeah. I'll do my best. Frank ever tell you we got caught in a hurricane?" Ray says as his voice gets a little gravelly.

"Hmm, no. Bet you were extra poofy though." 

"I had shorter hair and it was absolutely an afro." Ray snorts. 

Brock snickers softly and as gently as he can given his headache at the mental image of Sunshine with an afro. It's hilarious and yet oddly adorable.

"Next time you come over, I'll show you old photos of the band. Frank had dreadlocks. They were awful."

"Oh my god," Brock laughs. That's just a terrible image he needs to see.

"You'll be happy to know I cut them off his head." Ray grins. He lets the room get quiet for a moment before speaking, "I bet if someone told you when you were back in the military that you'd be running around the US with a bunch of punk kids, you'd laugh in their face."

"Damn right," Brock grins at him. "I was far more badass back then. More… ruthless. Harder and meaner."

"Frank-less. I'll be honest, my instinct is to ask more questions but I don't know what to even ask and I don't want to push it." Ray comments as he closes his eyes.

"I love you enough to let you ask whatever you want. If I can, I'll share. If I can't, I'll say so. But you have to cuddle me, deal? Because I think we're about to follow Frankie into dreamland," Brock says with a yawn. 

"I can do that. How do you want me? Not to copy your little marsupial there…" Ray lifts his head and examines Frankie who is clinging to Brock like he was a life raft.

"This is why we have Koala Time. Back when I could lift him, I would hold him tightly. He's better than any Xanax the docs ever tried to give me. Especially on a Trigger Day. Today was the first time I had the strength in my arms to carry him in a long time. The pain hasn't been so bad recently."

"Do you think that is because he was hurting?" 

"Probably. Last Sunday at the party at his parents’ house, I got my first girlfriend in the form of Emma. Dunno if you know who I'm talking about. Frankie's niece. Cute toddler. Let me hold her, which calmed down an anxiety I didn't realize was under the surface, in an instant. I was able to for about twenty minutes before the pain got so bad I couldn't lift anything the rest of the day. This morning my shoulders were on fire. I still hurt; all the time. But for a moment his needs were more important than my own and I have been taking it easy enough to not drain myself too fast, and I could just do it." Brock says. "I've found that I have a limited amount of energy per day and I have to be careful how I spend it. Takes me longer to recharge. I sleep a lot. The more I do, the more pain I'm in."

Ray rolls on his side and rests into Brock's side. "He's been trying to keep you up during the day huh?" Ray asks as his leg drapes over Brocks.

"Not in so many words, no. But I know he's disappointed every time I take a nap. Heartbroken is probably more accurate. I have to fight to stay awake on days where I've drained myself either physically or emotionally. Like me on your couch. I'm trying to find a balance." He closes his eyes and hugs both of his boys closer, softly kissing both of their foreheads. He's not that comfortable to sleep, even as much as he wants to. He'd need less clothing and his natural side sleep position. But for the spot he's in, he's pretty damn happy.

"As long as you're making an effort to find balance, that is forward movement." Ray says with a smile, "I think that is all Frank wants is that you're going forward. Not back."

"He's the reason I live," he whispers.

"I'm not going to lie. I worry about both of you." Ray says with a serious voice.

"Because of our rather high codependency?" Brock asks.

"No. That you will fade away and he will drown before asking for help." Ray says softer, "This got heavy. I'm sorry, B."

Brock closes his eyes and tries to not react too much or listen to the brain gremlins in his head whispering dark thoughts. He could feel himself react as his skin flushed with heightened awareness and his fingers subconsciously tighten their grip. Sunshine's right. If he gets worse, he will drag Frankie down and it will be his fault. The thought settles into his chest like a ton of bricks.

"I can swim." Frank murmurs.

He didn't even know Frankie was awake and the cute tiny voice was enough to spill hot tears down his head and into his hair as he tries to laugh. "Hi, baby." 

"I won't let you drown." Frank rubs his nose into Brock's side. He runs his hand over his love's chest, "We can float along until we get to the shore. I'm like an otter." He leans up and kisses him. He wipes his tears. 

With a wet and stuffed up sniff, Brock lets go of them so he can sit up. He has to. He needs to breathe and to maybe just cry it out. But definitely breathe. He sits on the bed, with his head in his hands to attempt to help with the pain in his brain as he does a few breathing exercises to keep the panic at bay. He lets the tears just flow because he knows he'll feel better afterward, emotionally at least.

Frank frowns at Ray. He's been awake for a while but has been laying quietly listening to his husband and Ray bond. It's important but hearing Ray's concern forced him to fully wake. He had thought he overcame this mountain but apparently not. "Baby." His voice is the gentlest he could make it as he sits up. He's not sure what to do. Touch him? Let him cry? 

"I'm fine," he says wetly. "Just… gremlins got to me. And…. Elsa." 

"Ok. Can I touch you?" He asks.

Brock nods, wiping his face on his shirt before taking it off. He didn't wanna wear it anymore anyway. Now he's gonna use it as tissues for his leaky eyes.

Frank slides behind him and loosely holds his chest as he rests his head on Brock's back. He can feel his ribs moving with each breath taken. 

"You should drink water," Ray says as he rises from the bed. To hand him his bottle of water.

"I'm gonna need something more than Tylenol for my new stronger headache too," Brock groans into his shirt. He wipes his eyes once more and secretly his nose before adding it to the pile he made with his shoes. "I'm good. Just needed to clear out the eye ducks. And my heart. We're good. I'm done for now. And we're gonna get better comfortable and cuddle snuggle koala time until we nap. And I'm gonna tell stories."

"I can run down the street to the Rite Aid for stronger headache pills, like migraine stuff." Frank offers. 

"They probably have it down in medical or at the front desk. If they have one. I don't want either of you to leave because I'm being a selfish baby like I always am when I don't feel well, so I'm just going to take double the Tylenol and lie down."

"Ok. Just trying to help." Frank says as Ray sits back down with water. He rises from the bed and retrieves the bottle of Tylenol. He picks up his phone and checks it for messages. There's an email from the label and a ring company he'd contacted about an engagement ring for Brock and a text from his sister. Probably baby photos. He stuffs the device in his pocket with Clara's number and waits for Brock to lay back on the bed. "Ready when you are, babe." 

"You guys are amazing and help more than you know," Brock mutters while taking another four Tylenol. When he's finished drinking the whole bottle of water, he stands and strips out of his pants, leaving his underwear, and crawls back into the bed. Laying on his side, he pulls Frankie in close. "Ready, Floof." 

Ray lies down behind Brock and matches his body to them. "This good or no?" He isn't sure how much touching was needed.

"Feels weird to have pants on." Frank comments. He realizes that sounds… interesting but napping in jeans wasn't fun. He would ask for help but he can survive with them on, "There was a mention of stories." 

"It's never good to nap in clothes, _tesoro_. Take them off, silly. Sunshine, you and Frankie are the only two who never have to worry about me reacting badly to your touch. I think even during a trigger, I feel like maybe it would help. There's just something in me that can't hurt you."

"Oh well, that's good to know. If you have a bad day at least I can help." Ray says as he rises from the bed and strips his pants off but leaves his t-shirt on then sits back on the bed. He stretches out and rests his arm over Brock's torso, "Yes. We were promised stories."

"You were gonna ask questions," Brock sighs sleepily. "Take off your pants Frankie."

"I was just curious about what your role in the military was… I know you were a commander but like doing what." Ray asks. He can hear the sleepiness in his voice. 

"Help me take my pants off," Frank says softly. Brock's hold on him made it hard to do much. 

"Well this is a familiar refrain," Brock softly snickers, letting Frankie go.

Frank shimmies his jeans off and lies back down. He just wanted snuggles with Brock. He wanted him to make everything ok. "Much better." 

"Agreed. Pants are so overrated when it comes to napping and cuddles."

"True. Very true." Frank pulls his hand up to his lips and kisses his skin, "I love you very much." 

"I love you more than my own life, _tesoro_. I'd do anything for you. Be anything. Give up everything," Brock pulls Frankie closer and kisses him lightly. " _Sei la mia anima gemella. Non posso vivere senza di te. Ti voglio sempre al mio fianco._ _Ti amo molto."_

"You two are hallmark channel gross cute." Ray snorts.

"Shut up you're just jealous," Brock chuckles. "If you want, I'll teach you a few choice phrases that will melt Christa into a love puddle for you."

"Yes. Say no more"

"Remind me later. Promise.”

"My favorite is when he slips and tries to have a conversation with me in Italian." Frank giggles.

Brock blows a raspberry into Frankie’s neck in defiance of that statement. He snickers a little himself before settling down to finally answer Sunshine’s question. “My job was more like herding lions than cats. Not too much different than this job, which is why I keep saying that I know I can do it. I have the skill set. Had a different level of stress than this. I had extensive training to deal with being a team leader. This job is very different than going into hostile territory, coordinating with my men to sneak into a heavily guarded building to extract either intel or a hostage. Or raid a village to find a target. When every inch of space around you could be holding a hostile that will kill you on sight, you learn to pick up movements in the air. The whisper of a shoe against concrete might just be enough for you to raise your gun and fire; the difference between life and death. My job was to keep my men alive and to satisfy the goals of my own higher command.”

"Oh. Did you retire from age or a situation?" Ray asks.

“Bit of both. Twenty years is a long time and I was done serving. My last mission just didn’t flow right and it made me realize that I needed a break that a vacation just wasn’t going to cover it. It’s about that time that I was diagnosed with PTSD; maybe a few months to a year before that, and I had started seeing Sam. I turned in my resignation after that last mission. Two months later, I was discharged with honor.”

"How'd an Italian national join the US military, is the better question." Ray yawns as he stretches his legs.

Frank mumbles nonsense as he slips into sleep.

“That was a complicated mess. After moving here, I had to apply for permanent residency. Once I got approved and passed the requirements, I was allowed to then enlist and serve but I was limited to any form of rank. After 9/11, President Bush allowed all enlisted foreigners to become permanent citizens which allowed me to rise in the ranks. My COs had told me countless times that they would promote me fast as soon as I could become a citizen and they did. I’m really good at killing people and leading others. I have dual citizenship now.”

" _You're really good at killing people_. If I didn't know you you would be terrifying," Ray smirks.

“Oh, Sunshine. You don’t know me as well as you think,” Brock says quietly, full of regret. It’s times like these that he hates the life he was born into. He was never comfortable keeping secrets from those he cared about most in the world. But the Family had to come first in all things. Keeping the Family Business alive and hidden was the goal. Sunshine’s words about Frankie giving up everything for him rang in his head and caused a familiar ache in his chest. He doesn’t know if he could do the same, no matter how much he says he would. There’s always a part of him that hesitates. He’s been groomed for this. It’s in his DNA. And it’s what he’s good at, even enjoys it on a darker level. He never wants to make that choice.

"I'll get your secrets out of you. I'm quite good at it." Ray chuckles

“But the question is do you want to know them? And more importantly, can you handle them?” Brock says.

"I think I can handle them as long as you’re not killing puppies. I think I want to know them." Ray says.

“Why?” He can’t help but keep his voice low and soft. He didn’t know if it was because he was afraid to wake Frankie or if by somehow speaking louder would make things more true; more real.

"Because you are my friend and I want you to know my secrets and everything." Ray says a little confused

“Would you still be my friend if I told you that I am not a good guy?”

"I would still be your friend," Ray says softly.

“What if I was a mass murderer or some international jewel thief wanted by several governments? Or a rapist? Or secretly a weapons dealer or drugs? I can be anything and anyone and you can’t tell me there isn’t a limit to what you are going to be okay with,” he replies almost defiantly as if challenging him to be judge, jury, and executioner. His relationship with Frankie, his Sunshine, and Baby Floof was at stake and there was nothing he would do to jeopardize that.

"Are you a mass murderer? Jewel thief? I highly doubt you're a rapist… Your view on drugs disqualifies you as a drug dealer. So what if you're a weapons dealer…so… whatever your past is, I am unfazed," Ray speaks softly. 

"Well, you already know more about my personal life than the rest. I've never told anyone my worth. Frankie didn't even know that." Speaking of his boy, Brock lightly caresses Frankie's back and everywhere he can reach.

"Frank doesn't know that?" Ray asks.

"Before the car ride back from your place? No. He knew I was rich. I've told him that and we talked about it a bit. Frank Sr. did ask me about providing for Frankie's financial future and I assured him that none of my own would ever want for anything. But he's never seen my bank account. There was a reason why I didn't blink at dropping the cash on his car." Brock sighs and presses closer to Ray and pulls Frankie closer to him if that was even possible. "He knows the source of my wealth though. As does his mom and Lindsey, though she was quite by accident. They've both agreed to keep silent."

"Oh. I want to make a porn joke but I feel like it's not the right time. But I mean, whatever you do or did doesn't really define you as a person. I care about you so that overshadows most anything." Ray says as he sits back and pulls his hair into a low ponytail, "Eventually, I wanna know how Lindsey knows but you don't have to share anything you don't want."

"A potent combination of coincidence and smarts," Brock snorts lightly. "Figured it out when I took that phone call at lunch at her and Gerard's place. Nearly had a heart attack and if it weren't for Frankie's very persuasive personality, I'd be in prison. Sorry, it's not porn?"

"She is a smart cookie." Ray sighs, "It's ok, I'm kinda relieved it isn't porn." 

Frank shifts a little in his sleep as he murmurs as if to reply to Ray. His dreams are weird. He can hear Brock's voice but he can't find him in the massive house that he _knows_ is in Italy. The air is heavy and he is scared. He's trying to answer Brock but his words are coming out slurred. 

Brock hears Frankie mumble and holds him tighter, whispering soft things in his ear of reassurances. When he feels Frankie settle, he returns his focus to Sunshine. "I said that it would be harder for me to give up everything for Frankie than he would for me. I mean it. I don't know what I will do if faced with the choice between my family and birthright and him."

"Well, if it's a matter of safety, you know what you need to pick but if it's just money. Frank can at least keep you above water," Ray offers.

"If my parents don't approve and accept him, I will be forced to choose to walk away from him or walk away from my family. The assets like the plane and yacht are nothing compared to being able to see my family."

"Is there a chance they won't approve? You said your sister loves him, is she a good barometer for their response?" He whispers as his brain tries to find a reason they'd not like Frank. What in the world does his family do that would… is he royalty?

"There's always a chance. Even slim. I don't think they will, but on some level, I'm terrified they will not approve. Brooke and Jack both love him. I know my mother would, we are her children after all. But my father runs the business. And I am his successor."

"Are you royalty?" Ray laughs.

"Something like that," Brock admits quietly.

"Oh. Then this makes more sense…" Ray scans the back of Brock's head and exhales. 

"You call him street rat and I laugh because that would make me Princess Jasmine to his Aladdin. But, it's not wrong. I don't have a tiger but they do call me prince back home. The, ah, little p not the big one. It's not a real title. Our romance might have been Aladdin but my kingdom is more… the Godfather." Brock hugs Frankie tightly. One hand comes up and reaches over his shoulder to pat Ray as if to remind himself that he's Sunshine and he's not going to leave.

Ray strokes Brock's stomach as he quietly processes all the information divulged to him. "If you guys get the green light and you take your father's position, would this mean the end of the band...huh?"

"Not if Frankie doesn't want to. Not if I have any say in it. I can't do that to him. Or to you and the boys. But it would mean me living in Italy permanently. I can't run things from another country. And I don't want to lose you guys. I love my home. I want nothing more than to go back. But you and the band and the wives club are also my home. I don't want to make this choice. I lose either way. And so does he," Brock whispers, voice shaking a little. Maybe Sunshine didn't get the movie reference? He's a very smart man so Brock doesn't doubt that. His new brother saw right through him on most things. Was the first to figure out his touch starvation. Perhaps he hasn't seen the movies to understand. Or he truly doesn't care, though that idea goes against Brock's belief system. Still, Sunshine didn't react the way he expected him to.

The Godfather comment sticks in his head. His wheels are slowly turning. He doesn't want to say anything without having a solid idea or plan in his head. "I appreciate you opening up to me. It means a lot to know that you trust me." Ray says gently. How do you even ask, are you in the mafia? Would that make him look bad?

Brock chuckles. "I trust you with my life. Me telling you this _is_ trusting you with my life. Frankie told Linda and she didn't react well. Understandably, of course. I don't expect anyone to. We both spent the night after worried if I was going to go to prison. The next morning I got a phone call ensuring me that she would keep her silence because she loves me and Frankie wouldn't leave me anyway. You are taking this far too well compared to both ladies. Frankie didn't care when I told him.

"So wait… you're like _in_ _the mafia?_ Like for real? That's a _thing_?" Ray asks but whispers parts. He blinks and feels confusion flood his head.

"Oh you sweet lovable floof of a man," Brock shakes his head and grins. "Yes. I figured the Godfather reference would be enough. When you didn't bolt up and run right away, I wondered if you got it. My father is the Head. The Don. My siblings are his hands. I've been groomed from birth to take his place. Now, that being said….?"

"Is this where you threaten me with violence to maintain my silence…" 

"I think if I tried to hurt you, I would be sick. But I'll beg instead. The more people who know, the more the risk increases. Though it is a relief to be able to share the darker parts of me," sighs Brock. He wiggles his arm under Ray's so he can stroke along Sunshine's arm and still keep his fingers across his stomach.

"It's worrisome but not for the reasons I'm sure you are thinking." Ray sighs, "And truly as Frank is safe and you are too that's all I can ask." 

"I love you, brother. I would say little brother but you are so tall. And I'm not the mature one nowadays." He wants to roll over and hug him but he's also very comfortable. The heat at his back from Sunshine is making him very relaxed.

"I love you too Brock!" Ray smiles and squeezes Brock, "You figure out how you wanna propose to him?" 

"No," he snorts softly. "I'm too chicken and honestly more worried about my parents meeting him first before I can even begin to think about this. I should though."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. Frank is a good man and he is quite charming. He'll be a great partner and an even better husband." Ray smiles and takes a breath, "Shit, I feel you've done nothing but talk for the last hour… do you want to know things about me? I mean I don't have any juicy Goodfellas type secrets." 

"I'd love to know more about you. We need to shove at least the last… " Brock pauses as he realizes he doesn't have a clue how old Sunshine is. "Twenty? Thirty? Twenty-five years into our brothership."

"Twenty-seven." 

Brock giggles, "Okay. Twenty-seven years. Maybe more like twenty because I highly doubt you remember the first few years of your adorable life."

"Born and raised in Jersey. I have two younger brothers. I've been in many different bands but this is the only group that felt right. I met Gerard at art school." Ray chuckles and feels like he is missing things, "Uh… hit me with things… I'm blanking!" 

"Art school? Like painting art?"

"Yeah, I have a degree in Graphic Design," Ray says proudly.

"That's amazing. Did you get to do anything with it before the band?"

"I worked for Cartoon Network with Gerard for about a month but it was… soul-sucking. I did a few freelance things but my heart was in music." Ray sighs, "After 9/11, I called up Gee and our old drummer Matt and asked them to give music a shot…"

"What happened to Matt? Though I like Bob. He likes guns too. And drums." He _doesn't_ know a whole lot about any of the guys. Except for Frankie. The disconnect is rather disheartening.

"Matt was a good guy but he…his style of drumming didn't mesh with our sound. He struggled to keep time. Which is not good for the drummer to have issues with. Bob is a new addition to the band. He was a sound guy for another band we toured with. He stepped in when Matt left and he's stuck around. He's a good dude." Ray nods. He doesn't want to be a dick. Matt was a good guy just not for the band.

"Wow. I realize now that I know nothing about you guys. Makes me wonder if my favoritism is the cause of Gerard's acting out. The kittens are needing attention and I'm only playing with two. I don't know anything about the other three and I… I neglect them." 

"Man-dates." Frank sighs as he turns into Brock's chest.

"You are far too sneaky for your own good, little eavesdropping hellcat," Brock says, gently poking Frankie's side. "I am not doing anything with Gerard to give him the wrong idea. I don't know what to do about him. I don't trust him with you or with myself. He's a good kid with potential but he sets me on edge."

"You guys just need to sit down with a person who is not invested in your relationship and play moderator. Keep him from losing his shit and you from punching his lights out." Ray says softly. 

"Supervised man-date." Frank squirms and giggles at the poke before leaning up and kissing him, "You underestimate the skill of my sneaky kitten ways." 

"How about we call it 'Supervised Record of Discussion' instead? And it not be a date? It could just be a group band meeting. I like the sound of that better," Brock says with a hint of playful sarcasm.

"But man-date sounds funner!" Frank teases, "I can get you dressed up all handsome like."

"Hush you, go back to sleep," he chastises playfully. He's now regretting not taking the chance to nap.

"No! I'm awake now. Here to be a naughty kitten." Frank kisses his chest.

"Well dammit. There goes my chance at a nap," Brock laughs.

"You can nap pudding…" Frank can't help but grin, "How's your head?" 

"Cuddles and Sunshine are just what the doctor ordered. Tylenol helped quite a bit too. I'm feeling rested. Comfortable." Brock nuzzles Frankie.

"Good. I don't like it when you don't feel good." 

Brock huffs a laugh. "Yeah, I don't either. This new normal sucks. So did that sucker punch. But I'm glad I have my family with me to help. Burdens shared are burdens halved."

"We had a lot of brother bonding moments," Ray says as he stretches.

"We did. It was great." 

"It was nice to have some quiet time with Brock." His stretch deepens and forces a fart out. His face flushes a little, "I am… I'm so sorry." 

Brock cracks up into an uncontrollable giggle. He has to bury his face in Frankie's neck to help control himself. An idea forms and suddenly he's laughing harder. "Oh my god!" 

Frank snickers and covers his mouth from laughing aloud at his friend. 

"Better out than in." Ray laughs, relaxing, he lies on his back and exhales loudly.

"I just had an idea," Brock says through his giggles.

"Oh no. What's your idea?" Ray manages to get out.

"When you shit, it's _bullshit_. Toro shit is _bullshit_ ," Brock cracks up harder.

"Oh my god. You're a dork!" Ray laughs loudly, "I know why Frankie wants to marry you..." 

"Cause he's goofy," Frank says before blowing out air to calm himself. 

"Goofy and yet still so handsome. You both love me so hush."

"Model good looks." Frank leans up and kisses him, "And a pretty amazing personality." 

"From what I've heard the sex was pretty good too," Ray adds trying to keep his voice flat but he can't help but grin.

Brock reaches back and smacks Sunshine on the stomach for that joke. "Not bad for Prince Jasmine, eh? Still waiting on my tiger from Amazon." 

"Yeah, the tiger delivery got delayed." Frank snickers.

"I have heard all about you Brock..." Ray snorts, "Princess Jasmine."

"Does that make Ray the genie or Abu?" Frank looks over Brock's shoulder.

"His fingers are magic and so are his hugs, so I'm going to go with Genie. Trustworthy. Faithful. Loyal. The Floof. Funny. Kind. Honest. Oh my god, Sunshine, you are a dog."

"Woof." He replies then laughs.

"You have a kitten and a dog. What else are you gonna collect?" Frank teases. 

"I mean being a dog is not the worst thing I've been called."

His joy fades a little and now he has to know who dared to insult his best friend and brother. Brock's brows furrow, "What was the worst thing you have been called? And who said it? Gimme a name and one phone call…."

"Oh, it's all dumb shit. No need to worry, Brock." Ray pats his back. 

"He got called Kermit once," Frank says with a yawn.

"As in Kermit the frog? I don't get– ohhhh. It's the porn lips. Pfft. Those people were just jealous. Women spend hundreds of dollars on lip plumping treatments. Yours are perfect."

"Oh, I have come to terms with my lips." Ray smiles, "My wife loves them and that's all I care about." 

"Sunshine, you're gorgeous. Anybody who insults you gets a punch in the face. And while Christa is icing her knuckles, I'll actually finish off the asshole." Brock laughs.

"I think Ray gets–" Frank starts but the crashing of the adjoining door against the wall causes him to jump and grip Brock's skin tight.

"I was told I need… fucking seriously," Gerard says as he enters the room and stands in the middle of the room. His hands rest on his hips, "Are you guys just trying to fuck with me?" 

"No," Brock's voice turns from playful to hard. He rolls onto his back and sits up to face Gerard. He's not happy that he _missed the adjoining door_. He's pissed that Gerard interrupted them. And above all, he's internally screaming that he missed something that important as a breach in security. The only thing keeping him in control is his anger. "Sit." 

"I'd rather stand," Gerard says defiantly.

"Just fucking sit," Frank growls out, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Whatever. It's not important. We need to talk about… _this_ ," he motions to the three of them on the bed. "And how it pertains to you. Sunshine and Frankie, do you think we need the others for this?"

"I think it might be a good idea. House meeting." Ray says sitting up and leaning against the headboard, "Mike. Bob. Come here!" 

Frank sits silently glaring. Brock nudges him to join him before moving to sit up next to Ray. It's a calculated move and at least he'll be comfortable. He's going to need his emotional support boyfriends for this talk.

Frank sits up and leans back against the headboard with his arms over his chest. Fists clenched, he bites his cheek to keep himself from saying more. His anger is returning.

Bob slowly walks in. He is nervous about entering the room. He stays close to the wall, "Am I in trouble?"

Mike joins them by sitting on the bed next to Frank's feet. He has brought sour gummy candies and offers Frank one. Mike smiles when Frank takes a piece.

"No, Bobby. We're just having an impromptu band meeting to address an issue between myself and Gerard. You and Mikey are here to provide unbiased opinions and suggestions and to keep the anger level in check," Brock switches his voice to one of a more diplomatic tone. It may not hold for long but it should help keep him under control.

"Oh," Bob says, relaxing and moving into the room then taking the desk chair. 

"Candy?" Mike offers to the others on the bed, "I am happy to be the buffer." 

Frank glares. He doesn't have to be calm and collected for this. His body goes back to being tense as he seethes next to Brock.

"What can I do for you, _Boss?_ " Gerard asks with a heavy amount of sarcasm in his voice.

"You can begin with explaining your actions down in the lobby. Why did you hit me?" Brock's voice is measured and carefully controlled. Empty of all emotions except light and neutral.

Gerard's arms go over his chest defensively, "You. You are the reason." 

"Care to explain why you feel that way?"

"You play this nice guy. But you have come in here and shaken things up. It's fine that you're fucking Frank. I get that. He's your partner. But it seems like if anyone should be let into your relationship, it's not someone allegedly straight. So you're fucking the twink and the teacher’s,pet? No, fuck that. It's bullshit." Gerard sneers as he glances at Frank with a frown.

"You acted like this because you're _jealous_?" Bob asks.

"Before you answer, Gerard, I need to explain something to you. I am not, under any circumstances, having sex with Ray."

"Okay. Why is it always Ray then? Do we make you that uncomfortable that you can't hang out with us?" Gerard drops his arms and looks Brock dead in the face, "Or is it just me?" 

"Look, I know you have a crush on me, and that is coloring how you see this. I cannot lie down in a bed with you with only my underwear on and feel safe," Brock struggles to keep his voice neutral at the end of his sentence. This was exactly why he only cuddled with Sunshine. Everyone else made it sexual. 

"I am not going to molest you! Jesus Christ! You really think I am a monster." Gerard rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"That's not…" Brock starts then stops. He was going to say that that wasn't what this was about but on some level, it was. "I do not think you are a monster." 

"You warm up to Ray and Bob. What's wrong with me and Mike?!" Gerard snaps.

"Nothing. Ray made an effort." Frank grumbles.

"Mikey, do you have a problem with me cuddling Sunshine in a non-sexual way?" Brock asks.

"No. I don't give a shit about that. Though, I do feel like we haven't had the opportunity to get to know each other." 

"I– I'm sorry," Brock says softly.

"It's all good, man. You've had your hands full." Mike pats his leg and grins at him. 

Frank reaches over, tucking his hand behind Brock's and stroking the soft skin with his cold hand. He is going to take that to harder than he should.

"What can we do to make it so that Brock can be more comfortable around Gerard and so Gerard can feel less left out?" Ray asks.

"I think that if Gerard realizes that my relationship with Brock is not an open one, then we can get past this." Frank glares at him.

“I don’t know,” Brock replies quietly.

"Do you think maybe if we did things as a group, it would help? I feel like if we all hung out like on the bus instead of hiding in the bunks, this rift will mend." Ray suggests.

"Well, it seems like _the boss_ doesn't even want to be here or around _anyone…_ so I don't know if that will do shit, Raymond," Gerard replies with a touch of venom to the emphasized words.

“I also haven’t seen you but twice in the last week, Gerard,” Brock shoots back. His fingers tighten around Frankie’s and in the bed sheets near Ray. 

"It's a two-way street, Rumlow." Gerard replies, "It's hard to hang out when you hide away in your glass tower waiting for the world to fold in on you." 

“Fuck you,” Brock spats. “On second thought, I’m never fucking you so you can get over yourself and your high horse. Things were fucking fine until St. Louis, so what’s this really about? I don’t pay attention to you for a few weeks while dealing with my own shit and–” Brock has to take a breath and close his eyes for a few moments. He’s getting himself worked up and he needs to recenter.

"That's not fair and you know it. You know that we are dealing with something bigger than this petty bullshit." Frank says sitting upright and points his finger at Gerard, "You know that he is getting better. You of ALL people know that this doesn't go away over fucking night. If you're that unhappy in your own relationship maybe get out of it. Leave mine alone." 

“We didn’t have a problem between you and me when we were at the BBQ at Ray’s on Monday. So what happened between Monday and today?” Brock says, his voice no longer the light and neutral of a diplomat but empty and with a heaviness to it. It’s just another thing that is his fault.

"Things just became a lot more clear in the last twenty-four hours and frankly, Brock, I'm on to you," Gerard says, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

“The last…? What are you talking about?” Brock sighs. He’s tired. He’s done. The emotional pain of all the things he’s hearing adds more weight to him and he swears his shoulders hurt more under it.

"I see your end game and I respect it. Playing up the wounded bird aspect, lure in the _naive_ and the _soft-hearted_. We all know that your deprivation isn't a thing… or it's _highly_ exaggerated. You got your way with Frank… must have gotten bored with him when he stopped being tight and shiny and needed a new challenge so why not work on bedding Ray, right?" Gerard smirks again. His eyes never leave Brock's now pale face.

"I mean it starts out with that innocent act on the couch. But you're playing this long game. Do you really think it's not noticeable? The little looks and touches. Then it all became clear last night." Gerard says shaking his head. 

"What about the deprivation isn't real? Because you can't see it? You watched him break into a million pieces but that isn't good enough proof for you?" Ray snaps.

"Tell me why a 'straight man' would be in bed with two gay men half-naked men, kissing each other. Doesn't really scream ‘I'm so sad’… boohoo. Does that to you?"

"Gerard, dude can you just stop? You're just being a dick." Mike asks with a small voice that gets shut down the second his brother glares at him.

Frank's foot is bouncing against the bed. He's reaching his limit and it's hard to contain. His chest is full of hornets swarming around ready to strike. He bites his cheek harder until he can taste iron.

Brock realizes that there is nothing he can say here that will disprove anything Gerard accuses him of because Gerard doesn’t believe anything he would say. He realizes now that from an outsider like Gerard, who could never understand and will never understand, that it does look like everything it’s not. His brain gremlins whisper to him that once again he isn’t allowed to have this. He ruins everything. He tried to keep distance from Gerard in hopes it would show that he wasn’t interested and never would be. He tried to do better; be better. For the band. For Frankie. For the people who he thought were his friends. Gerard was not his friend. Friends supported each other.

"Oh fuck off with that bullshit. That kiss was about as passionate as kissing your goddamned grandma!" Ray snaps back.

“I’m sorry,” Brock breathes the words so quietly, it’s barely heard by the two men next to him. His voice cracks with the guilt and weight of everything Gerard was spitting back to him. Everything that was already in his head that he was working on getting better, comes rushing back tenfold.

"Fuck you! The first time Ray visited and sat in bed with Brock, he nearly had a meltdown. Don't you dare tell me that he is faking it. You haven't been there! You haven't done shit but be a jealous little bitch." Frank shouts. He feels like he is vibrating. He can feel the heat rising up his back. 

"You are so blind to it. It's just guilt for not being in love with you as much as he claims…" Gerard's eyebrow raises. 

Frank's anger has hit the level where he can’t contain it anymore. Before his brain can process the right thing to do, he's off the bed and on top of the other man. He's got a clammy hand pressed into his chin as Frank punches Gerard in the face again and again. He doesn't give a fuck about keeping him pretty. Gerard doesn't give a fuck about not hurting him, his punch landing in Frank's stomach and causing it to clench on the inside. He takes a punch just shy of the temple and into his hair. Frank's knee pushing into Gerard's soft stomach can't feel good but he puts more pressure behind it. _Fuck him_. He doesn't need words to solve this. A hit to the jaw forces him to bite his tongue. But it doesn't stop him.

Bob and Mike spring backward from the fight. It needs to happen. They don't want either man to get hurt but this will get it out of their systems. 

“Frankie, no. Stop.” Brock finds his voice amidst the shock of Gerard’s words. His tongue feels thick and his throat tight but he manages to get something strangled out. He moves to pull his husband off his lead singer.

"Hit 'em again, Frank," Ray mutters under his breath. Little shit needed to learn a lesson. Frank might be the best one to teach him.

"How. Fucking. Dare. You!" Frank hits him for each word. He gets hit hard in the side of the face and it sets him back for a split second. The break allows for Gerard to hit him again but this hit snaps him back to the moment and he reacts again.

Ray grabs for Brock's wrist to stop his movement from the bed. He shakes his head no once Brock looks up at him. 

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault and I’m sorry,” croaks out Brock, voice faint and threatening to break. 

"Nothing is your fault. You've done nothing wrong." Ray tries to reassure him but he knows Brock does not believe him. He wishes Brock would have fire instead of rain in his soul. 

“Say you're fucking sorry to him!" Frank snaps, sitting back. He points to Brock as he glares down at Gerard. He's giving him an out. 

The small break in the hits gives Gerard enough time to build the strength for one more good hit. Once he connects with Frank's face and watches the smaller man fall to the side and stay down. 

"I ain't sorry for shit. It's bullshit that I get passed over for someone who isn't even interested in you. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be in bed with you and him. But fuck me for wanting both of you." Gerard snaps as he shoves Frank off him.

“That’s all?” Brock asks. He hates the way his voice sounds so timid. But he’s still processing everything that has transpired and he can’t focus, can’t think. His body feels like it’s buried under a heavyweight and every bone aches. His chest hurts and his heart races. Brock knows he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack but can do nothing to stop it. Maybe he can fix this. Maybe if he can fix this, everything will be okay. He’ll have to give up Sunshine…. Ray. He’ll have to close the doors but he can fix this. He has to. These are his boys. His team. If he can’t lead five kids on a tour, how can he ever hope to run an empire? It’s his job to protect them. Even if it’s from himself. No matter the pain, no matter the sorrow, no matter the fear, he has to bury it all. He slowly picks himself off the bed and goes to Frankie, keeping eye contact with Gerard. “Is that all you want from me? You in my bed?”

"I just..." Gerard hesitates, "want to be included."

'You want to be in my bed and included in the cuddles? Fine. Get in. You can be my _straight_ boyfriend like Ray is. But I'm not sexually attracted to you and I never will be. And I hate to do this but I have to reiterate: you have no claim to Frankie. There will be no sex with him either. And for the record, I haven't been interested in sex in weeks. Depression and anxiety tends to do that to you. But that doesn't mean I don't want Frankie. He's _everything_ to me."

Ray blinks. He hadn't heard his name out of Brock's mouth in a while. He looks over to Brock almost feeling like the wind had been pulled from his sail. 

"I don't think that will solve anything." Bob nervously offers.

"Then what do you suggest I do, Bob?" Brock says quiet and coolly. When Bob doesn't answer right away, Brock turns on Gerard. "Perhaps I should give Lindsey a call? Fly her down and you can have a _conjugal_ visit or two every few weeks. Would that help you?"

"What?" Gerard blinks. The question catches him off guard, "She.. I mean." 

"That's what you _ultimately_ want, yes? Couldn't just be happy with a great show and a jerk-off? Could you? No, you want the real thing. So what do I gotta do to fix this for you? Because I will not let you ruin the only good thing that's ever fucking happened to me, dammit." Brock is suddenly in Gerard's face and he doesn't remember moving towards him.

Gerard swallows hard. He can taste the blood in his mouth. He is trying to find the right words to say. He moves away from Brock. "I– I uh." Gerard sputters out. 

Ray moves across the bed and down to Frank. He checks that the kid is still breathing then slowly moves him away from the others. Last thing, Frankie needs is to be stepped on.

"You wanted to know why I don't trust you?" Brock extends his hands to the side as if to say, _look around you_. "It's shit like this makes me not trust you. You don't even care about me as a person, you just want me to fuck you. You aren't my friend. You never were. You've been pushing against me since day one, repeatedly disrespecting my wishes as both Frank's partner and your friend. Well now, I'm not that anymore. I will be your tour manager and nothing else. We are through. Our agreement is over."

Gerard's mouth drops open slightly. He is processing everything that came from Brock. He blinks and manages out, "Yessir." 

"Wait! You're through...with all of it?" Mike asks looking back to Frank and Ray, "All of us?"

Brock shakes his head sadly. "No Mikey. Just meant I'm done being friends with someone who wants to hurt me. You're good Milky Way. I'm not leaving the band. I have a job to do."

"Good cause don't let one asshole ruin the whole group," Bob says coldly. 

"I don't intend to. I've just realized that the only person I can change in this, is myself. Though there will be some changes moving forward. I'm just not sure what yet," Brock replies to Bob but keeps his eyes glued to Gerard.

"Oh. Ok." Bob nods and takes a step back. 

"Can someone get me a rag?" Ray asks quietly. 

"I will," Brock announces. 

"Mikey and Bob, you two are welcome to either stay or leave if you want. Mr. Way, I suggest you return to your room and tend to your own injuries." Brock turns and heads to the bathroom, getting a washcloth and wetting it before returning to Ray.

Gerard moves out of the room quickly. He heads into his own bathroom and shuts the door behind him. 

"Did you want me to grab you guys some ice for him?" Bob asks.

"I have Band-Aids," Mike says quietly.

"Good ideas. Both would be great, boys," Brock says.

Ray presses the rag to Frank's face which causes him to flinch and wake. Frank's eyes are wide as he looks around the room. "Hey kid. Take it easy. You got your bell rung."

"The fuck?" Frank mutters. Everything feels hazy. He doesn't know why he's in Ray's lap. There's blood in his mouth. Brock looks bad. The fuck is that little bitch. "I needa get up." 

"Be careful. How's your head," Brock asks as he kneels in front of him. He holds up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know where you are?"

"Two. Austin?" Frank says unsure fully, "Heads fuzzy. Face hurts. 'm ok." 

Mike returns with a small first aid kit. He hands it to Ray and touches Brock's shoulder. "Here. Hey Frankie, glad you're awake. You guys need anything?" 

"Not sure. Thank you Mikey. Are you going to head out?" Brock turns to the youngest Way.

"I can. I don't wanna intrude." He replies to Brock. 

Frank looks to Ray and whispers, "Where is he?"

Ray frowns, "Gone. Drop it." 

Brock turns to face Mikey more. "You won't be if you choose to stay. Are we still on for paintball later?" 

"Fuck yes we are." Mike smiles wide. "I'm going to check on my idiot brother and stop back, if that's ok?"

"Ice. I had to go a floor down," Bob says entering the room, through the adjoining door.

Brock nods to Mikey, "Tell your brother he's still invited. Don't want him to think something different. Thank you Bob."

"I'll make sure he knows. Thanks for not giving him what he wanted." Mike smiles at Brock and pats his shoulder. 

"Someone's blood's in the carpet," Bob comments.

"Hopefully the blood of the enemy," Frank grumbles.

"Doesn't matter. I'll have it cleaned. Keep the ice on your head, please. You might have a concussion. Ice helps with the swelling." Brock sighs and shakes his head.

"Ok." Frank agrees. He can see the change in Brock's face. 

"You really are a little bruiser, kid," Ray says looking at his lip. 

"Didn't learn to take a few hits for nothing." Frank says with a goofy smile, "I got beat up enough as a kid." 

"Can you sit up without getting dizzy?" Brock asks.

"I'll give it the college try." Frank says, groaning a little as he sits up. The world flips a little. "Not so much." 

"Will you be sick? Do you need me to get you a trash can from the bathroom?" asks Brock, standing.

"I'm ok. Just a little wobbly." Frank says looking up at him. The faint halo in his vision sits just above Brock's head. "You gotta halo." 

"And you gotta concussion," Brock simply states.

"Whaatt?!" Frank asks, confused. "He only hit me once." He moves the ice pack and pauses, "No, twice I think." He looks to Brock again, "I'm really sorry for getting mad. He said some bullshit and I couldn't." 

"He deserved it, Frank," Bob says from the doorway. "He deserved worse. Some heinous shit that came out of him." 

"Yup exactly."

"Don't let him ruin all the progress you've made… all the milestones. Don't give up 'cause of some punk kid," Ray says trying to sound hopeful.

"Please don't fade away, again," Frank says quietly. 

"He's not entirely wrong," Brock whispers under his breath. He's going to crash. He can't. He wants to. He needs to. He can't. He needs to be like Elsa; instead of _'let it go'_ it's _'conceal, don't feel'_. Dammit the song is stuck in his head now. He's too exhausted for this. Now he really needs a nap. He stands and sits on the bed. 

Ray helps Frank to his feet, "Let's get you cleaned up kiddo." He leads Frank to the bathroom and helps him clean up his wounds. 

"He is going to break again." Frank whispers.

"I know."

"I don't know if I can do it again. I love him so much and I can't fix it. I wanna bring him back. And I can't make it go away." Frank whispers again.

"You are doing a great job. It's going to be hard. But you're not alone. Ok?" Ray says with a nod. 

Frank nods.

"Alright let's go. He's going to need you."

"I still have an appointment soon. I'll just go alone. He needs rest. You should stay." Frank looks at Ray. His mind is made up.

"You think he's gonna be ok with that?"

"I don't think he will care." Frank sighs. "He's going to sleep anyway." The hit to his stomach reaggravated his stomach ache. 

Ray frowns. He lets Frank go. He washes his hands and steps out.

Bob has disappeared into his room. And the door has closed. Frank makes his way back to the bed and sits beside Brock. "You're nothing like what he said. You've done nothing wrong. Don't listen to that little monster in your head." He touches Brock's arm gently. 

Brock looks over at him and shoves aside his emotions behind a door in his head. He gives him a smile. "Working on that. How's your head? Still dizzy?" 

"Eh, I'll be fine. The room is less spinny." Frank replies.

"You should take some Tylenol for the pain. And keep putting ice on your face for the swelling. Maybe call your mom to ask her what's the treatment for someone who lost consciousness after a punch," Brock suggests softly. He looks over the wounds.

"Rest, ice and Tylenol." Frank smiles then frowns when his cheek hurts. He's been in enough fights to know that by heart, "How are you? Here and here?" He touches Brock's head and chest. 

"Processing. Working. I'll be fine," Brock says matter of factly. And he will be. It's just a matter of time. A thought crosses his mind as he looks at his love and he smiles. "You know, we now have mostly matching shiners. Everyone is gonna think we fought each other. Gonna hurt like hell if I kiss you right now."

"Let 'em think what they want." Frank says leaning a little into him, "It's a pain I'd be willing to take. I shouldn't have gone easy on him..." 

"Yeah well, you two wouldn't have got into a fight if I had been able to keep control of the discussion. I just didn't expect… that. Some leader I am." Brock snorts at himself before leaning over and gently kissing Frankie's lips before pressing a harder one on his forehead.

"To be fair, I should have let you handle it but… I'm a hot head." He sighs and smiles again. The touch of his lips to his forehead makes him relax a little more, "You're a good leader, I just went a little feral for a minute."

"That's why you are my hellcat. I'm glad you and Ray attempted to change his belief. Coming from me would have been dismissed. He's always hated me. This just kinda proves it." With a sigh he bends down and picks up his clothing. He's going to need a new shirt. Where's the duffle again? 

"I don't understand why. But whatever. He's gonna learn to be fucking nice or I'm getting kicked out of the band. I'm done with his little kid bullshit." Frank nods, "Why are you calling him Ray?"

Brock pauses in his movement to get the duffle from the floor and looks at both men for a moment before continuing on. "It's his name." He grabs the bag and opens it, pulling out his compression shirt. He's going to need it when they go to play paintball.

Frank gives him a look that screams, _really_? He takes a breath in, "You haven't called him Ray since the first day you met him. So why are you calling him that now?"

Ray sits quietly as the two men talk. He knows what's going on. He's not happy about it. But he's going to keep quiet for now.

"That's not entirely true. Why does it matter?" Brock frowns as he grabs his pants and begins to pull them on. He's called Ray by his name before. Sure it was rare but they'll just have to get used to it. He's not allowed friends. Gerard proved that. His favoritism nearly tore the band apart. He won't let that happen.

"It doesn't but… nevermind." Frank says with a head tilt. 

Ray stands up and approaches Brock. He touches his arm carefully. "You're not doing this." 

Brock takes a step back out of reach and pulls on his shirt instead. "I'm getting dressed. We are going to do lunch and paintball as a group. Then maybe a movie later. You should do the same if you want to join."

Ray takes the space up again. "We're going to talk about this later. You don't get a choice. It's not optional." His voice is darker than he's ever used with Brock. It feels wrong to use it but it's needed today. 

Again, Brock moves away. He feels his own dark side rising and he shifts his weight, standing up straighter, more alert. He doesn't think Ray will try anything but he's not sure and so he's prepared, just in case. "I have nothing to say on the subject. It is what it is."

"Oh that's fine then you can fuckin' listen. The kids got a tattoo appointment. Then we can do paintball. I suggest you think hard about how you treat your friends in the meantime." Ray can't keep the growl from his throat as he glares at Brock.

"I can just walk there… it's not far. I'll meet up with you guys after. It's not a big deal." Frank blurts out, the last thing he needs is Brock and Ray getting into it.

Brock blinks several times. He had forgotten about the tattoo appointment. "Okay. We go there first. Then group lunch? Then paintball; Frankie's on my team. What else did we have planned?" He frowns and runs his hands through his hair. He doesn't remember anything else. His nerves are frazzled and he needs to finish getting dressed. The tasks at least keep him from shaking. Something to do to take his mind off of everything he can't deal with right now.

"That's it." Frank says from behind them.

Ray shoots him a look and watches as Frank takes a physical step back. He takes a breath and moves away from Brock. He's going to give him time. Maybe he's processing. He picks his clothing from the floor and dresses quickly, "South by Southwest has an art gallery. You said you wanted to see about something for your mom. Frank mentioned a record store. Then dinner and a movie possibly." 

"I don't need any more records. It's fine. We have a busy enough day." Frank says pulling on black jeans that are a bit more tattered than he remembers. He slips the dogtags on and a black muscle shirt. 

"Actually I was going to cancel the art thing. It's not really appealing to me anymore. I think I want to get her something else. We can check out the record store," Brock says. Ray's sudden attitude change threw him off. The last thing he said to him about how he treated his friends worried him. Did that mean Ray was going to stop being his friend? Stop being his brother? Probably for the best. Gerard was right. He played favorites. He can't have friends and still be a good manager. 

"Ok. Sounds good, Brock." Frank says quietly. He is feeling anxious for some reason. Maybe he had a bad concussion. Maybe it's all of it. But whatever the case maybe, he's gotta get his shit together. Keep the "it's fine" mentality. 

Ray says nothing but pulls his shoes on. "I'm going down to that coffee place, did either of you want anything. My treat?" He needs to not let it get to him. This must be how Brock deals with things. He's not letting him shut down or shut him out. They are friends. He's stuck with him. Like a bad penny. 

"No, thank you, Ray," Brock says with a clipped voice. Frankie's agreement set him on edge. Like he was agreeing with him only because he didn't want to upset him. Which only infuriates him more. He doesn't want compliance out of fear or distrust. He needs to keep saying Ray's _proper name_ to make it more normal. He's got to change the record. He's got to be better dammit.

"I'm ok. Thank you though Ray." Frank smiles at him. Does he stay with Brock or leave with Ray? He feels like when he was a kid and his parents fought. He stares at Brock for a moment and sighs, "I'll go with and figure out if I want something." 

He never thought he would be relieved to hear that both of them were going to leave for a bit. He needs the alone time. He needs the space. He can break in the silence. He nods, "I'll stay here. Wait for you to return. Maybe I'll change my mind about coffee. Maybe tea instead. You two have fun."

"Ok…" Frank hesitates a little but picks up his phone and wallet. He looks at Brock once more before following Ray out. He's got a pit in his stomach as soon as the door closes. 

"He'll be fine, Frank." Ray says without looking at his friend.

"I just. Nevermind. It's the concussion." Frank cuts himself off.

Brock waits thirty seconds before moving to the phone in the room and calling down to the front desk. He informs the lady that he will need to pay for new furniture just before he hangs up on her. He moves about the room, letting his wall break inside and the damn crash. At some point, after his knuckles are bleeding and the room is a mess, he goes to his duffle and grabs his gun. He screams in despair, a choked off sob escapes. He fires it.

Bob flinches from the sounds of violence beyond the wall. He tries the door only to find it locked. In vain, he knocks on the door as he shouts for Brock to open the door. He turns on his heels and points to Gerard. "This is all on you. If he hurts himself, none of us will _ever_ forgive you."

The room loses all the air when the sound of a gunshot echoes. Frank and Ray are there. 

"Oh god." Gerard says softly as Bob begins frantically banging on the wall. 

A cell phone chimes an incoming text from Ray saying he and Frankie went to get coffee and if anyone wanted some. Mike grabs his phone and feels a little relief but then horror. Trying to make his hands steady. He messages Ray that there was a gunshot from their room. 

"We need to go back." Ray says breathlessly. 

"Why?" 

"Just go. Now." Ray says keeping his voice calm as possible. What the fuck did Brock do? Oh god, Frankie… "I want to go in the room before you. Do not come in until I tell you." 

"What the fuck is going on Ray? You're freaking me out!" Frank says keeping up with Ray as they hit the elevator bay. 

"I don't know. Just be cool for now?" 

Frank's heart is hammering in his chest but not how he was used to. He sees security running up the stairs and begins to panic a little. What did he do? He must have lost it and beat the shit out of Gerard. 

As the elevator door opens, Frank can see the police banging on their door. He forgets about what Ray had said to him and bolts for the door. 

"What's going on?! That's my room! What's going on??" 

"There was a report of gunshots." A cop with a red beard says as he puts a key in and puts a hand aout to keep him at bay.

"It's my husband in there!" Frank pushes back as Ray holds him by the shirt. He can hear the policemen shouting inside the room.

"On the floor! Hands up! Put the weapon down!" The policemen all shouted at once as they entered the room.

"Ray. He can't get arrested!" Frank hisses quietly.

"I know. Just play along."

Brock kneels to the carpet, hands laced behind his head. The gun is on the floor out of his reach as he had tossed it. He stares at them blankly; face a mess.

Frank watches the cops roughly handcuff Brock. His body wants to protect him. "Sir. You need to stay put. Don't make me cuff you too…" the cop warns him. 

"It was an accident." Ray says firmly, "The kid here went a little nuts and fucked up the room. My associate was trying to take care of the gun, it must have misfired." 

Frank watches as the cops pull Brock to his feet and carelessly shove him on the bed. He falls without an ounce of protest. He's still crying but looks as if he doesn't even realize it.

"Is it your associate or his husband?" The cop throws an attitude at Ray. 

"It's both, _actually._ " Frank growls. 

"Sarg." The ginger cop says into the room as he nods at Frank and Ray. The man with a stern face approaches them. Frank's distaste for the police is growing. He is not happy about this. He's also pissed at Brock for pulling this stunt. Ray talks the cops down from arresting Brock. They instead give him a citation and a warning that if they come back and deal with any of them, all three would be going to jail. 

Ray enters the room as soon as the cops leave with arms crossed over his chest. Frank stands behind Ray, emotionless. His head hurts. His stomach hurts and now the– _oh my god. The room!_

"So… you're welcome for keeping you out of cuffs." Ray grumbles.

"Thank you," Brock whispers, numb and yet somehow the tears continue to stream down his cheeks. He doesn't even try to stop it. He can't. 

"Were you trying to kill yourself?" Ray says colder than he expected. 

Brock shakes his head, "No. I would never… that's not what... no." 

"Well that's a relief." 

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" Ray says in disbelief.

Brock visibly flinches at the words and he hangs his head in shame and in guilt. The stream flows harder. He wasn't thinking. He was _breaking_. The words come out but barely, "I'm sorry." 

Frank stays silent. The wheels in his head are turning. As he watches Brock cry harder than he could ever imagine his love being able too. He's made a decision and it's not one he is backing down from. He walks into the damaged room and sits next to him on the bed. "How can I help?" He asks. 

It takes a few moments before Brock can speak. The need to explain rises in his chest but gets stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Didn't plan… the gun. Wanted you two safe. He's right and it's my fault and I couldn't hold it in and didn't want to hurt you I'm sorry I tried I tried to be better and I couldn't get it out and I just– I won't again. I swear. Please forgive me. I'm sorry." 

The waterfall of words finally taper off as he sobs. The magnitude of what he'd done terrifies him. He didn't think he was ever capable of losing control that much even when he's this compromised. Anything they could tell him pales compared to the demons in his head. He was a monster.

"Hey. Breathe." Frank says softly as he strokes Brock's back, "No one got hurt. Well, except the couch. And your hands, baby." 

"It was an accident," Brock stutters out. 

"Oh honey. I know!" Frank says softer. He looks at Ray, "Please bring me a wet rag for his hands." 

He turns back to Brock, "What he said was _said_ to mess with you. He wanted to hurt you."

"Well it worked," Brock says.

"He was being purposely mean, Brock." Frank says stroking his face, "You aren't the bad guy. No matter what he or the fucking _monsters_ in your head say." 

"I understand if you guys want to sleep elsewhere tonight," he says softly. He wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed with him either.

"I am not going to sleep anywhere you're not." Frank says as he takes the rag from Ray. He presses the wet rag into his knuckles. He lifts his hand and kisses the 

top of each hand, "You're not getting rid of me yet, Mr. Rumlow." 

"I'm not sleeping anywhere else." Ray says a little firmly, "You're my friend and you are in need. I'm not leaving dude."

"What can I do to help you right now?" Ray asks. 

"Please don't hate me," he whispers.

"Why would we, Brock?" Ray sits beside him on the bed while Frank takes care of his hands. 

"You know I can never hate you." Frank looks up at him with a small smile, "You're the love of my life." 

"You just had a moment. A destructive moment but a moment." Ray pats his back. 

He flinches at the touch; another thing he didn't expect would happen. The brain gremlins scream at him that he's not allowed contact again. He fucked up. This was his fault.

Frank looks up at him as he feels him flinch, "Did I hurt you?" 

"Maybe we should cancel the show tomorrow?" Ray leans forward and looks at Frank. 

"Or see if we can get someone to stand in for me, I'll take him home and meet you in the next city." Frank says not looking up as he applied another bandage to a cut.

"Doesn't hurt," Brock mumbles. "I'm fine it's just…." It's just _Ray_.

"Is it… Do you want to...to not be touched?" Frank asks, removing his hands from Brock's body. He watches Ray copy his action. 

"I'll get an email out to find a stand in. It's just one night… unless after your tattoo you wanted to go tonight and take a red eye back?" Ray suggests.

"We'll see. I should call Jack and have him meet me. He will help me." Frank sighs.

"No," came the whispered but firm reply. "We continue the tour. No replacements. No cancellations."

"Babe. Please." Frank says, concerned, "I'm worried for you."

"I was fine… before. I want normal," Brock says. He just wants to erase everything that happened with Gerard.

"I know. I just don't know if..." 

"'m fine. Just gotta work more. Harder."

"...ok." Frank caves. He wants Brock to get better. On the road isn't the place, "Will you call Sam? Or Jack. Both?"

Ray feels the anger rolling up his back as he rises to his feet. "Excuse me. I have to go handle something." He's not sure what he's going to do. If he hits Gerard, he will feel nothing about doing it. The prick deserves to be beaten worse. The regression is going to hurt both of his friends and he's not ok with this.

"Not Jack," Brock shakes his head. "No family. They can't know. Jack will kill him." 

"But Jack can... provide support." Frank says as he carefully rubs Brock's wrists. 

"I can't lie to my brothers," Brock says, leaning into Frankie. He nuzzles him. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry baby." Frank says as he lets go of Brock's wrists and strokes, "I'm just scared and worried. That's all." 

"Me too. I've never lost control like that before. He just… it was just… too much."

"I know. It was heinous." Frank kisses the side of Brock's head, "So the plan is we keep acting like it's normal? Like he didn't get a rise out of us?"

"Mostly, yeah." Brock nods and kisses Frankie.

Frank kisses him again, "I can do that. I will do that for you but you have to promise me that you won't build a wall or bottle up? I'm working on it and it sucks but even if it's not with me. Just let it out…"

"I'll try. I didn't mean to this time. It just escalated so fast. I swear. I promise I won't. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I know this got out of hand and that's not your fault. This is all fixable." Frank motions to the room be for going on, "I just got scared cause I didn't know what happened… I got scared I'd lose you." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just reacted."

"I know baby. And it's gonna be ok." Frank says kissing his head again, "Will you look at me?" 

Brock turns and looks at Frankie. He tries to keep the little voice in his head quiet.

"I love you to the moon and back, Brock." Frank says as he cups his cheeks, "Don't make me get a lockbox where I have the key…" he gives him a small smile to show he's trying to lighten the mood.

With a little sigh and a small smile, Brock nods before pulling Frankie close and kissing him. It was meant to be chaste but the moment his lips touch his own, Brock kisses him harder, more needier.

Frank's hands move from his cheeks to the back of his head and neck as he kisses him back a little more passionate than expected. He relaxes a little more into Brocks space. Maybe his husband just needed to murder couches more to let it out?

Brock breaks the kiss to grab at Frankie, he needs to hold and be held. He just wants to forget about Gerard. Forget the day. He's so tired. He whimpers softly, "Koala Time. Please." 

Frank wraps himself around Brock. He kisses Brock's neck and pushes his fingers into Brock's scalp. "I love you." 

"I love you," Brock exhales the words. He hugs him from the side for a second before pulling him into his lap and pressing his head to Frankie's chest.

"Can we call Sam?" 

"Okay." Brock's voice was muffled from the fabric of Frankie's shirt. "Where did Ray go?" 

"I think he was uh, going to _talk_ to Gerard." Frank says before kissing his neck.

"Okay. Can we video call Sam?"

"Yeah. Why don't you get comfy and I'll grab your phone and we can call him." 

"Okay. Still Koala Time?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Frank smiles. He grabs his phone from his pocket then rests his head on Brock's shoulder, "Okay lets get comfy. Let's move my trusty steed." 

With a small grin, Brock kisses Frankie once more before nudging him to get up. Brock moves back to the headboard, adding all the pillows before getting comfy and pulling Frankie into his right side.

Ray had pushed his way into the bathroom that Gerard had holed up in. The pale face looked up at him with wide eyes. Before he let Gerard speak he started. "How dare you?" Ray snaps at him.

Gerard blinks at him and turns from the sink. 

"I know that you think that you should get everything that you ever fucking want but surprise buttercup, that not how anything in this life works!!" Ray shouts at him.

Gerard opens his mouth to speak but Ray shushes him.

"Do you have ANY idea how much work has gone into making Brock feel okay to be on the road? Do you even care that he is a goddamned person who has feelings and fears and, I don't know, a soul? No you don't. Because Gerard wants what he wants and he's going to throw his toys around like a little damn baby," Ray shouts with clenched fists, "Does it even matter to you that what just happened could have gone the wrong motherfucking way and one of our friends could lose someone he loves because of you?"

"I just." 

"Zip. I'm talking!" Ray snaps. "How would you feel if someone was harassing Lindsey. If someone had broken her spirit so much that you actively drained yourself to help build her back up even a little to have someone who you cared about come through and kick it all down? You would be pissed. You would burn the world to make it right."

"I just want to be included."

"I AM TALKING.

"You not only owe them both an apology but you owe your _wife_ an apology. You know what, the entire band deserves an apology. You are a slimy piece of shit. Do not talk to me. Do not talk to Frank or Brock unless spoken too. You're so incredibly lucky that I do not beat your ass to a pulp," Ray snaps at him with a finger pointed. 

"You know what sickens me, he would probably let you be an acquaintance even after all this bullshit. He's a great man who just wanted your friendship." Ray pauses to breathe, "If we make it past this tour, I will be surprised…" Ray opens the door, he uninterested in hearing a response from Gerard.

He steps out and hugs Bob. Then hugs Mike. He explains that everything is okay. No one was hurt and that Brock wasn't in the best headspace for visitors at the moment. He hugs his friends again then returns to his room. He finds Brock being blanketed by Frank. He takes a seat on the bed next to them. He's thankful it had avoided the wrath of Brock. He wraps Brock in a hug.

Brock fights himself, wanting the hug but also trying to keep some distance from him and Ray. He has to start seeing him as just another band member. He has to make himself not be so close to him. He's not allowed favorites. He's not allowed friends. Gerard was right. He tries to push Ray away, almost in a panic because what if Gerard comes back and screams at him again? What if the other guys feel the same? He can't lose them. He has to make sacrifices. This is his penance.

"Brock. I'm not leaving. I'm still your friend. You're going to hug me, fuck what that little piggie boy has to say" Ray says roughly as he holds his ground.

"No, I can't. He's right. I'm not– it's wrong. We can't be friends anymore. Not allowed friends," Brock protests. "Just makes things worse. I ruined the band." 

"Damn it Brock." Ray growls, "You get friends because you deserve it. You don't ruin anything or make anything worse. Stop it!"

Brock slumps in the embrace and clings to Ray. He's crying again and he doesn't care. He loves his brother and his husband and he doesn't want everything to be ruined. He hugs him tight, "I can't get him out of my head! I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave. He just–"

"The only one you need to worry about is you and Frank. Who gives a flying fuck about anyone else… I told you Rumlow, I ain't leaving." Ray leans up and kisses his cheek, "So stop trying to keep me away." 

Brock nods and takes a breath. "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean- shit. Okay." He takes another breath and nods. He trusts both of them. He has to rely on the truth and not listen to the negatives in his mind. They won't lie to him. "Rocks in the storm? You won't lie to me, right?" 

"Never Brock." Ray says firmly.

"Only if I bought you a surprise and you try to pry it out of me." Frank smiles at him before kissing him, "But never about anything important." 

The words are not expected and he laughs wetly, wiping his eyes and cheeks. "I love you guys. And thank you. For never giving up on me and reminding me of the truth. Will you help me? To tell me Truth and not let me listen to the gremlins in my head? Please?"

"I will always help you. You know I will burn those little gremlins any and every time." Frank strokes his chest as he whispers to him.

"They keep coming back. Might need a bonfire," Brock squeezes Frankie tight and kisses him again. "I love you." 

"Were like the ghostbusters but for your gremlins." Ray chuckles at his joke.

"Just don't feed them after midnight, right?" Brock grins tiredly at Ray. He grabs his phone and pulls up Sam's contact.

Frank leans up and whispers, "I love you more, _polpetto._ " 

"We're video calling Sam. My counselor," Brock looks at Ray. "Will you stay?"

"If you would like me to then yes." 

Brock nods and pats Ray on the leg, kisses Frankie, and then presses the call button. He's drained and thinks that maybe he should skip some of the social activities today. He'll ask after the call.

"Breathe." Frank reminds him as he runs his hand over Brock's neck.

The phone rings for a few moments before the screen fills with the handsome face of Sam Wilson. He appears to be at home and he gives a wave with a wide smile. "Hey guys! How's it going? How's Texas treating you? It is Texas, right? Or was it Tennessee?" 

"It's Texas. Things are… complicated. How are you Sam?" Frank turns his head to the phone.

"Not too bad. Not too bad. So. Complicated, huh? Guess this isn't a social call," Sam says with a smile. He turns to Brock, "What's your emotional status today, Brock?" 

Brock takes a deep breath before answering, "I am… I'm… exhausted. Just drained." 

"How's your physical pain level?" Sam asks.

"High. Maybe like a medium-high. 6 or 7," Brock replies, unsure if he was accurate in his assessment. Describing things using a scale was hard.

Frank leans up, "Please show him the room." 

"The room? Something the matter?" Sam asks with a confused frown.

Brock slumps a little in shame. He's not proud of his actions at all. Still, he turns the camera around and allows Sam to witness his destruction.

"Looks like a tornado came through. What happened? You guys get robbed?" Sam's voice sounds surprised.

"No," Brock says, turning the camera back around. "I was compromised. And lost control of myself. I did it. I'm responsible."

"Did you have a panic attack or flashback? What's the cause here?"

"I did not have either." Brock almost wishes he did. At least that way it kind of exonerated him a little of his reactions. This on the other hand was all his fault. He didn't have an excuse. 

"It's a bit complicated." Frank adds. He's unsure if he should go on, he looks at Sam's face then Brock's. "We had… engaged in activities with a member of my band and this person misunderstood the nature of our relationship. Then they felt the need to say some harmful and disgusting things to Brock… I had to use _force_ to stop the situation but it did enough damage that this OSHA violation happened."

"I think I see. For the privacy of others, would you feel more comfortable using a fake name for this person? Since all of the band members are male and I want to be sure I'm following," Sam suggests with a grin. "Of course, you could use their real names and you know I would follow confidentiality protocol."

"His name is Gerard. Gerard Way." Frank gives zero fucks about privacy. His name makes his guts bubble with anger, "He's the son of a bitch who did this." 

"Alright. So you three engaged in something, I'm assuming it's sexual?" Sam asks. "And he took it wrong?"

"Yeah. Ear muffs Ray." Frank says, "Ray is Brock's new friend from my band. But we'll get there soon enough."

"But yes, he wasn't allowed in the action but adjacent to it. He developed feelings for Brock. But this part should be on me, it was my idea that Brock allowed it. So I made this problem a problem."

"While I appreciate you taking responsibility for the idea that caused Gerard to enter into a sexual based activity, you are not responsible for the actions or feelings of another, okay?" Sam gives a pointed look to Frankie.

"Yes sir."

Sam nods before returning to the matter at hand. "So Gerard has developed these new feelings and words were said. Bad enough you beat him up. If possible, I'd like to know what was said, and how that has affected you, both individually and as a group. If you are okay to tell me. If not that is perfectly fine, you can just tell me how it's affecting you. Besides Brock destroying the room."

"Well, this is where new friend Ray comes in. Brock and Ray have gotten close which is fantastic! So, this isn't verbatim but he is upset because he feels that he was passed over by me for picking Brock. Then Brock passed him over for Ray because he made the assumption that Ray was in a _thruple_ like situation because we have been forced into circumstances that have made the band share two beds between six men." Frank inhales, "He said Brock was faking his deprivation to dupe me and Ray into bed with him." 

"Breathe, Frankie. Let's just pause for now, okay?" Sam holds up a gentle hand and gives him a reassuring smile. 

"Yessir." 

"You don't have to do that but I appreciate it. We're cool, my man. It's cool. But I gotta ask, what the heck is _thruple_?"

"Good question," Brock mutters with an amused look to Frankie. 

"It's like a couple but with three… thruple." Frank looks at Brock like he should know.

"So a threesome. That's the standard word and correct term for three people," Sam laughs. "Is this something you made up or would any young man under the age thirty understand were I to use this? I'm guessing this is new slang."

"Frankie likes to teach us old guys new tricks," Brock smirks.

"Uh, if it's not a thing I've decided it is now." Frank smirks at Brock before kissing his cheek.

Sam laughs, "I am never using that, just so we are clear. Okay? Just, no. So Gerard makes the assumption that you have traded him in for another band mate. And makes a pretty powerful statement. Aimed to hurt and judging by the state of the room, it was pretty successful. Now, we three know that his comment is invalid, but what went through your mind? What's going on?"

"It's not all he said," Brock says quietly. "Apparently I've been playing favorites for real and I've been hurting the others in the process. Which I don't understand because neither Mikey nor Bob ever seemed to really care. And apparently I was wrong. I just felt like I was just their manager and so I thought that by keeping distance from them, I was being respectful of a boundary line. And Ray has always been welcoming and made the effort to not make me feel like I'm the outsider."

"You have always been friendly besides the first time we met." Ray says quietly.

Sam gets closer to the phone screen as if by somehow doing that, it would bring him closer to the new voice he's hearing. A new _disembodied_ voice. "Is there someone else with you?" 

Brock apologizes quietly before turning the phone a little so that Sam can see the lead guitarist to his left. He gives a quick introduction, "Sam, this is Ray." 

"Hi Sam!" Ray grins, "Sorry to intrude." 

"Brock and Frankie control who's sitting in on our sessions. Not me. You're cool, man. Nice to meet you," Sam waves a little.

Ray smiles and relaxes back as he loops his arm into Brock's.

"To answer your previous question, I got angry. Boiled over rage angry because Brock has struggled with this so much. I don't give a shit about what he says about me. You don't hurt Brock." Frank says as he rubs Brock's chest.

"You were defending your husband, I get that. Brock, as best as you can, can you tell me what you felt when Gerard made those statements about you?"

Brock takes his time between each word, letting his mind focus on the feelings slowly, "Sick. Shame. Wrong. Guilty."

"Good answers. I imagine that I would feel pretty terrible at being accused of something I'm not. When you say you felt sick, did you have a sort of nauseating feeling?" Sam makes a motion in his stomach region to indicate his words.

Brock nods, "Yeah. Like it felt like someone cracked an egg down my back and my heart was in my throat and I got all clammy like I was gonna puke but nothing would come out."

"Sounds like your anxiety creeped up on you then. Why did you feel ashamed?"

Frank listens carefully to his answer. He's got his suspicions but it's nice to hear them from Brock. He presses lips to his husband's skin and runs his hand down his side.

"Because…. It's… hard to explain. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I didn't know Mike and Bob felt the way they did. We've only been around each other for a month or two and half that time was spent kidnapping Frankie to get rid of Alan. Fighting Gerard and Alan's drugs and his conspiracy to get me arrested. Then going on tour officially was great. At first. I didn't know anything was wrong. I didn't realize I was pushing people away because I didn't think they cared. I don't know how Alan ran things before me but I doubted he hung out with the guys, because he hated these kids. And Gerard said that I broke promises. That I said that I would take care of them and that I failed. That I was a liar who was no different than Alan. But! If Mikey or Bob came to me with a problem or concern I'd take care of it. I like them too, I just haven't… bonded with them yet. As much."

Sam nods as he listens. When Brock is finished he takes a second to collect something before returning to the phone. "What you just described to me isn't shame. It's guilt. We tend to get those two words mixed up and use them interchangeably, and they are similar, but there's a slight difference. I had to check just to be sure but this is guilt talking. The guilt of being made aware that you've hurt others. Though I think in this case, Gerard was more than likely projecting. If he thinks that you have passed him over to sleep with another, then in his mind you have failed to take care of _his_ needs. Needs that you have no obligation to meet. Nor should you in my opinion. He was angry and hurt and it sounds like he tried to generalize the issue- so that it's less "me" and more "we" to either amplify the blows or to hide the root cause of his anger- the sexuality of the situation- from the others present. As he's not my patient and I wasn't there, I can only make assumptions and conjectures. But going forward, speak with Mikey and Bob and ask them in a neutral and separate setting what they feel. Right now Gerard seems to be speaking for them and I think you'll find that what you are worried about may not even be the case. You have a pretty decent sense of people."

"I bet money that they do not share his opinions." Ray says in a hushed voice.

Brock nods, finding a sense of relief wash over him. He hadn't accidentally hurt Mikey or Bob like he did Gerard. That was good. He just now discovered that Bob and himself shared a love of guns. The little Way was always so quiet, Brock never really got to know him yet. He can change that. He's going to change that.

"I agree with you, Ray," Sam nods. "Now, back to the shame. Its definition is very much like guilt in the sense that there's something wrong and that wrong caused negative feelings. In the case of guilt, you feel guilty for hurting others. That guilt requires an awareness that something you did or said caused harm. In the case of shame, that wrong is now hurting _you_. Now sometimes they go hand in hand. Example would be, you feel ashamed of your actions for being guilty of hurting others. But that's not always the case. A lot of people with depression and anxiety feel ashamed of how they feel. It sticks in your head and feeds you lies. What's the wrong here that's causing you to feel shame? Does it have something to do with Ray?"

Frank nuzzles into Brock as if to encourage him to speak. 

Brock closes his eyes and feels his face heat up; feels his whole body warm up and the rise of shame. 

"I see we hit the nail on the head there. Take a moment if you need. I've got all the time in the world right now so don't worry about me if it helps, maybe we can start with what's going through your head. Thoughts and beliefs. What did you call them?" Sam says soothingly.

_'He thinks he doesn't deserve good things. He thinks that it's dirty and wrong to get affection. He is sick over the idea of letting others down. He is stressed over keeping it a secret. Keeping everything a secret…',_ thinks Frank as he draws a small figure eight into Brock's skin.

"Brain gremlins. Not sure where I heard it but it fits," replies Brock. He's still trying to answer Sam's questions and is struggling.

"Those little fuzzy dudes that try to kill you in the movies? Huh. Yeah I can see that. That's a good one. Way better than _thruple_ , Frankie," Sam teases at Frankie to give Brock some more time and to relax him.

"Hey man, _thruple_ is what all the cool kids are calling it..." Frank grins.

"Only one kid, and that's you," Sam laughs. After a moment of getting nothing from Brock, who seems to have locked up in his head, Sam tries a different approach. "Brock, did my question seem too big to answer?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"It's okay. Sometimes it's easier to start smaller. I don't want you getting anxious over answering a too wide of a question. Anytime you feel like you can't answer something, just say you want to start smaller and we can. Not just with me though okay?" Sam turns to both Frankie and Ray and addresses them. "One of the things with depression and anxiety is _anything_ can seem too much; too big of a task. If something like this happens and he finds himself struggling, help him break it down into smaller, more manageable tasks. Especially when it comes to describing feelings. I've got some tools you can use but we'll get to that later."

"Okay! That is really helpful." Ray nods.

"Perfect. It seems like that's how he's felt for a little while now." Frank says with a little cringe at the end.

"Okay, let's start with something small. Are you feeling shame because Gerard thought you were in a sexual relationship with Ray?"

"Yes," Brock says softly.

"Do you have any desire to enter into a sexual relationship with Ray?"

"No. _Never_. That's just _wrong_."

"Because I'm married and straight. He's like my brother." Ray adds with a grin.

"Exactly. He's my brother. I love him but not like that," Brock smiles at Ray.

"Has having Ray as a brother figure changed or helped you with your touch deprivation? I see how you guys are sitting and it's good to see."

"From an outside perspective, both. Once he realized that it's okay to be touched and share platonic affection, Brock has relaxed." Frank offers, "I am sure that is not the case in his own head but it's how it appears." 

"I trust Ray as much as I trust Frankie. He's _earned_ it. And he's really good with reading me. I don't have to worry about feeling anxious over wanting to have some form of contact. He's really good with cuddles. And hugs. He was the first to notice and encourage and show me it's okay. It's because of him that we are here today. Not! Not like literally here! I'm sorry." Brock turns to Ray with a wide eyed grimace.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Brock." Ray smiles as he sits up a little straighter. 

"Sounds like you've got a good man in your corner who's got your back. And has worked hard towards earning your trust, which we know isn't something that comes easy to you. You've been hurt, quite a lot, I'm afraid. With your past and your family and now these new developments, it's understandable that you don't trust others easily. It's good that you have finally found your first friend, Brock. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you Sam," Brock mumbles awkwardly. The praise was nice to hear but also very awkward.

"I was wondering something." Frank pauses. "When he had his melt down over the things that occured between Gerard and him, he said he didn't know what happened. Is this normal to 'blackout'?"

"Are you referring to the destruction itself? Or something else?" asks Sam with a little tilt of the head. "I'm not following, sorry." 

"Yeah sorry. I guess the question is unclear. When he destroyed the room, he seemed like he didn't have a memory of the events… nevermind. Sorry." Frank shakes his head. The question is not forming right.

"That's alright. I think I've got it. Sometimes if something is so traumatic the brain can take a step back so to speak and process safely. Like disassociation. Do you remember what happened, Brock?"

"Yes," came the soft reply. 

"Did it feel like you were watching a movie of yourself doing those actions? Outside of your body?"

"No? It was me. I just don't know… how?"

"Can you try to explain?

Brock shakes his head. It was a complicated mess of emotions he didn't have a name for. How was he supposed to describe something he didn't even understand? Still, he tries anyway. "I remember something… breaking. Inside. I remember getting angry. So angry. All the pain just… exploded. I've never lost control like that. It built and built and I remember thinking that I could wait. Build the walls again and be better and ignore the physical pain and I remember screaming for everyone to just leave. Just leave me alone cause I knew it was gonna be bad and if they saw it was just going to make things worse so I was happy that Ray and Frankie left for coffee and I called the front desk to inform them that I would be paying for damaged furniture and as soon as I hung up I couldn't take it anymore. It felt like a rocket exploded and I'm crying and it's not enough and I'm breaking things and it helps. I don't remember _thinking_ anything just feeling like I needed to get it all out. I don't know what possessed me to grab the gun."

"You grabbed your gun?" Sam's eyes go wide with alarm and surprise.

"I shot a couch pillow. I don't even know why. But after it was like it…. Allowed me to just scream and cry and empty myself."

"The band is next door and texted me saying there was a gunshot. My stomach dropped." Ray trails off, he doesn't want to make Brock feel worse. He's terrified of what happened. What _could_ have happened.

"I'm _so so sorry_. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to scare you guys. And I know it's not an excuse and I'm sorry. I'm not," Brock pauses. He's suddenly very aware of what _could_ have happened simply because he lost control of himself and wasn't in his right mind. "I'm not _intentionally_ suicidal. That's not what I want and have never thought about that."

"Well that's a relief," Sam says.

"Good." Ray nods. 

Frank hugs Brock tighter. He can't imagine losing him.

"Can you guys tell me what you were doing before Gerard decided to confront you? What was the day like?"

"We went to breakfast. Went shopping. Frank's been sick but dealing with it. We checked into the hotel and then it happened." Ray says looking at Brock and Frank.

"We were in bed together. Cuddling. Not… Anything else," Brock says, knowing that Sam wanted specifics. "Frankie napped and Ray and I were talking. I wanted a nap but bonding was more fun."

"Oh, Gerard punched Brock in the face earlier." Frank looks up and over to the phone.

"Yikes. I take it that was the prelude to his outburst?" 

Brock nods. "We had a busy morning, like Ray said. After our plane landed, we went and had breakfast and shopped around at the gun store and comic book store. By that time it was time to go check in, which was great because it's hot and Frankie wasn't still feeling all that great. We get to the hotel and I'm frustrated and pissed off at the hotel desk lady because the rooms I booked apparently don't freaking exist and I've been informed that we have to share again and I know the kids don't want to do that. So I'm trying to find the best thing I can do and after I finally get it worked out, that's when Gerard stalks over and wallops me. All because I had Frankie ask the only person I'm okay with sharing a bed if it was ok, and it's not Gerard. We come up here and pretty much collapse in the bed. It's nap time and we start talking because Ray isn't a napper. Next thing I know Gerard gets my message to come find me so we could talk and he sees us in bed. Which didn't help anything." Brock takes a breath to finish his ramble. He's done.

"Mind you he bursts through the door and puts all of us on edge." Ray adds, "It's frustrating because I know Brock has put so much effort into getting himself at least stable."

Sam nods, listening.

"I'm scared that we are going to lose the ground we gained." Frank confesses.

"I mean we kinda did Frankie. Brock tried to push me away. Not Sunshine, Ray. But, he came around," Ray points out.

"He's still in my head," Brock whispers softly in an attempt to apologize. He still hears the gremlins only now they are in Gerard's voice. 

"They are lying to you. You didn't do anything wrong." Frank whispers in his ear.

"There's that shame again. What do you think you did wrong?" Sam asks. He's moved into his kitchen and is currently using a shelf to hold the phone while he eats what might be ramen or spaghetti. "Or you can answer this one, what do the gremlins tell you you did wrong?"

Brock bites his lip and fiddles with the bedding. He doesn't know why he's hesitant to answer but he is. His voice is whisper soft as if he's afraid of Sam's reaction. Maybe he is. He is. "It's not okay to be…. Like this…? With someone not Frankie."

"Only if the other person says no." Ray says with a nod.

"Ray is right. If you three are all on the same page, and everyone is consenting adults, then there's really nothing to be worried about. I know you are probably feeling a heightened sense of sensitivity with all that is going on, but I know you, Brock. You've never given a damn about the opinions of others before. He's cool with it. Your boy is cool with it. All you gotta do to be happier is to accept it and be cool with it too. Be confident in that. Cause that's the truth man." Sam waves his fork at the camera for encouragement.

"You know that I'm cool with it Brock." Ray says looking at Brock with a smile, "I'd tell you otherwise."

"You know that I trust you. I know it's innocent." Frank returns to tracing circles into his skin gently.

"You've got your best friend and your boyfriend watching your six. They are your back up. The support team. You gotta trust them, man. I know you do."

"He's right ya know." Frank smirks at him.

"Course I am, man. So, I think I'm noticing something here but I want to kind of draw a pattern before I say something for sure, okay? Is that cool? This is a group feedback deal, by the way."

"Yeah, that is cool." says Frank as he looks up to Brock. He nuzzles into Brock. He wants to crawl into his lap but doesn't.

Ray nods. Brock nods too. How bad could it be? What kind of pattern could it be? Was it bad?

"So to recap, I know it's annoying don't give me that face Rumlow, I know what you are thinking, you were having a good day. Pretty decent. You go out and have some fun and all you want to do is return to the hotel and take a nap. Instead Gerard bursts in and essentially destroys everything you've worked for and more with a few choice words, resulting in a breakdown. And you can't seem to process right so you just explode into a rage that allows you to break the mask and let the chaos out. Now your last breakdown was not as violent, but you had several stressors before that too. The panic attack on the plane ride was a big one. Afterwards, you had pretty much dropped hard and the band and your brother took care of you. You were already low and exhausted and then came the physical contact. That pushed you over the edge. 

"Two breakdowns. Both in which you were exhausted and low before some outside event that pushes you over the edge and into a breakdown. Which tells me you are pushing yourself too much and running yourself too thin."

_'Told you that this was too much!'_ thinks Frank. He looks up at Brock and gives him a look. 

"I… I think I knew that. On some level," Brock says with furrowed brows. "Earlier when Gerard was ranting, I was thinking about how tired I was and I just didn't want to deal with anything else. But I'm also trying to stay more uh, present. And awake and active and trying to get better."

"So no more naps?" Sam finishes his food and is now washing his dishes but still keeping eye contact with the phone. He'll wash the sharps after the call.

Brock shakes his head. He's been trying really hard to not fall asleep at all. Some days he can't _not_ but he's definitely cut back on the amount. "I try not to, but I've had some slip ups." 

"Why?"

"What?" he's totally confused now.

"Why have you stopped taking naps?"

"It's harder to nap on the road and I suggested maybe trying to stay up a little more so he isn't exhausted when he does go back on the road with us." Frank says with a cringe.

"Do you think he came back too soon?" Ray asks.

"No," Brock says adamantly. He can do this. He wants to do this. He just needs to find a new rhythm. Why won't anyone listen to him?

"The stressors of being on the road and dealing with the job is a lot, so yes. It's probably too soon if you are having a second breakdown less than a day of returning. However, I can't really force you to return. I know how Brock feels about continuing the tour. And no, he hasn't been secretly texting me. He's just a stubborn old man with an incredible sense of duty and responsibility. Military does that to you. Which is a great trait until you try to get him to put himself first. Anyway. It just means we need to come up with a workaround."

"I was _fine_ until Gerard stuck his nose in my business," Brock snaps softly with a snort. "It's got nothing to do with the tour because we've literally had hours back."

Sam holds up a soapy hand to have him calm down. "I get that. I do. But my point was that you are going to continue having breakdowns if you keep running yourself to empty."

"So that means you have to take better care of yourself… not worry about us as much." Ray says nodding in agreement with Sam, "You can't fill our cups if yours is empty… or whatever the saying is."

"Not bad Ray," laughs Sam. "Not bad at all. But I've got something better that might help Brock explain when he is running low. This system will kind of allow him and the band some understanding of what's going on and that will hopefully head off any more breakdowns and let you heal. How's that sound?

"Fantastic."

"Have any of you guys ever heard of Spoon Theory?"

Frank shakes his head and looks to the others. 

"Nope," Ray says.

"Spoon Theory is a metaphor created by some psych doctor or college kids with a psychology major to describe the reduced amount of physical and mental energy available for daily activities that result from those who have a disability or chronic illness. I've used it effectively with other people who are dealing with depression and anxiety. It's not necessarily a chronic illness but it can be. It's completely exhausting to constantly be at war within yourself which leads to chronic fatigue as a result. The physical pain is linked, we know that. But so is your emotional pain. And for people who have an unlimited energy supply, who don't need naps to recharge, don't really realize just how much it costs a person to do the basic things like getting dressed or taking a shower or socializing. Bigger events like shopping cost you more energy and drain you faster. Spoons are a visual representation used as a unit of measure in order to quantify how much energy a person has throughout a given day. Each activity requires a given number of spoons, which will only be replaced as the person "recharges" through rest. A person who runs out of spoons has no choice but to rest until their spoons are replenished. The crash happens or there is exhaustion fallout. The breakdowns, in Brock's case, are the result of him hitting rock bottom with his energy levels. You crash and then something happens and it's too much for you to handle and you wind up with a destroyed room or sobbing on the couch in your friend's lap.

This metaphor is used to describe the planning that many people have to do to conserve and ration their energy reserves to accomplish their activities of daily living. In Brock's case he's been burning through his limited energy supply and "borrowing" against his energy for the next day. You were probably tired before going to the hotel and looking forward to the nap. You were already depleted and probably figured, I'll just rest a little and then we'll go back to doing the fun things and be normal. And because you weren't able, because you didn't have the energy to deal with the next stressor, you lost control and broke. With me so far?"

Frank nods. Then Ray. Brock nods, this spoon thing made sense to the exhaustion he felt all the time. Like how he was having fun at the gun store but was ready for a nap after dealing with the hotel desk lady. He felt relief that there was a way he could explain it and not struggle with the words.

"Rest recharges him. Would delegating responsibilities make it easier for you to function?" Ray asks Brock. 

He thinks about it. It would let him be rested enough to be able to handle the more complex issues. He nods, "I could either give one big task or a few smaller ones and it would let me play longer. I think."

"Or you could just take a nap for a few hours and be okay to tackle all of the task list," Sam comments.

"So before, he was sleeping all day. He didn't want to eat or move. He was sore. Since then, unless he's not saying anything, we have been getting up and doing easy things, he's gotten an appetite, kind of. He seems better… is napping going to be the gateway to sleeping all day again?" 

"I'm still sore. Just gotten used to it or maybe it's not as much," comments Brock as quiet as he can be.

"You can tell me if you're achy or sore, Brock. I'll do what I can to help." Frank feels his heart break a little. 

"What's the point though? It's _always_ there. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Most times I can ignore it. Others not so much. But it hasn't gone away since it started," Brock shrugs.

"There's a difference between sleeping all day due to the darker depressive feelings where you don't want to do anything and the nap that is just going to recharge your mind. It's kinda like the equivalent of a computer running on a low battery. You gotta shut it down and give it some juice from the power source before you can continue on. The first one is spiraling down into deeper depression and giving up. The second is you are fighting so hard you need a bit of a reboot. I don't think it necessarily is a gateway to depressive sleeping simply because I've used it in other patients, and I wouldn't suggest it otherwise if you were in the other headspace."

"Ok. Naps are also different than sleeping all day." Frank nods. 

"We can always employ the naps and delegation until you get sturdier footing too." Ray suggests.

"Agreed," Sam nods. "And now you've got a more physical way to explain." 

"Thank you Sam for helping us. I hope we aren't being too much of a pain." Frank says with a smile, "I felt a little bad for calling but I knew it was important."

"Don't make me smack you, man. Or sic Rumlow on you," Sam points a finger at him and gives it a wag of teasing admonishment. "Helping people is what I _do_. It's my job and pretty much my life. This ain't the first time I've gotten a phone call from a patient while I'm at home and it won't be the last. I _want_ you guys to call me for anything and everything, when the shit hits the fan. And my job is to make sure you feel better about using me as another tool in the belt to get you guys on the right track and getting better."

"I know that Sam," Brock replies rather proudly. Yeah he's been the one to call Sam at three in the morning after a night terror.

"Yeah I know. I know. " Frank says with a smile.

"But do you though, do you really," came the teasing reply from the phone as Sam disappears off screen for a moment.

"Well, I mean I have _feelings_ about calling you in general but it is your job and he is important." Frank says with a little sigh as he looks up at Brock, "He is the most important man in my life." 

"Congrats on having feelings. You're human!" Sam smirks into the camera. "I do believe I told you that you could call me anytime. For any reason. Not just you, but the whole band. Brock is my first priority as my actual patient but I've got no problem with the rest of the kids calling me for help. If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have offered. You hear that Ray? You seem level headed. Make these kids _call me_."

"Loud and clear. Should make Gerard call you and fix his head." Ray says with a smile, "I'd like to think I was the rational one." 

"He was the one who made sure we were taken care of before Brock came along. Aside from getting left behind at truck stops." Frank giggles as little.

"Hush you." Ray says playfully firm.

"How does the spoons work? Like…" Brock trails off. He's not sure how to ask his question.

"It's really subjective and not really designed for mental illnesses like depression but it's still highly effective. Which might be a good thing because you can give yourself a bit of leeway. It works by equating the energy level of the day into a certain number of spoons. This number is set by you and can change depending on how you feel. Tasks like getting out of bed take one spoon and tasks like eating can take three. Again, this will be tailored to you and I cannot stress this enough, will change daily. Maybe even hourly. Mood and outside stimulus affect your energy levels in ways we cannot predict or really quantify. So give yourself some grace. What may take four spoons today may only take two tomorrow. It's only there to help you to recognize when you are running low, be able to communicate to others in such a way they will understand, and navigate this as you heal and get better. Do not, under any circumstances allow someone to question or berate you because the spoons change and they are not set in stone. And if Brock doesn't say something due to shame and anxiety, then someone else better speak up. It's not some magic formula and if you follow set rules you'll magically get better. That's not how that works when we are dealing with the mind and emotions. I want you to Google the Spoon Theory and look at some infographics. They might help you get a better understanding and explain it to others who need the visual aid."

"We can do that after we get off the phone." Frank nods. 

"Good. And put your man to bed. Therapy costs at least four spoons. And when you've only got ten a day or something, it means a lot. Call or text me for anything. If you don't have my number, get it from Brock. And Brock?"

"Yeah?" 

"I want to hear from you at least once a week again. Just until you establish a new routine and rhythm and things settle," Sam says firmly.

Brock nods. He kind of expected that after the long session they just had and the events that led up to the call anyway. "Okay." 

"Does anyone else have any questions or concerns?"

"I don't." Ray smiles and nods confidently.

"No. If I do I can call." Frank speaks softly.

"You'd better, kid. This is a group effort. Have fun at the show. Take care of yourselves. I'm going to bed now. Even though it's only two hours ahead of you guys, I'm falling into a food coma," Sam laughs.

"With the amount of noodles which you ate, that looked delish by the way, I'm not surprised," Ray chuckles.

"I tend to sleep when I can so if a patient needs me overnight, I'm not a zombie. But mostly, it's a noodle nap. You guys take care, okay? Talk to you later," Sam waves goodbye.

"Bye Sam!" came the mini chorus of replies from the three men before Brock ends the call. He takes a breath and closes his eyes. Sam was right. Therapy was tiring.

"Alright. You need to sleep." Ray says as he turns to Brock. 

"Yes, please," Brock mutters. Preferably without pants on. And without someone barging into the room. He rests his head back onto the headboard and is suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Will you stay with him Ray?" Frank asks softly.

"Absolutely, my dude."

"Thank you." Frank says with a relieved smile, "I'll be back."

"Sorry I'm gonna miss new ink," Brock sighs and looks at Frankie. He loves ink. He wanted to see it get done. He wanted to be there for Frankie. 

"It's okay, it'll just be a surprise when Scorpio has a new friend." Frank says it so casually that he would believe it.

That makes his eyes snap open and him to sit up with a little screech, "No!" 

"You'll just have to wait and see..." Frank grins.

"No! Please don't! I love you." Brock pleads. 

"I know you do. And I love you more." Frank leans up and kisses his lips. "Rest up, punkin." He slides from the bed and gathers his things, "I'll be back in a few hours." 

"Okay. When you get back we are still doing paintball, right? We kind of ruined the lunch plan. Maybe something quick. If… if the boys still want to hang out with me that is," Brock asks with a subconscious pout.

"I know that the boys still wanna hang out with you, Brock." Frank leans over the bed and kisses him, "If you are up for paintball, then I'm there." 

"You know we wanna hang out. Rest. Frank will be back." Ray says with a nod. 

"Okay. Love you. Stay safe," Brock says as he kisses Frankie back. He moves to shimmy out of his pants.

Frank heads out of the room and towards the tattoo shop. Brock gets comfy in the bed and is out like a light with minutes. Not long after he falls asleep, he curls himself around Ray. Two and a half hours seemed to fly by as Frank leaves the tattoo parlor with two bandages. The artist was so friendly that it made the appointment feel like he was going to a friend's house. He'd stopped and grabbed a small coffee and food. Something to keep him from feeling faint. He waves at Bob who was out front of the place. Frank could tell he was talking on the phone with someone as he strolls into the hotel, into the elevator and towards their room. He slides his key in the door and quietly enters the room. 

"Hey Frankie," Ray says gently.

"How's he doing?"

"He's been like this since you left." Ray says. 

"Should I wake him?"

"You should get the boys together and get themselves ready to go play paintball."

"Ok. I brought you and him a sandwich and chips." Frank places the paperbag on the desk. He leans over the bed and kisses Brock on the cheek, "He looks so sweet and innocent." 

"Brock, I'm back. You should wake up and eat a little." Frank whispers to him. He knocks on the adjoining door and waits. Mike opens the door and let's him in.

"He still wanted to play paintball and I was sent to have you guys get ready." Frank smiles at Mike. He glances over and sees Bob enter the room with Gerard trailing behind him, "So get ready to go play. _All_ of you." 

"How's it going?" Bob asks.

"He's sleeping." Frank says softly, "I really need you guys to help me to help him. He's on shaky ground now." 

"Anything." Mike says softly.

"What do you need?" Gerard asks.

"He's going to delegate his responsibilities to probably myself and Ray but if he asks, and you can, please just help him." Frank tries not to sound defeated. 

"What else?" Bob asks.

"He's gonna try napping to keep his energy level up. So don't say anything about it." Frank sighs. 

"How are you doing?" Mike asks with a slight head tilt.

"I'm floating." Frank says with a sad smile. _Not drowning thankfully._

"So, paintball. I'm pumped! Do you think Brock is going to be up for it?" Bob asks. His forehead wrinkles as he watches Frank's face.

"He said he was. So I don't think he will change his mind." Frank shrugs, "I'll let you know otherwise."

With that he turns on his heels, "I'm gonna wake my hubby up." He enters his room and moves back to the bed. He sits beside Brock and strokes his thigh.

Brock gives a sleepy groan and shifts closer to the warmth that is Ray. He's comfy. He doesn't want to get up. Frankie should join _him_. Not the other way around. He yawns wide and tucks his body away from Frank's fingers.

"Wake up sleepy head." Frank leans in and kisses his ear.

With a twitch and a giggle, Brock's hand comes up and brushes away the tickle irritation. "Noooo. Don't wanna. You come here." 

"Oh no... You gotta get up my little cephalopod." Frank whispers in his ear and kisses it again. He loves the sound of Brock's giggle. 

"Stawp," Brock giggles again and squirms. "Ray. Help." 

"Sorry. Can't." Ray smirks.

"What I hear is that you want me to keep on with the kisses?" Frank says softly. He kisses his ear and neck. "Get up buttercup." 

"I'm _awake_." Brock pokes Ray with a muttered _'traitor'_. He rolls over onto his back and stretches. 

"You're awake but not up." Frank grins. He turns his body to face Brock's 

"Yeah, I'm a traitor." Ray shrugs, "I'm a sunshine-y traitor." 

Brock gives Ray a sad look and a soft apology. Gerard got to him. And now it feels different. He feels like he can't go back. He doesn't know why. Things have changed. 

"What did you get Fronk?" Ray asks as he sits up.

"I got Brock's name over an old tattoo and I got a bear for the scorpion." Frank grins.

"For or _replaced_?" Brock asks with mild alarm. "Lemme see."

"It's eating the scorpion." Frank smirks as he pulls the bandage off. Revealing a badly drawn temporary tattoo with the mouth of the bear over the head of the scorpion.

Brock's mouth drops in shock as he takes in the sight. For a solid moment he's terrified it's a _real_ one. Surely it's not? Right? The artist sucks if that was the case. He… omg… no...

Frank giggles a little then bites his lips. He can't keep a straight face. "Big bear needs to eat too." His voice is shaking from the giggles. 

"Was going to tell you that you got ripped off my friend… but you're just a shit." Ray laughs.

"It's fake? Right?" Brock looks to Ray for confirmation and back to Frankie.

"Yes, it's fake." Frank mischievously grins at Brock, "Test run if you will."

"I hate you, shithead,” Brock grumbles

"No you don't." He says with a smile before kissing him.

"Right now I do," he replies with a slight roll of his eyes. He glances back at Ray before moving off the bed.

"I will never cover Scorpio, I told you that." Frank says watching him get up.

"Yeah but you didn't say anything about adding." 

"Oh relax, I know you love him. I can't do that to you." Frank says pulling his legs up and sitting cross legged.

"Considering that he's you, I would like to think you won't but you are also a sneaky _gattino_ ," Brock says. He slides on his compression shirt first.

"You are wearing your compression stuff?" Frank asks, tilting his head.

"With the exception of the equipment they provide, I'm going full gear." He goes through his duffle and in a side pocket, in a space bag sealed tight is his tactical pants. He opens them up and slides them on.

"Full gear?" Ray asks with a grin.

"Goal is to try to mimic me being in the field, so yes. I don't have my bulletproof vest to add the extra weight of gear like bombs and ammo. Or tools like flashlights and infrared goggles but I'll make do." 

"He's going to take this very seriously, huh?" Ray looks to Frank.

"Yes. He absolutely is." Frank grins in reply.

"That's kinda the point of a field exercise," Brock says as he adds his guns first.

"He wants us on his team…" Frank smirks.

"Best guys, duh. But maybe.. " He pauses and wonders if that's too much favoritism and if the others will be upset. He needs to diversify. "Maybe Ray shouldn't. I can take Life." 

"Maybe we'll decide on the course," Frank says, standing up. He finds a hoodie that would work. 

"Guess it doesn't matter in the end cause in round two I'm gonna kill you all anyway." 

"Or so you think…" Frank raises an eyebrow as he winks at Brock.

Brock snorts. He manages to get both his guns on and hidden under another shirt. He moves to the knives next. "If I didn't know that this activity would cost me a lot, I'd show you just how wrong you are. "

"I know you're highly trained." Ray smiles, "He's over confident."

"It's the only way to be." Frank says as he approaches Brock, "Did you wanna see the cover up or wait?" 

"Show me?"

He pulls the bandage back and reveals the new banner with Brock's name in pretty cursive script. "It's one of at least two." He grins up at him, "What do you think?"

"It's…" Brock can't think of the right word to describe the feeling he has over seeing his name on Frankie's skin. All of them seem to pale in comparison. "Beautiful." 

"I wanted it to be perfect." Frank beams up at him. "You like it?"

"I love it." 

"Yeah?" Frank says wrapping arms around Brock's middle and hugging him tight.

"Mine," he whispers with a little possessive growl before leaning down and kissing him.

The growl makes the sleeping butterflies awaken and flutter to life. Kissing him back passionately before pulling away, he whispers, "Always yours." 

"Good." Pulling away, Brock finishes adding his weapons before sitting on the bed and putting on his boots. When he's finished, he rises and double checks everything. 

"I think I'm good. Ready?" Brock adds his shades to the front of his shirt and nods to the boys. 

"I'm ready." Ray shrugs. He's not changed much of his clothing. 

"Yeah, same. I think the others should be ready too. So, should we call you Commander Rumlow?" Frank tries to hide his smirk.

"Only if you want to. I'm not gonna _make_ you. That would be rude," Brock grins. He offers his hand to Frankie.

Frank takes his hand with a little smile. "I am excited!" 

"Me too. I might be dead after but it's totally going to be worth it," Brock kisses their joined hands. "But maybe not. I feel okay. We'll see. Let's go. Wait. Do I look badass?"

"You look very bad ass. I would avoid you if I saw you coming towards me," Frank grins, "but you're still very handsome." 

Brock grins wide under the praise like the dork he is before dragging Frankie out the door and into the hall. His joy crashes the moment that he sees the others in the hall and that he's going to have to face Gerard now. It feels like it's far too soon and his anxiety spikes. He immediately tenses uncontrollably, squeezing Frankie's hand. It screams at him that he's not ready but he rationalizes it that he doesn't have a choice but to face this head on. He wants normalcy as much as he can. He can try to be impartial but he realizes that he's going to fail at that. There was too much emotional investment mixed into their dynamic. The knowledge that he's going to not be able to keep it strictly professional helps him dismiss it completely. He's not even going to try. He's just going to do his best and try to make things work.

"We're ok," Frank says quietly. He runs his thumb over Brock's hand. 

"Hey B!" Mike says with a huge smile, "Looking sharp!" 

"Hey Mike-n-Ike," Brock grins back. "Thanks, man. You kids ready to get your asses kicked by an old dude?"

"Yeah!! I know we don't stand a chance." Mike says as he looks to Bob who is grinning wide.

"Come on then. We should stop by the pharmacy for ice packs on the way back. You're all going to need it with all the bruises I'm going to be covering your emo asses with," Brock grins.

"Don't think you're getting out of this unscathed babe." Frank grins up at him.

"Professional, remember? I can take a hit. Or two." Brock smirks.

"If you think I'm not gunning for you Rumlow, you've got another think coming…" Bob grins wide.

“We’ll just see about _that_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #teamBrank


	18. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and the gang play paintball; Brock deals with the aftermath of Gerard's tantrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard did some mental damage last chapter. Poor Brock. Poor Frank who has to deal with it from an outsider's POV. Enjoy!
> 
> The usual disclaimer applies: This is a work of fiction. Errors are our own.

THE HUNT

Frank and the band follow Brock to the car. The drive to the course takes them outside of the city. Once they rolled up to the property, the olive green painted office sits among the muted earth tones around it. The air was still and warm as they get out of the car. Frank follows the guys inside and quickly begins to pick up gear to rent for the time on the course. He listens as Brock explains how they want to play. They can free roam or use the fake cityscape. Frank stands beside Brock and listens to the rules of the course. The band slowly joins them with all the needed gear to play. 

"I think we are set to play," Ray says with a nod as he pulls his hair back. 

"Let's do it," Brock says, sliding on goggles.

"What are the teams or is this the Brock picks us off round?" Mike asks.

"Up to you guys. I'm good with either. Debate amongst yourselves," Brock grins, full of sass.

"Let's do the teams first, give the old man a warm-up. " Mike grins wide at him. 

"I dunno, maybe we get him hunting us while he's a little rusty," Bob says.a

"I say rusty," Frank comments as he looks at the different colored paintballs.

"Maybe… rusty is the way to go." Mike's voice is full of doubt.

"But he might get tired before round two." Bob points out. 

"Rusty," Gerard says quietly as he puts another person between him and Brock.

"You guys do realize it's only been a few years since I left the military, right? I am not 'rusty'," Brock argues petulantly. 

The band looks at him and blinks, then turns back to each other, "So, we're going rusty, right?" The band nods yes to each other then look at him. 

"We are choosing Brock V. Band." Ray turns to him and grins.

"Fine by me. I'll give you five minutes head start because I love you and to make it a little interesting," Brock smirks. a

The words are barely out of Brock's mouth before Bob is pulling the group away. The chatter quiets once they are out of earshot from Brock. 

"Who here can actually shoot besides me?" Bob asks. He knows the three twinks probably not, but hopefully Ray.

"Yeah, I've gone hunting a few times. Brock also helped me at the range." Ray smiles.

"We all know Frank is small so maybe we can tuck him somewhere low. Honestly, I want up there." Bob looks up. 

"I know his ass is gunning for me, so I wanna last as long as I can," Gerard says as he adjusts his mask. 

"You deserve it," Frank says coldly. 

"Alright. Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close. And die with your mask on if you've got to. Find a spot and avoid friendly fire for fuck sake." Bob says nodding at each of them. They moved to the buildings surrounding the tower. He ducks into a barn with a view of a tank. Maybe that should be where he goes. He can see Mike peeking out and around in the building across from him. Frank's heart begins to pound a little. 

~~

Brock steps out the door exactly at the five-minute mark and kneels to check the treads in the dirt. The wind was blowing in from the east and while the dirt was packed, there were still traces of the guy’s boots. It was hard to discern at first but the heavier tread of Ray was easier to follow. He pulls out his phone and snaps a few photos of their prints. It wasn’t as if someone came around and cleaned the dirt. He follows the path until he spots a sort of bunker with a watchtower on top of a shack with a wall made of sandbags. To the left of it appears to be a metal shed. He crouches in the brush. The footprints lead towards the watchtower so he knows at least one of the boys is in there. He needs higher ground if he wants to get a shot off successfully. And if it’s not who he wants, they’ll live to fight another five minutes. There’s a nearby tree that looks like it would hold his weight. He begins to climb.

Bob glances down the stairs and takes a breath as he keeps the stairs in front of him but glances over the edge to get a peek. Maybe he can shoot Brock and prove the band can last. He starts left and doesn't see anything then glances right. He exhales and relaxes for a moment.

Sighting down the barrel of his gun to provide some form of magnification, Brock sees a reddish-blonde head pop up from the watchtower. It’s Bob. Perfect. Just the one he wanted to take down first, him having the most experience with guns beside himself. He lines up the headshot, waits for the breeze to still, and fires.

The sound of the paintball smashing against his helmet causes Bob to shout. "Motherfucker!" The sound of the shot causes the band to scatter. Ray moves with speed and stays as low as he can to the ground to get to the battered-looking truck. ' _Fuck fuck fuck. Bob is skilled. More than the rest. Fuck.'_ thinks Ray.

Oh, those boys aren’t very smart if they thought that hiding in a group was going to save them. They scatter like little roaches only infinity times cuter. Maybe that was a bad analogy. Brock dismisses Frank and Gerard though he does track which direction they run in. Instead, he’s searching for a particular bronze cloud of curls. He spots Ray running, keeping low to the ground. _Smart. Though, still not enough._ He aims for the back and fires. The moment his finger squeezes the trigger, he jumps down to the ground. _Time to move_. He moves towards the direction Frankie ran in.

The sting of the shot in his back causes him to gasp. He drops to his knees and puts his hands up. "Bastard." Ray sighs as he turns around to locate Brock. 

The second shot forces Mike into a shed surrounded by large metal drums. He's got cover. He knows that he is only sort of protected. _I'd never make it in a real war. I'd die. I'm too soft. Like a loaf of bread._ Mike inhales to slow his breathing. He wonders where Gee is holed up. And Frankie? Fuck. They are screwed.

Frank cuts away from the group and the backside of the satellite dish and tucks himself under a tank looking thing. It's a tight fit but he's covered and there's only one way in. He's unsure where the others have gone but now it's a waiting game… he might be too antsy for this. Maybe he should get out and find a new position.

Brock slowly and carefully makes his way into thick brush. He walks slowly, mindful of his footsteps as they snap twigs and crunch grass. He listens to the sounds in the air as his eyes carefully rake over spots that would most likely hold an inexperienced band member. Birds chirp loudly overhead and the breeze rustles the trees but Brock doesn’t hear anything that would indicate someone hiding in this specific area. He turns and that’s when he spots an old tank covered under a thicket of sorts. It’s the perfect spot for a wayward kitten to hide. It provides cover and the thought makes Brock smile with pride. He needs… a distraction. But what?

Gerard might be suffocating. The face mask he was wearing was too tight. He pulls it off and goes to clip it to his side but drops it against the floor with a loud thud. He freezes. "Shit!" He quietly hisses. He looks up and out the window. No sign of Brock. He picks it up and clips it to his pants. Oh shit. He's coming. But from where? He needs to move. He needs to move now. He peers out again and moves towards the door. He steps out and runs for the next place that would provide cover, a shitty broken down wheelbarrow with weeds growing around it. 

Mike sees his brother running. _Does he need to run? He doesn't see Brock. Where is Frank?_ He peers out the window and sees nothing but the Texas grass and brush blowing lightly in the breeze. He ain't moving.

He stands there for a long time, confident that Frankie is unable to see him considering he’s directly behind the tank. He thinks about a few ways that he can force Frankie to give up the hiding spot. Eventually one comes to mind and he grins. His love is going to give him hell later but it’s going to be worth it. He slowly backs away and makes his way to the river he remembers is to the West from a map he saw while waiting. He doubts the boys are anywhere near it as it was too far for them to run to. When he gets there, he begins to look around the trees that were near the river bank and the bank itself. When he finds what he’s looking for, he carefully picks it up and carries it back to the tank. He’s extremely thankful that he’s wearing gloves and his time in the military kind of killed any uneasiness at handling such a critter. Making his footsteps lighter, he slowly and carefully makes his way up the back of the tank, before bending down and letting the spider run down the metal towards the cool darkness. He waits with his gun.

This ain't so bad. He's not a fan of being in the dirt like this cause well, bugs but. Better than being shot at. He listens quietly but doesn't hear anything more than his breathing. He feels something tickle at his neck and he swats it away. Probably a hair. _Relax_. He stares out the hole as the feeling moves across this arm. He glances down. ' _Don't be a spider… don't be a spider..._ Please _kill me…_ '

"Nope." He repeats as he smashes it into the ground and gags before shimmying out of the safe spot that had been infiltrated by insects. His skin is crawling as he reaches the fresh air and feels the urge to strip down. 

As soon as Frankie is in full view, Brock raises his gun and quickly fires off two shots; one at a tree near his face to draw his attention away and the other smacking right to his upper thigh, splattering it with bright neon pink paint. He rolls off the tank and bolts away into the thicket and towards the river just so he can crack up in peace. He’s gonna die later but, yeah, it was totally worth it. 

"Fuck you Rumlow!" Frank shouts as he clamors to his feet. He frowns and winces at the sting of the shot taken to his leg. He'll get his revenge. He sighs before he shouts, "Where are you at ass hat?" 

Once he has his laugh and catches his breath, he moves back towards the center of the Airfield the field had. He stops and checks out the small plane but finds no sign of any of them and he dismisses the full-sized Huey. The helicopter looked pretty awesome but a quick look proves it’s empty. He needs to get back up into an aerial position. He heads for the two-story control tower, carefully keeping track of his surroundings. He stops about halfway when a divet in the dirt looks fresh. Perhaps from a shoe. With a quick glance around to ensure he was not spotted, he kneels down and pulls out his phone to verify the footprints. It’s not any of theirs it seems but his gut tells him that he is headed in the right direction. Off to his right are a pile of drums and a rundown shed. It’s a pretty perfect hiding spot to anyone running by and he heads towards it, still keeping in the crouch. He could breach it from behind easily enough. With luck, it had a window or something he could sneak into.

Gee glances out from the slats in the wood and sees Brock creeping closer to Mike. He raises his gun and pulls the trigger. The shot whizzes past Brock and hits a drum with a loud reverberating ping as blue paint splatters. He fires missing again but gets closer. 

The sound of the paint gun firing has Brock dropping from the crouch to a prone position. He crawls on his stomach, confident that the rocks and tall grasses keep him hidden until he reaches the back of the shed. A glance behind him informs him that Gerard was nearby, with his blue paint plastered all over a drum. If one Way was near then the other must be close too… He moves back into the crouch and moves to the other side of the shed, using the building on his right to act as a barrier from wherever the eldest Way was hiding. 

The paint hitting the drum makes Mike flinch and panic. Brock's close. He has to move. He's a sitting duck. His legs don't give him time to plan. Instead, they carry him at a full sprint to God knows where.

He didn’t expect to see Mike-n-Ike bolting from the shed like a frightened rabbit but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity. He quickly realizes that from Mike-n-Ike’s point of view, the paint hitting the metal drum would have sounded like it came from him, instead of Gerard. He snickers softly to himself before taking careful aim and firing at Life’s shoulder. Pink looks good on these boys. He doesn’t have the luxury of enjoying the moment. He has one mark left. 

Gerard takes the opportunity to run for better cover. He didn't mean to sacrifice his brother but kill or be killed. He moves to the other side of the shed that Brock is on. He has to be calm. He's the last one standing. He's gotta take Brock out. He takes a steadying breath. 

He can’t stay here and won’t. He knows Gerard is the last one and close. Very close. There’s another shed nearby, one with brick barricades out front. It’s far enough up a hill that it would provide him with some height. It’s roughly twenty meters away. He can make it. Getting into a runner’s crouch, he bolts from the shed side and crosses the ‘street’, ducking behind the brick barricade for a second. He darts eyes around where he was to see if he was spotted.

Gerard slips behind the back of the shed and around the corner, not thinking he fires a shot that hits the drum in front of him. ' _Fuck_!' he thinks as he cooks himself down. Gerard slowly. Painfully steps towards the front of the shed. He knows Brock is waiting for him. He's going to paint that motherfucker blue. He wants to be the last man standing. He scans the area around him but doesn't see anything. Not even a hint of Brock. 

Not seeing any sign of human movement, Brock carefully edges around to the back of the shed and mentally calculates the height. He’s going to need some speed if he’s going to scale it. Taking about ten steps back, Brock runs forward and up the back of the shed, grabbing onto the roof and hoisting himself up and onto his stomach. It feels weird being exposed like this but he knows the height is in his advantage. Sighting into the scope, he first checks out the trajectory path of where the paintball that nearly got him could have come from. Out of the corner of his eye, directly where he was standing not five minutes before, is Gerard. The realization that he nearly was caught surprises him. He is exposed and again, doesn’t have time to enjoy the moment. He aims carefully and fires.

Gerard flinches as he steps forward and gets splattered with pink. He turns to face Brock's direction with shock all over his face. He takes another step forward and expects to be shot at least once more. How was he the last one? 

"You're dead Rumlow!" Frank shouts from the watchtower.

Brock looks up and grins at the boys, seconds before all of them splatter him with paint in his chest. He laughs and sits on the shed roof. He may have won but they got their Revenge.

The boys climb down from the watchtower and meet Gerard in the middle of the course. They chatter about their death and wait for Brock to join them. He carefully jumps down from the roof of the shed and lands safely into a roll before coming up to meet the ‘ghosts’ with a cocky grin.

“Hi guys, long time no see,” Brock smirks.

"Hey!" Mike grins.

"Did you really use a spider?" Bob chuckles.

"I'm telling you. He did." Frank glares at Brock. He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. "He is supposed to be my husband. Love and protect." 

"I almost got you! How I don't know!" Gerard chuckles still a little shocked.

"Yes, I used a spider and I'm only partially sorry," Brock snickers a little as he wraps his arms around Frankie. "I'm sorry for scaring you and using a spider against you, but not sorry that I outsmarted you and tricked you into coming out of your hiding spot. I'm rather proud of that."

"But my spot was good!" Frank still pouts.

"Exactly. I'm very proud of you for finding a great location. If I hadn't tricked you into abandoning it, you could have possibly caught me. And I didn't want to go out of order. You are a very good hider, _gattino_. I am just good at problem-solving and strategic thinking," Brock says as he kisses Frank's forehead first then lips.

"Yeah. You're the professional." Frank smiles up at him. He leans up on his toes and gives him a kiss, "Did you need to take a break and recharge for a minute?" 

"I didn't mean to spook you out of your spot Mike," Gerard says wincing a little.

"It's ok. I just panicked. I deserved to be picked off." Mike laughs, "I have to say, Brock, You are way better than I expected you to be." 

"Wow, such a low expectation," Brock sasses. He sticks his tongue out playfully. "Bad move all you boys staying so close together. You could have surrounded me but you panicked instead. That was your first mistake."

"First mistake? There are more!?" Ray laughs. 

"Did you pick Pink because it's bright?" Mike asks.

"Yeah, I wanted you to be shamed with bright Pepto Bismol pain as a reminder. And they didn't have blood-red so this was much more humiliating."

"Good choice." Ray grins.

"How did you find us? It took you like five minutes! There is no way you work that fast!" Mike said squinting at him.

"Yeah… do they have cameras that tipped you off?" Gerard asks.

"I watched you guys leave. And gave you a five-minute action-based head start, remember? No cameras but I did watch you walk through the dirt and I tracked your footprints. Took photos to remind myself which tread was you boys and not someone else's. It was pretty quick to figure out where you were hiding and scale a tree. As soon as Bob decided to take a peek… well rest is history after that." Brock grins.

"So we needed to clear out tracks. Good to know." Bob nods, "I suppose the only question I have is… was it fun?" 

"Extremely. I want to do that again," Brock grins and nods.

"you wanna play again or do that again?" Frank asks with a wide smile.

"Both. But realistically? Not sure about a second round. But I'm willing to try. Teams will actually be easier, I think."

"Don't push yourself too hard," Ray says with a gentle voice.

"Yeah. We don't need you wiping yourself out and missing dinner." Bob offers a smile with his words. 

"Do you guys want to play some more? I'm sure we can come up with something if I get too tired? What are we supposed to be doing after?

Just dinner and a movie, right?" Brock puts his hands in his pockets and sighs deeply. 

"Yeah if you wanna do dinner and a movie we are all for it!" Mike says with a brighter smile. 

"What movie?" Ray asks the group, "Brock, opinion?"

"I think I've got an offer you can't refuse," Brock grins. "We order room service or take-out. Hotel party in one room, probably mine. And… something action based?"

"I'm in," Bob says with a nod.

"Yup. I have a couple ideas for the movies." Mike looks at Frank and nods.

"Okay. Sounds good. Are… did you not wanna play another round?" Gerard asks a little hesitantly.

Ray gives Brock a little look with a smile, "I wanna make a horse head joke but… I got nothin..." 

"Hmm, I think it would be a bull head for you _Toro_ ," Brock smirks at Ray. 

"Oh cute! Bull..." Ray laughs and pats Brock on the shoulder.

Brock has two automatic responses that compete in his body. He wants to lean into the touch which felt natural and _normal_ but he's also in public now with the very people that changed the dynamic and he feels the need to pull away. The result is a sort of jerking reaction from trying to do both responses that ends with him taking a step away to the side and folding in on himself slightly.

"I'm okay to play another round if you guys wanted." Maybe if he answers Gerard, it'll be played off.

Frank can feel a shift in the air around Brock. Seeming like he needs to be a support for Brock, he slips his arm around Brock's waist as he looks up and asks, "What are the teams?" 

"I don't care, _I'm_ the winning team," he says confidently. He knows for sure Frankie is on his team. He is pretty good at guarding his love's body with his own.

"So Brock's a team leader. I can be one, if that's cool. Or Ray can be one." Bob suggests. He's got plans in his head. 

"I vote Bobby to be Captain simply because you have the most experience outside of me. Which is why I hunted you first. And I'll be coming for you again," Brock challenges while resting his head on Frankie's.

"I want Frank on my team." Bob raises an eyebrow.

Brock snorts. "What is this, high school dodgeball? Let them pick."

"Fine." Bob chuckles, "I was thinking more Red Rover." 

Frank snickers as he looks up, "I really don't wanna have to be on the opposite team…" 

"I'll be on Bob's team," Mike says as he pats his back. 

"I want to be Team Rumlow," Ray says looking at Gerard. 

"Good, cause I have to get some revenge for my death," Gerard says with a playful smile.

"Ok. So, same course or a new one?" Ray asks the group. 

"Let's change it up," Brock suggests.

"Sawmill or Crack house?" Bob chuckles, "Never thought that those words would come from my mouth."

"Just for that, we have to do the Crack House," Brock chuckles.

"It's got a yard boat!" Mike laughs. 

"Crack house it is!" 

"Are we defending or conquering?" Frank asks his small team.

"Hmm… Brock the Conquer sounds awesome. I pick that," Brock snickers. 

"Perfect." Ray grins and winks at Brock, "Do you have a plan?" 

"I am a man with a plan," Brock nods.

"Game starts in five." Bob says with a nod, "Better bring it Team Rumlow." 

“Funny, I should say the same, B.B.” Brock makes a face as soon as the attempted nickname leaves his lips. “That was a nope. I’m sorry.”

"We'll find it!" Bob laughs and pats Brock on the shoulder. He puts an arm around Mike and pulls him and Gee to the house.

Frank looks at Ray then up at Brock. "So, we have the professional, the floof and the midget… how are we doing this? Are we your human shields while you take out Bob?" 

“All you gotta do is watch my six and I’ll take care of the rest. You guy gotta make sure nobody sneaks up on me and if you see anyone, call them out.”

"Call them out?" Frank asks. 

"I think he literally means call them out like left window… right?" Ray says as he itches his nose and smears a little pink on his face.

Brock nods. "Think of a clock with me at the center. If someone is directly behind me, that's my six. In front of me is twelve o'clock. At my right, it's three and at my left it's nine. Make sense. Giving me a location helps me track where they are at."

"I get it," Ray says with a nod. He's played enough video games to get it. 

"Ok. I think I follow what you're saying." Frank says with a nod. 

"You also can just shout 'look out' or something random and I'll figure it out. They are defending their base which is actually easier to do. So we are going to have to plan a strategy."

"Ok. Cool! I like that." Frank nods.

"What's the strategy?" Ray asks.

“I’ll plan that when we get near and I can see the building. Without a map, I really can’t determine a plan of action.” Brock gathers his gun and signals the guys to follow him. Since this is more a ‘defend the base’ sorta game, he needs to play things a little different. He’s going to kick these kid’s asses and _really_ show them how well he can handle himself out in the field.

Several hours later, the band slowly picks themselves up out of the dirt and begin to make their way towards the car. Each man is aching, sore and drenched in paint. Frank trails behind the group just a little. He is tired. 

"You good B?" Ray asks. 

“No,” he replies quietly. It kind of hurts his pride to admit it but it’s necessary. 

"Want me to drive?" Ray offers with a smile.

Frank makes it to Brock's side and rests his head into his love's arm. Brock gives him a fond, tired, smile and turns back to Ray. “Yes please. Sorry.”

"No worries Brock. I got you." Ray nods as he puts his hand out for the keys, "You should sit in the back with your boy." 

"I can sit shotgun," Bob offers, sounding tired.

"I have never been this tired," Gerard says as he leans against the car.

Brock hands over the keys to Ray and pulls Frankie closer, holding his hand and waiting to get in the vehicle. “Agreed.”

Ray unlocks the car and gets in the driver's seat, "Buckle in, kids." 

Frank sits in the backseat with Brock and closes his eyes as he leans his head into Brock. He murmurs with a soft smile, "I had fun." He fights off sleep the best he can but he loses the fight. 

Ray wakes everyone in the car up. He might be the only one who wasn't dead on his feet. He gets the Way boys moving with Bob not far behind. He knew that Brock was going to be the one he needed to be gentle with. Carefully he shakes Brock's shoulder then Frank's, "Come on guys, wake up. We're back at the hotel." his voice is gentle and soothing.

"I'm up." Frank stretches, he taps Brock's shoulder, "Baby." 

"I'm here," Brock says with a yawn.

"Mmhmm. You were sawing logs." Frank grins. 

"My snoring is not _that_ bad," he protests.

"Police stopped us thinking we were snuggling yaks into Austin." Frank can't keep his mouth from stretching wider to a silly smile,"You ready to go in?" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm going. Hush," Brock grumbles, getting out of the car and heading inside.

"Make me hush, old man." Frank says as he puts feet on the ground, "You have paint in your hair, Ray." 

"I figure. I am looking forward to a shower. And food!" Ray says with a grin. He offers his hand to Brock, "Come on Commander." 

Frank opens the door for them and follows behind his husband, looping his arm with Brocks. The elevator rushes them to their floor and their room is close. Frank opens their door and pauses. The room smells different. Paint? He takes Brock's hand and let's him into the room first. 

"Wanna bath first?" Brock asks Frankie.

"If you wanna shower, you can," Frank says with a smile. _Unless you want me to join you?_

Brock frowns and turns to Frankie. "You don't want a bath? Do they even have a bath?"

"Oh. I mean I am always up for a bath." Frank looks up at him with a nod, "Alone or together?" _Please say together._ He closes the door and starts to strip his sweaty and dirty clothes from his body. 

"Why would I not without you?" Brock might be a tad more sleepy that he thought he was given that sentence. Frankie gets it. 

"I didn't… I mean. It should be a given." Frank shrugs. He pushes up Brock's shirt, "You can't bathe with clothes on..." 

Ray sits at the desk and pulls his phone out. "Have fun. Use a condom. I gotta call the wife." He winks at Brock.

A spark of alarm hits him because he's not sure if Frankie is truly expecting sex in some form or not. He's fairly certain that if he tries anything in the bath, he might drown. He does, however, have the prostate massager he bought for Frank somewhere in his luggage on the bus. He seriously doubts that's happening tonight though. Maybe when they get back on the bus and road. Brock opens his mouth to tell Ray that they don't use condoms anymore and haven't since the third date but instead of _I don't use condoms_ , what comes out is, "I don't have any..." Yeah, he's tired.

"It’s just a bath." Frank smiles at him and kisses Brock's cheek, "My little ass is too sore for that."

"What's for dinner?" he asks, grateful that a bath is just going to be a bath. He aches so much; all three of them do. Maybe they could take turns massaging each other? Guitar fingers equated to magic hands in Brock's opinion.

"I just want something. I am starving." Frank says, pulling his jeans off. 

Brock eases his own clothing off and adds to a pile to be washed for tomorrow. He loves using hotel laundry. It's so much better than scrubbing his clothes in the sink. He enters the bathroom and strips off his underwear before starting the faucet to dispense hot water. A part of him kind of wants his lavender bombs. Trigger days always got him lavender baths. 

Frank pushes the bathroom door open slightly then enters. "So, I know that it's not quite the same as the lavender baths as at home but I do have a rosemary and eucalyptus one? It's supposed to help with sore muscles." He holds it out in his hand. 

"Where did you get this?" Brock asks as he lifts the bath bomb out of Frankie's hand and gives it a small sniff. His nose wrinkles. The fragrance is nothing like his lavender ones. But it's something and better than nothing. He drops it in.

"I bought it a while ago. For after your workouts. I've been saving them." Frank gives him a little smile.

"Ah. Thank you. I appreciate it. I appreciate you. I love you."

"I love you too. I have a couple of them. This one is for muscles. Others are just for smell and relaxation." Frank grins, "Get in. Before you miss out on the benefits." 

With a small smile, Brock slides into the nearly-scalding water. He sighs at the perfect feeling before motioning to Frankie that he's ready for him to join him. Koala bath time is one of his favorite cuddle bonding times.

Frank slips in and eases himself into the water. He rests his back on Brock's body. He keeps his hand above the water and feels his body relax. Baths with his husband might be one his favorite things that they do. Brock's finger traces across Frank's stomach as they relax together. Melting a little as his husband's arm snakes around his chest as his lips pressed into the scorpion. He swears he just purred a little at the touch. He knows he has paint and dirt in his hair but he doesn't want this to end.

As the water cools, he pulls Brock up and into the shower. After Frank washes the places he can reach on Brocks body he places kisses along his stomach and chest. His hands roam along Brock's back. It's not meant to be super sexual but more _sensual_. Tender. He just wants Brock to feel like he's worshipped. 

Once their shower is over, Frank wraps a towel around his waist to step out and grab their clothes to relax in. He's greeted by the laugh of his bandmates sitting on their bed and couch.

"Hey guys!" Frank says running fingers through his wet hair. 

"Hey Frankie." Ray grins. 

Gerard scans Frank's body and then drops his eyes to the floor. He has to stop doing that. He's gotta get back to what is his. "We are thinking of ordering food. Any requests?" 

"Uh, something good. Maybe something hearty. And chocolate cake for big sexy, in there." Frank nods towards the bathroom. "We'll get dressed and help you decide or pick out. Give us like five." He pulls clothing from both of their bags and returns to his husband. 

"The band is here and they are figuring out food. Are you hungry?" He hands Brock the loose soft cotton pants and a black tank top. Frank pulls on plaid sleep pants and a t-shirt he stole from Brock when they were home.

"I need to eat," Brock nods. He's not hungry in terms of actually wanting food but he is hungry in the sense that his body is in need and he recognizes it. He doesn't really care what he eats. Deciding something like that is too hard right now. Sliding on the offered clothing, he slicks back his wet hair before opening the bathroom door for Frankie.

Frank leads them out of the bathroom, the band lights up as the two enter the room. He sits on the bed beside Ray who is fresh from the shower. "Sorry dude. We take forever." 

"Meh I ain't worried, kid. We decided on a Mexican restaurant that delivers." Ray says as he hands his phone to Frank. 

"Do you want me to pick food for you or do you want to decide, _polpetto_?" Frank asks. 

"I'll look," Brock says as he sits behind Frankie and wraps his arms and legs around him. His chin sits on Frankie's shoulder so he can look at the phone as well. 

Frank scans the menu and already knows what he wants. He relaxes into Brock and exhales as he waits for his love.

"Why is everything fish-based," Brock grumbles quietly. He's still not okay with the idea of consuming seafood just yet.

"They have steak and chicken you could always substitute them in." Frank shakes his head, "Are you ever going to eat fish? I won't, cause ew."

"I happen to like seafood; when it is prepared correctly anyway. I just haven't gotten over the horror yet." Brock gives a little shudder at the memory.

"I know. Not all seafood will betray you, just Jack's choice of dinner place." Frank grins and kisses Brock's neck, "I know, I can't get away with eating what I want but I think I know what I want." 

"You have your pills," Brock reminds him.

"I know." 

"I'm placing an order. Gimme your foods." Ray says incredibly awkwardly, "You know what I mean…" 

The guys give him each of their orders until it finally reaches Brock. He struggles a little between a few things he might have a chance at actually finishing before just settling on the Cabo chicken sandwich. After ordering he nuzzles Frankie's neck and presses soft kisses to Scorpio. He notices that Ray was rather awkward a moment ago and a _knowing_ fills him. The phone call with Christa and now the odd behavior; Ray was going to finally spill the good news.

Frank swallows and tilts his head to the side and lets Brock kiss his neck. The soft kisses make him feel needy. Needier really. He rests his hands on Brock's legs, rubbing the muscles lightly. "Love you. And your lips." Frank whispers.

"Love you, too. But only my lips?" His throat reverberates in humor.

"Mmmhmm, maybe your voice too." Franks tone playful as he speaks loud enough for only Brock's ears, "Gives me the tingles." 

With a grin, Brock presses another kiss to his Scorpio before sighing heavily. The bath was amazing and relaxed him. The cuddles were perfect and didn't really seem to cost him too much; if anything he wondered if it helped him. He has to pull away, albeit reluctantly, to stretch his back and arms. They ache from a mix of the day's activities and the underlying heaviness in his bones. He's tired. 

"Do we have anything stronger than Tylenol," he asks quietly to the group.

"I have muscle relaxers." Bob offers as he rises to his feet, "I'll go grab em." 

"Do you think your doc could prescribe something if you asked?" Gerard asks from the new couch.

"Debatable. A lot of it is psychological and my counselor can't prescribe medications. My primary doctor could, though he will ask why I'm asking for pain pills. Sam wouldn't… recommend it, the bastard."

"He probably wouldn't take them often enough to be worth the effort of getting them. This stubborn ass will 'work through the pain' and deal in silence." Frank sighs as he actually commits to rubbing Brock's calf.

Bob returns with a bottle and hands them to Brock. "Take them with food. They'll make you sick if you don't." 

"So… I have to talk with you guys about something kinda important." Ray looks to Brock.

Brock nods. He's happy that Ray is going to gush with joy over being a new dad. And he gets to be the cool uncle. This is going to be great. He knows without a doubt the band will be happy and supportive. His brother's got this.

"So Brock and Frank let me sit in on a therapy session…" Ray starts, "During which his counselor Sam offered this idea of spoons when it comes to Brock's current… situation."

 _Oh. Not Baby Floof then._ Still, Brock trusts Ray's decision on this. He focuses on stretching a little more instead. Then he folds himself back around Frankie with another heavy sigh.

Frank tenses at the mention of their little heart to heart with Sam. He glances back at Brock. He's unsure how to react, should he stop it? Is he ok with this?

"Sam says that each day that Brock wakes up with a certain amount of spoons each day. Every task that he has to do, that takes away from his collection. So, he gets up, showers and dresses, and that takes away from his spoon collection." Ray continues, "I am here to ask for your help, to my friends and bandmates to help our friend Brock."

"What's that?" Mike asks.

"I am asking that we keep as many of the highly stressful situations from Brock as we can. Also possibly helping him with tasks, on bad days. Brock is going to ask for help when he needs it, aren't you?" Ray looks at Brock with harder eyes.

"Yes, Ray."

"So what do you say fellas, think we can help out our fearless, and after watching him work today, ruthless leader?" Ray asks with a smile.

"Hell yeah! He'd do the same for us," Bob agrees without hesitation.

"What do you define as high-stress situations, Brock?" Mike asks. "I'm willing to help but I don't know what will help or hinder." 

"Yeah, I'll help you, Brock," Gerard says quietly as his voice falls into the silent moment which makes his words stand out. 

He doesn't really know what to say. At least, nothing that wouldn't be a jab towards Gerard. Anything remotely like telling him to not start fights over stupid shit isn't really the best idea. And what defines what a stressful situation will be isn't the situation itself, but how many spoons he has left. At least, that's what he understood from Sam.

"I think it is going to change from day to day but I do know that causing problems for the fuck of it doesn't help and will rob him of his spoons. So, keep the highly emotional bullshit to a minimum…" Frank snaps out with a slight growl at the end of his sentence.

"Yes. Level headed conversation in all things is going to be the best way to handle… issues." Ray gives Frank a pointed look.

"Okay. So we play it by ear. Sounds good. Anything to help Brock get better." Bob says with a nod at Brock.

"What can I," Brock begins softly, "do to be better, uh, company? With you guys?" He winces, unsure how to ask the right way about being less favorite to certain people.

"Be honest about what you need," Mike says looking back.

"Also hanging out with us is nice too," Bob adds.

"I'm sorry. I… I didn't think you cared." 

"You don't have to be sorry. You're still getting to know us." Mike smiles.

Gerard has sat quietly with his own thoughts. He needs to have a conversation with Brock. He needs to sort out what he wants to say. He chooses to stay quiet for a bit. 

Frank moves his hands to the other calf and massages. He has plans to work his way around Brock's body. He knows Brock needs it. He needs to be touched and have his knots worked out. Lord knows he is going to have them. He also knows that he needs to touch him even if it is just this. 

Brock sighs into the touch. It always felt like it was the first time all over again, each time that Frankie touched him like this. He shudders a little, finding the touch relieving in such a way that it's nearly erotic and sensual. He leans into the touch and quietly whimpers. He's feeling needy.

"I've got you, love. Just relax until it's time to eat." Frank says softly, "So, dinner’s set. What about the movie? We know Brock is all for action. I'm not picky."

"We can just cruise the television until something comes up," Mike suggests.

"Hey Brock? Have you ever gone on a cross country tour like this? I mean, like been on a road trip or anything?" Mike asks as he shifts in his seat.

"Not really. When I worked at Monarch, I would travel around but not like this."

"What exactly did you do for Monarch?" Bob asks.

"Private security. Bodyguarding. I'm good at kicking butt and taking names." Brock smirks softly.

Frank takes Brock's arm and begins on his hands. "It's why he was going to be my bodyguard originally. He's worn a lot of hats but this one's probably the weirdest one." 

Mike stops the Tv on Goodfellas. "Does this work for everyone?" He looks around to the nods in the room.

"I'm not picky," Brock says.

Frank glances at the TV then glances to Brock. _Of course he's fine with it. It's like being at home._ His hand works up Brock's arm, "If it hurts or you need it harder let me know." He nods at his love. 

"You know I like it hard." Brock smiles.

Frank presses harder into his skin but not enough that he thinks it would hurt him, "You and me both buttercup..." Frank winks at him.

The band settles a little and watches the movie. But Ray's head is unsettled. He wants to ask Brock about how close the movies get it to the real thing. "That wouldn't happen. You'd get blood all over yourself..." Ray murmurs to himself. 

"Oh, yeah totally. And blood splatter is a bitch to clean up too," Brock whispers to him.

Frank gives him a hard look. 

"And if they were any kind of smart. They should have wrapped him tighter if not with a rope. I feel like that's just laziness." Ray grins at Brock.

"See, this is why you are my brother. You sound just like Jack, " he grins back at Ray. "What I would have done was done a single shot to the head after you supposedly kill the guy to _ensure_ he's dead before you wrap the body up and transport it to the undisclosed location for burial. Honestly though, it's safer to burn or use chemicals. Less chance of getting caught."

"Chemicals take too long. Unless you have access to lab-quality stuff." Ray whispers and tries not to giggle as he catches a peek at Frank's face, jaw slightly open and wide eyes.

"Well yeah but this is the mob we're talking about. These idiots probably don't got a clue but someone higher on the food chain does. They have the resources if not the actual stuff," Brock nods.

"So this is all improper management and lack of training?" Ray looks to Brock.

"Oh absolutely."

Frank looks between the two of them. This is how he gets 25 to life. What the fuck, Rumlow! He jams his thumb into Brock's arm a little harder.

With a little jerk at the sudden pressure Brock hides his face in the back of Frankie's neck so he can secretly smile and quietly laugh.

"I always thought a guy like Pesci would be too loud for the mafia," Bob comments as he takes a piece of candy from Mike.

"Blabbermouths don't last long. They get shot," Brock comments.

Frank holds his breath. Inside his head he is screaming. He crawls across Brock's lap to massage his other hand and arm. As he crosses over, he purposely stares at Brock with hard eyes. _Shut the fuck up._

"I always thought that DeNiro looks like he could actually have mob ties. I dunno." Gerard says with a shrug, "Probably all the damn movies he did." 

"The mafia doesn't have a _look_ …" Mike says a little snooty.

"Some do. I've seen documentaries. But that's like the New York Mafia. Everybody looks the same there," Brock chuckles.

"Well, you are the true New Yorker… so I guess you all look the same." Frank teases. He's trying to act normal.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Ray asks quietly.

"Yes." Brock answers Ray then waits a beat before smoothing it over for the other ears. "In the military, for sure. Can't really say that I have as a bodyguard. It really wasn't that exciting of a job. Got into plenty of fights though."

"Huh." Ray nods casually, "Five bucks they play cards at least once in the movie. Cause you know mafia dudes have so much free time." He offers his hand to Brock to make a bet.

"I don't need to bet you. I know they will. It's like in every movie," Brock chuckles.

"I wonder how many mob movie clichés there are." Bob comments.

"Oh, I'll bet at least twenty. It's a thing in the Hollywood industry every few years to make a new one, I swear," Brock comments.

"That's true. This is supposedly based on real events so maybe there is a grain of truth somewhere in here." Gerard says softly.

"You should sit forward so I can work on your back." Frank says tapping his side.

With a nod, Brock moves and shifts so that he's sitting in front of Frankie. He wants to cuddle Ray too but refrains. He's not close enough to the others to cuddle them. He's certain hugging Mike-n-Ike or Bobby would probably make them uncomfortable. Gerard is off-limits.

Frank scoots behind him and starts working on his lower back, going deeper. "All over your back or one specific spot?" Frank asks quietly as he kisses Brock's spine. 

"All over, please. Shoulders, mostly," he replies softly. He gets an idea and looks behind him. "Can you hand me a pillow?" 

Frank passes him a pillow and returns to rubbing his back. After a good fluffing, Brock holds it in front of him like a body pillow. It isn't as good as the real deal but it curbs some of his need to hold someone.

A soft knock at the door makes Frank and Brock both jump slightly. "It's the food. I got it." Ray pats Brock's knee. 

"Good I am starving!" Gerard announces as he shifts.

"After I eat, I'll finish your back." Frank kisses his back again.

"Okay. Or…" he hesitates, anxiety whispering that what he's going to suggest is stupid.

"Or?" Frank asks with a smile as he leans around to look at Brock while Ray brings the food in. He places the bags down and begins handing the food to each person. 

"Koala? And maybe someone else rubs my back?" 

"Okay. That works for me." Frank slips fully from behind Brock, "You know I am all for koala time. Maybe Raymond can rub your back, he's got big strong hands." 

"Guitarists do have magic fingers."

"You're fucking right we do." Frank winks at Ray. 

"Keeps my girl happy." 

"Does anyone want something to drink? I'm going to the vending machine for a soda." Mike stands and wobbles for a second.

"Yeah, I'll take one. Don't care what it is as long as it's not diet or caffeine free. Please." Brock pulls out his wallet for some cash.

"I got you B. Frankie, diet coke. Gee, coke. Ray… sprite? Bob is coke." Mike nods and winks at Bob then exits through the adjoining door and into the hallway with the other room's door locking into place.

"Diet coke isn't even Coke," Brock snorts as he opens his container.

"Yes it is. You just like all that sugar." Frank replies with a big grin, "You and your broken ass taste buds."

"Yeah I like real sugar and not synthetic sugar. Like soda is bad for you anyway; diet is just worse. And you drink it for _fun_."

"It tastes better and it tastes better with alcohol." Frank nods as he pokes at the chicken on his plate.

"We'll agree to disagree on that one, _tesoro,_ " he laughs.

"You're outnumbered, kid." Bob chuckles. 

"Thanks Bobby. Hey, is your name actually Bob or is it short for Robert?" Brock asks, eating a fry.

"I was born Robert but I like Bob or Bobby." He replies after swallowing his bite of burrito, "I hate Bobert, Frank." 

"Bobert? What the fuck?" Brock laughs.

"It just came out!" Frank replies with his voice raised an octave. 

"He's tried calling me Geraldo…" Gerard sighs. 

"Raymundo." 

"I have the most boring name next to Frank and Mikey is the worst he's called me and I don't hate it," Mike says as he returns with the drink. He lifts a fist, "Boring old man name's club." 

"I like Raymundo. Geraldo isn't _too_ bad." Brock tilts his head.

"Gerry is." 

"Yeah that's terrible. On behalf of my husband, I'm sorry."

"Mmm… I feel no shame for Gerry." Frank says exhaling. The chicken was more spicy than he expected, "y'all have called me some crappy nicknames." 

"Frank the Tank isn't bad." Bob smiles.

"Frankenweenie is cute!" Ray says as he blows on his fork full of food.

"I love that one. And Frankenstein and Frankincense," Brock eats a fry and leans over to kiss Frankie.

"Frank 'n Beans." Gerard snickers.

Frank kisses Brock, "You get the free pass. You're my baby. They don't. They are assholes who will stop at nothing to make me blush like a schoolgirl."

"Considering that was my goal the first week we met, I really can't say that I'm any different."

"But husbands get a free pass on that. But your ass still likes to make me blush. They are jerks." Frank says before taking a drink.

"Best thing we ever did to make him blush was sing him happy birthday on stage in a basement show. Never seen Franklin turn so red." Ray grins.

"For being semi-famous, he really hates being made the center of attention." Gerard comments. 

"That's adorable. Wish I could have seen that," Brock grins.

"When you propose, you'll see it." Ray elbows Brock lightly.

Brock grins wide at his brother and husband before taking a bite of his chicken sandwich. It's actually pretty decent. He eats more than half and all of the fries. The rest of dinner was filled with playful chatter and watching the movie. As soon as everyone finishes, Gerard rises to his feet and collects the garbage. Frank moves to the bathroom and brushes his teeth quickly before returning to Brock. No one wants jalapeno breath in their face. He crawls back into bed and waits for Brock to invite him into his bubble. 

"Koala now?" Brock sits cross-legged and offers his arms to Frankie. He just wants to hold and be held. And not be in pain but that's not going away. 

Frank crawls into his lap and wraps himself around Brock. "This is the best part of the day." He whispers into Brock's neck before kissing it.

Ray slips behind Brock and straddles him. His hands and fingers begin working the muscles in Brock's back. He likes giving back rubs. "Harder or just right?" 

"A little harder. Deeper. Please," Brock buries his face in Frank's neck and feels his face turn red. Ray's fingers work a deep knot near his shoulder blade and it feels both painful and good. He knows how it sounds. What they'll think.

"As long as you don't moan that, I think we can all keep our mature adult composure," Mike teases as he stretches.

"Usually it's Frankie begging," Ray snorts under his breath.

He can't do this. He wants to. But he can't. He can't with them watching and making the jokes and all he can hear is Gerard and suddenly he feels dirty and wrong. He can't let Ray do this. He tightens his grip on Frankie. Panic rises in his throat. 

"You are tensing up, Brock. Relax." Ray says a little firmly.

"Baby, it's ok. This is a good touch. I promise, we're ok." Frank whispers into his neck. Brock's finger has found a new bruise but he doesn't say a word, "Slow your breathing and it will help you relax. Copy me if you need, okay?" 

He tries but he can't get the gremlins out of his head. Can't get Gerard's venom-filled spiteful words out of his head. Is it favoritism to have Ray massaging him? Is it sexual? No, but it looks like it. And already a joke has been made. Does Mike and Bob think he's sleeping with Ray too like Gerard does? Are they going to hate him too? Is Gerard going to scream at him again? Cause more problems? This isn't the behavior he's supposed to be showing. It's inappropriate. He's going to ruin the movie. He's going to ruin their evening. More shame fills him. He can't. He needs him to stop. It's not okay. He's not safe. Brock tries to get the words out. 

"Stop." He whispers the word, barely audible; a begging plea as he desperately tries to hold back the anxiety attack lurking inside. 

Frank and Ray both stop touching Brock. Neither one knows who is the offender. "Brock it's ok!" Both men say in unison then look at each other. 

Bob turns back and looks, "Brock, dude you gotta breathe my friend."

"Its ok, Brock. Your shoulders hurt bub." Mike says with a soft voice and nod.

"I think we need to call it a night," Frank says with a sigh. He's not sure what to do, "I think we just need some sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day." 

"No it's not!" Brock blurts at Mikey, desperately. He puts his head in his hands. He's trying so hard to control himself. To keep the dam from breaking. He's trying to work through it and not break. This is all Gerard's fault. He never had anxiety like this. What was once pure and innocent has been tainted and twisted in his head. He's afraid it's going to be permanent like that. 

"Okay. Okay. Sorry. I _feel_ like it's okay but you don't. I'm sorry Brock." Mike puts his hands up. He slowly rises to his feet, "I had fun today. Thank you for hanging out."

Brock wants to shout at him to stay; to not leave. He didn't mean to push him away. This is his fault. Again. Further proof that he doesn't deserve friends if he can't even keep his team together. It feels like abandonment. Every time he loses some control, they run. Everything is falling apart again.

Mike steps over Bob's legs and slowly heads into his room. Bob turns and looks at him, "Do you want us to leave?" He looks Brock dead in the eye.

"No!" He rushes the words, desperate for them to understand, "Please don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'll try harder. Please don't leave."

"We aren't leaving then. Mike get back here." Bob shouts.

"I'm changing my pants. Take a chill pill, Bobert." Mike calls back.

"See no one is leaving. Just changing into comfy clothes. Take a breath Brock." Bob says with a nod. 

Ray leans against the headboard and shoots a glare to Gerard. 

With a hard, shuddering, breath, Brock forces himself to relax his grip on Frankie; his koala. He's trying. He just wants things to go back to normal. When he didn't ever worry or even think twice about touching Ray. He was just starting to relax with him. Last night was the first night he was comfortable enough to be spooned. He's not sure he can do it now. 

Frank returns his arms around Brock, his fingers stroking the back of his neck. "We're ok." 

Brock pulls him closer and lets a few tears escape. He hates that he actually feels less like a panicked bomb after he cries. With a broken voice, another tear escapes. He confesses in Frankie's neck, "I want my Sunshine back." 

"Oh honey. You can have your sunshine. It's okay." Frank wraps his legs around Brock's middle. He kisses Brock's ear, "It's gonna be okay, let it out." 

Mike returns from their room with another bag of candy and sits at the end of the bed. He turns and looks at Brock and Frank. 

He shakes his head at Frank's words. He shouldn't be crying like this. It's not okay. When did he turn into a stupid fucking crybaby? He notices Mike and the bag of candy and the only thing he can think of is, "This is why I call you Mike-n-Ike." 

"You want a piece?" He offers the bag towards Brock with a big grin. 

"Okay." Brock takes one and shoves the gummy worm in his mouth. "Thanks. And I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, man! I have sour ones too!" Mike says pulling out sour patch strawberries from the other pocket, "I can be the candy dealer." 

He gives a wet laugh. "Better than a drug dealer."

"I'm much sweeter." He grins and offers the sour strawberries. 

Brock shakes his head no. "Not a fan of the sours. Worm?" 

Mike puts the worms on the bed. "The girlfriend pulled a goody bag for the road. Like all candy."

He grabs another worm and eats it. It was mostly just for something to do, though they do taste good. That and the act oddly calmed him. He's not sure why. He doesn't care why. "Thank you." 

"You are very welcome, my friend." Mike smiles warmly and nods, "So, can I ask what just happened?" 

"Brains gremlins reminded me of the things I can't have and shouldn't be doing. I'm sorry, _Ray_ ," Brock says, trying to wall up again. It's the only way to protect himself. "I thought I could do it." 

"What can't you have?" Mike turns and rests his elbows on the bed. Bob stands and sits at the foot of the bed.

Frank strokes Brock's back. He can be the thing that maybe keeps him grounded.

"What are you sorry for?" Ray asks as he cock his head to the side, "There is nothing to be sorry for Brock. You're just fighting with yourself over the same shit that we have told you aren't things you gotta worry about. B, you're driving yourself crazy."

"I can't help it. I can't unhear-" He cuts himself off with a quick glance at Gerard and shakes his head. "Can't have friends." 

"Yes, you can," Mike says, shaking his head yes. 

"I keep pushing you guys away. I'm not good enough to keep you guys around. It's why every time I… do this," Brock motions to himself and his ugly tear-streaked face, "You guys leave me." 

"Well, we're still here. Yes, I know I leave because I am not good with emotions like this but it does not mean that I don't care about you, Brock." Mike says with a wrinkled forehead, "You absolutely deserve friends and I would like to think that I am your friend."

"Brock. I'll be honest with you man, when you get emotional I don't know if you need your space. I don't know if you need a hug or to get in a fistfight." Bob says as he shifts his weight on to his hip, "Like Mike said, you deserve friends and I am your friend." 

"You don't hate me?" Brock whispers softly. 

"Why the hell would we?" Bob asks.

"Hell no. We don't hate you!" Mike replies tilting his head to the side hard.

"Because I played favorites and hurt you guys," Brock answers Bob. This is why he can't have his Sunshine. Ever again. The thought makes his heart clench.

"You had more time to get to know Ray. And that's totally fine, Brock. We're supposed to go shooting together again. I was gonna show you my flamethrower." Bob replies, staring at Brock's face, he's concerned. 

"That's cool," he whispers. 

"Right!" Bob grins.

"I wanna make it very clear Brock, your relationship with Ray has nothing to do with our friendship. I am your friend, whether you like it or not." Mike smiles wide.

"I'm not sleeping with him. I swear I'm not. I swear." Brock's anxiety skyrockets and just like that he's on the verge of an attack again. He closes his eyes and rambles without thinking of what he's saying. "I won't touch him. I won't. I can't." 

"Woah! Hey! Easy tiger!" Mike says, putting his hands up. His words start easy but he ends up shouting, "Brock, shut up!"

"Look dude, I know you have insecurities about what some fucking people think." Mike snaps his head to look at Gerard, "I know that you and Ray are just friends. He's like your brother. He's not even your damn type. Fuck, dude chill. A relationship doesn't have to mean sex, my man. Me and Frank have a relationship. But I ain't fucking him… ew." 

"What my less eloquent friend is trying to say, we know you're friends. It wouldn't matter if you were WHICH we know you aren't. Breathe and relax then respond." Bob says as he tries to soothe the situation.

"First of all, rude. This ass is fantastic. Second, jerk." Frank looks to Mike and sticks his tongue out.

Brock nuzzles Frankie and fights to control his breathing. Any other time and Brock would have found that comment to be hilarious. He still likes it but it's overshadowed by his anxiety and the things that the boys said. After some deep breathing, he's as much normal as he can be considering. His eyes dart back to Gerard and stare. It's his fault for ruining everything. He whispers, "I know. Did know. Then things changed." 

Gerard keeps his eyes forward. He's in his own head listening and taking in everything. 

"I… I think they only changed in your mind, Brock. For me, I feel the same way about you. You're my friend. Always have been." Bob gives him a soft smile.

"Yup." Mike nods, "You can't push me away big guy, I'm your friend."

Brock nods and a part of him wants to pull them both into a hug as a sort of an apology. He didn't realize that they really didn't care all that much. Or, they did and it wasn't in the way that mattered. What he's hearing now is that it's not a problem with either of them. It was just Gerard. 

"Do...do we hug this out now?" Mike asks, "Are we still friends?"

"Always; for life, Mike-n-Ike. I just…" He just didn't know what was the truth and was the lie in his head. He doesn't know what he can and can't do with these two boys. 

"You just need a hug and some worms and to talk it out." Bob grin as he rises from the bed, "if that is ok?"

Brock nods rather rapidly. He doesn't really want to let his Koala go because he's fairly certain his love is the only one keeping him safe and sane at the moment. But he does want to make sure Mike-n-Ike and Bobby know that he cares a lot about them too. Right now they aren't his brothers but he could see adopting them as well. "I'm sorry for ruining the movie. I love all you kids and never want you to leave. I always want hugs."

Frank lies back but keeps his legs around Brock so the two guys can hug his husband who was in need of the affection. "You didn't ruin anything. It's just a mob movie. They are all the same."

"Love you too Brock!" Bob hugs him tight. 

Mike follows, "You don't have to be sorry for anything. That's what friends are for."

Brock hugs both boys tightly. He feels a little better now, knowing that they didn't judge him and his affection with Ray before Gerard. And that they were friends. He's still getting to know them and he's learning but eventually, they will get there. It gives him a little hope of relief that normalcy will return. The new, new, normal sucks. It's only been a day into the new normal and yet he already misses cuddles. And the back rub but he really isn't sure if he's there yet. He wants to be. 

Frank stares up at Brock as he processes for a moment. Maybe this could be a turning point. He prays this is a turning point. He stretches long and rubs his belly. 

"When he does that, he looks like a kitten." Mike snickers, "Makes sense."

"It's 'cause he is." Brock nods. He's tired and just wants to lay down.

"Good thing he's been declawed." Bob chuckles.

Ray reaches behind Brock and grabs the remote. He flips through the stations and stops on a yellow screen with dark paint scrolling across it creating a painting of clouds just as the words Mulan flash on the screen. He sets the remote down and leans back to his spot. Mulan's one of the better Disney movies, "Anyone has a problem with the choice on tv can meet me in the parking lot…" Ray says with a fake tough guy voice that's ruined by a smile.

Brock looks at the movie and recognition clicks in his head. "I love this movie. It's my favorite Disney film." 

"Aladdin is better." Frank grumbles, "But Mulan is good."

"That's my second favorite and top contender for the first spot in my list of favorites. Depends on the mood," Brock says softly. 

"It's only because you have your own little street rat." Ray teases.

"I still want a tiger named Raja." He nuzzles Frankie and holds him close. He whispers in his ear.

"I'll get you a ginger cat with stripes and we can call it Raja," Frank smirks as his hand slides under his shirt and rubs his belly. 

"Okay. Bengal cats are perfect for that. As long as it's named Raja, you can pick the tiger kitten. After…" He trails off. He shouldn't be mentioning the end of the tour because this may be their last. Cats are not good pets to take with them on a tour or okay to be left alone. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, Brock kisses Frankie before moving to lay down on his side. He's going to crash and he knows it but he doesn't care. He's on borrowed time. He just wants to feel safe and comfortable. Quiet time with his boys has never been so important until now.

"I know not until we are home for a long time." Frank kisses him. He pulls his arm around and up his shirt. He just wants Brock's touch on his skin. He's exhausted. He feels like it's something he should be used to by now, "Will you touch me?" 

"That's my line," Brock whispers back. "I need you." 

"Hmmm, maybe I'm just learning from the master." Frank says back as he pulls Brock's arms tight around him, "I just want you all the time." _Even if the way that I want you, I can't have you._ He pushes the greedy thought out of his head and relaxes in his loves arms.

The band settles down and begins watching the movie. Ray sighs as he gets comfortable as the movie plays out. It isn't long into the movie before Brock is softly snoring. He knows Frank is stuck in his octopus grip but the kid doesn't care cause he is struggling to stay awake. Once the movie ends, the three boys leave the room and disappear into their own. Ray curls into Brock and passes out.

The alarm clock screams awake at 9 am. Frank jerks a little in Brock's arms. Somehow, he had managed to get turns towards Brock with his hands in Brock's pants. It wasn't sexual, probably warmth. He gets an idea to wake up Brock sweetly with kisses. "Wake up sleepy head." Frank says leaning up and kissing his throat and neck.

Brock groans in his sleepy state. Fucking alarm. He hates this feeling of death that comes from being woken before he is ready. He shifts forward a little and feels something _down there_ and he stills, making an inquisitive noise. A peek gives him the view of Frankie's hands down his pants. Before he has time to process the fact that Frankie's hands are there, his brain grumbles that he fell asleep wearing pants to begin with. Sleeping in clothes sucked. He shifts again and feels solidness at his back. Now he's really confused because he doesn't remember falling asleep like this. He's not awake enough to make coherent thoughts. He does pull Frankie closer though. He recognizes his soulmate.

"Baby. We have press things at noon. We can't sleep _all day._ " Frank whispers. He's fine with going back to sleep.

With a groan of despair, Brock rolls over onto his back. He feels like shit. He knows he slept hard but he feels like last night only worse. Today is not going to be a good day. The thought makes him whine a groan, low in his throat and his hand to come up to cover his face.

Frank sits up. He can tell it's a bad day for Brock just by his reaction. The sweetness he intended backfires and leaves him unhappy. He needs coffee and to get out of this room. He crawls from bed and stretches. Moving quietly, he opens his duffle and pulls clothing out. "I'm grabbing coffee." Frank says, "Do you want something?"

"More sleep. You. And to not feel like shit that got ran over. I can have at least one of those things, right?" Brock grumbles. He turns and nudges Ray awake before making grabby hands at Frankie.

Frank stands and moves back to the bed, "Yessir, you can have whatever you want..." He gives him a small tired smile. He knows Brock is going to pull him back in bed and he's totally fine with it. 

"Right cause I'm the boss. I declare one more hour. For cuddles at least," Brock grabs Frankie and tugs none too gently. Is he more clingy when he feels like shit? Probably. Does he care? Nope.

"Is that an official order?" Frank grins and lets himself be pulled into bed. "You flexing boss powers?" 

"Yes. Though with less clothes. I can't believe we fell asleep clothed and it feels restrictive. We need showers anyway." Brock tries to hold Frankie and remove their clothing for proper cuddles.

"Would you like some help sir?" 

With a little frustrated growl, he nods. "Stupid pants." 

Frank pulls his pants down and kicks them off. "See ask and you shall receive." He leans up and kisses him. 

"I rather enjoyed the struggle. It was entertaining." Ray groans out as he stretches his arms wide.

"Oh hush. I blame you," Brock grumbles lightly as he fights with his own pants.

Frank helps him pull his sleep pants off and grins up at him. "Don't listen to the mocking floof. He doesn't understand." 

"Oh I understand that you weirdos passed out early as hell." Ray snickers.

"And yet, you didn't bother to wake us up so we could sleep comfortably when you went to bed. Jerk." He's panting now, just from kicking the pants off. His head feels stuffy and full. His heart is racing from all the movement, his irritation at the clothing, and the damn alarm. He's tired and just wants things to be relaxed cause then maybe he'll feel better.

"You looked peaceful. Why would I wreck that?" 

Well now that makes him sigh with defeat. "Yeah ok. Sorry." His arms come out and try to pull both of them into him. It's a natural action and one he didn't think twice about until he did and he has to stop himself. His arm still pulls Frankie in however. "I feel like shit." 

"How can I help?" Frank says as he runs fingers across Brock's cheek. He doesn't think he can but he is more than willing to try. He wants Brock to feel at least ok. 

Brock struggles to explain how he's feeling. Frankie was always the soothing balm to his nerves. Contact and cuddles eases the pain. He's fairly certain he's in a spoon deficit, if that is that this is. He's not sure. His nerves are frazzled and raw and he's emotionally exhausted. "Don't take it personally if I am an ass today. Feels like I'm already on the edge. Raw and exposed. Just need you and my team to be good and nothing bad happens. Is good you make me feel better. Better than drugs." 

"We'll make sure that you stay as stress-free as possible," Ray speaks quietly as he moves closer to Brock.

"You know I'm always by your side, if you need me." Frank purrs as he cuddles as close as he humanly can to Brock.

"Always. You're the balm," Brock whines and pulls Frankie closer. Again he naturally tries for Ray before he realizes what he's doing.

"Do you want me to cuddle with you?" Ray asks softly, "I don't mind."

Maybe it's because he's tired. It's certainly because he's not feeling well. But he can't even bring himself to fight himself and instead he just nods. He wants his brother. He actually wants a human blanket. And all the cuddles. Maybe a nap. He mumbles softly, "Cuddle pile." 

"Hell yes." Ray says as he moves closer and covers Brock with his own body, "I am all for snuggles and cuddles."

The air is forced out of him the moment his chest has the weight of Ray on him. Oddly enough instead of panicking more, it's calming. He's heavier than Frankie. It's a surprise that he can feel himself relaxing. "You're heavy." 

"Is this a good thing?" Ray chuckles.

"I… I like it. Feels…" Brock takes a few breaths and tries to figure out how to describe it. "Less chaotic?" 

"Good. If it helps, I am all for it." Ray says as he runs fingers in Brock's hair. The gesture feels a little more intimate than he worries Brock might be comfortable with but it feels natural.

The wheels are turning in Frank's head as he strokes Brock's chest. 

With a choked off whimper, he wraps his arms around Ray and holds him tighter to his chest and tries to do the same with Frankie at his side. His other side is empty and exposed and he wants- needs something. He needs to be a Brockrito. The pillow might be enough? Not enough weight but maybe it'll work. He doesn't want to let go of his brother and husband though. He gives a groan of frustration.

"What do you need?" Frank asks, feeling him tense and relax with his internal struggle, "I can shift to your side if I'm too heavy." 

"No. Not too heavy. Not _enough_. Pillow? Something. Burrito." He nods to his empty side. His frazzled head makes him lose words.

"Will you let me loose for a moment?" Frank asks gently as he lifts his head.

It's hard but he reluctantly does loosen his tight hold on Frankie. Instead he clings to Ray more and carefully watches Frankie. He's curious as to what his husband is going to do. He feels Ray's fingers in his hair and it's soothing him. He loves it when his best guys run their fingers through his hair. "My mom used to do this when I didn't feel well," he murmurs softly to Ray and shifts his head, seeking more.

Frank rolls off Brock and grabs the roll pillow from the couch and returns. He sits quietly beside Brock. 

He grabs the pillow and pulls it in tight next to him and then sighs in relief. It's perfect. Now he just needs Frankie. "Thank you. Here?" He opens his other arm. 

Frank finds a comfortable spot in his arms and relaxes back into Brock. "Stiff fabric." He kisses Brock's chest, "Someone set an alarm." His words were a murmur as he relaxed even further.

He doesn't mean to fall sound asleep again but it happens. Something about being held tight by Brock that makes him feel warm and secure. But he's awoken by the sensation of being shook by something. He murmurs and grumbles as he lifts his head.

"We are running behind!" Bob's voice is hurried and slightly panicking.

Brock jerks awake, not realizing that he, too, fell back asleep under the warmth and weight of his brother and husband.

"Ok! We're up!" Frank slides off Brock, "How much time do we have?" 

"It's 11:15." 

"Forty-five minutes," Ray says as he is pulling jeans on with one hand and fumbling with a shirt in the other hand.

"Twenty to the venue and tenish to get prepped." Frank says as he pulls a red t-shirt on, "We got plenty of time. No stress." 

"Shit I'm sorry," Brock says as he also slides on his clothes. He runs a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to style it. He leaves all his weapons on the room safe and decides to risk it and only take his desert eagle to cut down on time. He's dressed and ready to go in minutes. 

"It's all good, man." Bob says with a smile, "I just didn't know if you guys were up and being lazy." 

"We were, but I didn't wake up okay and we decided a cuddle pile was the way to go. Thanks for getting us."

Frank follows Brock and Ray out of the room. His head hurts a little but he thinks it may just be from sleeping too long, "I am sorry I didn't wake us up." 

"I think I passed out right after you did or about the same time, so don't worry. Did you sleep too?" Brock nudges Ray.

"Oh yeah. I passed out hard." He chuckles as he hears the other guys door slam shut and the sound of feet shuffling towards them, "You're like a fucking heater, Brock." 

"It's why I never need a blanket," Frank comments as the elevator door opens and they step in.

"I think I liked you on top of me. Can we do that again?" Brock asks. The weight somehow made him feel better. Is this how Frankie felt when they cuddled? Why doesn't everyone do this? It was amazing! 

Frank has to hold the giggle from escaping his lips at the implication. He takes Brock's hand and laces his fingers in between his husband's. _Be mature, Frank._

"Yeah, if you were comfortable with it. I don't mind cuddling you like that." Ray says looking back and glaring at Gerard. He didn't want that little asshole to ruin anything else.

"You're heavier than Frankie. I felt less raw. Less chaotic. Safer. It helped," Brock nods.

"Good. Do you feel a little better?" Ray asks as the doors open and the groups moves towards the exit.

"I slept better in the nap that I did the whole night, I think. I don't feel like I'm in a… spoon deficit? Dunno if that's a thing but it's the best I've got."

"As long as you have spoons, that's all that matters," Mike says opening the door for Brock. 

"Thanks Mike-n-Ike." "

The drive was quicker than expected. The interviewer approaches Brock with an eager smile and her hand outstretched, "Hi Eileen Walters, ATX Music. You must be Brock, the manager?" 

"Yes ma'am," Brock releases his hand on Frankie and throws on his diplomatic cape. "Thank you for having us. I know the band is excited."

"We are so excited they can be here! Welcome! So here is a list of the questions we wanted to go over. I also, if possible, would like the boys to sit in a specific order for the photos." She grins wide and hands over a folder.

Brock takes the folder and goes over the list of questions. "What's the order for the photos?" 

"I would like the Way Brothers in front and the rest of the band behind them." 

"That's fine. Questions look good. Lead the way," Brock motions for her to take them to the interview room.

She escorts Brock and the band to a conference room setup for interviews. She makes her way to her seat and explains the seating arrangement. Frank glances to Brock and stops before joining the guys, "Can you find out if there is a coffee shop nearby? Like walking distance. The nap didn't help my head." 

"Want me to go get us all coffee? Breakfast?" he asks the boys. They'll be fine without him.

"If you want..." Ray says with a grin.

"Coffee would be magical," Bob says with a nod. 

"We can text it to you?" Frank offers. 

"Sure. You boys going to be okay without me?" he teases.

"We might burn the place down..." Ray says with a straight face.

"Or we might give Frankie away to a fan." Bob grins.

"Don't make me put you kids in time out," Brock grins. "Ray's in charge. Don't burn the place down please. I'll be back. Text me what you want."

Brock gives a parting smile to Ms. Walters before heading back to the car and driving away. She nods back and turns to the band. Her questions start off innocent and on script but she soon veers off.

"So I heard you guys recently got new management… how is he doing?" She asks, tapping her pen to her lips.

"Oh, he is pretty fantastic!" Frank pipes up but quickly backs down. 

"Yeah he has made some changes that have been really beneficial for the band," Ray says with a smile.

"He seems like he has gotten very comfortable with you all. Is that normal? Does he always treat you like that?" She asks leaning forward.

"Oh yeah. He actually gives a shit about us," Ray comments.

"He's just a very loving guy with a big heart," Frank adds.

"There's talk around the industry about a tussle between your former manager and this one. Mr Turner has made accusations of misconduct on behalf of the new management you're under. He's mentioned you Frank specifically. Do you guys feel like he is inappropriate with the band or specifically Frank?" She asks acting like she is an investigative journalist.

"There never has been or never will be any inappropriate behavior. Brock as I have said, has done some pretty great things for the band." Ray growls, "I think that these questions are veering away from the band and into gossip rag territory." 

"Frank, you seem fairly close to him. What's that relationship like?" She grins and tosses her hair over a shoulder. She disregards Ray's reply instead seeing Frank squirm slightly.

"Well, uh. I mean," Frank sputters out, feeling his face flush.

"I mean… are you guys like, dating?" 

"What?!" Frank barks out.

"I mean, I suppose it's cool if you are into that kinda thing. But he's much older than you…" her gaze seems to sharpen on Frank, "I didn't think you were into men full time."

Frank feels like his tongue has swollen as his face burns hotter. He can't believe this is happening. He looks to Ray for help.

"I mean it's well documented that you and Gerard had a relationship. So it is not a far leap that you would be gay. But he's so old." 

Frank opens his mouth but gets cut off by surprise from Gerard.

"First of all, their relationship is none of your business. Nor is his sexuality. If he was in a relationship with Brock, Brock is not that old." Gerard snaps, "Next question."

"I wonder how their relationship makes you feel Gerard. You and him were an item. Seeing him with that guy has to burn a little?" She grills him. 

"I think we are done here. Obviously you don't understand that no one wants to answer these questions." Ray hisses.

"I bet you regret that Jamia tattoo huh?" She sneers.

"You know what...I regret nothing. I have a very good and healthy relationship with Brock. He is my-" Frank snaps but is cut off by Ray.

"We're done here. Unless you can bring your questions back to the band or fucking tour. Our relationships are strictly off-limits and you know that!" Ray shouts as he stands up. He pulls on Frank's shirt and motions to leave. 

"This is how you want to end our interview?" She hisses.

"Yeah. You can't be respectful of boundaries!" Mike snaps. He rises to his feet and follows Ray and Frank. 

"Can I have the name of your editor?" Gerard asks her with a glare. He watches the band leave the room in a huff. His gaze turns back to her as she shakily hands over a business card with her handwriting on the back, "Great. I'll have someone get in contact with him to discuss the details of what happened today." He rises to his feet and marches out the door and joins the band in the green room.

"We do not discuss this around B," Ray says firmly as Gerard closes the door.

"He's not able to handle it today." Frank sighs.

"I'm going to give her editor's information to Lauren and she can handle it," Gerard says, taking a seat on a folding chair near Ray.

"I just can't believe that she had the nerve to even keep pushing this." Frank says speechless, "I’m so glad he was gone."

The group quiets down as Gerard sends an email about what happened to Lauren and adds not to mention it to Brock. 

Not long after, Brock returns with two drink carriers and several bags of hot breakfast foods. He's hoping they will be able to eat what he got. He never got texted what they wanted so he got a variety of foods. He heads towards the interview room. 

"Where is he?" Frank says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He sends a message asking for his location. 

"Shit. We never messaged him what we wanted." Ray looks up. 

"Call him," Gerard says looking up at Ray. 

"I'm on it." Frank put his phone to his ear, "Babe, pick up the phone."

He hears his phone ring and curses softly to himself because he doesn't have a hand to answer it. Shit. It echoes loudly in the hallways. He's just gonna have to answer it when he enters the interview room. He carefully shifts the food in his hand and uses a finger to jimmy the handle.

Frank steps out of the green room to get away from the group. "Damn Brock. You're probably driving… captain safety at the wheel," he sighs to himself. The sound of Brock quietly cussing and a phone ringing echoes in the corridor. Calling out and hoping he hears him, "Brock?" 

"Frankie?" Brock calls back, looking over his shoulder.

"Babe, we're in the green room. Do you need help?" Frank asks as he walks towards his voice.

"The interview's over already?" Brock makes his way down the hall.

"Uh, oh yeah. It was a quick one?" He says unconvincingly. He keeps heading towards Brock, "Sorry we forgot to send you what we wanted. Did you want me to give you money?" 

"That's silly considering it's _our_ money." Brock finally sees him and he can't help but smile at seeing his best boy. "I got a variety of things. Basically the All-American breakfast items. Pancakes, bacon and eggs, hash browns, muffins, and yeah, lots of stuff. Made sure there was safe food for you too. And coffees. I kinda remembered what the guys like though I'm not one hundred percent sure."

Frank takes the drinks from him once he reaches him, "I am sure that whatever you got the boys and I will appreciate. Thank you baby." He grins up at him, "The interviewer was kind of a bitch." 

"Wait, what? What happened? Everything okay?" Brock heads towards the green room.

"Yeah, it's fine. She just was a little rude. But we handled it." Frank says with a nod. He's not really lying. She was a bitch and they did handle it.

"Can you get the door please?" Brock nods to the door as he shifts the bags into both of his hands for easier carrying. 

Frank opens the door carefully and lets Brock enter before following. He places the drinks on the table set up with soda and candy for the guys to raid. 

"Hey, kids. Heard the interview was terrible and she was rude. Everything okay?" Brock sets the food down for the boys.

All of the heads in the room turned to Frank which turned him cherry red. Ray sighs, "Yeah, she was an asshole. But it's fine, I told her off and Gee emailed her editor. We're good."

"Good job. Thanks," he says as he divvies out coffee. "So… I'm sorry if I got it wrong but I attempted to get you guys what I've seen you order in the past? Or something that sounded good. If it's terrible, there's two black coffees and creamer and sugars to kind of… help."

"You got it right for me." Gerard grins at him.

"Same," Ray says as he peers in the bag of food. 

"I'm easy like a Sunday morning." Mike says, taking a drink of his coffee, "This is good… like really good." 

"Great," Brock grins as he sets containers out on the table. 

The guys wait patiently as Brock pulls out the food. They look across the table and blink at him. 

"Thank you, Brock!" Mike smiles.

"Do you want cash?" Ray says, pulling his wallet out.

"You don't know me that well, do you?" Brock grins at Ray. His brother does, of course, but the point remains. 

"He won't." Frank stops as Gerard pulls out a twenty and hands it to Brock. He sighs, his husband might be up for a bit of a struggle. 

"I know you like to treat us but we can chip in," Ray says with a nod.

"You do. In other, more valuable, ways that don't hold any monetary associations. Save your money. Put it in a savings fund. Years down the road, if there's ever an emergency, you'll be okay. That's all I care about. You guys help me be okay now. I wanna help you be okay in the future." Brock sits down in a chair and helps himself to a hash brown.

"Oh, Rumlow. You are stubborn." Ray sighs as he pats Brock's shoulder. He helps himself to some food but is plotting. 

The group quietly eats and reflects on what happened already in the day. 

"What time is soundcheck?" Bob asks. He has an idea but wants to be sure.

"Two o'clock, I think. I'd have to check my planner after breakfast. We have an early show tonight. We'll sleep in the hotel until about five AM, load the bus up and be on the road. We can sleep the rest of the way."

"Oh, awesome! I kinda thought so but you never know with these venues." Bob nods then takes a bite of food.

The guys eat and chatter. The food is the right thing to hit the spot and soothe over the shitty interaction from the pushy and rude reporter. Frank sits next to Brock and relaxes back in the chair. He's proud that Brock actually ate a good amount of food. 

The guys talked about the festival going on outside of the venue with art shows and other different venues going on. Frank wants to ask Brock to come with him and wander through the festival. "How are you feeling?" He asks with a warm smile as he takes Brock's hand.

"I'm okay for now." He returns the smile.

"Did you want to go check out the things around here with the guys?" 

"Sure. We can take a look. Something casual before soundcheck is good. Plus, we can walk off breakfast. I feel like a meatball."

"Oh, that's cause you are a meatball." Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

"Your meatball though," Brock says low before turning his head and kissing Frankie.

"The only kinda meatball I can have." Frank grins at him before standing up, "Come on my favorite squish." 

"I'm not a squish. You are squishy," Brock protests badly as he stands up and follows Frankie.

"Yet." Frank turns to face him. He raises his eyebrow and fights the grin from his lips.

Pouting, he follows Frankie outside with the others and they begin to walk towards the festival. They cruise through the different galleries and street performers at a leisurely pace. For a moment Frank slips away from Brock but comes back quickly with a bottle of water for him and a flower. He kisses Brock on the cheek and strolls along. Once it gets closer to time for them to go back, Brock rounds his kids up and heads back to the venue. Since it's an early show and a short set, the soundcheck is easy with the tech and sound crew being on point and over quicker than expected. 

Time seems to speed up and the next thing Frank knows, the band is getting dressed for the show. They all agree that it was too hot for full show costumes and instead choose to be casual. Before they head to the stage Frank pulls Brock aside and kisses him. It's for luck and ‘cause he's greedy. Frank rushes to join the band and takes his place after strapping on his guitar. The venue is full of good energy. The show feels right and it is just the thing that Frank needs to feel right. After two encores the band walks backstage, tired and ready to shower and relax. 

The second the hotel door opens Frank is stripping off his sweaty clothing and heads right for the shower. He just wants cuddle time. He wants his husband to hug him close and give him attention. He won't say anything, Brock's gotta conserve his energy… his spoons. 

As he shampoos his hair he wonders if the cute girl from the gun range showed up. He should have gotten a beer with her. She seemed nice. She flirted with him. His mind wanders to a place it doesn't belong for just a little while. He turns the water off and steps out. He doesn't want to use all the hot water. He exits the bathroom and let's Ray in. Once he hears the bathroom door close he drops his towel and wanders the hotel room naked for a few moments.

"Do you think you want to eat dinner?" Frank asks. He's standing at the end of the bed staring at Brock who is staring at a laptop screen. 

Brock looks up and has to do a double-take. He was not expecting to see his husband naked in front of him. Especially not with his brother in the shower. He closes the laptop down without minimizing the Google webpage. He can do research later. Setting the laptop aside without breaking eye contact, he lets himself fully appreciate the view.

He loves Frankie's body. Lust may have been what brought them together- after all, lust is what causes attraction and gives you the courage to make a move. But lust eventually fades. With time and hard work, it's replaced by love. In the end, he's still madly in love with Frank. He's got a beautiful heart and soul and Brock will do anything, be anything, fight anything to keep that pure. 

He looks at Frankie's body with love and adoration. He's his husband to be. His soulmate. The missing piece of his heart. He loves him so much it's probably unhealthy if that's even a thing. The new tattoo on his hand with _his_ name gives him a thrill. He loves his tattoos. His favorite will always be Scorpio. The heart above his nipple was nice. The doves are pretty awesome, having been inked on Frank's pudge of a tummy. He loves that his twink has a little baby weight. Just perfect for pillows and for biting. His Twinkie has his hips that fit just right under him. Brock's fingers remember the sweep and curve of his thighs and ass leading up to the Magic Spot that made him flutter and squirm under him in such an intoxicating way. He remembers bending those thighs all the way up to his Twinkie's chest and fucking his tight and perfect ass. Those perfect lips open and more sinful thoughts enter his mind. He loves Frankie. He still has lust for him too.

"Sir?" He kneels on the bed and inches closer to him, "Were you lost in that pretty head of yours or just distracted?" 

"Distracted by how gorgeous you look. Very… edible," Brock growls out softly.

"Oh, edible?" Frank grins.

"Come closer and you'll find out," Brock growls again. He pushes the laptop away.

"I would hate to ruin your appetite before dinner…" he moves in closer with a bigger smile.

"You can be my dessert." Brock pulls Frankie all the way up his body, straddling his lap and into a hard kiss.

"'m ok with that," Frank says softly before kissing him again.

"You don't have much time," Brock whispers against his lips before glancing at the bathroom door. They can hear the sounds of the shower still. His hand wraps around Frankie's cock, stroking him firmly, and he sucks a hickey on his neck. "Think we can make it?" 

"I think we can..." He moans at the touch, he wasn't really thinking anything like this would happen but is absolutely fine with it. His fingers push through Brock's hair, "Are you sure?" 

"You're worth it." Brock attacks all of the spots in the curves of Frankie's neck that he knows drives his boy crazy. He pulls away to wet his hand before going back to marking his sexy twink up. His hand holds him firmly and keeps a steady pace. He's hoping to have time to even lick up Frankie's cum off his doves before Ray finishes his shower.

"I love you…" he whispers before moaning. His body flutters at the pace, "Oh fuck." 

"I love you. Gonna make you cum all over yourself. Then I'm gonna lick you clean," He growls against Frankie's skin before nipping his way down to his nipples and attacking them.

"Fuck baby..." Frank moans again but louder. His hand clasps over his mouth to keep himself quiet. His hips jerk up and meet Brock's stroke. The little thrill of being caught makes his heart beat harder in his chest as the tingly feeling settles into his thighs. 

Brock's hand moves faster, adding a corkscrew twist at the top. "Keep your voice down baby. Know you like the idea of getting caught. Yeah, you want someone to hear you. Want them to know you feel so good. Those moans are mine and mine alone right now. Fuck my fist baby."

Frank nods his head quickly and bites down on his lip to keep the moans in. Brock's words make his stomach clench. Frank leans in a little and kisses Brock a little deeper this time. He's trying to keep himself quiet but the sounds slip out with every other stroke. "Feels good. I… can't." He softly whines.

"Then don't. Come for me. Come on baby. Give it to me," Brock whispers softly. His hand moves faster and he tightens his grip.

Frank's body is buzzing alive. He wants to moan and praise Brock but the sounds turn into a soft whimper as he pumps his cock faster into his husband's hand. He's almost there. That tingle in his thighs has spread and turned into a buzzing. The idea of someone in the next room set him on fire. But the possessive tone to Brock's voice throws fuel on the fire. The hand that once covered his mouth falls to Brock's shoulder and grips on his skin. "Oh fuck!" He whines softly. His lungs tighten slightly and quickens his breath. His thighs clench as the buzzing breaks and send warmth throughout his body as he comes.

"Good boy, just breathe baby." Brock slows his stroking to a stop and just holds Frankie tight. His chest is covered in Frankie's cum but he doesn't care. He'll take the shirt off and throw it in the laundry. "Got you, _tesoro_. God, you are so beautiful." 

Meanwhile, Ray steps out of the shower humming to the song in his head. He is satisfied with the way the show went. Everything sounded good and he only flubbed a few times but they weren't noticeable to anyone but him. He fluffs his hair up and wraps a towel around his waist before exiting the bathroom.

"I love you. Thank you." Frank leans into Brock and kisses his neck, "You're too good to me." 

"I love you. I wanna take care of you. It's my purpose in life. You were perfect; are perfect." Brock strokes his back. The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him jump a little and hold Frankie tight. Once he realizes it's just Ray, he sits up and pulls off his stained shirt before balling it up in his hand.

"Oh god! Dude! Heads up next time." Ray says after stepping out to see a very naked Frank, "I don't care… just a warning." 

"Not what you think dude," Frank says softly into Brock's skin.

"Adjacent is still close enough," Brock says. "I'm sorry Ray."

"Nah you're good, man. Just didn't expect to see ass." He chuckles, "You need undies Frank?"

"He does. Mind throwing me one," Brock asks.

"No problem." Ray grins as he bends down and grabs a pair of blue ones from the top and tosses them to Brock, "What are we thinking for dinner?" 

"Haven't decided yet. Why don't you two think of something while I shower? Is there going to be any hot water left though?" He gives Frankie the underwear and waits for him to dress.

"Yeah, there's hot water." Ray chuckles, "Unlike your little bird, I usually take a cooler shower."

" _Passerotto mio_ does prefer hotter water." Brock grins at them both before nudging Frankie to get up and get dressed.

"I do like it hot." Frank sighs as he crawls off Brock's laps and steps into his undies. He glances at Ray but doesn't give a shit. His attention goes back to Brock, "We'll figure it out. Anything you don't want?" 

"Nothing heavy. Maybe something like a salad or small sandwich." He grabs the soiled shirt off the bed and throws it into the laundry.

"Ok. I think we can figure something out." Frank says as he pushes his damp hair back.

"I'll be quick." Brock kisses Frankie lightly before going into the bathroom and shutting the door.

"Baby, can I use your laptop to look? My phone's dead." 

"Okay!" Brock calls from the bathroom. He turns on the water and steps in.

Frank sits back on the bed and pulls his laptop into his lap. "Something light. What do you think?" He cracks open the lid and waves Ray over. 

"Let me put underwear on, you pushy little shit." Ray laughs. 

"Well, I am hungry." 

"Maybe if you didn't bounce around like a mad man, you wouldn't be hungry." Ray chuckles. 

"Bite me old man." Frank grins.

"Looks like he already did." 

"Oh..." Frank looks at the screen. He frowns a little. His eyes scan over the words on the screen. 

"What is it? Porn?" Ray jokes as he sits beside Frank, "Oh. It's not that bad. It's just coping with anxiety." 

"Why do I still feel like I am not helping him?" Frank whispers.

"Because he didn't get better immediately and we have been taught that everything should have a bandaid cure but in reality, it will take weeks or months. Maybe even years to get him close to better." Ray puts his arm around Frank, "Brock _is_ getting better, it's just slow and you see him every single day. You won't notice the change."

"Yeah. Ok." 

"Hmmm… maybe that is something we could go halfsies on for him." Ray points to the weighted blanket on the screen. 

"It could work. I should call Sam and see what he says." Frank glances over to Ray. 

"Good idea."

Frank nods as he opens another window and begins looking for a late-night sandwich shop open. "Do you think he'll eat a pita pit?" Frank looks up at him. 

"We'll ask." 

Brock finishes up and steps out of the shower, drying off quickly before running a comb through his top hair and wrapping a towel around his waist.

"No. It doesn't count. You can still be faithful and flirt." Frank says squinting at Ray.

"I think it's the intentions behind flirting," Ray says as he shakes his head.

"Ask Brock," Frank says as he scrunches his nose up and frowns.

"What's going on?" He asks, stepping out with the towel around his waist.

"Flirting. Serious flirting with number or numbers given… that is edging to cheating. Yes or no?" Ray says crossing his arms over his chest. 

"It's not unless you have actions to back it." Frank sighs as he scans over Brock's body.

Brock considers it. He's really not sure. Mostly because he doubts that he would be okay with watching Frankie flirt with another unless there was a reason involved. 

"I don't think it's cheating if it's flirting for a reason. Like harmless flirting to get a discount at a place or in my experience, flirting to get a target to do something I needed. Phone numbers are kind of okay because the other person could read into the flirting and you really can't control that but if you ask for their number or go beyond the intent, I feel like it is cheating on some level. I would never ask for anyone's phone number that I flirted with. So I kind of agree with Ray. It's a gateway into seriously fucking things up. Always starts out small. Like the boiled water effect."

"Oh."

"See, told you." Ray says, sounding like an indignant little brother, "It's even worse if you think about that person later!" He hits Frank in the shoulder. 

"It's not like I am saving her number and calling her up for late-night chats." Frank waves his hand in the air dismissing the conversation.

"Her?" Brock raises an eyebrow. 

"The girl from the gun range flirted with me. Gave me her number after I offered her tickets to the show." Frank shrugs it off. 

"Huh. Okay." Brock shrugs and moves to get dressed.

"So, pitas or sandwiches?" 

"Aren't they kind of the same?" Brock pulls out underwear and slides it on under the towel.

"Sorta." Ray smirks, "One’s the fillings are stuffed inside _, inside_ and well you know how sandwiches work." 

Frank shows him the options.

"Hmm. The Caprese sandwich sounds great. I love Caprese." 

"I'm starting to get the idea that a Caprese is always going to be a choice." Frank grins with a little wink.

"Yep. It's vegetarian though so I usually add chicken to it. Maybe extra mozzarella."

"Did you want me to do that now, babe?" Frank leans up and kisses his cheek.

"Sure, if you guys are going to order now." Brock slides into the bed next to him and Ray.

"Yeah. I think the others are just feeding themselves and crashing out early." Ray says with a small confident smile.

"It's good that they are enjoying their privacy. Sorry, you don't get to." Brock says, laying down on his side so he can be near them both.

"I honestly don’t mind. It's kinda nice. We have a little cuddle puddle going on. And I've been instructed by the wives club that I have to take care of you at all costs." Ray smirks as he pulls out a card and hands it to Frank casually.

"You like cuddling me?" Brock asks with a head tilt.

"Yeah. Am I not supposed to?" Ray chuckles as he takes the card back from Frank.

He shrugs and messes with the sheet a little. "Just thought you were doing it out of obligation or simply because I asked you. Not because you _like_ it. Or _wanted_ to. You generally only do cuddles if I ask."

"It’s kinda nice to not sleep alone. Plus I know it helps you feel better." Ray smiles, "You are not and have not been an obligation. So squish that silly little thought my man." 

"Plus, it makes me even more warm when you both are in bed." Frank passes the laptop back to Brock. 

Brock slides the laptop over. He's done with it for now. After a few moments he speaks again, quietly. "When we were out on missions, my and my team would find a place to bunk for the night. We always had to sleep up against a wall so that we knew our most vulnerable spots, our blind side, our backs, were safe. When I first got home after being discharged, it took me nearly a year of sleeping with the bed pressed up against one wall before I felt okay enough to move it in the center of the room. You are the wall."

"Oh. That's a compliment that you trust me enough to have your back to me." Ray stretches long on the bed. 

"I trust you with my life," Brock says with a little smile.

Ray follows the impulse and launches himself at Brock. He hugs him tight. "You're my brother. Of course I have your back. Though, I have Sunshine as a nickname… I gotta find one for you." Ray kisses his cheek and lets him go. 

Brock hugs Ray tightly and returns the kiss to his cheek. "You don't have to give me a nickname. And you guys kinda already do with my initial."

"Yeah true. It is kinda lazy but I'll figure it out." Ray shrugs a little, "I also would like to say that this brings me back to the days when we slept in the passenger vans and we had to cuddle close."

"Yes. Those days where you might get stepped on if someone has to pee." Frank sighs.

"That's what bottles are for. Just keep it next to the duffle or sleeping bag, whip it out and go, and return to sleep," Brock says, casually.

"Mike was a nervous bathroom guy." Ray chuckles, "He could go outside but never in a bottle."

"That's 'cause usually he’s-" Frank sensors himself for a moment. 

"What?" Brock asks, curiously.

"He was too fucked up to get it into a bottle." Frank replies, "It makes him sound so bad when I say that." 

Brock sits up straighter on his elbow. "Fucked up from _what_? 

"Beer usually," Ray says casually.

"He's not an alcoholic." Frank defends Mike a little. 

"But he has a bit of a drinking problem?" Brock asks. Addictions run in families. If Gerard had a problem with drugs, it would make sense his little brother would have a problem with an addictive substance.

"I guess, you can say that." Ray looks at Brock and nods, "You've not been around him lately, Frankie. It's gotten a little worse. It's nothing to be concerned with because you..." he looks at Brock, "Don't need the stress. I can help." 

"Okay. But please keep me informed?" Brock looks up at him with soft brown eyes filled with genuine concern. He likes Mike-n-Ike. He's promised to take care of his team; in all things.

"I will. He's been sober the last few days so I think it's a turning point." Ray says with a nod, "Don't worry too much, B."

Frank sits quietly. He feels like he's been a snitch all damn day. He traces the lines on the bedding. "I mean, we all have partied a little too hard and long before." 

"Can't say that I have but I'm not judging anyone," Brock comments. He shifts and crawls so that he's in between both Frankie and Ray, though he's mostly in Frankie's lap.

Frank runs fingers through Brock's hair, "I think you are the exception in our group. You have been drinking since you were a kid. Us stupid Americans have the joys of binge drinking."

"Hmmm. I do like a few stupid Americans," he grins up at Frankie and winks. 

"Yeah. You like one so much you're bringing one home." Ray teases. 

"Yeah…" Frank leans down and kisses Brock's lips.

"Guess you can come too, Frankie," Brock teases with the tip of his tongue sticking out. 

"Rotten." Frank pokes his side.

"I do think your family _will_ love me," Ray adds with a satisfied smile and chuckle.

"Yeah, okay..." Frank pretends to glare at them. 

Brock giggles a little. "Well they did adopt one tall Floof…." 

"That is true. Plus Jack does need another curly hair in the family to make him feel more welcomed." Ray grins. 

"Oh whatever… again, Raymond. If you wanna trade, I can take over that gorgeous little wife of yours and you can have him." Frank winks at Ray.

"Think again, Iero." Ray pushes him.

"What if Christa wants me?" Brock pipes up.

"Oh we have all agreed to share you equally. And Lindsey too." Frank replies casually as he twirls a lock of Brock's hair around his finger.

"I'd be a great gay boyfriend to the ladies. They'd love me."

"They love you. All the wives love you." Ray says chuckling, "Would that make you a great straight gay boyfriend? Or gay straight boyfriend?"

Brock's brows wrinkle and his nose scrunches up in confusion. What did straight have to do with it? "Huh?" 

"I'm straight. You’re my boyfriend." Ray says with a smile. He's confident that explanation should clear it up.

"Yes," Brock says slowly. "But how do you get a 'straight gay' boyfriend. Wouldn't I just be the gay boyfriend to Christa or Lindsey's straight girlfriend? Like you are _my_ straight boyfriend? Why would you need both adjectives?"

"I." Ray stops and blinks, "I didn't. Nevermind." He laughs at himself.

Brock cracks up and reaches over to pat Ray's knee. "I love you, brother, but you are a doof. Sorry for breaking your logic. Now, I know the ladies love me but that's totally different than you guys do. You actually _know_ me."

"It's why I fall in love with you every single day," Frank says massaging his scalp.

"That is true. They haven't gotten to take care of you." Ray pats his shoulder. A soft knock on the door makes Ray pop up, "Food. You love birds stay put… just don't get hot and heavy." 

"We aren't _that_ bad, Sunshine," Brock grins at him. He nearly whispers the name. It feels almost foreign on his tongue after forcing himself to not use it. It was hard to believe it has only been twenty-four hours. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Mmmhmmm. Sure, Brockabilly." Ray playfully winks and disappears for the door.

"I'm glad you are feeling a little better." Frank leans down and whispers in his ear.

"Feels weird now. Almost. He didn't even notice," Brock whispers back before pressing himself closer and hugging Frankie. "I don't know if I can go back to it. It's… different now. Tainted. _He_ took it from me and twisted it. But I miss my brother. And Jack actually. And you two are right about me fighting me. It's exhausting and I need to stop."

"You want my opinion?"

"Always, _tesoro_. And the Truth." Brock buries his face in Frankie's neck and inhales deeply. He loves the smell of his husband. His lips press gentle butterfly kisses to the skin.

"I think that lions don't care about the opinions of lambs, Brock. Where he is coming from is a place of jealousy." Frank says softly as he strokes the back of Brock's neck, "You're fighting a battle in your own head and you know your own weaknesses so it's an unfair fight." 

Brock can't think of anything to respond to the absolute beauty of Frank's answer. He hit the nail so perfectly on the head, it shattered. He exhales hard, feeling his heart swell. "I love you." 

"I love you more." Frank kisses him, "I swear on whatever deity is listening, he tries to break you again, I will put him in the hospital." 

Ray returns with bags and a grin, "So the delivery kid is a fan...you should put pants on and give the kid an autograph."

Frank looks up then back down at Brock, "I'll be right back. I'm expecting at least three kisses." He crawls off the bed and slips into sleep pants.

"From the delivery kid?" Brock tilts his head.

"No! From you, dork!" Frank laughs.

"For the food?" He's lost again.

"No. Because you love me and I'm your husband." He says shaking his head as he laughs.

"Oh ok. Just wondering why you said you were _expecting_ kisses. Didn't realize I had a quota to meet."

"Oh yeah. And the demand for kisses gets higher every day." He grins. 

"I'll work on that after you make the delivery guy's night. Go on. Shoo." Brock waves Frankie away. "Don't keep the fans waiting."

Frank steps around the corner as Ray sits on the bed. "Food. Eat." He hands Brock his sandwich and a water bottle. 

Sitting up and cross-legged, Brock opens his sandwich container. He keeps his voice low for Ray to hear. "You know, something occurred to me earlier. I've finally started letting you guys take care of me. Which, given my station back home, you'd think I would be used to."

"It's about damn time, B. You deserve to be taken care of. Especially by those of us who love you." Ray says leaning into Brock and bumping his shoulder.

"My father would thank you. He's been trying to get me to act more like my title for several years." Brock curls his lip a little and mimics his father's much heavier Italian accent. "You are a _prince_ , Enzo. You _should_ be letting the servants wait on you. It's their job. And yours is to rule them with honor and pride. Take care of your people. And they will take care of you."

"Well, aside from the term servant, he's not wrong. You should let us take care of you since you take care of us. It's only fair." Ray smiles, "Does he really talk like that?"

"Pretty much. You'll see one day. When I can finally take the new extended family home on a proper vacation. I'm excited about that. And we actually pay the servants so it's really not as bad as it sounds. Dad is just _old school_ sometimes. Guy's in his eighties; he's entitled to a little misbehavior."

"This vacation is happening before or after your wedding to Romeo?" Ray grins, "I mean he's allowed to speak how he wants he's also technically a king so yeah, he can call people whatever he wants."

"Probably before if I have my way. Keep your voice down though. I wanna see how long it takes for Frankie to catch on that I told you. Did you see his face last night?" Brock snickers quietly and takes a bite of his sandwich.

"He looked like his heart was about to drop out of his butt!" Ray giggles, "How long do you think it will take for him to catch on?" 

"Days. Maybe weeks if we play our cards right. What do you think?"

"Yeah, I think we can get another week. Did you have plans?" Ray grins before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Not really unless we watch another movie. We need to come up with something though."

"I mean… we can do that now," Ray smirks.

"Oh you devious man. Sure."

"What can I say, I enjoy seeing him squirm. It warms my heart." Ray says with a big smile, "What do you wanna watch?"

"Think it would be too coincidental if we throw on The Godfather? Or do you think you could have more fun with Aladdin, King and I, Prince and the Pauper or something?"

"Ohh the royalty aspect. I like your style!" Ray grins. Ray cruises through the television and finds Aladdin. He looks back at Brock, who nods.

"Thank you for being a fan." Frank says with a smile as he glances back, "I appreciate your kindness and the food!" 

Ray presses play and takes another bite of his food and waits for Frank to return, "I'm surprised he didn't wear a shirt." Ray comments, "You've boosted his confidence." 

"My life goal was and is to undo all of the damage that bitch Janet did to him. I like to think I've accomplished some of that."

"You really have. I know I am thankful for you. Frank deserves to be happy, he's even put a little weight on," Ray smiles.

"I love his tummy pudge. Perfect pillow. Though I think it's mostly from quitting smoking and not because of his eating more. Twinkie is still my cutie though."

"Which I am also glad he quit. Just gotta get Gee and Mike to quit." Ray says with a nod.

Frank leans against the wall and smiles at his love and one of his best friends smiling and talking quietly, "He was a nice kid." Frank scratches his head as he returns to the bed. He takes the closed container from the bed.

"Not as nice as you, baby. Come here and sit with me and watch our movie," Brock grins up at him. He scoots a little closer to Ray so their shoulders are touching. 

"You're sweet." Frank sits beside Brock. He leans up and kisses his cheek, "What are we watching?" 

"Our movie. See?" Brock uses his sandwich to nod towards the screen. 

"Oh. Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen? Or the Princess Diaries?"

"How did you know that was my childhood?" Brock giggles.

"Mmm… Jack told me." Frank says with food in his cheek. He curls his legs up and quietly eat his sandwich.

"There's no way that she could have snuck out like that." Ray comments.

"Yeah, Sultan didn't want her to leave the safety of the palace so you bet as a father he would have kept that tree from growing a freaking limb over the wall. And posted a guard on the roof. Also poor Raja's head. She's dainty but no tiger can let a woman stand on his head like that," Brock comments as he finishes off his sandwich.

"Yes but where there is a will, there's a way." Frank says softly.

"Where there's a will there's also five hundred relatives you've never heard of, too." Brock giggles at his dumb joke. 

"You're cute." Frank snickers.

"Wouldn't there be guards around the perimeter too? You worked security, I'm not crazy right?" Ray asks as he picks up Brock's container and trashes it with his.

"Oh totally. Perimeter of both the inside of the palace and outside. Pretty much anywhere in the immediate vicinity and extra security on the property line of the palace. From what I see, there should have been three to four times the amount of guards in the palace walls alone. She shouldn't have gotten out and that disguise shouldn't have worked. Guards are dumb as fuck though so whatever." 

Frank shakes his head quietly. He takes another bite of his food and places it in the container. He's eaten half and feels like he should be done. Frank wants to ask Brock if he ever snuck out as a young prince. But bites his tongue.

Ray stretches forward and rests his head on his arms. "The uncle has too much power," Ray comments. 

"Jafar isn't the uncle," Brock laughs. "He's the Sultan's vizier. Royal advisor. His _right hand_." 

"Ah," Ray says softly.

"Now, it might be different in the original fable but it's not in the movie and not even implied. Which is probably a good thing because Jafar tries to marry Jasmine for the throne and that would be rather gross if they were related." Brock moves and lays down on his side so he can see the movie and stretch out a little. His stomach hurts. "I'm a fat meatball who over ate. One of you cuddle me please."

"That's husband duty." Ray says quietly as he grins back at Brock and winks, "I am the nightly big spoon. He's the clingy koala." 

"You're facing the wrong way anyway. Brock doesn't want your stinky feet in his face." Frank says smacking Ray's calf.

"Just don't fart on me and we're cool." He frowns a little. He's fairly certain he's reading into something he shouldn't be but his brain wondering if he's been crossing boundaries again. _Husband duty_ and _nightly spoon_ rang loud in his head and he can't help but think that maybe he was pressing too much for Ray. He needed to back off. _Ray_ was just for nighttime spooning to keep him calm and safe. Nothing else.

Ray sits back on his butt and stretches his legs out before laying back in the bed. He taps Brock on the shoulder and motions for him to come closer, "Come here ya big meatball."

The touch snaps him out of his head with a little flinch and he blinks. He's not sure what just happened. When did Ray move? "What?" 

"Come here," Ray says with a smile.

His heart begins to race. He shakes his head. "I'm fine. Frankie can do it." 

"Brock Rumlow. Get your tanned muscled ass over here, please." Ray raises his voice slightly.

"Seriously, I'm fine. I've got my koala." He's rather proud that he kept the anxiety out of his voice that time. He adds a joke to smooth things over. "I still need a tiger though." 

Ray looks at Frank who's looking at him with wide eyes. He nods at the kid who let's go of Brock, just in time for Ray to put both hands into Brock's armpits and start to pull him closer.

Brock twists and kicks out, wrapping his legs around Ray's waist and twisting so that the taller man falls to the side on the mattress. He lets him go, sitting up instead. "What the hell Ray?!" 

"Jesus Christ." Ray says and looks at Brock, "Stop being so fucking stubborn." 

" _You're_ the bull," Brock says, crossing his arms. "You seriously thought you could win a wrestling match against me?" 

"Well, I _could_ but that wasn't my intention. I was just trying to get you to cuddle with me, ass." Ray smirks.

Frank quietly has moved from the bed to the couch. He didn't really want to be kicked. Or hit. Not from Brock or Ray. Both are bullheaded so it was going to be interesting.

"You couldn't win for shit against me in any sort of fight. Jack barely wins against me in a fight." Brock rolls his eyes.

"Yeah… I'm not Jack. And don't roll your eyes at me." Ray points a finger at him. 

"Or what?" Brock gives in and lays down next to him on his too full stomach. It kinda hurt to be reminded that Ray wasn't Jack. Still his little brother and yet it made him miss Jack more. He should call him tomorrow. 

"I don't want to abuse the elderly." 

"Okay," he sighs and returns to the movie. His eyes dart to the couch to spot Frankie. He can't lay like this. His stomach hurts too much for that. He winces and rolls over partially. "Baby come back please." 

Frank rejoins the bed. He lies facing him for a moment, his fingers run across his cheek. "You should take a few breaths, love." He kisses his nose and waits for a minute, "He just wanted you to cuddle." 

"I know," he replies in a soft exhale. "Gremlins again and I just- it's gonna stick and I know it. Just like Gerard's words and this is never going away." He closes his eyes and tries to keep some modicum of control.

"What's gonna stick baby?" Frank presses himself closer, "You know that those little monsters lie. It was just a joke, my love." 

"Logically I know that. My anxiety disagrees. My brain is so fucked up like a broken maze of mismatched puzzle pieces and apparently it likes to nitpick things and twist it and never let it go. I don't even know why. I just doubt _everything_." Brock closes his eyes again and sighs. "Sorry for being such a killjoy." 

"You're not a killjoy." Ray sighs.

Brock reaches a hand out towards Ray. "I'm sorry. For being a stubborn asshole and a fucked up, bipolar, paranoid, insecure, mess. I love you, brother."

"I love you too, brother. But I just need you to look at me for a moment," Ray says.

Certain that he's going to be berated for his insecurity, the irony of the thought not lost on him, he looks up to meet the dark brown eyes of his best friend and brother. He knows he fucked up listening to the whispers in his head. He tried not to but it was nearly impossible. He hasn't won a battle yet.

"I love you and you are my brother. The ugliness in your head isn't real. I am. We are." Ray says, touching his own chest and Frank's, "You need to believe me when I say that I will never _ever_ turn you away or make fun of you. I am, we are here to help you. Not those assholes in your head. You gotta believe me. You have to make that stone number one and build on it from there. Does that make sense?" 

Nodding, he has to turn away to keep composure. It was both helpful and somehow felt almost chastising in a way. Again he lost a battle with his head and the others paid the price. But his brother was right. He needed to trust them more than himself. They were his shelter in the storm. The rocks of truth. He takes a deep breath and nods again. "I'm sorry. I keep losing the fights instead of trusting you guys. I'll try harder. Thanks for being patient with me and forgiving."

"I'm not going to let that darkness win," Frank whispers before kissing Brock's chest.

"You are still working on it, no one expects you to be cured in one day. It's an everyday thing." Ray says firmly, "We got this."

Brock nods and offers his hand again to Ray, wanting to pull him closer into the proper cuddle mode so they can finish the movie. He needs to do less drama in his head.

Ray cuddles closer. "Are we comfy?" he asks them as Frank settles into his spot. He pulls Brock's hand up and kisses his hand.

"Yes. Though that was new, Sunshine. Love you though." He takes back his hand and cuddles Frankie closer. "Let's watch our movie, _tesoro_." 

"Yes please. No more gremlins." Frank whispers, "It's the part where I get to meet your family."

"You look terrible in a turban, love. Why didn't anyone realize Prince Ali Alibaba was a fake name?"

"Palace security needs to be fired." Ray says softly, "Shouldn't there have been preset plans for his arrival anyway. That is more of an invasion not a caravan."

"Agreed. They suck. There's a whole process to arranging a meeting between two royals. It's extensive and there's usually money involved. For them, Jasmine would have had an arranged marriage as soon as she was born or at least sixteen. More than likely Sultan would have found her a suitable husband that would secure more land and wealth. It's not uncommon in most royal families."

Frank hooks his foot around Brock's ankle and twists slightly. _Dude. Either you're trying to give him hint bombs or you're a history nerd…_

"That's totally an invasion. Though I think in Aladdin's case, he's just trying to show off his wealth in hopes he can _win_ Jasmine. I love her response. So badass."

"She's just a moody teenager." Frank teases, "Eyeroll and all."

"She's sixteen and a princess. She's got no idea of the real world. Remember how she gave the homeless kid the apple? Her earrings are worth a year of their wages and she didn't think to hand them over for the food. She didn't know what money was. She's spoiled but only out of ignorance. Sultan's fault."

"Okay. Fair enough." 

"Besides Frankie, she wants a man to win her mind and heart not just buy her fancy things," Ray adds.

"Exactly. She doesn't need a man to buy her stuff. She's got _her own money_." Brock smooches Frankie's shoulder. "And as a smoking hot and badass princess, she probably buys Aladdin all the things as part of being _royal_."

"Yeah, she seems like the giving type. The spoiling type. But Aladdin is a simple dude, he just loves her. Money's nice but that _ass_ is much nicer." Frank sighs pushing his butt into him a little. 

"I don't disagree. Oh, there's my favorite tiger. That's right Raja, you growl at him and protect your princess."

"You don't need a tiger." Frank yawns.

"I wouldn't let my daughter marry that kid. He looks like a chump." Ray grumbles.

Brock snorts. "Sultan's got no clue. He's a dense old dude. _You'd_ be a better father and actually pay attention to your kids instead of running the country all the time." 

"You know she's got handmaidens, nannies, and all kinds of help to raise her," Ray says quietly.

"Oh sure. Nannies as a child. Servants… oh sorry ‘Handmaidens’ take care of the rest. Best education her parents could afford and all she cares about is leaving the damn palace."

"Because she knows there is so much more than just palace life… adventure and danger. Love and heartbreak. All things being cooped up don't provide… duh!" Frank says whimsically.

"Sultan should have just sent her away at 9 and called it a day until he could produce a son," Ray says a little harsher than expected.

"I think Mrs. Sultan died by then and since this is a Disney film, they're not gonna show the harem. He doesn't even have one. It's totally a monogamous typical single-family home that kids in America would identify and understand with." Brock says, looking over his shoulder as the couple on the screen do the musical number "A Whole New World." 

"Bitches love flying carpets," Frank whispers.

"He's got a fast car and he just kidnapped her willingly. Sounds familiar," Brock laughs.

"Huh… weird. Don't _know_ what you could _ever_ be talking about..." Frank teases. 

"He's a good singer though. She's not too bad but again, Disney." Brock yawns.

"I think she did the voice for Ariel too." Frank comments with a sleepy voice, "That's one we can watch. You can relate." 

"It's the basic same principle of Aladdin. Princess with an overbearing and controlling father try to force their headstrong daughter into something they don't want and wind up falling in love with the very man the kings _don't want_ around their kid in the first place and in the end true love wins at a high cost to the father and the evil advisor is defeated and the princess marries the commoner and they live happily ever after." Brock takes a breath after that ramble.

"I was talking about Skuttle. You'd relate to Skuttle…" Frank giggles.

"Hey, I know what a dinglehopper is!" Brock laughs.

"You're both a bit tone-deaf..." Frank covers his mouth to keep from giggling again.

"Oh, you can't insult me there. I know I can't sing. I just don't _care_. But still." He smacks Frankie on the thigh. "Jerk."

"See. You're the same." Frank looks back at him with a silly sleepy grin. The quiet sound of snores fills the room from behind Brock, "Someone's tired." 

"It's my awesomeness body heat. We should go to bed. We have to be up in a few hours. Turn off the TV. Let's sleep baby love." Brock shifts and snuggles down before yawning himself. He pulls Frankie in extra tight and wraps his arms and legs around his husband.

Frank sleepily turns the television off and lets himself be consumed by the octopus pull that is Brock. He doesn't remember falling asleep but somehow it happens. 


	19. The Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray's birthday party has a hit and a miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are our own and this is a work of fiction. We hope you enjoy a little Ray of Sunshine. ^_^

The Birthday Party

He doesn't know when he fell asleep but he does know that getting up this early is garbage. Ray sits up and stretches his arms to the ceiling as he yawns.

"Brock. Frank. Wake up. We gotta move." Ray lightly shakes Brock. He can hear Frank groan slightly. Ray already knows Frank's gonna be cranky, "Brock. Come on, man wake up." 

Brock wakes with a harsh inhale and a tiny jolt. He groans before shifting and forcing himself to sit up. For a moment he forgot why he needed to be up before dawn before it registers that he needed to be on a bus for some reason. It is beyond way too early. The bed shifts next to him and with a yawn, he turns and leans over to kiss his love good morning but only finds air. 

Frank can't get away. It's coming for him and he can't stop it. He stops at the edge and waits for impact. He feels his body hit and rocks from the impact but the actions pushed him over the edge and into free fall. _Someone help him. Please_. A gentle voice pulls him from sleep, his eyes flutter open as he scans the room. He turns and lies on his back.

"Either this is a weird heaven and you're a pretty angel or we have to move." Frank croaks. 

"Can't it be both?" Brock yawns again. "You jumped?" 

"Got hit and fell." Frank kisses Brock before he yawns, "We both know you're the prettiest angel."

"What are you two weirdos talking about?" Ray asks as he zips his bag up.

"Frankie's nightly nightmare." Brock slides off the bed and gets dressed. His head and body feel heavy from not being asleep long enough. He packs quickly. The sooner they can get to the buses, the sooner they can go back to bed.

"I'm being chased. But usually, when this happens, Brock pulls me in tight and tells me to go back to sleep." Frank sighs as he slides off the bed. He's not putting real clothes on. Pajama pants and Brock’s shirt were the most efforts he was willing to put into anything. 

"Octopus mode is good for something. Come on, we need to wake the others. The sooner we move the sooner we can go back to sleep." Brock moves to help Frankie pack.

"Being chased has to do with your anxiety." Ray comments before banging on the adjoining door, "Bob get up. We gotta go." 

"Octopus mode is good for safety and sleep." Frank gives Brock a small smile, "Ray's mean in the morning. Let him be the bad guy. Also at least we just leave the keys in the room, no people interaction besides us."

"How can Sunshine be mean? Impossible."

"You have never been woken by him cause you fell back asleep…" Frank smirks, "Not that I have _ever_ gone back to sleep in protest."

"He's done it multiple times," Ray says grumbling as he pulls his bag up from the ground. "I'll go wake the kids." Ray nods to Brock. Then heads for the door.

The next several minutes are a blur for Brock as the band trudges their way out of the hotel and clamor into the bus. He makes his way to the bed that was calling his name, throwing the duffles onto the floor without a care. It takes him two seconds to strip down and crawl into the bed. He waits for Frankie.

Frank slowly walks to the back of the bus. It feels more like he is crawling through mud than actually walking. He gets to the door and pulls his clothes off and slips into bed with Brock. "I'm so tired." 

"Sleep," Brock mumbles, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head.

"I love you." Frank whispers, "I miss sleeping naked." 

"It is very freeing..." He smiles into Frankie's neck. 

"Mmmhmm." Frank murmurs as he drifts off.

Brock dozes for roughly twenty minutes before his eyes snap open with the mild sensation of being exposed. His heart pounds in his chest. A tingle of hypersensitive awareness and fear travels down his skin and the hair on his body raises in alarm. Every nerve was screaming at him _Not Safe_. His bladder demands attention and he carefully pulls away from his husband and checks over the room before rising from the bed. He has to check every shadow, every nook, and questionable space for unseen danger as he makes his way to the toilet. Shutting the door doesn't exactly help his anxiety but it does allow him to relieve himself without having to watch over his shoulder. He realizes that he's shaking when his knees feel like they are going to buckle from standing. When he's done, he flushes and washes his hands. He's pale in the mirror. He leaves the bathroom and heads to his room before stopping. He can't sleep. He's too anxiety-ridden to stay still. Shutting the door to keep Frankie from waking, Brock begins to pace the length of the bus as quietly as he can in hopes he can burn off the nervous energy.

Bob hears the sound of feet outside of his bunk. He lies there and listens as their pace increases. He pulls his curtain open and peers out. He can see the outline of Brock moving up towards the seating area. He crawls from his bunk and moves softly towards him, "You okay, Brock?" He makes sure his voice is loud enough to not spook him too much but not enough to wake the others.

"Can't sleep," Brock whispers. Or tries to. His voice is still shaky.

"What's going on? Anxious?" Bob asks sitting in the bench seat.

Brock nods. He continues to pace. His thoughts are wild with fear. The darkness is almost claustrophobic.

"How can I help?" Bob asks with a tilt of his head.

He doesn't know how to describe what he needs. He knows what he wants though. He wants the wall back. With a shaky voice and eyes that dart everywhere he says the only thing that remotely enters his mind. "Burrito." 

"You're hungry?" Bob cocks his head to the side and squints. There's something not connecting.

Brock shakes his head. He can't think right. Can't breathe right. Can't see right. The shadows move and make him nervous.

Bob rises to his feet and opens the fridge. He pulls a water bottle out and hands it to Brock, "Take a drink." He's hoping the distraction will help.

He takes the bottle of water and manages a small sip before he sets it down and shakes his head. He can't. He needs to be on guard. He returns to pacing. 

"How about we go back to your little room and sit down. I can take the first watch." Bob offers with a smile.

He nods and heads back to the room. Bob is a good wall. He's not as tall as his brother but he's a good solid mass. "You be big spoon. Wall." 

"Ok..." Bob says as he enters the room and blinks at Brock. He glances at Frank; he looks like a little puppy sleeping in the bed, "You want me in bed?" 

"Yes. Big spoon. Strip," Brock mutters.

"Strip?" Bob hesitates; he's in his sleep clothes, "Me in bed first?" 

Brock nods then shakes his head. He's too out of it to think rationally right now and he wonders why Bob isn't getting it. He slides in behind Frankie and hugs him tight before looking over to Bob expectantly. "Big spoon. No clothes." 

"Ok big guy," Bob says, slipping behind Brock. He gets comfortable and curls his arm around Brock. He takes a deep breath and pulls him closer to him. It feels strange to be in bed with his boss but it is nothing sexual. It's like helping his uncle when he has a PTSD break and just needs someone there. 

Frank wakes to the crescendo of snores from behind him. He slips out from behind Brock's arms and sits up. His head hurts and his arm is asleep. He glances back thinking how weird it is that Ray was snoring. He blinks and blinks again. The snores belong to Bob. _Why is Bob in our bed? What did I miss?_ He rises to his feet and pulls sleep pants on.

The movement in his arms wakes Brock up again with a little cry of alarm. For a moment he's panicking that he's not in a bed but someplace else before he realizes the mass behind him is too hot and Frankie is not in his arms. How did he not realize that Bob still had pants on? He's melting. He needs the skin contact. No pants or shirt was the rule. Where is Frankie?

"Lie back down. Not your turn. You need to sleep," Bob grumbles as he reaches out for Brock and pulls him back. The movement and noise pull him from deep sleep to conscious, "Come on big guy." 

Frank steps out of the bathroom and glances at the clock, it's 9:30. He can probably doze for a little bit in a bunk. If only Brock would get into one with him, they could sleep without pants and underwear. It would be great. The wheels begin to turn in his head. 

"Too hot. Where's Frankie," Brock whimpers and shifts. Where is Frankie? Where's his husband?! He finds that he doesn't have the skin contact he's used to and it's the source of the heat. His high heat plus fuzzy sleep pants did not make for restful sleep. He's so tired and fussy. "No pants. Too hot. Frankie!?" 

"Babe. I'm right here. I had to pee. What's wrong?" He steps into the room hearing all the fuss. He moves quietly next to the bed, "What's wrong, _polpetto?"_

"Need you. Burrito. Please. No pants. Too hot. Bad Bob." Brock gets out around his heart in his throat. He's sweating and he's not sure if it's from the heat or his frazzled, raw, exposed nerves.

"Do you wanna try sleeping in a bunk? It's quiet and dark."

"I didn't know what you wanted. You said burrito to start. Sorry." Bob groans as he flattens the pillow.

"Sorry," Brock whispers. "Burrito and wall are the same. And no pants."

Frank kneels between Brock's knees. "I don't suppose I can sleep facing you, please?" he asks as he leans up and kisses Brock.

"Okay? Here?" 

"Or on our sides. I just wanna put my head on your chest." Frank whispers before kissing him. 

"Okay. Squish me?"

"Yeah. I can do that baby." Frank leans up and kisses him.

Brock lays back on his back and tries to settle his frazzled nerves by taking some deep breaths. He looks to Bob and debates asking, no, telling him again to take off the pants. He wants the skin contact without the heat. He frowns and decides too hot and poor sleep is better than not having another body in the bed with them. Maybe they _should_ move to the bunk. Yeah, that's probably safer. Before the thought's even finished, he's already rolling out of the bed. "Bunk." 

"We can try a bunk." Frank uses the softest voice he can. He steps back and offers his hand to Brock. He was unsure if Brock would want to sleep in a bunk but it's worth a shot.

Nodding quickly, he takes Frankie's hand. He's so exhausted from the lack of quality sleep and his heightened nerves. He never thought he would regress to the days of needing smaller spaces to feel safe. He climbs into the first bunk he finds empty and presses himself against the wall. Almost immediately muscles he didn't even realize were tense begin to relax. He waits for Frankie.

Frank crawls into the cubby. "You ok so far?" 

Brock nods and pulls him close. It's almost claustrophobic in the small space but he doesn't dare let his brain latch onto that. He does not need some more anxiety added. 

"Safe place to relax for a little bit," Frank whispers. He cuddles closer to Brock and rests his head on Brock's chest, "It's gonna be okay. I promise, baby." 

He nods. "Need the wall. Burrito."

"I know baby." Frank strokes his chest.

Finally, he's able to slow his breathing and feel safe. After another twenty minutes, Brock _finally_ drifts off to sleep.

Frank waits for Brock to be sound asleep before letting himself relax again. He is willing to sleep hard as hell for as long as he can. His mind wanders for a while. Is this what it's going to be like? Is this his life? He'll do it and be the rock that Brock needs but it's a role that he isn't used to being in. He shouldn't have to be put in the role but he is. A twinge of guilt crawls across his back for being frustrated. For feeling helpless. He's gotta text Sam. About that and getting Brock that blanket. He exhales and focuses his attention on tightening each muscle in his body and releasing it before he falls asleep again.

Frank sleeps for what feels like hours until the cackle of someone on the bus startles him awake. He sits up and smacks his head on the overhead compartment. The movement causes Brock's arms to reach out, snake around him and pull him tight. His husband murmurs something new in Italian before shushing him. He wonders the time as Brock's hold warms him and makes him feel drowsy. He drifts in and out of sleep for what feels like hours until the grip from Brock relaxes and he groggily rolls out from the bunk. He's gotta pee and drink some water. He stretches and moves into the larger part of the bus. 

"Hey, sleepy head." Mike grins at him.

"Mmm," Frank grumbles as he moves into the bathroom.

"Brocktober still in bed?" Ray asks with a grin. 

"Yes," Frank grumbles. 

Ray slowly slips into the bunk with Brock. He carefully shakes him before speaking, "Brockosaurus Rex, time to wake up!" 

"No," Brock grumbles. 

"Oh yes! Wakey wakey grompy man!" Ray says playfully.

"No please," he pleads. He tries to move away. Even tries to pull the covers up. He's not ready to get up. He hurts. He's tired. 

Ray takes a pause. Brock's never pulled away from him like this. "Oh. Okay," his voice changing from playful to worried as he slides out of the bunk. He closes the curtains and returns to the group wondering if Brock is just tired or underwater?

Frank has made his way back to the end of the bus. He dresses in loose sweats and a hoodie before cleaning up the bed, folding it down and stashing their blankets. The room is now presentable for sitting and watching television or playing video games. After stretching he rejoins the group, all chatting as they drink coffee. He pours a cup of coffee and curls his feet under him as Gerard reads the review from the last show.

Ray leans into Frank's space and dips his head, "Everything ok with Brock?"

Frank nods. 

"You sure?"

"Tired. Depression. It's been a rough morning." Frank yawns. He's too tired to give details. 

"Should we let him sleep longer?" 

"We'll wake him in a bit. Make him eat and drink something." Frank says in a whisper.

"I'm just concerned."

"It's the new normal." Frank sighs.

"So, why was Bob in your room this morning?" Mike asks quietly with concern for certain people listening.

"I woke up cause I heard someone shuffling around. I thought it was you sleepwalking, Mike. But it was Brock, in like panic mode. He was upset. He didn't feel safe and I told him I'd take first watch which turned into me laying with them until Brock moved to a bunk." Bob says with a shrug, "I didn't mind. He reminded me of my uncle when he was going through some of his post-war stuff."

"I'm so sorry guys but it might be like this for a while," Frank says rubbing his face. This is the new normal he's been worried about. "What happened really broke him. So, I, we have to start all over again and get him back to functional." 

"Why didn't you guys say anything? I would have helped." Ray asks a little offended. 

"Didn't want to bother and I also didn’t want him to go full meltdown." Bob says with a shrug, "I didn't mind."

"I might see if he can sleep in the bunk for a couple of nights until we can get him some sturdier sea legs." Frank feels a bubble of emotions in his chest that he swallows down with his coffee, "I really appreciate you guys. If I can't get him back to an okay state, I'm gonna have to do something drastic and he's gonna hate me."

"You already know whatever you're thinking he will veto it." Ray points out before taking a drink of tea.

"Doesn't hurt to try." 

Gerard sits quietly and listens. This is the aftermath that he's caused. He's done this to them. He's gotta fix this. He doesn't know how but he's got to. 

"We should work on demo stuff while we are cooped. We haven't really done any work on it in a while." Ray says patting Frank on the knee, "So let's use the back room to record some stuff. Gee and I have worked in music and I know Frankie did too." 

Before the band begins recording, Frank digs through Brock's duffle and finds his quiet headphones and, with a little struggle, gets them on Brock. He didn't want them to bother his slumber.

The band spends the next three hours playing music quietly in the back. Bob’s practice kits sat in the corner while the three guitars were hooked into the monitor with Ray at the helm. The only real noise was Gerard who recorded vocals in the bathroom with cords stretching from the back to the bathroom. They work together and get two songs nailed down. The demos are good. They have a hook and a chorus. A little dark but the theme pitched from Gerard, it fit.

"You should feed your husband," Ray says casually as he presses buttons on the mixing board. 

Frank nods before getting up. He opens the curtains and leans into the bunk. He pulls the headphones off and kisses Brock's cheek. "Baby, wake up." He speaks softly. 

He stirs and sighs as he wakes, stretching long and wide. With a small groan, he opens one eye and reaches out for Frankie with a little smile. "Hi, baby." 

"Hi, my love. Good morning… well, afternoon." Frank leans in a little more. 

"Sorry I slept so late," he says, kissing him. 

"It's okay. You needed the sleep. How do you feel?" Frank kisses him again and strokes his cheek. 

"Much better than this morning's hell." He nuzzles Frankie's hand and kisses the flesh.

"Good. No, that's great!" Frank crawls in the bunk a little more, "Did you maybe wanna eat a little something?" 

"Yeah, sure." Brock hugs Frankie. "I'm hungry. What do we have?"

"I'm not sure but I think we are stopping for fuel soon. So we can see what the truckstop has." He replies as his head rests on Brock's chest.

"Truckstop? Gross. There's no real food at a truck stop." His fingers trail up and down Frankie's back, slipping under his shirt and caressing his skin. 

"I know. Sometimes they have good food… we can figure it out." Frank sighs and relaxes a little at Brock's touch, "I know we have like microwave things on the bus but I dunno if you're gonna want any of it." 

"We should go grocery shopping soon."

"Yes. We should. Fruits and veggies. Good things." Frank’s voice gets quiet as he leans up and kisses Brock's chin before grinning at his love, "We recorded music." 

"Really? Thank God I slept through _that_ ," he teases.

"...You're gonna hate it too. Wanna listen to it?" He pauses for a moment then grins wider at Brock, "You can thank your wonderful husband for putting your 'baby at a concert' headphones on your beautiful head."

"You did? Awww," Brock coos before pulling him up to kiss him deeply. "Thank you, _tesoro_." 

"You're welcome. I know you needed the sleep," Frank says, stroking his cheek, "How do you like sleeping in the bunk?" 

"It has its pros and cons. It's not as comfortable as the bed. And I like the privacy of the bedroom more. But this…" he hesitates. "Less open. And an _actual_ wall."

"Do you think you wanna try sleeping in here a couple of times?" 

"Short of having a third in the bed until I don't feel so exposed, this is the better option. Bob is not allowed back in our bed. He's terrible at being a bed mate. Wouldn't take off his pants. Made me too hot." Brock snorts. "Rude."

"Well, the snoring chorus from you two was awful so I am seconding that motion." Frank chuckles, "Not everyone sleeps as we do. Some people wear clothing to bed." 

"Yeah I kinda get that but like if he didn't want to, I'd rather him not get into the bed. I slept _worse_ but, then again, I did sleep. I dunno. I pretty much made up my shitty ass quality for quantity."

"Well, good. At least you aren't so crabby. You had Ray all worried." Frank kisses Brock again, "He was very proud of his new nickname." 

"Sunshine?" Brock asks with a head tilt. "That's not new" 

"No, he made one for you, silly burrito." Frank boops Brock’s nose.

"Oh. The Brocktober? That's not too bad. Kinda like it over Brocknroll and Brockabilly."

"No. I think it's even better." Frank leans back and shouts for Ray. 

Ray appears and leans in, "Yesum?" He says with a big smile.

"Tell him! The new name!" Frank says with an eager nod.

"Oh, you mean Brockosaurus Rex?" Ray says smoothly with a raised eyebrow, "I think it's pretty good." 

"It's not bad. Morning, Sunshine." Brock joyfully grins up at Ray. "See? Mine has a much better flow and ring to it." 

"Sunshine is fitting too." Frank comments.

"Yeah. It does have a good ring. I'll find one." Ray says as he reaches up and fluffs Brock's hair.

"That's because you are a Ray of Sunshine. You'll find something. Love you, brother. Sorry for being fussy earlier. I slept like shit."

"It's all good man. I just worry about you. But… you should get up and get dressed. Daniel says we are stopping in Albuquerque for gas and food in the next forty-five minutes." Ray pats his shoulder, "Also you should hear the work we just did. I think it's gonna be a winner." 

"But I hate your music," Brock deadpans.

"Yet you're marrying a guitar player and on the road as a tour manager… I'm thinkin' you might be our biggest fan." Ray tosses it back with a sly smile.

"I fell in love with the band. They are the reason I stay. Not the music. Found the love of my life. Found my brother. Made friends. I wouldn't change it for anything. But if you make me listen to that song, I'll consider jumping off the bus," Brock says sweetly with a smile. 

"You… jump. Off the bus?" Frank asks as he tries not to laugh.

"While moving."

"I think we can combine our weight and strength to hold him down." Frank looks at Ray. 

"You'd rather death roll from the bus than hear this song? That's hurtful Rumlow." Ray playfully pushes his shoulder.

"Is it something less emo? Classic rock maybe? That's not so bad. You like that. Country? I think Bob is into that crap. Opera? I'll listen to that anytime." 

"We have two. Mama and The five of us are dying. Take your pick." Ray grins. He's giving him nothing more than that.

"Who's dying?! Why do you need to be dying!" Brock exclaims. "You're freaking _Sunshine_! Sing a happy song that isn't about people dying. Emo freaks. God. Why do I love you guys? Why?" 

"I mean… Mama is an upbeat song." Ray glances at Frank then looking to Brock.

"Yeah! I think so too!" Frank nods.

"Does someone die? Or feel depressed? Or hates someone? Oh my god, do they hate their mother? That's so rude! Moms are like the best! They make the world go around." Brock is very adamant about this fact. Moms were the best. His was the most awesomeness but there was an infinitesimal amount of chance, he was biased. But he doubted it.

"No! It's a letter to our mothers." Ray says with a confident tone.

"That's cool. What's it about?" He's certain he's being tricked but he won't let them! 

"It's a letter to our mothers letting her know that everything is going to be fine and that we wish her well…" Frank's voice raises a little. He's not lying… 

"Before you die in some zombie emo apocalypse? Right?" Brock raises his eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Why does it have to always be doom and gloom? We are happy upbeat dudes. I think this song showcases that." Ray asks them nods.

"It doesn't _have_ to be. That's my point, brother. Sing a happy song." Brock grins at Frankie. "Why do you encourage their emo nature?" 

"Get your handsome bubble butt up," Frank says.

"I would but your Twinkie body is squishing me," he retorts quickly. 

"Oh yeah…" Frank slips out of the bed and steps away so Brock can emerge from the darkness. He glances at the back of the bus and can see Gerard and Mike hovering over the computer with headphones on. The grins on their faces confirmed that the song was good. 

Brock blows a raspberry at them both before sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge. He yawns and rubs his face before sighing. He's still a little sleepy. "Food?" 

"Yeah. What do you want? We have top ramen. Cup of soup. Lunchables. Candy. Or Mac and cheese cups?" Ray answers without looking, "Go get dressed and I'll make you a top ramen cup."

"All of it sounds like junk. I'll take the Mac. Better than ramen." He grimaces at the idea of ramen. He really needs to go shopping in the next city. He doesn't get up, choosing to just sit there instead. He's got a mildly annoying ache today and he was comfortable in his underwear.

"Or… you can get dressed and we can get food in 30 minutes…" Frank raises an eyebrow.

"You said we were only stopping for fuel. It's a truck stop. I'm not eating out of a vending machine, _amore mio_. Besides, I'm comfortable."

"But." Frank says stepping between Brock's knees, "You're the boss and you _could_ ask him to take us to a grocery store if say, someone found the address for one…"

Brock grins and lights up. He leans up and kisses him. "You're a genius."

"I have my moments." Frank rests his hands on Brock’s shoulders, "But, I'm not changing from what I'm wearing. If I have to spend 18 hours on a bus, I wanna be comfy."

"If you want to walk around looking like cute white trash, sure, my little Emo panda. Don't blame you though. I feel the same." He kisses him once more before standing and making his way to the bedroom to get dressed.

"White trash? Emo panda?!" Frank looks up at him. His eyes tracking his movement. Did his husband just insult him?

Brock giggles. "When you wear red, you can be a little Emo red panda!" 

"Hey B!" Mike says slipping off his headphones as Brock enters the room.

"Mike-n-Ike," Brock nods in greeting. "Bob. Gerard." 

"Did you want us to leave?" Bob asks as he moves his practice drum set.

"Nah. I'm supposed to get dressed. I've been informed that I can use my _boss_ card to get the driver to go to a grocery store. So I'm gonna try that. I'm not eating ramen or candy." He bends down and grabs his duffle, throwing it onto the bed.

"Candy can be a good meal," Mike says looking back to the computer screen.

"You're gonna pull your boss card huh?" Bob says shifting his seat and curls a leg under him.

Frank sits quietly upfront with Ray. "He seems better, " he says.

"Sleep is good for him. I just want to keep an eye on him." Ray nods.

"I know. I'm gonna text Sam." Frank pulls his phone out. He pulls the contact up.

_Frank: Hey Sam! Do you have a minute?_

_Sam: Hey! What's up, man?!_

_Frank: How are you doing? I was thinking about getting Brock a weighted blanket… thoughts?_

_Sam: I'm doing just fine! And a weighted blanket is a great idea. It's been known to help a lot of people with anxiety. How's he doing? How are you?_

Frank replies to Sam as Ray gets up and moves to the back of the bus. He pulls an address up for Brock. He smiles then returns to the computer. He and Mike converse about fixing the audio. Brock drags on cargo shorts and a tee before making his way up to the front of the bus to speak with the driver. It didn't take much convincing considering he was the boss, to get the driver to head towards the grocery store. While they drove, Brock sat in a booth and wrote down a list of foods he could make with their kitchenette and the groceries he would need to feed the six of them. By the time he is finished, they have arrived.

He discovers something quickly when they enter the grocery store. Wrangling five semi-adult men was no more than the equivalent of herding cats; you just didn't accomplish much and there was always one who wandered away and didn't want to stay put, _Frankie_. After about the third time, Brock just gives up and focuses on choosing decent tomatoes.

Frank finds himself wandering up the candy aisle with Mike who pulls several packages from the shelves. "Do you think we can get away with just having candy?" Mike asks with a grin. 

"Brock isn't going to let you..."

"You literally have tortilla and cheese. He's going to have a problem with that too, you know." Mike points out.

"Better than candy and two things of beer." Frank raises an eyebrow. He rounds the corner and sees Brock in the produce section. He turns the other way and heads towards the chips and other junk food. He picks up a package of cookies and a bag of chips too. He _should_ get healthy food. Maybe vegetarian burgers or something. 

Ray corrals Bob and Gerard away from all the junk they had collected. He leads them towards the front of the store where Brock was waiting impatiently. He could see that his brother was annoyed with the wayward children running amuck in the store. He sees Mike with a basket full of beer, candy, and a Lunchable. Okay, maybe a few bags of salad. Better than nothing he supposed. He firmly tells him to go to the front of the store now while he hunts down Iero.

He finds Frank wandering in the baking aisle. "Dude. We're leaving soon. Go find your husband. I'll be right there." Ray says firmly. He watches Frank roll his eyes and groan. Once he's rounded up the kids, Ray places his basket down and slips into the men's room. 

The moment the kids approach Brock, he swears his entire existence oozed irritation. Every one of them had baskets full of junk. He couldn't quite believe it considering these are the same people who specifically asked for better food. Then they had the audacity to run around like the kids he calls them, only to pick up candy, cookies, and chips. He opens his mouth to say something. Then he remembers these are not actual kids and they are old enough to make their own decisions. Anger streams through him. He made the grocery store run _for them_. He's planning on cooking _for them_. He makes sure they eat at decent restaurants instead of fast food _for them_. He grits his teeth and sets his jaw. He turns to get in line when he spots the beer in Mike's basket.

"No alcohol on the bus. The rest of you, lose half of the junk you picked. Put it back," he barks at them.

"What? Why?" Mike looks up at him with a frown.

"I got vegetarian snacks…" Frank blinks at him. 

"Because I said so, Michael. Don't argue with me."

Gerard diplomatically stares at his basket and decides what he can live without. He ditches a few items.

"But the salad balances out the beer..." Mike offers with a nod and a smile.

"No, it doesn't. Put it back. No alcohol." It's the one thing he won't be moved on. Someone needs to protect these kids from themselves. He just needs to remember he actually can't parent them. They are his friends; who just so happen to be making poor choices. Under the anger, he's disappointed.

"Fiinnee." Mike groans, setting his basket down and ditching the beer.

Frank is confident in his choices. A few junk items but nothing bad. Pita chips, hummus. Chocolate for his grumpy faced husband. He places the basket on the belt and waits quietly in line with Bob joining him.

Brock turns his back to the group, standing in line and staring straight ahead. He knows nobody put anything back. Minus the beer. That had better not make its way to the bus. He swears to God, if he finds alcohol, he's going to dump it. The lady in front of him turns and snaps him out of his inner musings.

"They're a handful, huh?" She smiles at him. She appears to be in her forties, though physically fit in her workout pants and tank. He could see her as a soccer mom. 

He smiles at her though it's polite. "Far too much."

"I have three boys myself. All in high school. They always try to get one over you," she laughs and unloads her basket. "They all yours?" 

"Sadly. I mean, yes." It's then he realizes what she means and his eyes widen. They're his kids but not _his kids_. "But not like-" 

Bob throws his arms around Brock. He's happy he shaved this morning because he looks much younger, "Dad can we please get ice cream?!" he says with a whiny voice.

Frank smirks, "Yeah dad, can we?" 

"Oh dad, come on, I promise I put stuff back… can I please just get these things?" Mike joins in with a cart _half_ fullof candy.

Trust these punks to take a simple misunderstanding and find ways to embarrass him. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. Maybe he's dreaming and he's really back in bed. He mutters, "I hate you all." 

"No, you don't..." Frank replies with a little smile.

"Dad, do you think we could stop at the comic book store before we go home?" Gerard asks with an evil grin.

The line moves and the lady finishes unloading her basket before making her way to the pin pad to pay. As she waits for the cashier to finish, she turns back to look at them. "You boys behave for your dad. He's working hard to take care of you." 

Stepping forward, he begins to unload his basket. He agrees with her. And if you can't beat them, join them. It's not like he'll ever see her again. "Right! Thank you, ma'am." 

Mike and Frank hug his middle tight as Bob speaks up, "He does take care of us." 

"He's the best dad," Mike says playfully as he looks up at Brock.

"Ever since mom died..." Frank says trailing off with a devilish look in his eyes.

He is absolutely mortified and he's positive it shows. He tries to recover but he just can't. Brock attempts a glare at the two idiots at his waist but even he knows it falls short. Instead, he tries to just focus on putting up groceries. God, he hates them all.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss," the lady says softly. As she takes her receipt though, her eyes roam over his body and he feels his face flush. He hates being checked out so blatantly and especially by women. Thankfully she leaves and he can go up to pay. 

Frank snickers as he lets one arm drop from Brock's waist. "You look nice in red." 

With a small glare, he pushes away from Frankie and Mike and moves to the pin pad. He waits until all the guys have placed their junk food hoard onto the belt. He doesn't even care anymore.

The cashier, another female, who clearly heard everything, turns to him with empathetic eyes and a soft expression. "I'm sorry about your wife. Was her passing recent?" 

This horror will never end, will it? He gives her a grim smile and pulls out cash to pay. "Just found out. Keep the chance." He grabs the bags and just leaves. The _kids_ can grab their own shit. He's going to the bus.

"B!" Mike calls after him.

"Dad's mad," Frank says with a small smile. He quickly pays for the food with the cashier glaring at him. He hurries to the bus to find Brock. The others join him shortly after. 

"Don't be mad," Frank says leaning up against the wall next to Brock.

"You mean about the food or that whole fiasco?" Brock grumbles as he carefully stores his produce in the refrigerator. He puts the meats he picked up in the freezer part.

"Both." 

"Oh, I'm not mad. Just very disappointed in your choices in food. I'll get over that lady." He shakes his head and puts away some of his pantry items before leaving out bread, sliced cheese, deli meat, and veggies. 

“It’s not like we were _trying_ to be shits… it just happens naturally.” Frank shrugs, “But I appreciate you for being responsible.”

"I just need to remember that you guys are grown-ass men who are capable of making your own choices. Simple as that. It's not like I wasn't _asked_ to bring healthier food on the bus. I can't control what you do. Except for the alcohol. You can be damned sure I'm not letting any of that shit on the bus." He continues to make himself a sandwich and makes it a point to not look at any of the other guys. 

"You do make a pretty hot dad..." Frank struggles to keep the snicker in.

"You know it was kinda funny, B.," Bob says with a happy tone of voice.

"I disagree but I wasn't bothered by it until she _looked_ at me… " he shudders. 

"Oh you mean the blatant bedroom eyes she gave you?" Mike giggles. 

"You are gorgeous, of course she's gonna get all-" Frank flutters his eyes at Brock.

"Alright, Bambi. I get your point. I still hate it when they do that. But it was rather creepy she did it _after_ you guys told her your Mom died. I dunno which is worse." He finishes making him a sandwich. He goes to take a bite but stops when his cell rings. It's Sunshine's ringtone. He frowns as he answers it.

"Sooo where are you?" 

"On the bus. Same as you, dork. Are you out of toilet paper again?" He grins into the phone and leans over to look down the hall to the bathroom where he's sure Ray is. He hollers, "Check to your left." 

"Well, good to know but, uh, I'm still at the store." Ray sighs, "You all left me. Again."

"What?!" Brock screeches into the phone. He marches to the front of the bus, "Turn around! We need to go back! We've left a man behind!"

"I'll be waiting outside." He sighs.

"I'm so sorry, brother. I thought you were already on the bus."

"Nope. I went to the bathroom, came out, paid, and no bus..." Ray replies. 

"You know I wouldn't leave you behind on purpose so don't take this wrong; but why didn't you just bullshit on the bus?" Brock sighs with a little laugh. He can't believe he didn't think to double-check where all his kids were. Especially since he knew early on that Ray has been left behind before. At least this was a grocery store and not a truck stop.

"Sometimes it's nice to shit in privacy." Ray replies, " At least it's not wintertime right now." 

That's enough that he can't help but crack up laughing. He shakes his head, still giggling, "I love you. And I think I'm going to put a locator on you so this doesn't happen again. Or a bell on your foot. Next time, _tell_ _someone_."

"Like a cat." Frank giggles. 

"Well, I didn't figure you guys would book it so quickly," Ray says. He hopes Brock can tell he isn't mad, "Love you too, brother." 

"Well, we do have a schedule to keep," Brock snickers. "Oh goodness, Christa would have killed me if you got lost. Hell, I'm fairly certain my mother would have killed me on _behalf_ of Christa if you got lost. Just tell me next time. Please."

"Ok. I will. Sorry to freak you out. But I see the bus, so it's all good." Ray steps forward with his paper bag. "How much crap did they all get?" 

"Everything they wanted. Not their dad." 

"Yes, you are!" Bob calls from the back of the bus.

Brock hangs up the moment Ray steps onto the bus. "Welcome back. Not your dad Robert!" 

"Would that make me the mother? Or is that Frankie?" Ray pats Brock on the shoulder before putting his arm around him.

"I feel like since we are the oldest, you and I are the parentals. Frankie's not responsible enough to be the wife just yet," he snickers as he hugs Ray back. 

"I can be the stepmom…" Frank says as he takes a seat and crosses his legs.

"I think you both know that I'm the wife, with my emotional mood swings and love of chocolate and wine." Brock laughs. He rises and grabs his sandwich, taking a bite. "Made a sammich. Want one?" He asks the group around a mouthful.

"I got deli food." Ray grins as he unloads it from the bag.

"Oh ok, that was a good idea!!!" Mike says peering over his shoulder.

"You put the beer back, right?" Ray asks with a strong tone. 

"Brock made me."

"Good. You don't need it." Ray frowns at him.

"If you are hungry, Michael, you can eat your Lunchable that you picked up. Which is probably the only thing with some protein in it," Brock snarks with a grin.

Mik blinks at him, "Wow, we really did disappoint dad." He looks back at Frank then Bob. 

"Oh, he'll lighten up. Right babe." Frankie says smiling over at him as he looks up from his phone.

"Don't think that just because you are dating the boss means that you get a free pass, Frank. You had _tortillas_ and _cheese_ as your main meal source. Vegetarian snacks are still junk food." He takes a bite of his sandwich. 

"I…uh." Frank stares at him. His brain blanks on a retort, "I got veggie burgers." 

"And an ass load of candy," Ray comments, raising his eyebrow.

"I'm happy you got veggie burgers, babe. You didn't need the candy. Between the whole group, there's enough candy to rival a kid at Halloween. Your birthday isn't _that_ close. You may have a sandwich or make you a burger. If you are going to do a quesadilla, you need to add protein that isn't cheese and at least one veggie." Brock moves back to sitting next to Ray. The parentals needed a united front.

"They are sucking the youth from us," Ray comments as he watches Frank go back to his phone.

"That's what having kids will do to you. What were we thinking?" Brock smirks. He thinks he can get behind this joke. Next time they won't embarrass him in public.

"Told you pull out and pray doesn't work." Frank snarks from his seat.

"We should ground him for all that sarcasm," Ray comments before taking a bite of salad. He offers some to Brock.

"We should. Because _clearly_ spanking doesn't work." He leans over and takes the bite. "Mmm. This is good. Maybe I should have done that instead." He offers his sandwich. 

"Yeah, he enjoys the spanking far too much. Though it is always fun to embarrass him in public." Ray offers the idea with a glimmer in his eyes, "Why are they being bad? What did they do besides buying the opposite of the trip’s main objective?"

"Some lady ahead of me in the line was being nice and chatty like most women are. Total soccer mom." 

"Like the hot kind." Frank comments.

Brock gives Frankie a weirded out look. "She assumed the kids were _actually_ my kids. The boys jumped at the chance to play up her assumption. Then she gave me a look."

"What she was hot in a 'teacher needs to see you after school' kinda way." Frank shrugs, "She could use a ruler on me to make me behave."

"A look?" Ray questions with a tilt if his head.

"Mike says it was bedroom eyes. Which is," he shudders. "I'm gonna focus on the fact that she wanted to climb me _after_ my wife suddenly died."

"Mmm. The competition was gone. That's why." Ray nods with a smile, "Aw you got hit on by a soccer mom, cute!" 

"She could join our little family…" Frank murmurs to himself.

"She said she had three boys herself in high school. Seriously, nobody's bothered by the fact she wasn't interested until after she found out I was a 'widower'?" Brock shakes his head. Some people are weird.

"Could be a widower fetish," Bob says with a look at Frank and a smile.

"Oh that's fucked up," Brock says around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Could be worse." Ray nods.

"Why didn't she wonder why one of your kids is covered in tattoos?" Bob asks as he sits next to Frank.

"Too busy wanting to ride the Brockosaurus." Frank giggles.

"Did we add how cherry red he turned?" Gerard says emerging from the bathroom.

"He was so embarrassed," Mike says trying to keep the joy from his voice.

"I hate you all," Brock groans.

"It's too bad Ray wasn't there. It coulda been our two gay dads." Frank jokes.

"Daddy Brock said no, can I please poppa Ray!" Mike says sitting across from Frank and Bob.

Brock chokes hard on his food, turning a dark red as he gags and tries to breathe. He gives a little cough and it's not enough.

Ray pats his back hard to help. "Please don't die on us." 

"Anyone know the Heimlich?" Frank says looking up from his phone.

"I'm EMT certified," Bob says, watching closely.

Brock gets up and goes to the sink, giving another little cough. His head feels like an inflated hot air balloon and he struggles for air. He's actually choking. The thought panics him. He tries to swallow the piece that's lodged in his throat and somehow that makes it worse. He looks to Bob for help; fear and panic in his eyes. He can't breathe!

Bob is up in a flash with his arms around Brock. He gives him a firm squeeze. Then another jamming his fist in harder. "Come on. Spit it out, damn it." He continues to work to clear Brock's airway.

Frank is up on his feet. Panic consuming him as he backs towards the bus driver. He's going to tell the driver to stop. He's getting 911 ready.

With a heavy and large cough, Brock finally spits up the huge chunk of bread into his hand. He takes a huge shuttering gasp of air and shakes as little as he comes down from the adrenaline dump.

"Sit. Take a few deep breaths, and try to relax. I'll grab your water." 

Frank touches his arm and pulls him back to the bench seat. His hand immediately goes to Brock's back and rubs the skin as an act of comfort.

"Well… it seems my deep throating skills did _not_ help me here," Brock says weakly and a little hoarse. He leans into Frankie and practices breathing.

"Wrong hole." Bob offers with a soft voice as he hands Brock his water. 

"That's what she said," he replies, before taking a drink.

"There's the jokes." Ray snorts as his face softens.

"You aren't allowed to talk with food in your mouth, Madame DuPompadour or whatever her name was would have beat you." Frank chastises him before kissing the side of his head.

"I didn't talk. I make the mistake of laughing at the same time I inhaled. I think. I don't know what happened. Also, I might be hysterical from shock. Thought I was actually going to die."

"Not on my watch, bub." Bob says as he opens his bag of beef jerky.

"Madame who?" Mike asks with a wrinkled forehead.

"He means Madame Moretti," Brock whispers. He's much more conscious now about speaking before taking a drink of his water.

"Who?" Bob asks.

"My etiquette teacher in grade school." 

"Man. I barely learned how to read a clock in grade school." Bob chuckles, "Oh, and cursive writing."

"Yeah. He got a _good_ education." Ray gives him a look.

"I got a degree in the gutter." Frank snorts, "And my heart broken in the ivy leagues." 

"That's because you aspired higher than the ivy leagues, street rat," Brock looks up at Frankie and winks.

"That is true. I just wanna rule the world." Frank says before kissing his cheek, "You okay now, my love?" 

"You're really only supposed to choke on my cock." Frank leans in and whispers in his ear.

Brock turns several shades of bright red at the words and it takes him a moment to reply with a whisper, "Wanna find out if my throat can take you, later?" 

"Oh. You know I do." Frank pops back with a wide smile before kissing Brock's cheek. 

He sits up and is thankful that he was already red-faced before Frankie's comment. Hopefully, nobody else heard them. Though with the bus being such tight quarters, Brock knew he was practically fooling himself. He turns to Ray, "My sandwich tried to kill me. Want the rest of it? I'll trade you?"

"Sure. I know how to chew my food." Ray teases.

"Shutup, jerk. But if you don't want it, I'll give it to someone else or I can toss it." Brock offers his barely eaten sandwich. Which sucked because he only had three bites out of it but now his throat feels swollen so it probably wasn't a good idea to continue eating it.

"Oh, I'll trade you." Ray slides his salad across the table, "I just know not to chew and laugh… that's all." 

Brock wants to make some comeback but honestly, he's grateful the topic of discussion has shifted from the reason he choked in the first place to this. He makes it a point to stab at the salad and take a dainty bite. Just because. "Anyway. Moving on..." 

"Remember to chew the lettuce." 

"Oh fuck you, Toro."

"Don't swing that way but thanks." Ray grins.

"Did you see the itinerary for LA?" Gerard asks.

Brock glares at Ray and refrains from saying anything to him. No, instead he's plotting. Jack and he used to play all sorts of pranks on others and themselves. He turns to Gerard instead, "At some point, yeah but for the life of me, I've got no clue right now. Probably the standard plus meet and greets and photos. Might be a radio spot. Dunno."

"Yes, but we are shooting a music video too!" He grins wide at Brock and the others. He knows they haven't read their emails in a week.

"Oh? More emo goth vampire stuff?" Brock eats the salad. It was pretty good. Sunshine has good taste.

"Well, I was thinking of doing like a USO show," Gerard says with a little smile.

This has Brock sitting up in interest. It was right up his alley. "No kidding?" 

"Yes for the song Ghost of You. I think it would be really fitting and it kind of fun" Gerard leans against the counter and takes a drink of his soda," Maybe you can help us with the technical things since you have a little experience."

"Yeah, totally. So it's a song about war?" Brock liked the idea of a song that was the right kind of emo.

"No. But it is about dealing with the loss of a loved one." Gerard says, "You really have not listened to any of our songs, have you?" 

"But I hate your music," he deadpans. This seemed familiar...

"Listen to the song. You might like it. Your husband helped write it." Gerard laughs.

"That doesn't mean much, but I suppose I'll have to if I'm to help."

"That _doesn't_ mean much?!" Frank growls. He frowns and leans back then sighs.

"Man, that was pretty ruthless." Mike snorts. 

"Maybe we could do like a World War 2 USO show or something." Ray says with a tilt of his head, "Do you have any ideas, B?" 

Brock thinks for several moments. He knew nothing about USO shows only that they were designed to boost soldier morale and there was something about Bob Hope. "We should look up online some old footage of the USO tours and see if we could recreate some of those experiences. What would be even better, would be to see about getting the rights to be able to show actual footage. Then we can blend past and present-day into the video."

"Gee, write that down. That's pretty fucking good!" Ray says looking back to Gerard, "Also kinda cool, you get to see how music videos are made." 

"Also means we get to stay in really nice Brock quality hotels," Frank says biting the tip of his tongue.

"I knew you were only using me for my money," Brock teases lightly.

"I'm only after your body." Frank winks at Brock.

Brock grins back. "Maybe I could earn me a cameo?"

"I think that could be done," Frank smirks.

"I do still have my old uniform. Though, I don't think it would work very well." He'll have to look into that. 

"You really hate our music?" Mike asks, sounding a little sad.

"Sorry, Mike-n-Ike. Not a fan of most music. Your genre is on that list."

"Oh. Ok." Mike gives him a small frown.

"I'm working on it, Mikey. He's going to be our biggest fan." Frank says as he rises to his feet. He ruffles Brock's hair, "He'll be singing along in no time." 

Frank opens the fridge and pulls water out. He leans against the counter as the bus sways. "I hate that." 

"You ever been on a boat?" Brock asks him.

"No. Why?"

"Now I'm wondering if you'll be seasick when we go on the yacht. The swaying can be much worse than this, _tesoro_."

"I'll be fine… a little sway can't be that bad." Frank chuckles nervously.

Brock hums in mild disbelief. He's not sure Frankie will be okay with being on the water but that was another problem for another time. He returns to the rest of the salad. When he's finished, he throws away the trash before sitting back down with a sigh. He should do boss things. 

Frank kisses his cheek and moves to the back of the bus with Bob. 

"I wanna hear it out of headphones," Bob whispers to Frank. 

"He's gonna bitch." Frank snickers.

"That's the point..." Bob clicks a few buttons on the computer and turns the music up. Loud.

Brock winces at the sudden blare of Gerard screaming and covers his ears. Motherfuckers. Fine, if they wanted to play that game, so be it. He gets up and crawls into his bunk, sliding on his headphones. He sighs in relief. Pulling out his phone, he sends a text to Frankie.

_Brock: I win. When everyone has a headache but myself, I'll be sure to play some opera. Have fun :)_

Text sent, he settles down to outwait the boys. When after a few minutes nothing happens, he assumes that the boys are actually working on their music and decides to check in with Jack. He misses his brother so much. Jack doesn't respond right away so he texts Sam as well. Soon after, he's happily texting both of them and content in the bunk. 

Frank reads his phone and shakes his head. He taps Bob's shoulder and does the cut it motion. The others enter the back room and sit down.

"Okay, Raymond. We're doing something for your birthday." Frank says as Ray sits down. 

"Okay…"

"After curfew," Gerard says as he tucks his feet up under him 

"Oh yeah?" Ray smirks.

"Yes," Bob smiles. 

"But there's…" Ray points out but Mike cuts him off. 

"We want to go out. Go to a show and get shitty." Mike says, raising his eyebrows.

"Brock will not be cool with this." 

"He'll be asleep." Frank grins. 

"Shouldn't we just–" Ray starts again.

"No," Gerard says with a shake of his head.

"I don't like this. I don't want to be deceptive." Ray rubs his neck.

"Think of it like a covert op." Bob offers.

"What go out and get drunk then try not to get caught?" Ray snorts.

"Yes!"

"Guys." 

"It’s a bar and a rock show or strip club," Gerard says.

"Let's invite him. I promise I will get him to go and actually loosen up." Ray offers.

"When he says no then we do it our way," Bob says nodding. 

The group quietly pulls out instruments and begins working on another demo song. They individually tire and move on to other things. Ray calls the wife. Mike hides in his bunk and Bob plays sound engineer. Frank finds himself curling into the bunk with Brock as he works and naps next to him, curled tightly to his side. Eventually, Brock joins him in slumber.

As the bus rolls down the highway, the muted tans and browns with the blue sky give way to cooler blues and purples of the evening hours as the bus coasts back into the concrete and glass jungle of Salt Lake City. The morning is filled with interviews, press, and a chaotic meet and greet. Brock keeps the boys moving along until he ushers them on stage for soundcheck.

Once the boys are doing their thing, Brock steps away to the green room and sits on the couch. He creates a new text message thread with him and the ladies. He's got planning to do and not a moment to lose.

_Brock: Hello ladies._

_Lindsey: Well hello good lookin'! How's it going?!_

_Christa: Hey B_! 

_Brock: Does the Wives club have the numbers ladies for Mikey and Bob? I'm planning something._

_Christa: I'm with Mike's girl RN. I'll add her to the group._

_Lindsey: Bob has a girl?_

_Brock: I assumed. It's fine if not but I'd hate to accidentally exclude someone._

_Kristen: Hey there…_

_Christa: Linds, where have you been? He's dating a nice woman named Rose. I don't have her information though…_

_Brock: Damn. If you know her last name, I might be able to get a hold of her. I want this to be a surprise to all of the boys._

_Christa: Gimme a few minutes and I can get you her information. I know Ray has a book of contacts for the boys._

_Brock: Since I've only got a limited amount of time, love, send it to me later. Boys are doing SC and I need to start heavy planning: I'm wanting to fly all of you in for Sunshine's birthday. We'll be in Denver and I want to do a nice party of sorts. If I can swing it, Christa baby, you'll have a few nights with him all to yourself. Hopefully in a cabin._

_Christa: Brock._

_Brock: I love you too_

_Christa: A cabin? You don't have to!_

_Lindsey:_ 😍😍 _how can we help, Brock?_

_Kristen: and the boys are to remain clueless, yes_

_Brock: Yes. Don't tell them, clear your schedules, and pack at least three days’ worth of clothing. How's my nephew?_

_Christa: making me nauseous at the smell of food. But good. Has he told the others yet?_

_Brock: No. There's been a lot going on. I don't know if he's told you…_

_Lindsey: What is going on?_

_Christa: he glossed over it and dropped it when I asked him questions. I think he doesn't want us to worry_

_Brock: Let's just say that I've been getting worse. And it's because of him I'm still functional. My point is, that he never got the chance to make the announcement. I can ask my mom if she has anything that might help you on the plane for your morning sickness_

_Christa: the plane? What airline are we flying?_

_Lindsey: we can make the announcement when we are all together._

_Kristen: what are we thinking of doing for Ray's bday?_

_Brock: Private plane, love. No need for ticket costs. Free._

_Brock: Honestly, I hadn't thought anything beyond the surprise party at a nice restaurant or something. We are limited on what we can do just because we are still on tour._

_Christa: hmmm. Dinner could be fun! I know that Ray will be so surprised._

_Brock: Dinner's great if you don't spend the whole time in the bathroom, love._ 🤣 _Sorry not sorry._

_Christa: I can take something. Or wear a nose plug_ 😆

_Kristen: Denver has cool things, I'm sure that we can figure it out._

_Brock: Good idea. What about gifts? Cake? Food ideas?_

_Lindsey: I can order a cake_

_Christa: He loves Italian and Mexican food._

_Brock: That explains why he loves me_ 🤣 _I can cook if we don't want to go to a restaurant._

_Christa: Are we staying in like a house? 'Cause we could do dinner, drinks, and games. Ray is a sucker for games._

_Brock: I can arrange that._

_Kristen: gifts? I know Mike picked up a pedal for his guitar… I don't know what it is called_

_Christa: Ray's a simple dude. Clothing. Even gift cards. He'll tell you he doesn't want anything. Or need anything but… that's not gonna happen._

_Brock: I'm learning my baby brother is not a materialistic kinda man. Hence why I know he'll love this more than anything else. Which just gave me an idea: Can we bring his family?_

_Kristen: experiences over things kinda guy._

_Christa: I can ask them but I know his dad works a lot. But I'll check with momma and the Brothers. I wouldn't plan on their attendance. Not this time at least._

_Brock: That's disappointing. But understandable. Friends back home? Basically just invite everyone that he loves, Christa. I've only got one plane though, so if they aren't state local, I'll need to make a travel plan. I'm not worried about that really. I just want my brother happy._

_Lindsey: You'll just have to have a wedding party and invite the band and family._

_Christa: I can see what I can do. I know that you just planning this will probably make him get watery._

_Kristen: what do you need from us to make this a smash? Linds has the cake. What can I do to help?_

_Brock: Honestly, just show up. Did we decide on a restaurant or home cooking? Idr…._

_Christa: If we get a house, home cooking._

_Lindsey: I think cooking… oh lol sorry._

_Brock: I only know how to cook Italian food and basic American. So if anyone wants Mexican or something special cook it yourself and bring it LOL_

_Kristen: wine?_

_Brock: Yes._

_Kristen: preference? I have a distributor hookup_

_Brock: Not really. I'm not allowed alcohol at the moment so I won't be drinking. Really none of them should be but for one night, I don't see a problem. You are welcome to bring your own alcohol because I will not be providing that. I'm sorry._

_Christa: no need to be sorry my love. You gotta care for yourself._

_Kristen: I'm not worried about wine._

_Brock: I miss wine._ ☹️

_Lindsey: why not just a glass with dinner. Shit, Christa can have that right now and be ok_

_Brock: Because I don't want to get worse. And my therapist said I shouldn't. I don't need to play with fire. Christa wouldn't have long term effects from the wine. I could._

_Lindsey: okay. Just curious, love._

_Christa: I might have found a place. I'll put a deposit if we like it._

_Brock: Nope! This is my gift and therefore all expenses are on me._

Brock pulls up the link that Christa sends him and after scrolling through the photos, decides it's good enough. He starts the booking process. He'll need to double-check the actual dates first.

_Brock: Okay, it's cute. The wallpaper in the dining room however is ugly as hell. And yellow should never be a wall color. I hate yellow._

_Kristen: You would hate my bathroom then_ 😆 

_Christa: so decorate your bedroom in yellows… okay sounds good B!_

_Brock: Don't you dare!_

_Lindsey: How can you hate yellow? It's sunny!_

_Brock: I love Sunshine but that doesn't mean I have to like the actual color of the sun._ 😝

_Lindsey: You're a parfait, Brock._

_Christa:_ 😆😆😆

_Brock: Okay who told you that?! I am not a parfait! I am badass and awesome! You can't be badass and a parfait!!_

_Kristen: I am so curious to meet you in real life, Brock. I have an image of you in my head._

_Lindsey: you're gonna be wrong._

_Christa: yup. He's not who you'd think Frank would be with._

_Lindsey: and we mean this in a good way btw Rumlow. Don't get butt hurt about it._

_Brock: I know what you meant Linds! I guess I could offer a photo? But mystery is always fun too… hmmm._

_Kristen: nope I wanna be surprised._

_Lindsey: he's pretty._

_Christa: yup._

_Brock: I'm the better husband than the husbands._ 😂 _I told Sunshine that I would be your gay boyfriend and you ladies are my straight girlfriends. To which the doof proceeded to confuse himself and me. I think I had broken the Toro logic._

_Christa: yeah don't try to follow his logic. You'll wind up lost in the woods with no pants and lipstick smeared on your face._

_Lindsey: that sounds like a story._

_Brock: A very real and personal story. I suddenly need to know._

_Christa: how do you think I got pregnant?_ 😆

_Brock: I've been told that when a man and a woman fall in love…_ 😂

_Lindsey: they hold hands?_

_Brock: I dunno. I think I tuned out the teacher during Sex Ed. Saw my first and only horrific photo of what you ladies have last week and nope. Sunshine laughed at me._

_Christa: he told me you left him behind._

_Brock: I DID NOT_

_Brock: I didn't know he was in the bathroom and I thought he was on the bus. So technically yes. But I DID NOT._

_Christa: I left him behind on our first date… he just. He just wanders._

_Lindsey:_ 😆😆

_Brock: I feel like the saying "Not all who wander are lost" would apply here for him. I should put that on a tee-shirt for him._

_Kristen: someone needs to get him a kiddie leash he can wear._

_Christa: or a cat bell._

_Brock: I already threatened a cat bell!_ 😂 _I'm just going to start tracking the GPS on his phone._

_Christa: that's not a bad idea. I've started just waiting in the car when we go places. He'll text or just show up._

_Brock: I felt so bad for leaving him behind. After all, we've been through, it kinda sucks that I somehow managed to not notice The Floof being missing. Especially given that he and I have been rather glued to the hip. But apparently it happens often. So I dunno if that's a relief or something that I should be worried about_

_Christa: don't stress babe, he wanders. It's on his silly self._

_Lindsey: it cracks me up how much this happens to him._

_Christa: ask him about the time his mom left him at Disneyland. That's a fuckin story._

_Brock: I will! I feel like his stories are either going to be really funny or really depressing._

_Christa: it's cute. You'll fall in love with Ray._

_Kristen: so we are hopping a plane tonight?_

_Brock: Nah. I'll text you guys later with the details. Band's done with SC. Love you ladies. Nice to meet you unofficially Kristen._

_Kristen: nice to meet you! See you soon! ❤️_

_Christa: thank you. Love you, Brock!_

_Lindsey: love you my beautiful wonderful Italian parfait. Can't wait to see you again._

Brock smiles at his phone like an idiot before he puts it away and goes to meet his boys. He's feeling great about this and is excited. Later, when the boys are performing, he'll solidify all of the details. For now, he needs to check in with his giant doof of a husband first.

The small break between soundcheck and the show allowed time for a small nap for the band and dinner before the show. Once the boys are on stage, Brock sends all the details for the birthday surprise. The girls will be the first ones in the house. He gives them instructions on what he needs to cook and where to pick the items up. He sends money to Christa. The girls decide to get decorations and figure out games to play. The show was packed with eager fans and the band performed one of the best shows they have done in a long time. As soon as they end the show, Brock escorts the band back on to the bus. The group changes and settles down and tucks in for the night 

Brock puts on a movie inside of their newly adopted bunk; Frank cuddles closer to him. His fingers tracing circles into Brock's stomach is comforting. His eyes struggle to stay open until he can't keep them open. 

Once Frankie is asleep, Brock turns off his phone and sets it aside. Gently as he can, he rolls them both over and into their normal spoon position. Brock feels the wall behind him and on his anxiety level it's comforting in the way it's supposed to be. He hates it. He misses Sunshine behind him. But he can't keep him as a bed buddy forever and it's not fair to Frankie they don't get privacy because of it. He needs to get used to this. He needs to get back to normal. This temporary new normal sucks and he's going to have to push himself in this mildly claustrophobic space so he doesn't have a panic attack in the better bed of the "bedroom". His thoughts turn to the birthday surprise party as he tries to relax enough to fall asleep. He's excited to see the ladies. Though, he's more than a little worried that they will see the changes in dynamics that have happened and be upset. He hopes Christa won't be upset that he's been sleeping with her husband more than she has. He misses Jack. Maybe Jack can help round up the ladies and help them on the plane if he's still in New York. When he spoke to him yesterday- not yesterday, earlier, his brother said he needed to travel to Maine for a contact. It was rare that Jack was so cryptic so either he was worried that he was being watched or Jack was trying to spare him the details. He'll text him in the morning. Finally, he relaxes enough in the confined space to begin to drift off. Soon after, his soft snores fill the bunk.

Frank's eyes open, his body is a little stiff from sleeping in the bunk. The familiar comfort of Brock's arms around him eases the little traces of worry that were residual from the night before. He fishes his phone from the small gap between the bed and the bunk. He checks emails and makes sure his surprise for Brock will be there. As he lies there listening to Brock snore, he gets an idea. He sends a quick _hey!_ message to Jack and waits for his reply.

_Jack: ho? Judging from your greeting, I'm assuming that you or Brock is not in any danger._

_Frank: not yet. The day is still young. Butttt whatcha doing in like three days?_

_Jack: Uhhh… same shit unless more shit hits the fan. I feel like I'm on a vacation with Brock gone_ 😆

_Frank: come to LA. I miss my brother. Brock misses you. Come take a vacation with him._

_Jack: Okay sure._

_Frank: the band is shooting a music video so we'll be busy for a couple of days. Perfect brother bonding time_

_Jack: Sounds awesome!_

_Frank: I'll get your hotel set up and send you the information. I am so excited. I really fuckin missed you._

_Jack: I miss you guys too. It's too damn quiet here. Never realized it until you and he left. World domination only keeps me interested for so long._

_Frank: you're just gonna have to quit your job and come on the road with us as a bodyguard._

_Jack: Brock did that and somehow ended up dating a member and became boss. Not sure I want to follow the same path_ 😂

_Frank: well, I'm sure we can find you a band that will re-home you nicely._ 😆 _But I think Brock was just looking for someone and I fell in his lap._

_Jack: Didn't take much_

_Frank: I'm sure we can find you a wife._

_Jack: I don't want a wife._

_Frank: or a girlfriend… I've tried. Fuckin playboy_

_Jack: I'm more a… yeah. That. Get it when I want it and none of the work._

_Frank: I want you to catch feels for someone just like you_

_Jack: The family that kills together stays together?_

_Frank: exactly._

_Jack: Brock was ready for love and settling down. I am not._

_Frank: Yeah, I know. I just want my Jackey poo to not be lonely._ 😍

_Jack: Woah. No. Hell fucking no._

_Frank:_ 🤣🤣🤣

_Jack: People who call me some variation of that usually end up in a ditch. I don't let anyone call me that. Not Brock. Not Brooke. I wouldn't let my parents call me that._

_Frank: Okay. Fine. How about my little lederhosen then? My big plate of strudel? Help me out here…_

_Jack: I'm starting to regret agreeing to seeing you…_

_Frank: I've got pent up energy… Also, I'm trapped in bed with your brother, so Sorry not sorry my dude._

_Jack: Turn that pent up energy to him._ 😂 _Use it to get out of your trap!_

_Frank: Jack, the more I struggle. The tighter he holds and mumbles shit to me in Italian. I'm no match for him. You're just my unwilling victim… of love and adoration._

_Jack: there's some will only because I keep responding… like an idiot. Look, don't struggle. Just poke and prod and bug until he wakes up or something. Or wake him up with kisses and sexy times. I dunno._

_Frank: We don't have sexy times, J. I'll let you get back to war domination or whatever it is you do that I keep myself blind, deaf, and dumb on purpose. I'll send you the details. Do you need a flight?_

_Jack: Nah. Maybe I'll make the drive. Don't worry about me, bärchen._

_Frank: oh but I do big brother. If I could keep you in my pocket, you'd be here RN_

_Jack: Awww. Love you too. Just send me the name of your hotel and I'll just magically show up. I can bunk with you if you want or get my own room._

_Frank: ok! That would be awesome!_

_Maybe even surprise Brock with your arrival._ 😈

_Jack: I actually already thought this was a surprise so win!_ 😂

_Frank: Perfect! I'll email you the details and I'll see you in a couple days! Love you, Jack!_

_Jack: Awesome! Love you too Frank. See ya!_ 😘

Frank tucks his phone away and smiles to himself. He should worm his way out and go to the bathroom. Maybe he could go for a run. That'd burn energy. He pulls a little at Brock's fingers in the hopes of getting his grip loosened.

With a sigh, Brock cracks open one eye and wonders for a moment where he is before it registers. He cuddles Frankie closer and kisses his neck. He mumbles something resembling a hello.

Frank blinks. _How long has he been awake?_ He smiles at the kisses before whispering, "Morning beautiful." 

"Are we there yet?" comes a muffled and mumbled reply.

"I think so. I woke up at three for no reason, I assume it's when we arrived."

"Three in the morning or afternoon?" Brock raises his head. Did he oversleep again?

"Morning silly. I'd have worked my way out of your tentacles if it were 3 pm," he giggles before pulling Brock's hand up and kissing his palm.

"You can just wake me up if it's past noon."

"I know. I just feel bad waking you up to leave you." Frank whispers. 

"I should be getting up earlier anyway. Get back into a regular schedule. My rise and shine got up and left and I gotta fix that." Brock shifts and lets Frankie go to roll onto his back.

He rolls himself to the other side and drapes his body over Brock's side. "There's no rush. When you feel ready, then do it. I don't want you to burn out," his finger finding a scar and tracing it lightly.

"Some things you have to force. To fight. Getting up and not sleeping too much is one of them. Unless I sleep like shit or have a bad night again, I need to at least try to get up before noon." Brock stretches a little before resettling. "What time is it? Are we the only ones up?"

"Ray's up and moving around. I heard him humming earlier. It's like 10:30. Maybe 11." Frank's voice is hushed before he kisses Brock's chest.

"Hmmm. We got some time to cuddle then," he whispers before kissing him.

"I like the sound of that." He grins up at Brock, "I wanted to go look for a present for Ray. Unless you have an idea of plans for that." 

"We can go shopping. Did you have something in mind?" He pulls Frankie on top of him, chest to chest.

"Truthfully. No. He's hard to buy for. He buys what he needs and doesn't want much." Frank rests his chin on Brock's chest.

"He collects guitars. Maybe we can get him a nice one. Well. You can get him a nice one. Because I've got zero clue. Maybe I can just give him cash and be like 'go buy some new clothes' or coffee."

"That's a good idea," he whispers before leaning up and kissing Brock, "Handsome and smart. I'm a lucky fella." 

"Do I get a gold star?" he chuckles.

"Mmm. I think you get at least two gold stars and a rainbow one for being adorable," he gives his husband a cheesy smile, "Maybe even a diamond ring if you play your cards right..." 

Brock arches his eyebrow. "Oh? Something you wanna tell me?" 

"Maybe…," he dramatically pauses, "I mean I've been making plans for a while now. I was thinking of wife-ing you up here soon." 

"Is that a not-so-subtle hint to propose soon or else you'll do it?" Brock laughs softly.

"Oh no. I know that you have plans and I don't wanna ruin that." Frank says quietly, "Unless you've changed your mind." 

"About us? Never. What are your gremlins telling you this time?" Brock gently runs the back of his fingers across Frankie's cheek.

"Oh no, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry baby. I meant about you wanting to propose, not about us. You're not rid of me until the restraining order is filed." Frank smirks. 

"So basically until death do us part. Yeah, I have a few plans but since all of it is contingent on my parents, I haven't really put much thought into anything just yet. Plus with this whole thing going on with me…. It's been a mess and sadly the last thing on my mind. I'm sorry for that alone."

"Meh. I'm not worried about it. As long as you love me, I'll be here." Frank pauses for a moment, "I was going to go for a run if you were still asleep." 

"Also I have never been so subconsciously worried about someone liking me. Do I need to learn a special skill like Ms. America does?" Frank adds with a playful question.

"You already have a special skill. You're cute, cuddly, and can play music. Plus it helps that you've already stolen my heart, little street rat." Brock leans up a little and kisses him.

"Well, I'm glad I stole something of value finally." Frank teases before kissing him a little deeper. 

He keeps them in bed a little longer before pulling Brock up and making him go for a run. On the way back, they stop for food and coffee. Walking back a different route, Frank stops at the window of a guitar shop and stares at a gorgeous tan and white vintage explorer electric guitar in the window. He knows that Ray will love it. He hands Brock his coffee and quickly goes in and buys it. He carries it back and has Brock distract Ray so he can successfully sneak it in.

Once Brock knows that the gift is secure, he finds himself on the bench seat on the bus with his laptop open, going over emails and submitting the required invoices and receipts to the label. It's tedious but important boss work. He hates it. He likes being the boss but hates paperwork. He sighs and finishes his coffee. He needs more. Or soda. God, he misses wine.

The boys disappear outside and find themselves inside the arena a game of kickball with the crew and opening act, of course, the rule modified for Ray's birthday, that his inaugural kick gets a free second base and the opposing team has to drink. When it comes time for it to be Frank's turn, he feels a flutter of nerves in his stomach. If he flubs, he drinks. So far he's avoided drinking. He exhales and goes for it then promptly misses the ball. "Motherfucking whore!" he shouts as he steps back and takes a small drink of beer.

After about the sixth or tenth email-Brock has no clue anymore because it all seems the same-he decides to text Jack. He wants to see him and tells him to be on the plane with the girls. Pick them up if needed. Surely Ray won't mind if Jack comes to the party.

_Brock: Hello ladies!_ 😁 _How are my favorite girls doing?_

_Lindsey: Pumped! How are you doing, boyfriend?_

_Christa: Just left the doctor's meeting up with Linds._

_Kristen: Just waking up. Worked the night shift last night._

_Brock: Oh no! I'm sorry. So, I got my brother, Jack, to come with you guys. He can pick you up Kristen if needed. Plane should be at the airport. You don't need to go through security. Jack will take you directly onto the runway._

_Lindsey: Your brother is our escort?_ 😁

_Kristen: That would be amazing, thank you Brock!_

_Christa: I got my anti-nausea meds. I am ready to parrtaayy!_ 🤣

_Lindsey: Is Jack hot? Like can we make him uncomfortable by excessively flirting with him?_

_Brock: By all means do so, but he is straight so he just might flirt back_

_Lindsey: Good. I'll be sure to dress cute._

_Christa: I have a present for you Brock!_

_Brock: Present? My birthday isn't for a few months?!_

_Christa: well, it's not for your birthday. It's because we love you._

_Brock: …… is it about the baby? Like the gender_

_Christa: It's a gift, silly! It's gotta be a surprise!_

_Brock: ughhhh fiiine._

_Christa: You're gonna love it! Ray and I picked it out together and it finally came in!_

_Lindsey: When are we meeting up with you guys?_

_Brock: I've already got the house booked and everything is set up. When the boys are performing, I'll drive up and meet you there. Show is at 7 pm._

_Kristen: Are you bringing us back to the venue or leaving us to decorate and prepare?_

_Brock: I'm going to leave that to you, ladies. That is not a skill I am proficient in. I will be bringing a gift from Frankie and myself to add to the pile of presents. Go crazy and have fun._

_Brock: I just added Jack to our conversation. So that you can coordinate._

_Jack: And because he was tired of texting me and you at the same time. He's lazy like that. Greetings._

_Lindsey: Helllooo Jack!_

_Christa: Hi Jack! Oh shit! I talked to Rose. She is actually in Colorado Springs which isn't far from Denver. She said she can meet us there!_

_Kristen: Hello!_

_Brock: Sweet!_

_Jack: Am I meeting you gals at the airport or…? I live in Manhattan._

_Kristen: I'm in Brooklyn, is it possible to catch a ride?_

_Lindsey: Christa and I can meet you at the airport_ 😊

_Jack: Sure! Text me your address and I'll be right over in a bit._

_Brock: Jack, you gotta stay with the girls and keep hidden. I know Frankie misses you and I want him surprised just because._

_Jack: So… funny story about bärchen…_

_Brock: What?_

_Jack: He texted me about surprising you in LA_ 😂🤣😂

_Brock: BAHAHAHA. I win!_

_Jack: Dork_

_Lindsey: wait he's coming to LA too? I'll be there with Gee! Yay!_

_Brock: Sweet! Alright lovelies. Keep in touch. I gotta go play boss. Ttys. Love you._

_Jack: Love you. I'll text when I've got the precious cargo_ 😂😉

_Brock: Thanks. Don't let them get hurt!_

_Lindsey: Bye, B!_ 😘

_Christa: so how are you gonna find us at the airport, little Rumlow?_

_Jack: Look for the most gorgeous of ladies? I am certain my hair-brother has excellent taste in women and so I know you'll be beautiful._

_Lindsey: I like you already._

_Kristen: I could uh, point you dorks out too…_

_Jack: That was the original plan, yes. Alternatively: holding a sign. "MCR wives here"_

_Christa: Oh that is cute._

_Kristen: I sent you my address, Jack._

_How long do I have to get ready?_

_Lindsey: yes, what time are we meeting?_

_Jack: I'm already on my way, Kristen. Give me twenty or less depending on traffic. Then we're going to head straight to the airport. As soon as you said Brooklyn I got into the car and started driving that direction haha. Sorry. I can sit outside and wait no problem. Tyt to get ready. I've got nothing better to do today._

_Kristen: you're good, love. I got my bags packed. Just gonna grab a sandwich and coffee. What kinda car do you drive?_

Lindsey and Christa gather their things and make their way to the airport while Kristen carries her bag to the deli across the street for a breakfast sandwich and a coffee to consume while she waits on the stoop for Jack.

_Jack: Silver Tesla. Should be there in five._

She keeps her eyes peeled as she finishes her sandwich and coffee. Kristen is excited to see the girls. But even more excited to see Mike. 

Jack turns down the street and slows, carefully looking for a woman with a bag near the apartments. He should have asked for a physical description. Whoops.

_Kristen: if that's you, wave…_

Jack reads the text message and waves like an idiot, knowing the woman can see him and not the other way around. Which, now that he thinks about it, is a rather weird feeling. Oh well. He unlocks the car and waits.

Kristen jumps off the stoop and approaches cautiously. She pulls the door open, "Please say you're Jack and I'm not a crazy person climbing in a nice car?"

Jack grins "Jack Rollins. Brock's brother and apparently MCR's personal driver. Kristen, right? Mike's lady? Hop in." 

"Kristen Colby." She grins at him and sits down. "Nice to meet you, Jack Rollins." 

"Pleasure is all mine," he replies, pulling the car into the road and heading towards the airport. "Michael has good taste. You seemed like a blonde. Made me realize when I pulled up that I really had no physical description of you. Glad my imagination was correct."

"I had no idea what to expect," Kristen says with a little smile. "I'm terrible when it comes to faces but I wasn't expecting curls." 

"Mine are short and not nearly as nice as Ray's. Brock loves them, however. I planned on cutting them again but I've been busy. It's only this last week or so that I've been able to just relax."

"Oh! I like them. They are quite cute. I've never met Brock so I have no idea what to expect. Truthfully, this is the first time meeting Frank too." Kristen says with a wide smile.

"This is truly going to be a surprise party then," Jack laughs. "But don't feel bad; I haven't met any of the ladies. Just the boys so I'm in the same boat as you, miss."

"Well. Glad I'm not alone." She smiles. 

"Hey Siri, text Brock. Message: I have Kristen," Jack says into his car. 

_"Message sent_ ," came the cool robotic seconds later.

_Brock: Thanks Jack!_

Kristen looks down at her phone and grins. She chats with Jack as they cruise to the airport. Kristen is thankful he is good company. He's funny and charming so it makes it easier for small talk. The girls give hugs and greet Jack with warm friendly hugs.

"You ready to get this party into the air, ladies?" He asks them.

"Oh hell yes!" Lindsey grins wide with cherry red lips, "I'm ready to surprise a Toro!" 

"Careful, with those lips, the bull may charge," Jack cracks up. He motions them to follow him as he walks through the airport.

"I'll throw the wife in front of him." Lindsey laughs.

"So this is a private plane? Like a little puddle jumper?" Christa asks.

"More like a jet. Did Brock tell you anything?" 

"Just a private plane." Kristen says with a grin at Lindsey then Jack.

"You're in for a surprise then." 

Jack takes them through the terminal and after speaking with security and showing his credentials, they get loaded up into a trolley and driven onto the runway. The plane glistens in the sunlight, having been freshly washed and waxed since the last time it had stopped in America. The tiny car stops in front of the stairs. Jack gets out and thanks the security guard as he drives away. 

"Ta-da," he says to the ladies.

"Wow. What are you guys, drug runners or something?" Christa laughs and looks at Jack.

"No," Jack laughs. He nods to the tail end of the jet where _RUMLOW_ is painted. "My parents are wealthy business owners back in Italy. It's the family plane."

Lindsey raises an eyebrow and gives him a soft smile, "Daddy's money and momma's good looks, eh?" She winks as she steps on board.

"I married into the wrong family." Christa jokes as she enters the plane.

"Pretty swanky, Jack," Kristen replies casually. Her eyes are a little wide at just how nice the plane is. She takes a seat on the couch and looks at Jack, "But wait, you told me Rollins was your last name?"

"I'm adopted. Sorry, Lindsey. The twins got my mother's good looks," he grins and winks at her. 

"Oh god, I am just a fucking clod. I am sorry Jack that was rude." Kristen’s face turns bright pink as she averts her eyes to the floor.

"I didn't think it was rude. Don't be sorry, beautiful. Brock has fondly adopted Ray and calls him brother so I can understand the confusion. My parents decided to keep my given name instead of changing it to Rumlow."

"Oh, so you're saying Rumlows have a thing for curly hair then?" Christa says grinning wide.

"I am glad I didn't offend. Phew!" She leans over and touches his arm. 

"I'm awfully curious to see Brooke. Brock's pretty, you're handsome so I can imagine Brooke is gorgeous." Lindsey says.

Jack pulls out his cell phone and flips through several pictures before finding one of him and Brooke taking a selfie at a coffee shop in Venice. He shows them the photo. "Easy fix. Here." 

"Yeah, she's gorgeous." Lindsey smiles.

"She takes after Mom," Jack says, taking his phone back.

"How long is this flight?" Christa asks. Her fingers gripping the seat a little. 

Jack immediately goes on alert, concerned. "Are you feeling sick? There's a full bathroom if you need to puke and a bedroom if you want to lay down. We've got a few hours, bella."

"I took a pill. Just an uneasy flier." Christa gives a weak smile, "I'll be ok. Thank you, Jack." 

When Brock finishes all of the planning of Ray's birthday party and his boss-ly duties, he packs up his things and throws them into the bunk so that he can easily grab them later when he leaves. It's nearly time for the show and the boys still need to eat. He steps outside and heads over to get them.

Frank is on second base. Gerard is on third and Ray was up to kick. So far the band had only had two beers each. Frank is shouting at Ray to send him home. "Yeah. Yeah. I got this." Ray says confidently. The ball flies at him and he kicks it far out almost to the seats, "Fuck yes!" he shouts as he takes off running. The action starts a chain reaction of moving each man to the next position. Frank doesn't make it in time to home and gets taken out, which means he has to take a drink of beer.

Brock purses his lips and gives a harsh, shrill whistle to get their attention. "Boys!" 

Frank stops movement with the beer bottle to his lips. _Fuck, he's not supposed to be drinking._ He doesn't turn to face Brock. _If I can't see him, he can’t see me._

Mike had started his kick but the loud interrupting whistle startles him and sending the foul ball flying at Brock.

Brock had no time to react or move before the ball smacks him right into his face. His hand comes up to rub at his nose and forehead. "Sonofabitch!" Yeah, that smarts.

"Hey B! You should join!" Ray says with an overly happy smile on his face.

"You need to come in and eat. You've got an hour before the show. Play tomorrow," Brock shouts back. 

"Eat?" Mike asks without looking at Brock.

"Yes. Real food and not candy," he says, irritated. "You need to get ready for the show."

"Alright, come on," Gerard says waving the guys to follow. His eyes glance to Frank who had put the bottle down and turned slowly to face the group. He seems frozen in place. 

_You're being weird. Move your legs. Act natural. Be cool._ Frank isn't moving.

"Frankie?! What are you doing? Come on!" Brock hollers.

Frank forces himself forward. He jogs to meet the band. He moves close to Ray. Sunshine will protect him just in case they are in trouble. "Sorry, Brock." Frank murmurs.

"Be cool. It's just a couple of beers." Mike whispers.

"Yeah, it's not your ass that will get chew or tanned if this goes all Costa Rico," Frank growls 

"Nah I got you lil man." Ray puts his arm around him.

"Thanks Sunshine," Frank says with a wide smile.

" **NO** ," Brock points at Frankie. "Nobody else is allowed to use that. That's _mine_. Get your own nickname. Bad cat." Brock mimics squeezing a spray bottle at Frankie. It's funny but he's also extremely serious about someone else calling Ray _his_ nickname. He wouldn't allow anyone else to call Mikey or Frankie theirs either. His nicknames for his boys are not to be stolen. 

"Sorry. Sorry." Frank shrinks a little. His tolerance has lowered, which sucks. 

"Yours, huh?" Ray teases Brock, "I can't call him maybe _gattino_?" 

"No. And Mike-n-Ike is mine too. I don't share nicknames. They're special to me. I don't give just anyone a nickname. And it means something to me," Brock pouts. "I'm still working on Bob and Gerard's." 

"Alright. I'm teasing, old man, what's for dinner?" Ray says putting his arm around Brock. 

"Giving you boys a choice. I can give you a snack now and I can give you a surprise super special dinner tonight after the show, which I'm seriously hoping you'll take. Or, I can fix you some spaghetti." Brock smiles at them. 

"Snack." The Ways says in unison.

"Good. Because you will _**love**_ what I have in store for you. Have a seat and relax. On second thought… You guys reek," Brock says as he wrinkles his nose. He gives a cursory sniff at Ray and frowns. "Have you guys been drinking?" 

"Yes," Mikey says with a shameless grin.

"No!" Frank blurts at the same time.

Brock turns to Ray and looks up at him. "Breath test. Open up." 

Ray opens his mouth and prays it's not bad. 

"You checking for cavities?" Bob snickers. 

Brock gets closer and sniffs Ray's breath before pulling back. "Yeah, you've been drinking. How much? Also… love you but get some gum."

"Damn it, teacher’s pet," Frank growls.

"Two. Maybe three beers." Ray says with a shrug.

"Snitch," Frank mutters.

"So buzzed but not drunk, yes?" Brock asks them. "All you had a few beers?"

"Yes." Gerard nods, "It's part of kickball…"

Brock scoffs before moving out from under Sunshine's arm and goes to the kitchenette. He begins making cheese toast. "You guys need a snack to help absorb your buzz so you aren't compromised on stage tonight. New rule: No more kickball _before_ a show. You do the show sober. I don't care about you guys playing after. You wanna play during the day, I want six hours between the end of the game and the start of the show so you can sober up. Anyone who isn't fully sober before a show will not be playing."

"Six?" Mike says shocked. 

"They won't be playing?!" Frank pipes up. 

"We have––"

Brock holds up a hand to silence their protests. "That is based on just how drunk you are. I'm assuming that were you not interrupted, you would have been more than buzzed. Correct? So yes, six if you are plastered. And yes, Frank. Anyone who isn't sober will not be going on stage. No _wonder_ there has been a history of injuries!" Brock shoves five pieces of bread into the toaster. It's not the right way to make cheese toast but they don't have a convectional oven.

"Should have done shots," Mike says leaning into Frank.

"So, if I am not sober, I don't play tonight?" Frank says, feeling a little _frisky_. He stands up and puts a hand on his hip.

"That's why I'm making you cheese toast. The bread will help with reducing the buzz. Cheese because toast is gross without it. And it's a snack so you don't die on stage from hunger. I've got a huge dinner planned tonight after the show and showers." 

Ray pulls Frank back, "Say thank you. He's just worried about our safety." 

"Thank you, Brock." 

"It's only 'cause it's my birthday that we drank." Ray sighs.

"Probably shouldn't have drunk at all," Frank mumbles. He watches quietly as Brock makes them a snack to sober up. He's curious to know what's going on in Brock's head. They are adults but _he_ should know better. 

"I don't care if you drink. I care if you get drunk. There's a difference. It's called control and responsibility. Intoxicated people make bad choices. Those bad choices can result in putting yourself or others at risk of harm or worse, death. Know your limits and stick to them. Don't drink before a show because you want to be able to perform at peak levels. Simple as that. The only reason I'm making you do this is that I am the boss and I do fucking care about you guys enough to not see you hurt. The last thing we need is an injury on stage because you can't determine the distance between your foot and a drum or a wire and you crash. Or decide you can jump off a stage and into the crowd. Or play with fire. Please don't drink and have pyrotechnics on stage. You will catch fire from your sweat." Rant done, he shoves a cheese slice on each of the hot toasts and gives it to the boys. He needs a drink of water from the headache he's slowly getting.

"Yes sir," Mike says softly.

"He doesn't need alcohol to misjudge." Gerard murmurs. 

"Bite me, Gerry." Frank snips back. 

"I wasn't specifically meaning him but that's fair." He sighs. When he speaks again it's soft and quiet, "I'm not trying to lecture you or parent you. I'm not, not really. But I've seen firsthand what drugs and alcohol do to people- the lives it destroys. I care about you guys. You are my family and friends. And all I want is for you to make good, responsible, choices. And legally you guys are over twenty-one, and legally I can't do shit, so legally you can take what I said and tell me to go fuck off. And I won't stop you. But I'm _asking_ you, as your friend, to please don't drink before a show and when you do, stay within the legal limit."

"Sorry Brock. It won't happen, again." Ray says with a frown. 

Frank scrunches his face up, the words make him feel bad. Worse than before. 

Brock pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Please don't agree with me just because I'm the boss. I don't want you guys to feel like I'm controlling you. I'm not Alan."

"To be fair, Alan would have gotten us drunk. Not sobered us up." Gerard points out, "I don't think that anyone agrees because you're the boss. It's because you're right."

"And we don't like disappointing you." Bob says softer than he's ever spoken, "Like this at least." 

"Like I once told Frankie, even when you are bad, you are good. I am _so_ _very proud_ of all of you. You are my team. My friends. I hate your music but I love you guys so much that I do this job; for free. I'm still working on the actual music part. Just because I'm upset over something that bothers me, doesn't mean I'm no longer your real number one fan. You guys can never truly disappoint me. I want nothing more than what's best for you now and your future."

"You do this for free?" Ray asks, shocked.

"The label wanted to pay me. I don't need the money. I told them to turn around and put it back in your pockets as a bonus or raise. Alan had been stealing from you guys long enough; I wanted to give you back every cent he took plus interest. I am here _for you_." Brock smiles at the boys. His boys.

"You need to get compensated for doing this job. Especially how stressful it's been." Ray shakes his head. He's not satisfied with Brock not being paid.

Brock shakes his head. "I get to spend all the time I want with my husband-to-be, my brother, and my best friends. I don't need monetary compensation. I enjoy being with you guys. I love you guys. I'm happy. Even when I'm sad, I still wanna be here with you guys. And honestly, I don't trust anyone else to manage you. Managing you is like herding cats or ducks."

Without saying a word, Bob and Ray get up and hug Brock. Mike joins in the hug. Gerard isn't sure what to do. Is he allowed to join in… Frank isn't joining. 

"You guys are gonna make me cry like a hormonal woman," Brock mutters into the hug. He grabs each one of them and kisses their cheek before looking over at Frankie and Gerard. He's a little hurt Frankie didn't join. Guess Gerard still despises his guts; nothing new there. Or loves him but he doesn't want to think about that. The thought is almost enough to make him step away from the hug to avoid being accused of something again. But he forces himself to stay. Lions and lambs, Frankie said. He just needs to remember he's the lion and not the lamb. His anxiety tells him otherwise. Curse his brain. He was fine until he thought about it. He needs cheese toast too.

Once the hug breaks, Frank stands and wraps his arms around Brock’s waist as soon as he has turned away from him. "'m sorry," Frank says softly into his back.

"As I said, I don't care that you drink. Hell, I do. Just don't get drunk. I love you, Frank. More than the stars above and the fish in the sea combined. I don't want you to get hurt, _tesoro_ ," Brock says as he makes his own cheese toast. He turns in the embrace. "You are still and always will be, my very good boy. Perfect in all the ways that matter."

"I'm sorry for the attitude actually." Frank looks up at him, "I love you too, _polpetto."_ He smiles a little at the good boy comment. He presses his lips to his chest.

"If you wanted a spanking later you could have just asked," he grins at Frankie.

"Oh, it's not as much fun to ask for it. I'd rather earn it," he winks and bites his lip, "It’s much more fun to get you wound up, it's the best part."

The band relaxes and sobers before taking the stage. What they don't notice is Brock slipping away. He drives a little out of the metropolis towards the suburbs. He approaches the historic district, which doesn't feel so historic as the block has new apartment buildings and other modern improvements. But the house itself is cute. It's a tan craftsman house with a picket fence. Once he gets inside the girls greet him with a round of hugs and kisses. He shakes hands with Kristen and Rose, happy to finally meet the rest of the wives club.

The group of wives has already set up for the welcoming of the band. The two brothers hug for a long time until they break apart then hug again briefly. Brock goes over the details once more for the next few days then explores the house. He's found the room that he wants to take for him and Frank. He fights with himself on not drinking but decides it's best to stay sober. 

As it gets closer to the wrap up of the show, he hurries back for the last song and encore. He stands backstage with his headphones on and arms folded over his chest. He looks foreboding to strangers but up close you can see his excitement and a trace of love and affection directed to Frankie. 

As the band leaves the stage before the encore, Frank kisses Brock passionately. The energy of the show has brought a fire through his veins. "Love you," he says rushed before he rushes on stage for the last time. He's fired up and frankly turned on. _It's the adrenaline,_ he tells himself.

Watching his boys move around on stage, clearly buzzing with excitement and joy, makes Brock's heart soar with joy and pride. He focuses on Frankie and watches him move around on the stage. The absence of sound allows Brock to add his own mental soundtrack and he finds it rather erotic. It stirs things low in his body like a dormant being rising from its thousand-year deep sleep. Desire awakens and now he can't wait for them to finish the encore. He wants his husband.

The band takes their final bow and moves off stage in a loud cluster of sweaty bodies. "You nearly stepped off stage, dummy!" Ray laughs as he wraps an arm around Gerard and squeezes him.

"I was just into it!" He laughs back, "Did you miss a whole bar of music during Give em hell, Frankie?" 

"I did. I was… in a zone." Frank chuckles. He scans the area directly off stage for Brock. A crew member pats Frank's head as they pass by him.

Brock takes off his headphones and grins at the boys. He's fairly certain he's never been this excited before. He certainly hasn't been this excited in a long time. Not just the surprising arousal, though that was the biggest shock, but just the overall excitement that came from getting to surprise his brother. And see Jack. They need showers before they leave.

Frank heads right for Brock once he sees him. He's cut off by Ray giving Brock a huge hug. Frank waits impatiently for his turn with his husband. Once Ray moves, Frank steps in front of him, grabs the front of his shirt, and kisses him harder than he expected. He wraps an arm around Brock’s neck and leans up on his toes. 

Brock wraps his arms around Frankie tightly and kisses him back, matching his passion and heat. A tiny moan escapes, barely heard. He pulls back and meets Frankie's eyes with his own dark ones for a moment before turning to the boys. "Showers first." 

"Since when are you concerned with the way we smell?" Mike asks with a little smile. 

"Always. You boys reek. And since we are not going directly to a hotel, I need you to jump in the showers here and change into comfortable but _nice_ clothing. Okay? What I have in mind is classy and comfy. Be your cute sexy selves."

Frank searches Brock's face. He's got a funny feeling. He rests his hand on Brock's chest and cocks his head to the side. "Where are we going to shower?" Frank asks before kissing Brock's neck. 

"Here. The venue has one. I need to check in with security to be sure we can use it. But we should be fine."

"Oh. Okay." Frank stares at him. He's trying to figure out what is going on, "Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise. We're doing dinner. That's all I'm telling you." Brock grins at them. "Go put away your instruments and get clean clothes. Then meet me in the green room. We can shower then."

Frank nods with a suspicious look in his eye. He lifts his guitar off of his body and moves to his designated area where all his ladies sat waiting to be loaded into a case and wheeled into the back of a bus for the next city.

He follows behind Ray as they move on to the bus. He checks to see if Brock is following them before speaking quietly to Ray, "Something feels weird. We shouldn't do the thing we were planning." 

"I noticed he was uh, _passionate_ when you got off stage. That side hasn't came out in a minute," Ray comments as he opens his bunk and steps back, "Which one if you fuckers did this?" 

Frank turns and looks to see a case of the beer Ray likes and a giant bag of peanut M&Ms, "Wasn't me. Boss man would have my head and ass if I did." 

"Opening act did. They heard you bitching about not finding Red Stripe a lot. And well who doesn't love candy." Gerard smiles. 

"I love those kids. I'm sad we only have a few dates left with them." Ray sighs as he pulls out jeans and a soft dark blue shirt with his toiletry bag in the other hand. 

"He said 'comfortable but nice'. I have t-shirts and jeans or button-downs… I guess I'll find the newest shirt and wear that." Frank sighs, "I really need to get nicer clothing." 

The band files out of the bus and heads back to the green room. Frank pulls his phone out and texts Jack. 

_F: Your brother is being weird. I'm suspicious. Is the family known for having psychotic breaks?_ 🤣

_Jack: No? Not that I am aware of… everything okay?_

_Frank: I don't know, he's just different… I'll keep you posted. It's probably nothing. Did you ever conquer Greenland? I know it was a struggle last time I bugged you._

_Jack: It was Germany. No, I'm still getting my ass kicked. That's the irony._

_Frank: Oh Germany. That's right… bastard schnitzel eaters._ 🤣🤣

_Jack: Damn right!_ 🤣 _Think I might recalibrate my plan and try for dumbass Poland. Nobody liked them in WWII then and they still suck now. Maybe I can sneak in through a back door of sorts. Oh well. How are you?_

_Frank: Good. Just got done with the show. Brock's making us shower. Your plan sounds pretty solid. How are you?_

_Jack: Starving but otherwise pretty awesome._

_Frank: Why don't you eat, dork?_

_Jack: Because I’m texting you… hehe_

_Frank: you do have two hands. Unless you forgot?_

Frank snickers to himself.

Brock steps out of the security room with a large box in hand. It’s got his name on it and it’s rather heavy. He’s curious to know what it is but he needs to find the boys and lead them to where he’s been told the showers are. He wants to get them on the road already. Gah, he’s gonna blow the damn surprise if he thinks about where they are going too much. He’s just gonna blame it on the box. He heads to the green room and waits. He’ll give them another five. Yeah, no he can’t. He calls Frankie.

Frank answers the phone as he juggles the clothing in his hands, "Hey babe. Where are you?" 

“Greenroom. Waiting for you guys. Are you done yet?”

"We are heading back in right now. We'll the guys should be there. I'm coming… I got _distracted_." Frank says, being vague on purpose, "Also don't go all _Commander Rumlow_ but there's beer on the bus, it's a gift from the opener. It's gonna stay sealed. Just a heads up."

“Okay. Put some pep in your step, _tesoro_ , because we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Get the others to hurry. Reservations only last for so long. Please,” Brock says. “Also, did you order me something? There’s a box here… with my name on it.”

"I'm coming. I'm coming." Frank says moving a little faster, "I did order your something. Did you open it?" He turns the corner and watches the boys enter the room.

“No. I’ll open it later.” 

Frank opens the door and steps in. He hangs the phone up and snickers to himself. He loves being a dick but not really being a dick. 

Brock pockets the phone and smiles at the kids and shifts the heavy box in his hands. Well, heavy for a box anyway. “Great, security has agreed to let us use the showers and clean up. I’m going to take you there and let you get freshened. I’ll join you after I put this box on the bus. What did you get Frankie? Why is it so heavy?”

"Guess you're gonna have to open it and see..." He winks with a smirk, "Looks like it's heavy." 

"Lead the way boss man," Gerard says with a cheerful voice.

Smiling, he leads the boys down several hallways where the gym room showers were located for when sports teams used the venue and let them do their thing. He kisses Frankie and whispers to him for his love to wait while he puts the box on the bus. Then he quickly darts back to the bus, grabs the beer out of Ray’s bunk and takes the box and beer to the rental car, and hides them in the trunk. On the way out, he remembers to grab a bottle of lube. He has a plan. It’s not very good and only half-formed but he’s gonna at least try. Worst case scenario, he’ll wind up giving the lube to one of the other boys…. Though… nevermind. He doesn’t want to think about women and their self-lubricating bodies. He lightly jogs back to the showers to join his husband.

Frank is leaning against the wall. Why does he have to wait for Brock? His husband wanted them to hurry but then he's gotta wait… he sighs and pulls his phone out and checks if Jack replied but he hasn't. 

Quickly entering the shower space, Brock heads right for Frankie and pulls him into a needy kiss. One hand comes up to tug at his shirt; needing it off. Not just because he has a mental clock in his head screaming at him but because he is afraid that if he doesn’t hurry on the follow-through, he’ll be nothing more than a disappointment again. He doesn’t want to ruin this night.

Frank kisses him back. He places the clothing and phone in his hands down in the bottom of a locker that's door was open beside them. He lets his body mold to Brock's hands. He begins to pull the buttons on his shirt. His brain is fighting him but he pushes down the voice of doubt in his head and gives into the touch even further. He gives up on his shirt and pulls on the button of Brock's jeans.

“Into the shower, now. Turn it on,” Brock whispers, pulling away to strip properly. He still has the tiny bottle of lube in one hand. 

Frank nods and walks backward into the shower. He can't keep the stupid grin off his face as he watches his beautiful husband undressing. He backs himself into a shower stall and pulls his pants off and places them on a hook meant for towels. His shirt gets pulled over his head and dropped to the floor. He turns the water on and waits for his man to join him.

In a moment of insecurity, Brock bites his lip. He’s hard and wanting but he’s not sure how long he’ll last; physically and sexually. Watching Frankie move about is fascinating. It only turns him on more. He loves this gorgeous man so much, it’s nearly overwhelming. He needs to be quick and his husband needs to be quiet. In a few short strides, he’s in front of him, kissing him hard against the tile. It’s short though; the need to express himself overtaking anything else. “I’m not sure how long I can…. This will be quick. I’m sorry.”

"I don't care," Frank says between kisses. He bites Brock's lip and pulls gently before speaking in a low voice, "Just fuck me." 

Brock turns Frankie around and hates that he has to do so in the first place. He wants to end their dry spell in a better way than this. In a bed and not in a public shower would be most preferable. He flicks open the cap on the lube and squirts a little onto his fingers before situating himself pressed up against Frankie’s body. He knows he has to do a little more for Frankie than himself if he’s to try and make this fair. His lips press hot kisses up and down his husband’s neck as his lube covered fingers tease and prod at his entrance.

“Watching you on stage was a fucking tease. So damn sexy. Made my cock so damn hard for you,” Brock growls lowly in his ear.

Frank feels the whimper escape his lips at the feeling of Brock's fingers. He pushes himself into Brock before a grin spreads across his face. The words sinking into his stomach and making his legs soften just a little, "I need you. Please just touch me, fuck me." He had words in his head that were smooth and sexy but they evaporated, replaced with a pathetically desperate voice and words to match.

With a small groan at the words, Brock pushes two fingers into the tight heat, aiming right for his boy’s prostate. Visions of their first time enter his head. He wonders if he could finger fuck Frankie now and have him ride him later. If he was more sure of himself, more positive that there would be a later, he would do just that. Living in his new normal of limited energy and limited emotional capacity as symptoms of his depression and anxiety stripped that surety from him. He can’t take the chance. His fingers twist and pump in and out of Frankie’s perfect ass as he scissors him open.

"Oh fuck Brock!" Frank cries out at the feeling, the fingers working him open causing the air from his lungs to escape with a moan. His knees buckle just slightly at the touch of his prostate which only makes it harder to stay still. Or standing for that matter. He moans again, in response to the sound he claps a hand over his mouth remembering they were not alone and in public.

“Keep your voice down. I don’t want them knowing what we are doing.” Brock pulls out his fingers; he needs to be in him now. He doesn’t care if this will only last two seconds or two minutes. He’s making his husband feel good. Satisfied pride rises in him. He’s not failing as a spouse-to-be and that he can still provide to his boy’s needs. Taking a moment, he pulls back a little to add lube to his more than ready dick.

His head snaps back at Brock when his fingers pull out from him, he gives a small whine. _Don't make me beg._ He leans back and presses soft kisses into Brock's neck and jawline, "Please… I'll be a good boy," he softly moans. 

“Not gonna make you wait or beg, baby,” Brock whispers before kissing him. As he does, he lines himself up and slowly pushes in; the motion so natural and intimate. He knows Frankie’s body like his own. They are one.

Frank inhales at the feeling of being full again. A soft moan pushes against his closed lips as his hand reaches for one of Brock, once he finds it, pulls the hand around to his chest and holds his husband's wrist there. All the other thoughts in his head fall away, the sound of his breaths and the water fill his ears. He holds back the words that he's dying to say. 

“I love you,” Brock moans softly in Frankie’s ear. He’s almost dizzy with the overwhelming pleasure surrounding his cock. It takes his breath away and he’s certain he could fall off the precipice the moment he moves. He has to take several breaths before he can even make the coherent thought to wrap his free hand around Frankie’s cock and begin to pump him. He can’t move just yet; not without coming on the spot. He needs to bring Frankie closer first.

"Love you." Frank manages to get out quietly. The fullness and the feeling of Brock's hand on his dick make him tighten around Brock's cock before his hips move slightly to follow the hand around him. A tingle that had started in his thighs quickly begins to fill his body, a buzz that grows stronger with each stroke makes it hard to keep quiet as a moan comes out.

Frankie tightens around him and it’s more than enough of a signal that his love is more than ready enough. He rests his head down on Frankie’s shoulder for stability and oh so painfully slow, pulls back until just the tip is inside his husband. This was the moment of truth; can he last more than just a few seconds? Inhaling deeply, he shoves himself forward and into Frankie’s prostate. His hips don’t miss a beat. As soon as he meets the end, he’s pulling back out again and shoving forward. It’s too much too fast and after just a handful of thrusts, he’s coming with a gasp and a cry of Frankie’s name. _Dammit._

In the back of his head, he knew this would happen. He also was preparing for the fallout from Brock getting off that _quickly_. The strong buzz was quickly beginning to fade as he opens his lips to speak softly, "It's okay, baby. It happens." 

The rebellious voice in his head named Pride, screams at Brock to fix this. There was no way in hell he was going to ruin this for his husband. With a flared nose and gritted teeth, he roughly pulls out and shoves three fingers in, twisting as he does so. Fuck the others. Fuck them knowing what was happening. He doesn’t care. He will _not_ be a man who can’t fucking take care of his partner the right way. 

Frank takes a breath as Brock pulls out of him, he'd prepared himself for the multitudes of responses that could happen next. Instead, he gives a loud groan as Brock fills him again and quickly goes back to work. "Oh my. Fuck, baby." Frank whines as quietly as he can as his hips rock back against the fingers inside of him. He keeps this up and Frank knows he won't last long. 

“Wanna see you come for me, baby. Wanna make you see stars. Fuck yourself on my fingers like a little whore.” Brock moves the hand that was on Frankie’s chest down to cup his lover’s cock. “Cum all over yourself for me. Let me lick you clean.”

The words alone make his knees shake as he moans and nods his head. He moves his hips, working Brock's fingers inside of him. He finds the right rhythm and picks up the speed. "Wanna be a good little whore..." Frank groans out as the intensity building in his body again, "Fuck I love you." 

Frank fucks into Brock's hand fast, he clenches tighter around the digits. He can feel himself getting closer. His moans turn to words as he arches his back and rolls his hips to hit the right spot, "God. Fuck, it feels so good! I'm close. Fuck, Brock!" The buzz is now gone from inside of him, instead, an aching weight has settled in his hips, each push makes the weight heavier and throb harder. He's closer than he expected to be. Pushing faster, the weight gives and Frank breaks. A loud "Oh fuck!" escapes as he comes. His legs shake as his heart beats hard in his chest. 

Brock pulls out his fingers and wraps his arm around Frankie’s waist, holding him tight and taking some of his weight. He kisses every inch he can of his love’s skin. He can’t stop saying how much he loves Frankie. He can feel a wave of guilt and shame slamming against the walls of his psyche. He turns Frankie around and kisses him hard. He didn’t deserve this perfect man. He loves him so much.

Frank's arms slide around Brock and pull him as close to his own body as humanly possible. He wishes for a moment he was a little taller, but he kisses him a little deeper before grinning. "I love you, Brock," he whispers before kissing him again, "Thank you for taking care of me." 

“I love you. So much. I’m sorry,” he blurts out. 

"Why are you sorry? Cause you came first… just means I still have a hot tight ass." Frank says stroking his cheek, "I don't care who comes first as long as we both do." 

He nods and kisses Frankie’s wrist. It was something he now knew he would need to work on if his new normal was to continue like this. He really didn’t want to always be a quick release. With a heavy sigh, he moves under the spray and begins to lather up some soap. “Sorry, we can’t cuddle and take our time.”

"As long as I get to be with you, I'm happy." Frank says as he hands Brock his shampoo before washing his own body, "We can cuddle at the hotel or on the bus." 

“Cuddling in a bed does sound nice,” Brock grins at him. He uses the shampoo to wash from head to toes in minutes before he’s helping Frankie do the same. He quickly steps out and towels them both off before quickly dressing. “Come on. Hurry, love.”

He pulls on his shirt and underwear before Frank jumps and wiggles a little to get into his jeans, nearly taking a tumble but smashes into the locker. He needs to get regular jeans because one of these times he's going to get injured. "I'm hurrying." 

“Jesus, baby. Hurry doesn’t mean nearly take yourself out. I’m sorry for rushing you. I don’t want it to diminish what happened, I’m sorry. I just completely forgot we had a bit of a deadline.” 

Frank chuckles, "You're fine, love. I need to invest in non skinny jeans… I mean if anything I'll have a cool bruise. I just gotta get shoes on then we can go." 

“Hey, I tried to get you out of skinny jeans and into proper clothing. Oh, wait, that was just the ripped ones,” Brock grins, tongue in between his teeth. He was feeling a modicum better with how Frankie reacted to his poor performance.

"If I remember correctly sir, you tried to _just_ get me out of my ripped jeans and into a dressing room." Frank stands up and kisses Brock, "And for the record, I probably would have teased the shit out of you… or at least tried to that day."

“That was fine. I expected you to, with all that sass. Now, come on. We need to–” Brock stops as he exits the shower stall and into the locker room. He forgot about the others. He _forgot_ about _the others_ who heard them. Ohmygod. Had they heard what he had done? His failures. His quick release. The shame rises again. He forces it down. He knows it can all be washed away when they make it to the house. Everybody will forget about it then. Maybe even himself.

Ray turns as he pulls his damp hair back into a ponytail, "Hey guys!" 

Bob steps around the corner, "Glad you guys are ready, I'm starving!" 

Ray puts an arm around Brock and leans in, "Glad you got your groove back." He kisses the side of Brock's head. 

Mike gave him a warm, happy smile. He didn't know what to say, choosing a smile was the best way to handle it without embarrassing himself or Brock and Frankie.

Frank slips his arm around Brock's middle. He looks up at Brock as he slides his hand into his back pocket, "I am a hungry little _gattino_..." 

"Gerard is smoking," Bob says as he nods towards the door.

“Okay,” Brock nods to Bob and Mike. He squeezes Ray… Sunshine tightly, turning quickly and kissing his brother’s cheek before patting him on the back. He’ll quietly scream in his head later. He _needs_ to see his boys’ joy at his present. “Let’s _go_! This is gonna be awesome. You guys are gonna love it. I’m starving.”

Ray leads them out to the parking lot and the car. "You want shotgun, Iero?" Gerard asks as he moves to the back door. 

Frank looks at Brock then the others, "Is that ok?" He asks with a little smile.

“I am totally fine with that. But, shouldn’t you be asking the birthday boy?” Brock smiles at Frankie. Of course, he wants his best boy next to him. But it _was_ a present for Sunshine. Well, all of them, but Sunshine the most. He slides into the driver’s seat. “I’m good with whatever you guys decide. Just get in.”

"Ray should be up front." Frank nods and moves to the back before Ray can protest he takes the seat behind Brock.

"I'm… I guess I'm shotgun." Ray chuckles as he opens the door and sits beside Brock, "I think I am just supposed to be your copilot."

"You're the Chewie to his Han?" Mike offers.

"Am I Chewie ‘cause the hair?" Ray asks. The question makes the backseat erupt in laughter.

“Hell yeah, you are now, Sunshine,” Brock says through laughter. The _surprise_ bubbling inside him is boosting his mood like a rocket. He’ll crash later but it’s going to be worth it. He doesn’t care. “Don’t need a map though. I know where I’m going.”

"Oh yeah? Just don't get us lost in the middle of nowhere." Ray offers up a small smile and a wink, "Unless that's the plan." 

“Yes. I am kidnapping you and taking you all out to the woods to slaughter you and feed you to the pigs,” Brock deadpans very seriously.

The car goes silent. "You won't get much money from our life savings… Emo only pays in tears," Mike comments dryly as he stares out the window. 

Brock bursts into laughter. He had not expected Mike-n-Ike’s perfect response. “That was awesome.”

"I have my moments." Mike grins wide from the backseat at the rearview mirror.

“Besides, if anything, it would be the other way around. Maybe I should be worried the next time I get into a backseat with one of you guys driving,” Brock grins back into the mirror.

"Only reason you should worry is if Mike is behind the wheel," Bob says playfully.

"Where are we going?" Ray asks as they pass through the city. 

“Told you, brother. Someplace special for dinner. Hush and enjoy the ride… and the suspense,” Brock grins wide. He can’t seem to stop grinning.

"This doesn't look very restaurant-y..." Ray comments, "Are you going to initiate us into your cult?" 

He turns to his brother and gives him a warning look, knowing full well that probably wasn’t what he was initially going to say. He stops at a stop sign, still giving him _DUDE_ signals.

"We all know all you rich New York playboys are part of the Illuminati…" Ray gives him a confused look.

“Yeah, sure. Isn’t that like a super-secret group for musicians though?” Brock asks, passing through a tree-lined road. Moonlight cast eerie shadows across the road and the car. The night sky and city lights reflect off the apartment complex to the right of the car and the dark sheet that covered the open space to the left which was dotted with yellow-orange street lamps inside what he assumed was the park. The streets were lined with cars as the car eases to a stop at the four-way stop.

"Bohemian Grove! That's it!" Ray claps his hands together, "That's the rich playboy cult." 

"Brock. Are we lost?" Frank asks quietly.

"I think you're thinking of Skull and Bones at Yale, Ray," Gerard says looking out the window extremely confused.

"Did you go to Yale, Brock?" Bob asks genuinely.

“I did not, no. I’m really not that smart,” Brock chuckles. 

"Did you do the whole college thing?" Gerard asks.

“I did. I went to West Point. They helped me transition from student to leader in the Army.” Brock slows the car down, carefully looking at the houses. It’s a lot harder to see in the dark but he pulls up to the tan cottage and parallel parks like a pro. He parks and turns off the car.

"I think Mike and I are the only ones who didn't finish college…" Frank comments, "Probably a good thing, I’d have flunked out." 

"Where the fuck are we?" Ray asks, a little nervous. This doesn't look like a good place.

"You gonna Hannibal Lector us?" Bob jokes.

"Brock?" Frank asks looking around the area. It is a suburb. No restaurant in sight.

He turns around in the car and looks at his team. He’s smiling. “I know you guys trust me. Yes? It’s not what it looks like. We are gonna go inside and have a nice dinner. My word, it’s going to be fine.”

"Who's dinner then? Bob’s the meatiest." Mike teases.

“Hey, no weight shaming. Only I am allowed to do that; to Frankie,” he replies laughing. “Come on. Don’t make me order you guys. Get out of the car.”

Ray pulls the door open and steps out. He looks around the neighborhood and to the house in front of them, "Do you know the person who lives here?"

Gerard crawls out and stands beside Ray. Frank stands beside Brock, he looks up at Brock confused as the others crawl out and stretch.

“Yeah,” Brock says, looping his arm around Sunshine’s. “I do. Do you trust me? Honestly?”

"Yes, I trust you, B." Ray nods and pats Brock's shoulder, "Lead the way, fearless leader." 

Brock leads them up the sidewalk to the small steps that led to a large country style front porch. He pulls away and turns the doorknob. He can see through the stained glass inset that the lights were off. The plan was for him to go first, trusting that the others would trust his word that the lights were ‘broken’. He needed them all inside before the surprise was revealed. He lets the others enter the cottage. 

Ray is close behind Brock with Frank right behind him. He’s never been one to be scared of the dark but this made him a little anxious. The boys clump together, this felt a little like a scary movie.

“I _did_ say it was a surprise, Sunshine. Relax, brother.” Brock pats Sunshine’s arm before tapping each of the boys to account for them. “I’ll get the lights. Hang on, sorry.”

Frank snickers at the taps on the shoulder, thinking of Three blind mice. "If this is a trap, I'm haunting you forever, Rumlow." 

“It’s not a trap, _tesoro_. Geeze.” Brock shuts the door hard and waits a full moment of silence as he moves back next to Ray. He’s never been so thankful that it’s dark outside. He wants to see his brother’s face.

"So unless this is a total darkness experience, Imma need light to like, eat," Ray says with a chuckle.

Brock says something loudly in Italian and suddenly the space is flooded with light.

"Surprise!" The girls shout as they throw confetti at the boys with huge grins on their faces. 

Ray's mouth falls open as he takes in the sight of his girl. The other girls and Jack. He turns to Brock and hugs him, tight.

“Happy Birthday, Sunshine. I love you,” Brock says quietly into the hug.

"Oh my god. I– thank you, brother!" Ray says with a shaky voice. He closes his eyes and squeezes. He can hear Christa's footsteps moving closer.

“Go to her,” he whispers to his brother. “We aren’t leaving for two days. I don’t want to see you leave her side.”

Ray shakes his head as he pulls back. His eyes a little bleary as he turns towards her beautiful face, "Hi baby! You lied to me!" Ray says, with a voice that is still wobbly as he wraps his arms around her and lifts her.

Jack makes his way over to hug Frankie super tight. “Hey, bärchen. Missed you.”

Frank squeezes Jack back, "I missed you too! Did you know this was happening before I asked you?" 

Gerard gets jumped by long legs and tattooed arms that force him to the ground with a laugh. "Hi, sugar lips!" Lindsey says between kisses on his cheeks.

“Before you asked me, no. But like right after you texted me, so did he. And I’m here until LA.” Jack says, squeezing Frankie again.

Brock watches his boys reunite with their girls and he steps away to the drink table to get himself a soda and wipe away his tears of joy. He was so happy for them. So damn elated that this is going as planned and that they were so happy. He’s happy to give the biggest gift he can ever hope to give. It was his giving love language and this whole thing filled a need in him. He notices that everyone is preoccupied enough, so he slips outside to the car, unnoticed. 

"Your brother is a sneak." Frank says with a huge smile, "I am happy you're here!" 

Bob's arms are smothering a small tan-skinned woman with long dark hair. She's no taller than Frank with tattooed arms wrapped around Bob. "I wanna meet your friend." She murmurs into Bob's chest. 

"You can in a minute," Bob says as he kisses the top of her head.

Kristen has turned to the side and takes a deep breath, "You know how badly I wanted to tell you!" She exclaims as she wipes a tear from Mike's cheek.

"Let me up, ma'am so I can hug you properly," Gerard grumbled before kissing Lindsey again.

"Nope. Pinned ya. You're mine now, Geegee." Lindsey says before kissing him again.

"It's all Brock. He pulled this together in like 48 hours." Christa whispers into Ray's ear, "He loves you so much, baby."

"Did you bring the thing?" Ray asks her.

"In my bag upstairs." She says as her legs wrap around Ray's waist.

"Lead the way, sir. I wanna give it to him." Christa says with a big smile, "Onward steed." 

Ray carries her upstairs and into their room, "This place is cute." 

"All Brock." She grins at him as she pulls out Brock’s present. Ray turns his back and allows her to hop on his back. 

"I've been instructed I'm not allowed to leave you alone. So, you're just gonna be my little monkey." Ray laughs.

"At least I'm a cute one." She wraps her arms around Ray as he carries her back to the party, "Brock got the cake, we did the decorations. He's gonna cook. I am so happy to see you. I missed you." 

Wiping his eyes and giving a little sniff, Brock locks up the car and carries the beer and mystery box into the house. He's probably got red eyes but it's nothing he can do about it. His eyes still seem to leak but he figures everyone will probably still be focused on their ladies, and Jack, and so will more than likely not notice his return. He needs to start cooking soon.

"Hey baby, do you need help?" Frank asks Brock as he opens the door for him. He doesn't grill him for the red watery eyes but he will later. 

Trust his husband to notice him. Which was always a great thing no matter what. Except Frankie's attention would bring other people's attention to him and he doesn't want to break up the happy couples. He wants them to have as much privacy as possible, even proverbial privacy. He can give them that; wants to give them that. He smiles fondly at Frankie as he makes his way to the kitchen, "I'm good, _gattino_. Thank you." 

"Do you want company while you cook?" Frank asks as he leans against the counter. 

"I'm okay. Go spend time with Jack; with all the other happy couples," Brock grins and puts the beer in the refrigerator.

"Ok." Frank's mouth pulls to the side as he pushes away from the counter, he scans Brock's face before leaving the kitchen and entering into the dining room then the living room. He sits beside Jack. 

"Sorry about Germany," Frank smirks as he pushes down the weird feelings in his head. He scans the room and can't help but smile at the couples who are chatting and reuniting.

"It's personal now. I'm going to have to infiltrate the country, take out the leader, and blow up my own country. It's going to be a bit crazy and totally traitorous but it's worth it," Jack says. 

"Have you tried taking it from the north? Usually, the northern borders tend to be the least protected as they tend to have strong relationships with their northern neighbor." Frank offers.

"I would but one of the other players has control of that area. And they are actually decent. So, no,” Jack chuckles.

Frank gives Jack a side smile, "Fuck Denmark. Take the country and then take Germany. It's a small border. Can't be that hard to cross."

Frank wants to talk to someone about what happened but it's not the time. Nor is it appropriate. He's just got to sort it out in his head. He pats Jack's knee and excuses himself to the bathroom. He slips up the stairs and looks into the different rooms. He comes across the room with Brock's bag in it. He plugs his phone in and lies across the bed. He should get up and socialize but he's gonna recenter himself for a moment. He wanders back downstairs and gets comfortable on the couch. He needs food or a nap. He's not picky on which he gets.

Ray and Christa slip into the kitchen and lean against the island. "So Brock…" Christa says with a little gleam in her eyes, "This is for you. From us." She pushes a little tan box to Brock.

With a frown, he steps away from prepping the kitchen to grab the tiny box. As he opens it, he smiles at Sunshine, "It's your birthday. We're supposed to give _you_ gifts. Not the other way around." He feels the box give and he peers down at the contents. Inside was a keychain with a small silver plate. It had Baby Floof's due date. Engraved were there words _Will You Be Our Godfather?_

"So, what do you say?" Ray asks with a huge smile. Christa leans against the counter and rests her chin on her hands while she watches Brock.

All Brock can do is nod, feeling choked up over the enormity of this simple yet powerful gift. He takes it out, carefully, almost reverently, and grips it tightly. He's never letting it go. He swallows back tears and whispers a thank you.

Christa moves around the counter and hugs him, "You cry then I'm gonna cry." her voice shakes a little. 

"We both love you and want you to be a part of his life no matter what. And you're the most responsible person I know so I trust you with our littles." Ray says with a warm soothing voice. 

Brock hugs Christa tight, peppering her cheeks with kisses until Ray's words hit him and then he loses the fight against the tears. Tears of joy, of course. He's never been this happy. It means so much to him that they love and trust him.

Feeling his chest shake sends tears streaming down Christa's cheeks. Her fingers tighten on Brock's skin. She's not normally this emotional, she's rational. But the hormones are killing her, "'m sorry for crying on your shirt." She sniffs softly before looking up and wiping a tear away.

"I can say the same," Brock sniffs wetly. "I love you guys. This is beautiful. I can't- you don't know how much this means to me."

"You mean the world to me. You have become one of my best friends and my brother. I love you Brock" Ray says as he hugs him, smooshing Christa between them.

"Love you, B," Christa says as she turns her head to the side.

Lindsey peers around the corner to see how the food is coming. Seeing the group hug, she slinks back to Gerard, who found a seat on the couch opposite of Jack, "Yeah, there's crying… maybe we should order a pizza…" 

Huffing slightly, Jack gets up and heads into the kitchen. He mutters under his breath, "What _now_? Didn't realize I had **two** sisters…." 

Christa peers out from the man sandwich she's unfortunately found herself in, "Hey Jack." 

"Hi, Chrissy. Everything okay?" Jack asks, approaching them. He smirks a little, he can tell that they aren't concerned about Brock's tears so he figures it's not a bad thing. "What happened this time?" 

"We asked Brock to be our godfather." She says softly.

Jack's eyebrows shoot up and he grins wide. Inside he's absolutely dying with laughter at the title. "Hey, that's awesome! This means I get the Cool Uncle title!"

Brock snorts and regrets it. He steps out of the hug and blows his nose before bending down at Baby Floof's level. He stage whispers against her tummy, "I'm _always_ the cool uncle. You tell Uncle Jack he hasn't been cool since the eighties. You'll learn I'm the better uncle."

Christa laughs, "He's gotta lot of uncles who claim to be cool… we'll see when it comes time to change diapers or handle him crying." 

"Well if I can handle Brock crying, I think I'm set," Jack says wryly.

"I changed your diapers so fuck off," Brock retorts lightly.

"Do you want help with prep?" Christa asks with a soft smile.

"I'll be okay. I want you guys to spend as much time as you guys can together. Go have fun at the party."

"Surprised that Frank isn't in here helping," Ray comments as he leans against the counter. 

Lindsey leans into the kitchen from the opening, "Should I order pizza?" She asks with a tender smile, "That way you can enjoy the party too, B?" 

He shakes his head no. "I want to do this. I wanna cook." 

"It's my bad he got distracted." Christa looks to her, "I gave him the keychain."

"Awww! Really!" Lindsey replies with a softened face, "Gee, he's gonna be their godfather!" 

"I'm the fun uncle," Jack pipes up with a determined nod. He nudges Ray. "Hair bro. Us curlies need to stick together." 

"Oh, that's awesome! Congrats Brock!" Gerard says with a warm reply as he joins her in the window.

"You're going to be the coolest uncle." Ray nods his head and puts his arm around Jack's shoulder, "Damn right the curl Bros need to stick together." 

"What's going on here?" Bob asks with Rose under his arm.

"Emo hug party," Jack grins. "Ray and Chrissy broke Brock. Again. It doesn't take much." 

"Well, you're not wrong Jack." Bob chuckles, "He is a big softy."

"Shut up," Brock grumbles softly. He wipes his eyes again and moves to actually start cooking. He pulls a deep pan out and coats it with cooking oil.

"We should have music." Lindsey says looking at Christa, "Something dinner party-ish." 

"And wine," Rose says softly.

Brock opens the refrigerator and shows Sunshine the beer. "It's not cold yet but here. In case you wanted something, not wine. I snuck it off the bus. Since we aren't leaving for two days…." Brock realizes he hadn't told the boys they were staying here. "I rented this place for 3 days. We're sleeping here. No hotel. We're going to fly to LA on Sunday and the girls are coming with us. They'll fly back to New York from there."

"You didn't have too!" Ray says with a big grin and flushed cheeks."

"Wait… what?" Bob blinks. He looks at Rose then Brock.

"Really?" Ray grins bigger, "Brock… you didn't have too. This is amazing." 

"He wants to give you the best birthday," Christa whispers up to Ray.

"Thank you for this Brock. It **is** the best birthday." Ray says letting go of Jack and side hugging Brock again. Briefly as to not start the waterworks again.

Frank Sinatra's voice fills the house with bouncy jazz music, Lindsey starts singing along about the world in a string. Bob pulls the bottle of red wine and pours Rose a glass and Brock one, leaving it as an invitation on the counter near the stovetop. He puts a couple of beers in the freezer with wet paper towels wrapped around them. 

"Fifteen and they will be icy cold." Bob nods at the guys. He pats Brock on the shoulder, "Thank you for this, B." 

Brock nods and shifts his focus solely on cooking. He begins chopping veggies for a salad and grating parmesan cheese. He ignores the wine. He knows that if he drinks one, he won't stop at one. No matter how he wants it, he needs to keep himself on the right track.

Jack wanders back into the living room and finds Frankie sound asleep. He snickers softly. Sitting next to him, he nudges him slightly.

Frank groans and shifts a little, "Am I late?" He asks groggily. His eyes stay closed as he yawns.

"Late for what, bärchen?" Jack teases and puts an arm around Frankie.

"School?" He groans before curling into Jack's side.

"No, sleepyhead. Didn't realize you'd need a nap before Brock did." Jack grins.

"What did Brock do?" Frank's eyes pop open. He looks up at Jack and can't help but feel embarrassed for falling asleep during a party.

"Eh, the usual. Ray and Chrissy made cute and broke Brock. It's okay," Jack pats his little brother's head.

"Oh. Tears and sniffles. I assume it has to do with the baby." Frank yawns again.

"I think the show and your brother wore me out." His eyes glance over to the groups chatting and laughing quietly. His head makes him feel weird so he focuses back on Jack, "What have you been doing since we have been gone?" 

"Work, mostly. I'm currently on 'vacation'. Which basically means things are quiet and I don't have to… you know."

"Yeah. I can fill in the blanks. How's the uh, love life?" Frank smirks with an eyebrow raised as he shifts and drops his head into Jack's lap.

"Lauren and I have parted ways. But that's alright." 

"Ah, we'll find you a nice girl or a cat," Frank says with a straight face. "Maybe a tabby cat? Or a cute little ginger one. Are you staying in LA or going home?" 

"I'll stay with you for a bit before catching a regular flight back home. That is, if Brock… well the band really, let's me tag along on the bus for a few days."

"Meh, fuck 'em. Those happy fucks can deal if they don't like it. If you're down to travel with us, then it's happening," he nods casually at his bandmates before turning his attention to Jack as he smiles. "And if the boss man has anything to say, he can deal with me. I'll put him in his place or put a hallmark commercial on." 

Jack laughs, full and rich. "I highly doubt he'll complain. I know you won't. I don't think Ray will either."

"So it's settled then." Frank nods. He sees Lindsey sit beside Jack. Bob and Rose sit on the floor next to the coffee table by Frank's feet. 

"Hello, gents. I see we've woken the wee one. What are we talking about?" She crosses her leg over the other one and leans a little. Ray takes a seat on the opposite couch with Christa in his lap. Mike and Kristen meander to the group but remain standing.

"Me staying with them in LA. Maybe longer. Dunno." Jack absently pats Frankie's hair.

"You should! It would do wonders for Brock. And you'd get to see life on the road like this. I'm thinking I might stay in LA and visit family. I know Gee needs it." Lindsey says with a smile.

"Yeah, he needs someone to keep his ass in check," Frank grumbles.

"Oh, what did he do now?" Lindsey asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Threw a tantrum and broke Brock all over again." Frank says with a little heat to his words, "We had him on stable ground then your husband pulled on the wrong string and everything came crashing down again." He tries to keep the exhaustion from his voice with the last words but they break through. 

"He threw a tantrum?" She glances over to Gee as he slips out the front door to smoke. 

"Accusing Brock of favoritism. Of faking everything; Not just the depression but the touch starvation. We all know that's not something one can fake. But it stems from his stupid ass crush that he has on Brock." He closes his eyes, "He put up a good front at first but the second Ray and I were gone, he lost it. He shot the couch and broke the room." 

"I thought Brock killed himself," Bob says quietly. He leans in and kisses Rose's cheek. 

"We all did," Mike says crossing his arms over his chest. His words edge on the emotional side, but he pulls himself back.

"What the hell?!" Lindsey says with her mouth pulled into a tight line. Her tone is one of anger, "Why didn't anyone tell me?!" 

"I've been busy keeping it together," Frank says as he sits up.

"I've been helping as much as I can but you know." Ray says with a shrug, "It pushed me closer to Brock. So I don't know if that was the intention but I'm cool with it. I gained a brother." 

"I am so sorry guys." Lindsey frowns, "Excuse me for a moment." 

"He's been anxious and on edge some days. He's been better. Actually the best I've seen in days. Weeks." Frank says with a nod at Jack, "But I think it's going to be short-lived." 

Jack's expression blanks and he stiffens in his seat. Rage boils through him, steadily increasing the more that Frank speaks. How dare someone hurt his brother. He can't take that. He gets up and follows after Lindsey.

"Jack, no!" Frank says with a hard voice.

"Stay out of it Frank. This is Family Business," he says coldly as he marches out the door.

Frank is taken back by the words for a moment, "Shit! I might have done something bad." He springs off the couch and moves for the door. He can hear Lindsey's voice loudly speaking at Gerard before he pulls the door open. He steps on the porch unsure what the hell he was putting himself in. 

"I don't care what your intentions were. It was selfish. It was dangerous. You're going to be the reason they both drown and you know it." Lindsey shouts at him, pointing her finger at him. 

Gerard says nothing. His eyes roll instead as he takes a drag from his cigarette. 

Jack stalks up to Gerard with a cold rage in his eyes and shoves Lindsey aside with his left hand. Without missing a beat, he slams his right fist in Gerard's face.

Frank tries to pull Jack back, "It's been handled." He knows he is no match for Jack.

Ray moves to the window to witness the punch to Gerard's face then runs into the kitchen, "I need your assistance with Jack on the porch. Now!" Ray turns and rushes back the other direction.

Brock throws his Gnocci into the pot of boiling water and rushes out after Ray. He's not sure what is going on but he's worried for Jack. Is his brother hurt? 

Jack shoves Gerard up against the railing and slams his fist into Gerard's stomach. He wants to kill this piece of shit. Everything in him is telling him he should and that he is fully within his rights. He grabs Gerard's face and says something darkly in German.

Frank sees there is enough of a gap that he can fit between Jack and Gerard. It's a risk and it's gonna hurt but he's gotta fix it. He quickly pushes himself in-between the two men before the next punch is thrown, "No! Bad Jack!" Frank shouts.

"Move," Jack says darkly and ice cold. 

"No." Frank snaps back as he puffs up a little to appear bigger. 

"Move or I _will_ make you." Jack snarls.

"No. Stand down, Jack." Frank replies firmly, "You'll have to hit me if you want. This has been handled!" 

"Whoa!" Ray says as he opens the doors and Lindsey's arms wrap around his middle, "We need Brock!" 

"Bärchen or not, you hold _no power_ over me, yet," Jack says darkly. 

Brock steps out from behind Ray and moves closer. His voice is full of authority and command. "He doesn't, but _I_ do. Stand down, Jack." 

Frank doesn't take his eyes off Jack. He feels Gerard's fingers curls into his side. He's soon aware that Gerard is digging his nails into his skin, "It's been taken care of Jack, please." Frank softens his voice. His forehead wrinkles as he deflates a little. 

Jack immediately steps away and turns to Brock and hesitantly moves into parade rest. He waits for his orders. He's still livid but he won't disobey Brock.

Brock looks around carefully at the others. "Gerard. Go into the house and clean up." 

Gerard slips out from behind Frank and rushes inside. The door closing hard behind him. Frank moves to follow Gerard unsure of what to do. Or if he's going to be dismissed too.

Brock steps forward and walks up to Jack. He stands in front of him, debating what to do about him. He asks the others without tearing his eyes away from his brother. "What was the fight about? What _happened_?" 

"You," Frank speaks softer than he expected. He clears his throat, "The fight in the hotel room."

"This is my fault. It was inappropriate timing and I take responsibility for that." Frank gets a little strength behind his words.

"While I appreciate my brother standing up for me, I wish you had come to me first before storming out here. I would have told you not to do anything. I did not want you to do anything. You will leave it. He has paid his penance. Do you understand?" Brock says to Jack.

"Yes," Jack says quietly.

"I'm sorry, brother." Brock sighs. He doesn't want to do this. He looks down and makes a decision. He needs to. There's no real choice here. He turns to Lindsey and Ray. "Go inside, please. You too, Frankie." 

Ray pulls her inside without saying a word and closes the door behind them. Frank hesitates, but nods. He steps inside and waits by the door. 

~~

Meanwhile, Gerard is putting ice on his nose. His hands are shaky as Bob and Mike slip into the kitchen. 

"Got what you deserved, eh?" Mike says pulling a beer from the freezer. He hands one to Bob.

"I'm in trouble all over again." Gerard sighs.

"Well, that's what happens when waves are made, dude," Mike says, raising an eyebrow.

"Frank tried to protect me." Gerard chuckles, "His little ass is braver than I would ever be. I wouldn't get between another person and Jack."

"Especially someone who's done a lot of sabotage to their relationship…" Bob comments.

"Exactly." Gerard nods, " I gotta have a talk with Brock. I gotta make it at least ok. Quell the resentment."

"Sounds like the smartest thing you've said in a long while…" Mike tips his beer at Gerard.

"You fix it, cause you broke it." Bob nods.

~~

"Kneel," Brock sighs. "You know I have to, brother. I'm so sorry."

Jack kneels fluidly, still keeping his hands behind his back. He knows what is going to happen and is prepared for it. There was very little forgiveness in the life. He knew and accepted it. He also knew Brock was really not comfortable doing this. Not with him. In some cases, his older brother was not meant for this life. His compassion would be considered a weakness in the Mafia. Still, it worked. Brock earned the devotion of others the other Heads could never hope to achieve. He raises his head, keeping himself firm, proudly accepting his punishment. "Do it. Before you lose your nerve." 

Brock backhands Jack hard enough to force his brother's head to the left. Before he even thinks, he's doing it again forcing Jack's neck to twist all the way to the right. Jack's lip is busted open from his nails and Brock hates himself for doing this more. This was why he had Jack. It was his job as Enforcer to dish out punishments. He will never be comfortable dealing pain to those he loved. After a moment he pulls Jack up and into a bear hug. He kisses the reddened flesh of Jack's cheeks and presses their foreheads together.

"I'm sorry," Brock says tightly.

"I'm sorry for overstepping my place. Frank said it had been handled and I just couldn't let it go. I would have killed him. Thank you." Jack hugs him back.

Brock pulls away and nods. "Let's go inside before my food burns." 

Jack nods and heads in, going for the bathroom to wash his lip a little. Brock is right on his heels and goes for the kitchen. 

Christa is stirring the pot of gnocchi and gives Brock a small smile.

He greets her with a smile and a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, princess." 

"Of course. Anything to help… I feel a little useless if I'm not helping." She says softly. 

"I understand that feeling," he replies. "I just want you guys to enjoy the company while it lasts."

"I know." She steps aside, "Did you want _help?"_

Lindsey slips into the kitchen, quietly and inconspicuously pulls dishes and silverware from the cupboard and drawers. She sets the table for the house. 

"Part of me in a shrill voice is screaming that it's rude to have the guests at a party you are hosting to help. The other part isa little… overwhelmed."

"Lemme just stop you right there..." Christa says putting a thin finger to his lips, "That old etiquette teacher can spin in her grave. Here, we help each other out. We all cook and have fun while we do it."

"So what can _we_ do to help?" Lindsey says standing beside Christa.

"It wasn't _just_ Madame Moretti, but okay," He says with a wry smile. "Once the Gnocchi is finished, it can go into a bowl so I can toss it. Um, I started a salad. That can be fixed the rest of the way. I'm going to be making garlic bread chips and Chicken Cacciatore for our main meal. Salad and the gnocchi are appetizers."

"I got the salad," Christa says with a smile and a kiss on his cheek. 

"I am at your disposal, good sir." Lindsey grins up at him with bright eyes. 

Kristen and Rose slip in the kitchen. "I can help." Kristen’s voice is small but she stands up straight, "The boys are talking and poor Rose and I don't want to pretend like we know what's going on. So please, let us?"

"My brother is very protective of me. To say the least anyway. Jack decided to take the matter into his own hands."

"Yes. He beat me to it." Lindsey says looking over at Brock.

"I am aware. Jack's misbehavior has been taken care of. He's apologized for overreacting." Brock carefully takes the gnocchi out and drains the water.

"Oh no. It's fine that he hit him. _I_ was going to do the same thing… just with less _force_ , of course." She says with a smile.

"What's done is done. We forgive but never forget." Rose says moving to the counter to hand the bowl to Brock. 

"Agreed. It's something I try to live by. I've had my failures where I've held onto unforgiveness but I'm working on that." Brock begins working on a brown butter sage sauce to go over the gnocchi. 

"I heard a rumor..." Christa says with a little smile as she looks at Brock. 

"Oh? What's that?" he asks her as he melts butter in a pan while finely chopping sage leaves.

"A little bird told me that you got your groove back..." 

"SUNSHINE!" Brock screeches. "I'm gonna kill you, dude!"

"There is nothing wrong with a little slump." Christa bumps her hip into him.

"Toro!" Brock hollers again. "I know you can hear me. Get your ass in here!" 

Ray pokes his head into the diner window, "Yes, Brock…" There is not a chance he's coming into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, Toro. Why you telling my sister-in-law private things, huh? Why? Why why why why?" Brock glares, playfully annoyed. He takes gnocchi and throws it at Ray.

"Didn't you already try to beat the shit out of Iero?" Ray smirks and winks.

"If the ladies weren't here, I'd pummel you to death. You keep my bedroom stuff out of the ladies' gossip," Brock warns playfully as he waves his knife around at Ray. 

"I mean… you did make it public." Ray picks up the gnocchi and pops it in his mouth, "Chris asked how you were, _really_ doing." 

"Yeah you _should_ know considering I've been sleeping with _you_ for several weeks now," he retorts lightly. He looks at the ladies with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Payback, little bull. "And you liked it." 

Ray's cheeks flush, "Don't make it sound soo seedy." He takes a breath, "I've been your emotional support boyfriend."

Brock blinks several times. He wasn't expecting Ray to just be okay with it. Like, he even worded it wrongly just so Ray would _**feel**_ the embarrassment down to his toes and he just brushed it off. Like it was nothing. That motherfucker. He sighs in defeat. His one good leverage… poofed away in the air. He pouts, in a totally not sour loser of disappointment, sort of way. "Goddammit. Yeah, okay." 

Ray laughs hard, "Christa knows I've been sleeping in bed with you." 

"It's sweet." Christa pinches his cheek.

The brown butter sauce finishes and he pours it over the gnocchi, mixing it carefully before setting it aside. He moves to make pasta. "I'm going to miss my emotional support boyfriend when the tour is over. He's a very good cuddle buddy."

"You'll be at home, you won't need me. Plus you have your _husband._ " Ray points out. 

"Very true. He can't be in both places at one time though. I was thinking about moving the bed against the wall. That is, _if_ I'm still… like this… by the time the tour is over. I don't want to be but," Brock trails off. He doesn't want to think that he might still need help six or eight or twelve months from now. He whispers so softly his thoughts without even realizing it. "I don't want to be this _broken_ when I go home to see my parents."

"Well, if you don't want to be _broken_ as you say, then maybe you need to push harder?" Christa offers, "What do you think would help you get through this?"

"You're going home in 5 months?" Ray asks.

"Christmas, remember?"

"Roughly six," Lindsey says as she folds a napkin.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Brock says, rolling the dough out.

"Shouldn't that be like the goal line or whatever sports term applies?" Kristen asks. 

"It is. But it's also very stressful for me and Frankie. My parents are….. old school. They don't approve; I don't get married."

"So we have to work as your team to get you back to fighting shape." Lindsey pats his butt.

Brock's butt tightens up from the smack and he chuckles, "Right. You're my ladies of the harem; the Angels. Or showgirls. I don't remember what I said."

"Yes. We're your entourage of cheerleaders, angels, and hell raisers." Lindsey winks at him, "And we won't let you fail." 

"Brock's angels is cute," Christa says with a big smile.

"So I've got Brock's Emo Harem as the new band name with the Angels as a backup. Gotcha," he laughs.

"Emo harem!" Rose chuckles, "I just picture the boys dressed as belly dancers… it's amazing!"

"I bet Frankie could pull it off," Brock says with a little laugh. He puts chicken in a pan and begins to cook that.

"He'd be the only one." Christa smirks at Ray, "He's too hairy." 

"That's why he's the perfect teddy bear," Brock smirks at them both. He goes back to cooking and making a sauce for the pasta. Regardless of what happens in the future, he's thankful for these people who have let him into their hearts now. Eventually, the food is finished and ready to be served.

The table is filled with delicious food and quiet chatter as they eat. The conflict, stress, and worry had faded away to satisfied smiles. The music had turned to something softer and instrumental. Each boy praising the meal periodically.

Frank watches as a mushroom is stabbed then eaten by Ray and he can't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. He remembers back to being a kid and hiding them in his napkin or giving them to the dog. He sits for a minute and quietly takes in the room. He's proud of Brock for pulling this off and keeping it a secret from him even. 

"This really is amazing Brock." Ray says with a satisfied smile, "Thank you so much for this amazing dinner." 

"Thank you. I'm glad you guys like it. It's not often I cook so I was worried at first that I was a little rusty. Just remember to save room for your cake and the ice cream." He takes a sip of his water and places his hand in Frankie's.

Frank gives him a smile, "Your never rusty, love… maybe a little dusty but… this is fantastic."

Brock gives him a playfully annoyed look, lips pulled into a thin line. "Really? Dork." 

"I was joking. Sorry." Frank says softly. 

"Where _did_ you learn to cook like this?" Mike asks as he takes a sip of water.

"My mother. This is one of her recipes." 

"Mom did most of the cooking around the house when I was a small child. It was a little bit later when I was at least in elementary school when we got the chef. I have a few memories of her baking," Jack comments as he drinks some wine.

"By that point, she was focused more on raising us than spending six or eight hours in a kitchen every day. When you were a baby, she could keep you in the high chair while me and Brooke went outside and played."

"How far apart are you two?" Lindsey asks, "Five or six years?" 

"Seven actually. Mom brought home this curly-haired screamer of a baby when he was what, four or five months old?" Brock asks Jack to confirm.

"Something like that, yeah," Jack nods.

"So he's the baby of the family. Are you the momma's boy?" Christa asks.

Brock grins wide. "Damn right and proud of it. Though, really all three of us are." 

"Well, cheers to Momma Rumlow." Ray says raising his glass slightly, "She's got amazing recipes and pretty amazing sons." 

"Yes she does," Brock says, looking at Ray. He knows without a shadow of a doubt the moment his mom met Sunshine, he would be her third son in seconds. He raises his glass. "To Mom." 

Jack raises his as well. "To Mom." 

The table follows and raises a glass.

_'Thank god for Momma Rumlow.'_ Frank thinks.

As dinner winds down and the tables get cleared, the girls bring out the birthday cake with candles on it. Ray grins at everyone before blowing out the candles. The cake is as delicious as dinner. 

"Thank you for everything." Ray rises to his feet and hugs Brock, "This is the best birthday, I think I've ever had."

"Only think? Hmm. Need to work harder then. Let's bring out the presents then," Brock grins into the hug before pulling away.

"You really didn't need to get presents! I don't deserve that!" Ray says sitting in his seat. 

Frank looks at Brock for a moment but then dismisses any doubt. Brock is prepared for anything, "Where is it?" He asks softly. 

"Our bedroom. In the closet. Do you know which one it is?" he asks, with a smile.

"I found it earlier, I'll be right back." 

Brock calls after him, "Don't forget the card. It's tucked into a pillowcase." 

"The pillowcase?" Frank calls back and shakes his head. He pulls the soft guitar case out, checking the instrument to make sure she was good. He pulls the card from the pillow and snickers before rejoining the group. He hands the card to Ray then leans the guitar against Christa's chair, "Brock's pretty great at gift-giving too." Frank kisses his friend's cheek before sitting next to Brock again.

"You didn't have to. Oh my god, Brock. This is too much." 

"It was my idea, at best, but that's all Frankie's gift. He picked it. I did nothing but suggest it. _My_ gift is the card," Brock beams. He's rather proud of his handmade card. It's a cute one, too. Of course, the $50 Starbucks gift card tucked in there was just a bonus.

He opens the card, now curious. He lifts the gift card. "Brock. The card is pretty cute… thank you for everything." He gives him a little smile. He won't say what he wants to because he's learning that Brock is a giver, "This is the best birthday I've ever had. I get an amazing dinner, my beautiful bride. My best friend and brother. Then great gifts… I don't deserve half of it."

"You deserve all of it. And so much more. And all of it pales in comparison for the immeasurable amount you have done for me. I am honored to call you brother and friend. Happy birthday, Raymond."

Ray rises to his feet and moves to hugs Brock, "Thank you so much. I love you, Brock!" He kisses the top of Brock's head, "You spoiled me." 

As he takes his seat, he looks at his girl and smiles, "I have meant to tell you guys this for a while but uh, Christa and I are having a baby." 

"YES! You finally told them!" Brock blurts out before he realizes it and covers his mouth. He's just so happy he doesn't have to hide the Baby Floof news anymore! "Oops." 

Christa laughs and drops her head back, "Brock has been bursting at the seams wanting to gush about it all day."

The others are quiet for a moment but soon are smiling. They move to hug her and Ray with congratulations shared. 

"We asked Brock to be the godfather." Ray grins at him.

Jack leans over to Brock and whispers, "That's never not going to be funny." 

Brock snorts with laughter and fights to keep a straight face. He nudges Jack to hush. 

"What do we want, a boy or girl?" Bob asks

"A boy." Ray grins, "But a happy baby _floof_ is more important than anything." 

"Baby Floof is a boy," Brock says firmly. He's very adamant and just has this gut feeling that he's correct. 

"What if it's a girl?" Lindsay asks.

Brock goes to argue but decides he should keep his mouth shut. It's not his son. He just loves this kid so fiercely. And his parents. He needs to hush.

"Nope. It's a boy. I know it." Ray nods at Brock, "We voted and the baby lost."

"Yep." Brock nods.

"Do you and Frank want kids?" Rose asks quietly.

"No. I don't." Frank shakes his head, "Uncle is good for me."

"I'm gonna treat Baby Floof like my own but with the added benefit of a return policy. I'm good with borrowing." 

"Yeah. And we are more than willing to let him borrow her." Christa says with a big teasing smile.

"I've already claimed first dibs on babysitting _him_ ," Brock grins with a little tongue sticking out.

"So what you're saying is that Brock's babysitting service is going to be open when babies are born?" Lindsey smirks.

"Babysitting service, huh?" Frank looks up at Brock.

"I'm happy with that. Already got Emma. I'll add Baby Floof and… Baby Rocker to the list. You okay with that, _tesoro_?"

"Yeah, that works for me." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek. 

"Baby Rocker, huh?" Lindsey grins. 

After the presents, the boys clear the table. Christa kisses Brock on the cheek, "Thank you so much for everything today. You're are amazing but I'm tired." 

"I feel that. I haven't had a nap today. I'm going to crash so hard. I'm so glad everything went well." Brock hugs her tightly. He greets the baby goodnight with a little pat on her tummy.

"Yeah. I didn't either." Christa smiles and pets the back of his head. 

Each girl copies Christa's move, hugging Brock and thanking him for the wonderful night. The boys each say their good night's and depart to their rooms following their ladies, leaving Jack and Brock sitting with Frank. 

"Alright, it's bedtime for you, _polpetto_." Frank says softly as he rises to his feet, taking Brock’s hand. He kisses Jack on the head, "Love you, brother." 

"Love you too, bärchen" Jack pats Frankie before moving to hug Brock. "Goodnight."

"Night," Brock replies, sleepily.

Frank leads Brock to their room. He pulls his clothing off, except his underwear, and falls into the bed. He wanted Brock to open his box but it can wait. Brock joins him quickly, also stripping down to his underwear. He pulls Frankie in tightly and kisses his neck and shoulder.

"I love you," Brock mumbles, sleepy and content.

"Love you more, baby." Frank presses himself closer to him.

Brock chuckles, "Not possible _vita mia_." 

"I mean it." Frank mumbles softly, "I love you the most."

"You can't possibly love me more than I love you. You're my soulmate. The love of my life. My treasure. My King." Brock rubs his hand up and down Frank's hip and leg, caressing. "I won't, can't, live without you." 

"Mmm… I'm more compact, so the love is more condensed which means there's more room for love and adoration in me. Though, I feel the same about living without you. I'd give everything up for you." Frank says as he lifts Brock's hand and kisses his palm.

"I know you would. As would I. I'm praying neither of us will have to. Even though I know that's impossible. Time is not on our side." Brock cuddles Frankie closer and sighs into his neck. A leg hooks itself over one of Frankie's.

"Mmm one of those nights?" Frank's eyes can't stay open as he yawns, "Big octopus mode." He doesn't stay awake long, Brock body heat is comforting and home.

Brock hums his agreement, barely awake himself. The events of the day pull at him and drag him down into deep sleep. His soft snores soon fill the room. What seems like seconds later, Brock's eyes snap open with a little jerk as he jolts up; the remnants of a nightmare scream on his lips. He's covered in sweat around his chest and underarms and trembling hard with fear and wide, panicked eyes.

"Brock! Babe, breath!" Frank says softly. His heart is slamming in his chest, "It's a dream. You're safe!" 

The door of the bedroom slams open and Ray steps into the room. Christa is at the door with Lindsey in tow, "Brock. It's okay!" 

Jack is out of the bed and cursing himself that his room is at the end of the hall. He gently but urgently pushes himself past the other guys and makes his way to his brother's room.

He doesn't remember what the nightmare was but as his people pile in, Brock feels terrible for waking them up. All he knows is that he's not okay; not safe in his own mind or body. He's not safe here. He hates it so much. He can't seem to stop shaking and crying. Crying seemed to be the only way he could get the overwhelming emotions out, or to at least calm. His knees draw up to his chest and he rests his head on them. He attempts to reduce his panic by breathing slower. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. I tried. I'm sorry."

"Brock… it's okay." Ray says kneeling beside the bed. 

Frank slides behind Brock, kneeling and hugging him, "You're safe, baby." 

"No," Brock sobs out. "I'm not. Not in my head." 

Jack taps Lindsey to move and he slides in the doorway, entering the room fully. He sits on the bed, near Ray. "What happened? Everything okay?" 

"Bad dream. He doesn't feel safe." Frank says stroking Brock's chest as he holds his freaked out husband.

"Safe?" asks Jack, confused.

Brock shakes his head amidst the hot tears streaming down his face. He swallows a few times to be able to explain before he's crying harder. "No wall." 

"He feels compromised." Frank tries to explain groggily, "When he came home from war." 

"PTSD," Bob says from the hallway. 

"I know what it is. I know what he means by the wall; I was there too," Jack says softly.

"He's been sleeping with Ray behind him. Like a barrier. From danger." Frank rubs his nose on Brock's back. He didn't want to move his hands to itch it.

"It's made him feel less vulnerable. It's gotten worse since Gerard broke his wall." Ray says harshly. 

Jack frowns. He's not happy with the idea that his brother had been sleeping so miserable all this time. He wonders how long it's been going on and why didn't anyone tell him before that. Sure they went over this earlier, but it wasn't the same as witnessing it firsthand. He wonders how else his anxiety and panic manifesting are, besides at night and with nightmares. 

"Jack. Will you sleep with us?" Frank asks softly. He hopes Jack is willing to give up privacy. 

"Of course." 

Ray strokes Brock’s ankle, "It's gonna be okay, Brock. I know it doesn't feel like it. But it will." He can hear faint cussing in the hallway. In the back of his head, he is glad that they get to experience this. They get to see how much of a struggle it's been. How heavy it weighs on Frank. 

"I'll go get a bottle of water," Mike says quietly from the hall. 

"I have Xanax. Would that help?" Lindsey asks.

"I don't know. Baby?" Frank is tired. He is physically tired and emotionally tired. It's not Brock's fault. He just feels like he can't win. It feels like they get three steps ahead and yanked back four. _Keep it together. You can fall apart when they go to sleep, Iero._

"Maybe just one, to try," Jack offers to Brock. He knows how he feels about taking drugs. It was a beast to get him to take Tylenol when they were in the service.

Brock opens his mouth to protest then closes it. He's miserable and too tired on all the levels to care. He nods. 

"I want Gerard to see this. I want him to understand what he's done." Ray rises to his feet. A wave of new anger rolls through his body, the exhaustion has worn down the calm collected facade he keeps up. Once Gerard appears, Ray glowers at him feeling the heat roll up his back, "This is what happens...This is what it's been. It's not whatever your foul head thinks. It's watching someone you care about drown in molasses and you can't fuckin help. Your actions don't just affect you, it's everyone around you. You need to think before you act… you need to understand that you are putting the band in jeopardy. Get out of this fucking room before I knock your teeth down your throat."

"I already tried that Ray. Brock said no." Jack comments lightly. Watching just how fired up Ray got made Jack smirk. _Oh, he definitely belongs in our family._

"I'm so sorry… I didn't." Gerard trails off as he looks around the room and feels the heat across his face. The angry faces feel like a weight on his chest. He regrets what he's done. He didn't think that this would happen. Turning around, his eyes meet Lindsey's and slumps. She is mad. Disappointed in him. He has to talk to Brock. He has to do something to fix this. He slinks off to his room and falls into bed. 

"What's done is done," Brock says. He's cried himself into the numbness of exhaustion and is coming down from the panic attack. He's okay now. His head is stuffy and killing him but he's calm. He's ready to go back to bed. "Leave him be. I'm okay, brother."

"Thank you, Linds," Frank says softly.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart," she steps into the room and kisses Brock's sweaty head, "You get some rest love." She hands the bottle of pills to Jack.

Slowly the number of bodies at the doorway begins to disappear until all is left is Jack and Ray, "I am right down the hall if you need anything. Don't hesitate." Ray says hesitantly. He doesn't want to go. But his wife is waiting for him. 

"Go. We got this. Huh, Jack?" Frank says from behind Brock. 

Ray nods and slowly exits the room, "Love you brothers. Love you, Frankie," his voice is a whisper just before he closes the door. 

Jack shifts on the bed and he hugs Frankie and Brock. Mostly squishes Frankie. He kisses both of their foreheads. "We'll be okay. You guys are going to be ok. Let's get some sleep. I'll be your Protector."

"Thank you, Jack." Frank sighs, "Babe, take one of those and we can lie down."

Brock isn't sure he needs one anymore. He's fine now; calm. He frowns in thought. Having Jack behind him would be his wall. There wouldn't be another anxiety attack because he'll be safe. And since he cried his way through the one he just had, he's tired but okay. He doesn't need to be taking pills from Lindsey. Maybe one, okay, but only if his back was naked. Apparently he isn't allowed to sleep without his back covered. He sighs and shakes his head no. "I don't need it now. Attack's over and Jack is here. I'll take it later."

"Then lay down and get comfy. Do you have a preference for how you guys sleep?" Jack asks.

"Side. Me in front." Frank sighs. He's too tired to argue with Brock.

"No pants. No shirt." Brock looks at Jack pointedly. "Skin contact."

"You want me naked?" Jack questions as he pulls off his shirt. His hands slip under his boxers and he waits to hear a verdict. He doesn't care either way.

"If that's how you sleep, sure. Underwear is fine." Frank replies as he stretches long in the bed before turning on his side to face Brock, "No sleep pants is what he means." 

"Yeah, that makes sense. Brock is a furnace so the less clothing he wears at night, the better. But if you want the most skin contact, naked cuddles are the way to go. And it kinda only works if everyone is participating," says Jack, keeping his gaze on Frankie. He knows his brother nearly as intimate as if they shared a womb. He knows Brock's needs and how to navigate them. It's what he was chosen and groomed for since birth. 

"If that's what Brock wants, I'm flexible. Tired but flexible." Frank replies. His eyes scan Brock's face. 

"Come on Godfather," Jack pats his shoulder. "Take off your underwear. As your second, I'm not asking." 

Brock sighs, fighting sleep, he lays on his back and raises his hips, sliding off his boxer shorts. They join the pile on the floor of Jack's shirt and now boxers. 

Frank pulls the undies off of his hips then slides under the blankets. He turns on his side and waits for Brock to meet him. His arm extends back and makes grabby hands for Brock.

Brock slots himself in his place and presses tight to Frankie. The line between their bodies held no gap. He nuzzles the back of Frankie's neck and hair and sighs. He's working on drifting back off.

Jack, now nude, doesn't hesitate to join in and presses himself up against Brock. He grabs the blanket and pulls it over a little so he's covered and comfortable before he throws his arm across his brothers. He, too, sighs with sleepy content. After a moment of silence he mutters, "Don't you fart on my dick, dude." 

Brock laughs helplessly; his brother was a doofus. Frank snorts. Happy he made Brock laugh, Jack finally succumbs to slumber. Brock soon follows after, finally able to subconsciously relax. Frank waits until he is sure everyone is asleep before he lets himself fall apart, silently letting the tears roll down his face. 


	20. The City of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band shoots a music video in Los Angeles!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Hollywood, baby!
> 
> Ghost of You gets a music video, which was fun to write. Hollywood isn't without its challenges though and an old danger returns as well as a startling discovery. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Per usual, all mistakes are our own and this is a work of fiction that gains no money, only blood, sweat, and tears.

Ray kisses his wife once more before stepping back, "You should go before I kidnap you and take you everywhere with me." 

"I'm ok with that." She grins at him.

"Yeah, but your clients won't like that..." He says as she hugs him tight.

"Yeah. I know. Responsibility and all that jazz." She kisses him softly, "Take care of yourself. And Brock."

"I love you," Ray whispers after kissing her forehead.

"I know." Her smile is bright, "Be good." 

He was the last one off the plane. He didn't give a shit, his whole world was on that bird and he was gonna take his damn time. It never seems like enough time with her, especially now. He carefully descends the stairs to meet Brock at the bottom. Jack wasn't too far behind him. The others had wandered inside the terminal."What time are we meeting the record label fuckers?" He wipes a tear from his eye.

Brock feels a lump in his throat of sadness that his Sunshine is raining. He tried to give them all the most amount of time with their ladies and it still wasn't enough. He hates seeing the ones he cares most about in this damned world cry. Especially if he can't fix it. He sighs and refocuses. "We need to be there around two-thirty." 

"Dope. Bus then hotel?" Ray asks, putting his arm around Brock's shoulder.

"Yessir." Brock sighs. He kisses his cheek, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's not enough." 

"Oh, I'm fine. It's 'cause she's pregnant. I think that's why I am so clingy. I love her but I know she's got a career and stuff." Ray sighs, "Don't be sorry." 

"My heart breaks when the people I care about the most are sad. And I wanna do everything I can to fix it; to make it better. I don't like it when you rain, brother. But I'm here for you anyway, anytime." Brock squeezes him tight in the side hug. 

Jack offers his support by patting Ray on the back. "All I can think about is that damn nursery rhyme. Rain, rain, go away…"

"Come again another day," Brock finishes.

"I can tell you two are related," Ray jokes. "I'm just thankful that we'll be off the road when she is big pregnant and having said baby." 

"I'd have canceled the rest of the tour if that was the case. I won't let you miss the delivery. My word," Brock says, adamantly.

"I appreciate that. Feel sorry for the poor thing. A December birthday is rough." Ray chuckles, "My older brother is the 10th and he bitches about not getting a birthday and a Christmas." Ray pulls the door open for Jack and Brock.

"You two ready to experience the joys of music video making…" Ray smirks as he nods to the band, "It's an experience like no other." 

"No," Brock grumbles.

"Sure! Wait, what? Brock!" Jack did not expect his brother's answer.

"What's wrong, grumpy gills?" Ray asks, poking his side. 

"Music."

"You don't have to be there if you don't want to. You and Jack can go do stuff." Ray says with a nod, "Aside from just being an extra, there is not a lot to do while we film." 

The band approaches with bags slung over shoulders or in hand. 

"Why the long faces?" Mike asks. 

"Just feeling my feels. It's all good, Mike," Ray replies as he fluffs Mike's hair. He joins the groups as they head for the exit. 

"Hey, Brock?" Gerard speaks softly.

"Yeah?" Brock replies lightly. Jack stiffens up next to Brock and steps a little closer to his older brother. 

"I kinda want to get a haircut. What do you think?" Gerard asks as he pulls his hair back behind his ear, "You're the best-groomed one here… so I figure. You're the expert."

"Are you wanting to go to a barber or are you asking me to cut it?"

"Do you cut hair?" Gerard asks curiously. "I was thinking shorter, more Elvis kinda style. For the video."

"I'm not cutting my hair." Ray contributes. 

"You aren't allowed," Brock says to Sunshine. He turns back to Gerard. "Not professionally. I'm not that talented. But I've cut hair before. I could probably get yours into a coif as Elvis had. But if you want to go to a barber, then sure. Probably should do that before the filming."

"Ok. Do you think it would look alright?" Gee asks with a small lazy smile, "My head won't look too lumpy?" 

"Some hair gel and the right style and it'll be okay. Jarheads mostly shaved their heads. But if we're doing the 1940s, you'll need some slick and a bit of poof. Yeah…. It'll be fine. Ladies will love it." Brock nods.

"They shaved their heads to prevent lice. Now that's a bitch to deal with. And heat rash. Helmet rash is worse than cradle cap," Jack shudders a little.

"We could all use a little trim." Bob adds, "And… I bet the label would pay for it. Music video cost and all." 

Frank's rolling around the idea of shorter hair. It would be a nice easy way to upkeep himself before they go to Italy. He can't meet the parents looking like a shaggy dog. He moves casually behind and around Gerard letting him get closer to Brock. This was good. Talking is good. Maybe it will help. 

"Fine by me. Let’s drop off the excess baggage and go," Brock says. He might shave his sides and back.

"Lice? Why? How?" Ray asks with a disgusted face.

"Personal experiences suck. When you are in a close, and I mean close, knit group when one person gets it, everyone else does. You guys think the bus is close? Yeah, no."

"I can't imagine you or Brock with shaved heads." Frank leans forward to look at Jack.

Jack jerks his thumb at Brock. "I did. He didn't. He wanted to be pretty."

"I, for some reason don't doubt that." Frank grins, "He is a little high maintenance." 

Brock gets an indignant look on his face, "I never had a problem with rash or lice." 

"That's because you put so much hairspray in it, lice died on contact. You were a walking flamethrower waiting to happen. And when we didn't have a lice outbreak, you washed it like every five seconds." Jack pulls his tongue in and mimics Brock in a high and whiny voice. "Jack! Hang on, I gotta dunk my head. Jack, stop. I need to wash my face… whole head first. Jaaack I'm thirsty!" He returns to his normal speaking voice. "Why did you felt the need to take a drink using your ears is beyond me. High maintenance, my ass. You're worse than the Queen of England."

Ray can't help but giggle. 

"Now be fair, he is more like Prince Charles." Frank grins, "But prettier…"

Gerard pulls open the door to the passenger van for everyone to get in.  
He makes note of how Frank sits apart from Brock, allowing Ray and Jack to sit next to him. 

"I'm sure curious to know where they are putting us up. Last time we stayed at a motel 8 on skid row… that was. Interesting." Bob comments as he scoots next to Frank, in the way back of the van.

"Better stay on that side of the street mother fucker." Gerard says with a smile, "I will knock you the fuck out."

Frank snorts, "We have a much better manager now, he won't let us stay next to a crack house."

"Damn right. One of the stipulations on my contract is that we stay in hotels that are three stars or higher. That's as low as I'm willing to go. So Lauren and the label had to check every booking we have and cancel them. Because, of course, Alan had you in shit-holes."

"The lice were friendly…" Frank snickers. 

The van slowly eases up to a Bavarian looking cottage home with a gravel driveway. The band glances around at the beautiful property. 

"This is a mistake right?" Ray asks leaning down to look at the buildings through the window.

"This looks like a movie set for a sitcom about unlikely roommates," Fran says with a hint of wonder in his voice.

"I never want to leave LA if this is what it's like?" Gerard says with a small smile.

"I was thinking about the same, Frankie. Except for more high fantasy instead of a sitcom. This is pretty awesome," Brock says with a tone matching Frankie's.

"Oh yes! This is gorgeous, babe. Did you pick this?" Frank grins wide at Brock. 

"I wish I could take the credit for this one but no." Brock shakes his head.

"This place screams you. So, at least she hasn't lost her touch." Ray grins. 

"It's glamorous." Frank says softly, "I feel like I'm gonna be asked to leave."  
He watches as Brock and Jack exit the van and head to the office. He steps out and stretches.

Jack waits outside for Frankie and Ray. He's not sure what is going on or how things work. He slings an arm around Frankie, "How's all this work, anyway?" 

"How what works? The hotel?" Frank grins, "See you go into the office and exchange information and money. And then you get to stay there temporarily."

"Ha-fucking-ha. I know how a hotel works, kid. I meant do you guys have assigned rooms or some such thing or can we just pick whatever?"

"Usually Brock just hands a key out. Did you want your own room or to stay with us?" Frank rests his head on Jack's shoulder, "It might be different. I don't know about this place." 

"I don't mind bunking if the rooms are already booked and such." Jack shrugs. He's easy-going. "Or if I'm needed in your room. Lemme know if you two are gonna have sex though… I'll borrow his headphones."

"Yeah. That probably won't be happening. You're good." Frank says with a sigh. 

"I'm good with most things. We'll just decide when Brock does his thing. I'm just a tag-a-long." Jack grins at Frankie.

"Are you gonna take Brock out and do tourist things while we are filming? Cause it's like 10 hours of work." Frank asks.

"Oh geez, yeah I guess."

"I mean you should come visit but you aren't obligated to stay. It's a lot of hurry up and wait." Ray says as Brock approaches with a big smile.

Jack tilts his head. Wasn't a bad idea. "Maybe after we do a few things? I know that Brock mentioned something about helping you guys?" 

"Guys this place is awesome," Brock says excitedly. He's got a map in hand of the general area. "We each get our own little private bungalow. There's a fireplace outside! And we're next to the Sunset Strip! And the Walk of Fame!"

"Have you been to LA before B?" Mike asks with a grin as he takes his keys. 

"Not at all. Why?" Brock tilts his head.

"Oh just curious. We've only been here for shows so, we haven't done a lot of the big tourist things." Mike replies looking at his keys, "Marlene? Where's that?"

"Oh, they named the bungalows. Here, see?" Brock hands over the map of the property.

"That is totally cool! I'm in the Marilyn..." Ray says pretending to fluff his already fluffy hair.

Brock giggles at Ray, "You would look good in a white dress but not nearly as pretty as Frankie."

"Where are we?" Frank asks, peering at the map.

"We're in the Valentino," Brock peers and points out their room. "No patio but that's okay. We get a bigger room." 

"Oh. Ok." Frank looks up and smiles at Brock.

"Are you getting your rental car before we head to the meeting?" Gerard asks. 

"What time are we meeting back up?" Bob asks. 

Brock grins wide. "No need for a rental. We are so cool and awesome that we have a hired driver to take us around. Courtesy of the label."

"Oh fuck yes!" Mike says high giving Bob, "We are fancy!"

"This is Hollywood, we gotta ride in style you know," Jack laughs. 

"Haircut then meeting? So like 1?" Gee looks at Brock. 

"Sounds perfect," Brock nods before stealing Frankie from Jack and hugging him.

Frank squeaks a little from the unexpected hug. "Are you ready to check this place out, my love?" He glances up at Brock. 

"Hell yeah!" Brock tugs Frankie's hand a little.

Jack grins at his brother, happy to see him smiling and enjoying himself. It was a wonderful sight to see. He'll arrange his own sleeping quarters later. Especially if he doesn't like any of the rooms.

Frank follows Brock to their room and waits for him to open the door. "Are these like full places, with like a kitchen?" Frank asks. 

"Yeah, they're like little houses from what the guy out the check-in desk said." Brock uses his key to open the door to the bungalow and lets Frankie and Jack inside.

"Oh, that's rad!" Frank says. His words end as his jaw falls open as he looks around the place. "This place is… incredible." 

"I think I want to move here," Jack says in awe. "Or maybe I'll buy one of these and have it built in New York."

"I was thinking of using this place as a winter home," Brock adds. "Not literally of course but I'm liking the design and architecture enough to copy it."

"A winter home?" Frank blinks. He never even imagined he'd own his own home let alone two. 

"Brock is a pansy and doesn't like the cold. New York in winter is like his enemy. Capri doesn't get snow," Jack comments as he wanders the bungalow.

"Oh yeah. I forgot." Frank winces a little. He knows Brock hates the cold. He's just distracted.

"Yeah, what do you think, babe? Winter home someplace south for a few months. With those arches over the doorways and the trim. Maybe the cabinets, those are cute." Brock goes over to his husband and wraps his arms around him tightly. 

"Like Mexico south? Australia south?" 

"At least one-quarter of the northern hemisphere is off-limits. Anything below…. South Carolina across the world is good."

Frank laughs, "Ok baby, I'll follow wherever you go." 

~~

Frank shifts nervously in the waiting area of the salon. He can see Gerard smiling and talking with the stylist. He always gets anxious before a haircut. Where's Brock? He could make his nerves calm down.

Brock enters the salon with a drink carrier full of coffee and tea for the band, Jack hot on his heels with the rest of the liquid gold. He moves to sit next to Frankie on the plastic chairs that always reminded him of being in school. They creak a little under his weight but he doesn’t care. He excitedly passes cups to the band. “I found a coffee shop like two doors down! I bring awesomeness in a cup! AKA liquid crack called coffee in a cup.”

"You're a good man, Mr. Rumlow." Bob takes a sip.

"I'm convinced that you're an earth angel." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, "If they fuck my hair up, you'll still love me right?" 

“I’ll still love you even if you were bald, tesoro. When you get bald, I’m gonna rub my hand over the peach fuzz and laugh but I’ll still love you,” Brock kisses him with a giggle.

"Glad to know. I hate haircuts." Frank frowns, "I also don't want to have my hair looking goofy when I meet your parents."

“That’s well over five months away, baby.” Brock brings Frankie’s hand to his lips. “You’ll have another haircut before then. Relax. You are perfect. I love you.”

"I'm just being a worrier." Frank gives him a small smile. 

Gerard emerges from the back of the salon with a fresh shorter haircut. "How's it look?" 

"Less grunge punk and more suave," Brock says with a nod. 

"Thanks! You're up Frankie Doodle..." Gee says as he takes a seat.

"Wish me luck…" Frank grimaces.

"You'll do fine babe. Unless you want me to come with you?" Brock asks with a little concern in his voice.

"You hang out with your brother. I'll be ok." Frank smiles and kisses him before getting up and moving to the back.

Forty minutes later and he's back to Brock with shorter sides with a little longer on the top but the once black and blonde hair is all black. He stands at the mouth of the salon and looks at Brock, "Do you still love me?" 

Brock has his jaw dropped open and face slack with utter shock. The blonde was… gone. Just, gone. He's never seen his love without blonde. it was such a shocking disconnect that Brock didn't understand how to process it. That wasn't to say he hated it; it was just… different.

"That bad?" Frank says rubbing his neck and looking down. Rad...

"Not bad," he finally closes his mouth to respond. He's still a little shocked. Okay, more than a little. "I've never seen you without the blonde." 

"Well, military boys didn't bleach their hair back then." Frank says with a shrug, "I can still be rock n roll with jet black hair."

"It looks good on you, kiddo." Ray stands and pulls Frank into a hug. 

"Thank you. Is it too short?"

"No. Not at all. You look good" Ray chuckles as he pushes Frank to a seated Brock. 

Brock pulls Frankie into his lap and nuzzles the cut growth. "You look good, baby. You do. It's just a very sudden change that I'm, like, shocked to see. I still love you and you are still so handsome."

"Still fuck-able?" 

"Hmm." Brock raises an eyebrow and gets a mischievous glint in his eye. He reaches up and grabs a handful of hair, tightly in his fist, yanking his head back to expose his neck. 

An orgasmic sounding sigh escapes from Frank's lips as the feeling of his scalp tingles from the rough attention. He grins wide as bad ideas fill his head up. Now's not the time to get a hard-on…

Brock hums again and noses his way up Frank's neck to his ear. His teeth graze his earlobe before he presses harsh kisses along Frankie's throat before nipping his jawline. He bites his neck just a little hard before letting him go. "Yeah," he whispers in his ear. "Very much fuck-able." 

"Oh… good," Frank says with a shaky voice. His fingers stroke the back of Brock's neck. He leans into Brock's ear and whispers, "I… was gonna ask if you wanted to make a purchase before you test the merchandise."

“Oh? I’m interested. Tell me more,” Brock whispers back.

"Well, he's a freshly groomed, gently used emo death metal punk street rat." Frank grins and kisses Brock tenderly, "He's a well-mannered bottom, housebroken and fiercely loyal. Kinda cute too…"

“I dunno about the well-mannered part though. I like a little feisty; a little fight back when I bend my bottom over a table and fuck him hard and fast,” Brock says so casually as if he was unaffected by his own words. It’s belied by the look in his eyes.

Frank's face turns a pretty shade of red as he tries to be casual, "It's… it's uh well mannered you have the problem with… not the gently used?" He leans in and kisses Brock softly, "Hmm he's also a very good boy… when he wants to be." 

Jack sips his mocha latte and tries not to smirk at the two of them. It was cute to watch them, though a little awkward to watch his brothers make out like some high school kids. Still, it was a positive thing to have Brock showing interest in Frankie again. Yeah, he heard. Girls gossip.

An overly tanned woman glares from the seat across from Jack. She sighs and huffs loudly. She takes a drink of a thick green shake before her lips pull downward. She goes to open her mouth as Mike sits beside her, "I suggest you keep quiet." He says quietly and casually.

"Excuse me?!" She says looking at him annoyed.

"I think you know what I'm talking about Stacy." He smiles, "You don't like it, look away." 

"You don't even-" 

"Oh but I do… so hush and mind your business." He gives her a fake smile. She rises to her feet and storms out. 

He looks at the guys with a little smile, "Was it something I said?" 

Brock shifts a little so he can keep a hold of Frankie and clap softly for Mike-n-Ike. He nods, proudly. “Well done, dude.”

"Thank you… thank you!" He gives a bow and winks at Brock, "I'm not in the mood for some idiot’s opinion." 

"Thanks, dude," Frank speaks softly before resting his head on Brock's shoulder.

“Hey Brock, think I would look good with red hair,” Jack asks. “Or a perm?”

“Hell no,” he replies. He kisses Frankie just because.

“If you grew your hair out, you'd have a natural perm," Frank adds before pressing lips into Brock's neck. 

“No, I want short hair,” Jack pouts. 

"Not red… maybe a blue," Ray says stepping out from the salon floor. His floof has been tamed a little and trimmed. 

“You cut the curls,” Brock pouts. Why were all his boys making such drastic changes?!? He didn’t like change! “First blonde’s gone and now less floof and next Jack’s gonna be a smurf head and ya’ll need to stop changing things. I don’t like change.”

"I trimmed an inch off. She shaped it too." Ray smiles and shakes his head, "Mike's next." 

"I'm buzzing it off." Mike gives Brock a grin and wink before heading back.

"A change will do you good..." Frank whispers in his ear, "Too bad we don't have a patio or balcony… I had ideas."

“Don’t you buzz it all Mike-n-Ike!” he hollers after him. He turns to Frankie and smooches him lightly. “What kinda ideas?”

"You. Me. Sunrise." Frank pauses and raises his eyebrows before kissing Brock, "But that's okay, I can make adjustments." 

“I like the sound of this, perhaps we can test a little when we get back to the hotel. I can help you with those adjustments.”

"Oh, I'd be very interested in this..." Frank says kissing Brock a little deeper. 

Jack finishes his coffee and throws away the trash in the bin. “I’m hungry. Anybody else want food?”

"I could eat." Ray nods at Jack. 

"Yeah. Same." Gerard says quietly as he flips through a magazine.

"'m fine," Frank whispers into Brock's skin.

"Did I hear food?" Bob steps out with a short-cropped cut and a cleaned up beard. He does a half-assed jig and grins at Brock, "Shaggy to chic." 

"Dork. Yes, we were thinking of food before heading to the meeting. Though, we don't have much time. You in?"

"Hells yes I'm in." He nods and takes a seat beside Jack.

"Anyone else getting cut or needs to be cut?" Brock asks. 

"That sounds so wrong, dude," Jack snickers.

"I could think of a few people who need cut." Frank gives Brock the best serious face he can.

"Hmm me too. Everybody ready to get out of here?" He looks at his boys to confirm.

"Once Mike's done. I think we can hit the road. He looks like he's just about there too." Ray says looking up, "For once, I'm not the one getting left behind." 

"You wouldn't get let left behind if you didn't occasionally get bit by the Wanderlust bug," Brock quickly retorts back. He sighs and rests his head on Frank's shoulder. 

"I had to poop dude." 

Frank kisses his cheek and rubs between his shoulders with firm fingers.

Jack cracks up. He wasn't aware this had happened but it was freaking hilarious. "They left you? On the toilet!" 

"I wasn't referring to last time," Brock says to Sunshine. He turns to his brother with a playfully annoyed look, "I thought he was already in the bathroom on the bus. I did not and would not ever leave him or any other man behind."

"It's a much bigger story than that." Bob grins.

"It’s a car story for sure..." Frank says looking at Jack.

Jack nods, "Perfect. Because I need to hear this. What are we doing for lunch?"

"'specially when you hear about the pretty shade of cherry red your brother turned," Frank says kissing Brock on the lips.

"Anytime he changes colors is a good time for me. Except when changing colors is due to being sick. Then you can count me out."

"Same. That's when we fly your sister out and she can handle him." Frank wrinkles his nose as he has a flashback from Brock's food poisoning.

"Oh, not what I meant. I'm good with playing nurse. Just meant it wasn't fun anymore. Don't worry, bärchen. I've got your back when your husband's insides explode." Jack grins at Frankie and Brock as he crosses one leg over his other. "I've been professionally trained from birth to handle the big baby Brock is when he's not feeling well."

"I can use the help. He's like wrangling a flock of ducklings. Whiny, smelly… noisy ducks." Frank kisses his cheek, "I love ducks so I don't mind."

"Babe, why are you describing the band? Thought you were supposed to be describing me? You know, the bear," Brock laughs.

"Crap you're right… though we are more like herding cats." Frank runs fingers through Brock's hair.

Mike steps out with a very short new hair cut. "Are we eating? I'm fairly confident I am storing demons in my belly." 

Brock grins at him. "Looking sharp Mike-n-Ike. Yeah, we're getting food. Come on, bottomless pit."

The boys ride to their feet and move to the door, Frank leans into Brock and kisses him with a little heat before slides off Brock's lap and stands up, "You coming, love?" 

"For you, always, tesoro," Brock says with a smile. He stands and takes his hand.

After the meeting, the band leaves with the video treatment in hand and an address for them to meet the stylist at a warehouse in the fashion district at 5 pm. This gave them two hours to entertain themselves. 

"What do we do wanna do?" Ray asks.

"At some point, I want to go down the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Take a few pictures. Walk Sunset Blvd and do shopping. The strip for sure," Brock says. His arms are wrapped around Frankie and he rests his cheek and chin on the top of Frankie's head.

"Okay!" Ray grins and slips his arm over Jack's shoulder, "I say we go have fun before we work." 

"All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy," Jack grins at his pun.

"Exactly! Jack, gets it." Ray nods.

"I kinda want to go to the beach, if that's an option. I mean, I'm on vacation. I wanna vacay. What do you think Brock?" Jack asks his brother.

"Oh hell yes please," Brock exhales the words out quickly. He didn't think about that. He misses the beach. The sun, sand, waves; they called to him. It was closer to home than most things here in America.

"That's perfect, you boys can beach bum while we shoot the video," Ray says happily.

"Sweet!" Jack’s fist bumps Brock.

The boys pile in the car and head out for fun. The driver takes them down Rodeo Dr and lets them out to mingle and check out the different high-end shops along the street. The driver takes them to the Grove and promises it is like a grown-up theme park with shopping. Each boy finds a place to get lost. Jack goes in a Tesla store. Brock gets sucked into Ray-Ban and a fancy watch store. Frank and Ray find Barnes and Noble then a children's store. Gerard and Mike mill around the stores with no real purpose.

Once Brock has six new Ray-Bans and a new watch that glistens in the sunlight, he happily heads towards locating either one of his brothers or his husband. Spotting the children's place, he lights up and ducks inside, heading right for the infant section. Maybe he can find good stuff for Baby Floof. He locates a nice stuffed sheep that is just cute and grabs it, and a teddy bear. He texts Chrissy to see which one would be cuter.

Christa: Sheep. Follows the floof theme.

Brock: OKAY! YAY! 

Christa: I'm saying this in vain but don't go crazy just yet. Just in case he's a she.

Brock: Baby Floof is gender neutral and so are sheep, Missy.

Brock: *Chrissy. Lol sorry.

Christa: Love you, Brock. Don't go baby crazy. 

"I don't think the baby needs converse sneakers as an infant, Ray." Frank chuckles.

"He might…" Ray replies self-consciously.

"You sound like my husband." Frank snorts.

Brock: Let me spoil my godson okay. Feeling okay?

Brock wanders more into the bedding section, looking for more sheep themed items.

Christa: Tired. Coulda swore I felt the little lemon move but I think I'm just delirious.

Brock: Hate to say it, but probably not. I'm sorry hunny bunny. 

Christa: I got another month before he is big enough to feel. How are you? 

"See you're picking up baby things too..." Ray gives Frank the side-eye, "Don't think I didn't see you pick up the babies guide to physics books…"

"I don't know what you speak of sir." Frank sticks his tongue out at Ray.

Brock: I'm on a six or seven today. We got haircuts. Frankie cut all of his blonde off! ☹️ Shocked me so much. It's cute and he's still so handsome but it's such a drastic change for me. Let's see… oh! We're going to the beach later. I'm stoked about that. Haven't been to a proper beach in a few years. 😁

Christa: Ray didn't cut his, did he? I'll fly out and beat him if he did… 😡

Brock: Hell no! I won't let him. He's not allowed and he knows it. He *did* however get a trim to tame and cut some of the dead out. The Floof™ is still a protected landmark of Jersey.

Christa: Good. You're the deemed protector of the floof. Where are you shopping?

Ray taps Frank on the arm and points to Brock in the baby bedding. 'Watch me,' he mouths as he moves around the racks to sneak up on Brock. He moves as quiet as he can to be right beside Brock as he is texting someone.

Brock: Uhh… Children's Place. 

"Excuse me, sir," Ray says right beside Brock's ear.

Jerking and startling hard, Brock drops both the phone and the sheep toy as he whirls around, ready to murder someone. He comes face to face with Sunshine and he wants to smack that face so hard right now for scaring him. The jerk. "Motherfucker asshole," he hisses, shakily. He bends to pick up the dropped items. 

"But I'm your motherfucker and asshole." Ray grins at him as he pulls his friend into a hug.

"I should beat you into a pulp for that stunt. Hi." Brock hugs him back and sinks his teeth into Ray's shoulder as payback. Yeah, he's an adult.

"The fuck! You don't bite me! You bite him!" Ray hisses as he points to Frank and steps back, "Little shit." 

"Quit whining, it wasn't that hard. Here," Brock shoves the sheep toy at Ray. "I'm gonna get that for Baby Floof. It's Mom approved." 

"She texts you back but not her husband?!" Ray says with his mouth dropping open.

"Who'd you think I was texting before you rudely scared me?" Brock goes over and hugs Frankie tightly before kissing him. "Hi, baby." 

"Hi, honey. Finding good things?" He asks as he rests his head on Brock’s chest for a moment.

"New shades for my collection and a new watch. It sparkles. And Sheep Floof toy," he nods at the stuffed animal now in Ray's hands before showing off the new silver watch with a mother of pearl face and diamonds.

"We should make a big gift basket of things we pick up for them." Frank grins, "Your watch is so pretty! I like it, I got books for me and baby..."

"Really? That's awesome! Books are great! I haven't read a book in what seems like forever. Totally love the basket idea. This is cool," Brock rambles a little. He's having fun.

"I uh, I know that you like war history and I kinda found a book about world war two for you. If you have it, I can exchange it."

Brock lights up with interest. "Really? Lemme see?" 

Frank pulls it out, "'A War to be Won'. It sounded like a fascinating read." 

Brock takes the book and flips through it briefly. He reads a few random pages before he nods in agreement. "This is cool. Totally awesome. I love it, thank you, baby." 

Frank grins up at him with excitement. "I'm glad you like it! Did you want to keep looking for baby things?" 

"I'm happy to do whatever you guys want to do. I'm always down for baby things and spending time with you guys," Brock says.

"Ok! We have like 45 minutes before we should round the troops and head out." Frank takes Brock's hand and lets him lead the way through the store. He helps Brock pick out items and soon make their way back to the rest of the group. They share their finds and begin to make their way slowly back to the car. Ray touches Brock's arm and quietly speaks, "This costume shop thing might take a while, you and Jack don't have to stick around if you don't want to..."

Brock gives a genuine but lazy grin, "Of course I'm staying. Gotta make sure my boys are looking sharp and accurate."

"He just wants to show off his military knowledge and preen like a male peacock strutting in front of a female. Though in Brock's case, it's Frankie," Jack says with a sassy grin.

"Are you a male peacock?" Frank looks at Brock with a wide smile. "I mean you are pretty like one." 

"Brock doesn't do that," Ray says with a playful grin.

Mike snickers while Bob and Gee stay silent, merely watching how this will play out.

"Bullshit he doesn't, Sunnyside," Jack says to Ray.

Brock flushes a dark pink, "I do not…. Consciously?" 

"It's cute." Frank gives Jack a playful side look before kissing Brock’s lips, "I like when you show off." 

"Could be worse…at least you don't have to fight off other potential suitors." Ray snickers.

"They see my scary mug and hightail it," Brock chuckles.

"See, you took his comment to mean that you are awesome enough to scare other dudes away, which is true. But I heard it as an insult to Frankie," Jack laughs.

"An insult?" Frank tilts his head.

"You're not that scary Brock… " Ray says with a nod as he looks back at Gerard and Bob, "Scary as a teddy bear maybe." 

Jack explains to Frankie, "No potential suitors because you aren't pretty enough? Dunno. Sorry. You're alright for a dude."

"Jack, shut up before you eat your whole foot." Brock hugs Frankie tight.

"I am too pretty… you shithead! I'm pretty enough I could take a girl from you." Frank smirks.

"I dunno Frank. Your ladykillin' skills might not be sharp anymore." Bob comments with a side smile.

"I could take your girl, Bob." Frank grins.

As the group walks down the sidewalk, four tattooed men wearing baggy pants, multiple shirts, underwear showing and brandishing knives, walk up to them.

"Don't make a scene and no one gets hurt." The tallest man says with a hard voice, "Give us your shit and you can go." 

A smaller man a little taller than Frank slides in behind Jack and holds the knife to his side, "Do it." 

Frank moves behind Brock out of strange instinct. 

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Wallets, phones, jewelry. Now!" Tall guy hisses as one of the other cronies push Frank from behind Brock.

"I suggest if you want to walk away intact, you leave now while you still can," Jack says, voice dropping the warmth away.

"My brother is right. We don't want to hurt you," Brock says quietly.

"I suggest you shut your fucking mouth and give us what we asked for, pretty boy." A henchman hisses and jabs the knife towards Brock's face.

At least now he can say he's been mugged… Frank thinks.

Gerard pulls his watch from his wrist to hand it over to a thug.

"Don't give them anything, Gerard," Brock says coldly. 

"You have a death wish don't you?" The short one says as he pokes the tip of the knife into Jack's side.

"Funny. I was going to ask the same about you. Brock?"

"No bloodshed."

Ray taps Bob and nods towards a small alcove then back to the others. Bob winks. Ray pulls Frank close to him.

Jack whips around and grabs the guy at his side by the wrist and wrenches it down with a twist. His other hand comes over and karate chops the guy’s wrist hard enough to hear a crack. Brock moves quickly and punches the guy in front of him in his face and stomach. The knife clatters to the concrete.

Ray yanks Frankie back with him as Bob pushes Gerard and Mike to the corner with him and Ray acting as a shield.

Jack shoves his guy hard, hooking his foot around the dude's ankle, sending him sprawling to the sidewalk. He kicks his ribs hard.

One of the smaller build thugs, pulls a small-caliber gun and point it at Brock, "Don't move or... I'll shoot." His voice is shaking. His compadre throws a sloppy right hook at Jack and lands his strike at Jack's throat.

Brock tries hard not to smirk as he raises his hands, outstretched and wider than any normal person would do, up in surrender. He hears Jack behind him; can mentally visualize his position as he staggers back from the throat punch. He hears heavier boots scuff on the concrete and knows where Jack is without looking. He shifts his weight slightly to his right. The man swings again at Jack. Jack ducks and grabs Brock's right hand in his own. As one, both men use their combined hands as a counterweight and kick out at their respective opponents.

The kick knocks both men off their feet with a pained groan. The gun hits the ground and skitters away from its owner. The first two men move back into their feet and strike at Jack and Brock with hard punches, one to the face and the other to the gut.

With a flurry of movements, the brothers soon have the first set of attackers knocked back. Jack manages to get a hold of the dropped gun and knife. He tosses the knife to Brock, who catches it easily. They move as one and both draw guns; Brock from his side holster and Jack from under his shirt at the back. They point three guns and one knife at four men with casual smiles.

"What was he saying about a death wish?" Jack asks with a smirk and a slight head tilt at Brock.

"Dunno, I kind of tuned him out." 

"We… we don't want no trouble, bro!" One of the smaller men says as he sits up and puts his hands up. 

"Want me to call 911?" Ray asks softly. 

"Sure, these wannabe thugs will gladly tell the cops all about their intentions today," Brock says lightly. "Won't you, fuckers?"

"Oh, sure they will. You don't want any trouble now when it's suddenly you on the wrong end of the gun. We warned you. How's the wrist there, asshole?" Jack taunts.

Ray calmly pulls his phone out. As sirens fill the air, "Guess I don't have to." He looks at Brock.

"Fantastic. Do the cops a favor and all you boys kneel with your hands on your head. That way they can cuff you easier," Brock says to the would-be muggers.

The police rush the scene with guns drawn and shout for everyone to get down with their hands up. They roughly cuff Jack and Brock then throw them in the back of a cop car. 

Jack shifts in the leather seat in the back of the cop car and a little giggle escapes. He turns to his brother with a loopy grin. He whispers, "Think I can slip outta these?" 

"For the sake of legal reasons, let's not try. But maybe we can test your reaction time later," Brock grins back.

Frank taps an officer and shows him the video on his phone, "They are our bodyguards. They were just doing their jobs."

The policewoman takes the phone and approaches an older man in uniform and plays the video for him, "where are they being detained, which squad car?" She points it out and the older man approaches the car slowly.  
He pulls the car door open and leans in.

"You two are the bodyguards for those young men?" He asks skeptically as he points at Frank and the rest of the band leaning against the wall.

"Yes, sir. You are welcome to call the record label and verify it. I am the band's Tour Manager and Lead bodyguard. This gentleman here is the second bodyguard," Brock says.

"I'll take the contact information and it will be just a little bit longer." He replies with a gruff tone, "Manager and bodyguard. That's a lot of work, I assume." 

"I'm only the bodyguard when Jack here needs assistance. It's not often."

"Hi," Jack leans forward past Brock. "I'm Jack."

"Captian Craigmile. You gentlemen hang tight. I'll go verify this information and one of the officers will come get your statements. We are looking to press charges, yes?" He asks leaning down a little further into the car. Both men nod at the Captain.

Ray can feel the anxiety pouring out if Frank, "Just relax, kid. They'll be fine." 

He wants to tell him, 'Uh no. It won't, any law is not good' but he keeps his lips sealed and gives Ray a half-smile that looks more like a wince.

"Brock looks fine. He whooped some ass, dude." Bob leans into Frank's bubble. 

"Jack too… do they like to train regularly?" Gerard asks with a head tilt. His mind taking him to places it shouldn't be.

An officer comes back to the car and waves for Brock and Jack to exit the vehicle, "Thank you for your patience gentleman. You go speak with officer Espinoza." The cop touches Jack's shoulder before uncuffing both of them and turning to Brock, "And you're with me, can you tell me what happened?"

"Yes, sir," Jack says with a nod before walking over to the other officer.

Another fifteen minutes and Brock is given a card with the case number and sent on their way with their guns given back to them after the cop gush over the Desert Eagle and how nice it is.

As Brock approaches the group, Frank slips his arms around Brock's middle, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" He pulls back a little and touches his face.

Ray slips his arm around Jack's shoulder, "You good, my dude?" 

The rest of the band follows the forward movement towards the car.

"I'm alright baby," Brock says, holding Frankie tight. He leans over and whispers in his ear, "Told you I'd always protect you." 

"I'm good, dude. That was fun. I asked Brock if I could slip the handcuffs and he said no. I hate playing nice," Jack says as he puts his arm around Ray. "It's so boring." 

"I know. I never doubted you. I'm glad you're ok." Frank replies softly. 

"You can slip handcuffs?" Ray asks skeptically with a grin, "Like some kinda Houdini..." 

"Dunno. Never tried. But I want to see if I can. I have this theory in my head though," Jack chuckles.

"You guys are fuckin badasses." Mike grins as he looks back at the cop cars. 

"Thanks, Mike. It's great being cool." Jack nudges Brock.

"Yeah, okay. I suppose. It was kind of fun though. Haven't done that move in a long time. I gotta say, it felt really nice having you at my back again," Brock replies rather wistfully.

"It has been a hot minute since we last tag-teamed," Jack agrees with a nod.

"Did Brock tell you that we went paintballing?" Bob asks. 

"I bet they would have killed us in minutes..." Ray chuckles. 

Frank laces his fingers between Brock's and sticks close to his side, "Brock was pretty badass. That roof jump was impressive…" 

"Yeah, it was." Gerard grins.

"Okay now I'm jealous," Jack grumbles. 

"Maybe we can have a repeat soon. I'd like to see what R2 can do in that kinda situation." Ray grins, "I mean, Brock was pretty ruthless..." 

"And I still haven't forgiven him for it either," Frank grumbles.

"Are we doing one on one style or same team," Jack asks Brock. "You vs Me… Might be a challenge."

"We work best as a pair. Our styles are nearly the same. We would be at the field all day," Brock comments.

"And it would be just you two cause we'd all get picked off." Frank snickers.

"I am totally game for a rematch. You won't knock me out that fast next time Rumlow." Bob teases. 

"It was all of you against him?" Jack asks.

"Yup. And he picked us off one by one too. Like it was nothing." Ray replies, "I would actually like to witness the brothers take us out." 

"Actually I was thinking maybe I would be on your team vs him. The six of us against Brock should be fun," Jack says.

"That could be interesting… what do you think, Boogie?" Ray asks.

Jack laughs, "Boogie!"

"I am not a booger!" Brock squeaks. 

"No! Like music, boogie!" 

"Wait, not bougie?" Jack tilts his head a little. 

Brock does a little hip shake and sings, "I'm your boogyman. That's what I am. I'm here to do. Whatever I can."

"Is that. Are you singing a Rob Zombie song, baby?" Frank cocks his head to the side as the driver opens the car door for Brock.

"What? No!" Brock shakes his head, offended that his husband would ever think that he would sing that crap. Has Frank lost his mind? "It's KC and the Sunshine Band." 

"I didn't think you were that cool..." Frank gives him a devilish grin.

"Shut up!" Brock blows a raspberry and laughs.

"Give him a break, Frankenberry. Music was just invented when he was a kid." Ray snickers as he sits beside Jack in the SUV. The SUV speeds off towards the warehouse. They are late. The band quickly changes into their costumes and is rushed off to be measured and adjusted by a tailor. Brock and Jack mostly hang out and chill while they watch the boys get felt up by an overly flamboyant gay guy who occasionally flirts and a lovely lady who tries so hard to maintain a professional composure. Once the fitting finishes, the band heads to a local restaurant for dinner before dragging their tired bodies back to the hotel and into their rooms.

Frank falls into the bed and stretches long as he kicks his shoes off, "Brock. Can we hire stunt doubles to do the video?"

"Uh, sure? I mean, technically yeah but I dunno if you should. I mean it's just not fair to the fans, you know?" Brock steps out of both of his boots and begins to take off his weapons 

"Ugh. I know. I just want to be lazy. Do nothing." Frank sighs as he watches him disarm with a little smirk on his face, "Only one knife. Showing some restraint, eh?" 

"In my defense, I was half asleep when I got dressed this morning. Besides, it's never just one knife. And we had Jack. He's better than any knife." Brock gives him a smile.

"Really, you don't even need knives if you have a gun or two…" Frank raises an eyebrow, "Though...I have a new appreciation for your skillset and your gun." He bites the tip of his tongue before he grins.

"Which one," Brock says as he moves his hand to the Desert Eagle and rests it for a moment. "This? Or… this?" His hand moves to rest on his stomach and slowly slides down to cup himself rather firmly.

Franks grin turns into a wide smile as his eyes watch Brock's hands.

"Which one?" he asks Frankie again. He's still got his hand between his legs. He's working on getting hard, knowing Frankie would never turn him down.

"Oh well, that's my favorite weapon..." Frank sits up and scoots up the mattress. He motions for Brock to crawl in bed with him with a curl of one finger, "I might need to inspect closer." 

Brock moves forward and kneels on the bed a little. He grins and rubs his jeans a few times before crawling up the bed to Frankie. "I think you should. How do you want me?" 

"Oh, I get to pick?" Frank speaks softly before pulling Brock closer and kissing him, "Like this to start..." 

Brock kisses him softly. "You're in control here, baby. I only have one request, the rest is entirely up to you."

"What's your request?" Frank tilts his head to the side and wrinkles his forehead.

"Ride me," Brock whispers against his lips.

Frank inches forward and kisses him, "Seems like great minds think alike." 

"I do like your lips though…" Frank murmurs between kisses. 

"Hmmm I do owe you my throat choking on your cock," Brock says, matching his husband's tone. He kisses him in between his words. "I do love that so much. Gets me so hard. Makes me needy. Can come just from that alone."

"Oh no. Now I have big choices…" Frank smiles and strokes his cheek, "I do love your cock inside of me… but you have a fantastic mouth." He kisses him and bites his lip.

Grinning wide Brock kisses him back before kissing and nipping up Frankie's jaw. He moves to his neck, sucking gently. "I'm not above admitting I'm a cockwhore when it comes to giving head. I just enjoy it far too much. Especially love it the rougher it is. Love the feeling of deep throating and tasting cum. The only submissive act I'm okay with doing."

Frank lets out soft moans at Brock's touch. "I just want you." The choice and feeling of Brock's mouth on his neck make his head spin, "I wanna ride your cock. Please." 

Brock ghosts his lips up his neck and captures Frankie's lips with his own. A soft moan reverberates in his chest. His free hand goes to Frankie's shirt, slipping underneath it and trying to pull it off. He breaks the kiss just enough to whisper a yes against his lips before he's kissing him again. He rolls them over and onto his back. His hands tug and pull at Frank's clothing.

He helps to pull his shirt off, he folds forward and kisses Brock's lips as he lifts his hips to pull his jeans off, "You are the hottest man I have ever seen." 

"You are the sexiest, gorgeous, perfect, beautiful man I have ever seen. I love you. You make me so happy," Brock moans out.

Frank leans over Brock and kisses him a little more urgently. The need rises in his chest and begins to spread across his body. His hips carefully roll against Brock and push a throaty moan from him. His fingers fumble with the hem of Brock's shirt. 

Brock's hands go to his shirt and he wiggles a little, managing to get it up and over his head without dislodging Frankie off his waist. Win for him. He pulls Frankie down by his arms and into a hot kiss. His hands rake nails down Frankie's back, to cup his pert ass.

Frank groans into the kiss as goosebumps rise all over his body. He grinds a little harder against Brock wanting a reaction. His lips move to Brock's ear as he whispers, "I'm dying to feel your cock inside of me." He goes back to kissing Brock's neck and throat as a hand rests on his chest. His brain questions his choice, maybe he should have taken the blowjob.

Brock moans softly and raises his hips a little, seeking friction. He's fully hard now. "Fuck, baby. Touch me, please." 

Frank runs a hand over Brock's chest and pulls on his nipple as his mouth kisses his neck before sucking and nipping on the skin. His other hand runs down Brock's chest and stomach, sliding between his jeans and boxers cupping his hard cock and massaging him. 

"Oh fuck," Brock hisses out a moan. His hips jerk up. He needs more. His hands roam over Frankie for a moment before his hands go to the button and zipper of his jeans. "Jesus baby. Mmmm. Feels so good. Need you."

Frank pulls his hand from Brock's jeans and helps to pull them off Brock's body. He slips off the bed, dropping them on the floor, and moves for his duffle bag. He can't see it but he has a strong suspicion Brock is sitting upright. He pulls the lube from his bag and shimmies out of his underwear then turns back to his husband. He tosses the lube to Brock then crawls back on the bed. The movement makes his dick throb a little harder. He kisses Brock, "I love you." 

"I love you too baby. Especially when you shake that sexy ass for me." Brock kisses him hard and bites his bottom lip a little before he flips open the lube cap and coats his fingers. He uses his dry hand to pull Frankie closer and up so he can reach under him and push two fingers in.

"Oh, god baby!" Frank groans and grabs his shoulder. He clenches around his fingers as he kisses Brock. 

Brock moans into the kiss and slowly pumps his fingers, stretching and teasing against his prostate. He breaks the kiss to whisper hotly in Frankie's ear, "Wanna know what I think about every time your ass sits on my fingers?"

"Oh fuck.. what?" He rests his head on Brock's shoulder. His hips working with his fingers. His fingers massaging the back of Brock's head.

"The time I fingered you in my car while you sucked me off. Still gets me hot every time I remember that you came in your pants on my fingers." Brock's fingers pump a little faster and harder.

Frank pants against Brock's neck. Between kisses he moans out, "Fuck… that was so hot. Love the way you taste." He fucks into Brock's hand. He swallows hard and tries to keep the whine in his throat but it escapes, "Please, baby let me fuck you, I wanna make you feel good." 

"You want to fuck me?" Brock chuckles into a kiss. He knows exactly what his husband wants and needs. The word choice however is just too fun to not play with. He slowly pulls his fingers out and lubes up his cock. "Or did you mean I fuck you? What do you need, baby boy? My perfectly good boy."

Frank whines at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of him. "I need your big beautiful perfect cock inside of me. I need to make you come inside of me." He kisses Brock, " Please?" 

He strokes himself several times before Brock grips his cock hard and lines Frankie up. He helps him sink down all the way with a low moan. He waits so that his love can have the time he needs to adjust. Leaning forward he kisses Frankie's lips and neck, panting hotly into the flesh. "Holy fuck baby." 

Frank smiles at the feeling of Brock kissing his neck, "Fuck," he whimpers. He clenches and releases his muscles around Brock to get himself ready. A memory of their first time on Brock's couch flashes in his mind. "Better than the first...time at the apartment," is all he can manage out.

Groaning softly, Brock nods. He holds Frank by the waist and carefully rocks him forward a little. His eyes flutter close and his head tips back, a moan falling out. It's perfect; it's nearly too much. He doesn't want this to end like it did last time. That's why he was hoping that by Frankie riding him, he would be able to last longer. He doesn't want to ruin this. He can't fail this time. He hated the sick and disgusting feeling of finishing so quickly last time. He never had a problem in the past and doesn't understand why he has one now. He wants this to be perfect so bad. He moans again, arching up ever so slightly.

"Slow down." Frank whispers in his ear before softly moaning, "I wanna do this." He takes one of Brock's hands and puts it on his waist. He slowly rises and falls back on Brock. He's gauging how much or little his husband needs by his face. He repeats the action before kissing Brock softly and moaning against his lips. Frank keeps going slowly increasing his speed, he's fighting the urge to clench around Brock's cock. He wants to ride him hard and fast like he used to do. 

"Is this good, baby?" Frank moans it as he arches his back as he slides back down on Brock's cock. 

"Fuck, yes! Shit, baby don't stop. More, please," he gasps out. His fingers dig into Frankie's hips. Letting Frankie take control was so fucking hot. He wants to fuck up into him hard and fast, bring them both to sweaty messes. Not being about to do that was a rather nice change of pace; one that he thinks he might like.

Frank gives him a wicked smile that was followed by a loud moan as he rises and falls again. He can feel the struggle inside of him, fast or slow. He picks up the pace a little more and tightens around his husband with each rise. "Oh fuck! Your cock feels so good!" Frank moans out.

Brock surges forward to kiss him, wrapping his arms around his husband tightly in a hug. He moans into the kiss as he scoots them down and away from the headboard. Breaking the kiss he whispers, "Ride me, baby. Wanna watch you move and dance on my cock." 

Frank nods. He goes faster this time. Mixing in a roll of his hips randomly. The increased speed triggers something in him that makes him keep at it even if his thighs are shaky and burning. He folds forward slightly to get a better angle wanting to make Brock moan louder. Part of him wanted to disobey and make Brock fuck him at brutal speed. He toys with the idea and slowly pulls back the speed in his hips as he watches Brock's face, "Feels so good! Baby. Oh my... Fuck! Wanna come on your cock!"

Brock tips his head back and moans, eyes fluttering from the waves of pleasure rolling through his body. He lays down and digs his fingers in Frankie's hips. He groans at the sight of his gorgeous husband blissed out with pleasure. His feet shift and plant into the mattress for leverage just seconds before he's fucking up into Frankie as fast as he can.

Frank can't stop moaning louder as he grips Brock’s wrists tight. He can feel his body lighting up and breaking down with each push from Brock. "I'm close! Fuck baby don't stop please!" Frank begs as he arches his back. His nails dig into Brock's skin as he starts to fall apart. Not much longer and he's going to cum. Not much longer and he's going to fall apart.

Brock growls deep in his chest and shoves Frankie down harder onto his cock. His hips snap up faster, ramming into his love’s prostate. He needs to watch Frankie come all over them both. His own cock aches as his impending orgasm quickly builds. He’s not going to last much longer. He clenches his stomach and tries hard to hold back. A growl escapes and turns into harsh words, “Come for me, baby.”

The growl sends a tingle up his spine before he feels himself break. He clenches tight around Brock's cock and lets himself come as he arches his back and moans Brock's name. He fights the need to fold over and melt into Brock, he's determined to stay upright until Brock finishes. He holds on and stays focused and keeping his ass tight for his husband's pleasure. 

It's not long after he watches Frankie come undone that Brock gives in to his own need. Watching Frankie's face as his cock spurts cum on them both was by far the most erotic sight he's ever witnessed. His husband's perfectly tight ass clenches around him even more and it's exactly what he needs to stop holding back. His head and back arches as he comes hard with a shout of Frankie's name.

As soon as Brock's hips still, he slowly folds forward and kisses on Brock's neck and chest. "I love you!" 

"I love you too; so much." Brock wraps his arms around Frankie and holds him tight. He slowly gets his breathing under control as he kisses everywhere he can reach. Sleep pulls at him. He tries to ignore it for now.

Frank slides off Brock's chest and rests his head in the crook of his arm. "'m so proud of you." 

Meanwhile, Ray passes Jack another bottle of beer, "I'm telling you, my dude, that is the scariest thing I have ever experienced… who else can say they were chased by a naked man on PCP at 2 am in Germany."

"The German gusepo," Jack smirks. 

"That's not a thing anymore… right?" Ray grins wide.

"Hell if I know. Cops are cops. They probably have a different name now," Jack laughs. He takes a sip of his beer.

"How does an anarchist leaning rebel like you wind up in the military?" Ray chuckles.

Jack shifts in his seat a little and debates on how to answer. "I followed Brock. Where he goes, so do I." 

Ray opens his mouth but stops. Jack doesn't know that he knows. He censors himself, "He always says you're his second in command." He wishes that he could ask Jack questions but he refrains and drinks his beer instead, "How long are you gonna be on the road with us?" 

"I don't know. Part of me wants to stay more than just this one city. But I have business to attend to back in New York. I'm not sure I can leave that unattended. I have a few associates who work for me but they are like any employee; when the boss is gone, they slack."

"It would be nice to have you with us. Brock seems to be at his best when you're around." Ray comments, "Frankie tries, hell most of us do, but you're just a shot of B12 in the ass that he needs to get going." 

"I've been his constant companion for nearly forty years. I know the ins and outs of his mind and how to handle his moods. It's not something you learn overnight or even in a few months. We sync really well." Jack drinks more of his beer. "Sometimes we don't even need to say anything. We just know. Military loved that."

"Makes sense, it's like Gerard and me. He's a hard one to get to truly know."

"Yeah, not interested in that," Jack says a little bitterly.

"I know. Just saying he's not always a shit lord." Ray chuckles, "He's just a jealous little fucker who viewed Brock as a threat. We all did kinda until we got to know him."

Ray takes another drink of his beer, "He's a big teddy bear with razor blades for stuffing." 

Jack grins and chuckles. "That is pretty accurate actually. You just gotta add some guns, a penchant for collecting people, and a music box that croons out opera, and then you've got Brock the Teddy."

"Sing opera off-key too." Ray laughs and takes another drink of beer. He can feel himself fumbling to a place that could be dangerous, "Can I ask you a question and you answer it honestly?" 

"Depends on the question but I'll try my best," Jack replies, taking a swig of beer.

"It's a two-parter. First, what did you think the first time Brock introduced you to Frank?" Ray asks curiously, "Meeting Brock I was convinced he was lost… Frank's choices in the past have been questionable." 

"So has been Brock's choices. My initial assessment was that he was just another sugar baby looking to make it big. That changed quickly though, once I got to know him and give him a chance. What's your second part?"

"What is your family going to think of him?" Ray asks after taking a small sip, "I know that Brock can't walk away from the life; unscathed… at least. So I know that this is important."

The warm demeanor of Jack slowly fades to be quickly replaced by something much colder. He slowly lowers his beer and keeps a careful eye on Ray. The younger man knows something. Or thinks he does. He keeps his voice carefully measured, still light but slightly lacking warmth. "Our mother would love him right away. Our father is harder to read. He tends to stay inconsistent sometimes. Both are very old school so they may not approve of the match. I do believe Brooke loves him already. He's got my seal of approval which does help, thankfully."

"If he's not approved, is he in danger?" Ray asks. He can see the change in Jack but is unsure if it's him or the question, "I know the movies portray it as something overdramatic but… you know, I'm just an American mutt… I don't know these things."

"And what exactly do you think you know?" Jack asks, voice hard.

Ray rises to his feet before picking up another beer and passing one to Jack. He sits beside him, "I know about the family business as he put it. Brock and I had a conversation about it."

"I see," Jack relaxes into the chair again. He grins at Ray. "Seems my brother trusts you more than I thought. Welcome into the fold, brother."

"I think he does. I hope he does. I trust him with my life." Ray gives him a soft smile "Did I get him in trouble?"

"He must if he told you this. So." Jack sighs and takes a drink. "In regards to your question, no. He won't be in any danger. Brock would not permit it. Neither would I. At this point, unbeknownst to all of the band members and family, Brock has placed you all under our protection. Not that the other Families know about you guys. He just automatically does that with everyone he cares about. I would kill to protect you; even without his order."

"Wait what?" Ray asks with a staggered blink. He surely misheard him.

"Something the matter? You said Brock told you…." Jack shifts to being on alert.

"No, I know you're part of the Five and all the shit. But it's the 'would kill to protect' that caught me off guard." Ray says with a soft smile, "Not something you hear a lot and know that it's meant, seriously..."

"All the shit," Jack repeats, amused. "Yes, it's taken very seriously." 

"Wow. Well, thanks? Do I thank you? I'm making it weird." Ray laughs and shakes his head, "I just pray to who or whatever is out there that it goes good. I love both of those idiots and don't want them hurt."

"I have faith that it will be okay. I know my family. I know Brock. I also know that no matter what happens, Brock will never give up Frankie. That is not the issue here. They'll find a way to make things work. Besides, it's not really my father we have to truly worry about," Jack says.

"Oh. Well. Comforting." Ray chuckles. "Enough about those two. What do guys who aren't in bands talk about?" 

"Hobbies?"

"Yeah, do you have hobbies? Aside from being your brother's keeper," Ray asks. 

"I enjoy playing strategy games in real-time. Keeps me on my toes. I'm enjoying Risk right now along with several other MMOs. That's pretty much the only thing I do in what little free time I get. I mean, I do stuff like this, and I'm having a blast, but video games are my retreat."

"Dude! We just started playing Warzone on the bus! It's Risk but bigger. Have you played yet?" Ray shifts in his seat and smiles wide at Jack, "We also play WoW but everyone is divided on that." 

"No shit?! I've been playing Warzone for years! Nobody ever knows what I mean when I say it. It's not nearly as popular as Risk. I've been getting my ass kicked recently. Which is why I needed a vacation!" Jack laughs. 

"No way! I found it 'cause my wife plays and she wanted to bond over it." Ray replies. He is shocked, "I knew that I liked you for a reason!" 

Jack laughs again, "I've been getting my ass kicked trying to take the fuck over Germany. Which is freaking personal in my book. I've been in the same campaign for months."

"I wonder… oh man. How funny would it be if it was one of us holding you back!" Ray laughs. 

"I'd be fucking pissed dude!" Jack says good-naturedly.

"Now I hope it's me!" Ray cackles before calming himself and taking a big swig of beer. 

"What kinda music do you like?" 

"Classic rock. America made some awesome shit in the 70s and 80s. Led Zeppelin. AC/DC. Pink Floyd. Guns 'n Roses. I'm guessing you prefer your own emo genre?"

"Actually, I'd like to think I'm diverse. Last year Frankie and I went to see KISS at the garden. I have tickets to see Aerosmith in December over our break. But I am not gonna lie, I do like some of the pop shit on the radio. As well as old school hip hop." Ray grins, "Favorite movie?"

"Jaws. Yours?" Jack drinks and finishes his beer.

"The Shining. But Jaws is in the top five." 

"You into sports? Or is that too physical for you pales?" 

"You pales? Is that what we're being called nowadays?" Ray laughs, "I did some sports as a kid, football and soccer mostly. But chicks were into music and theater so I went that route in high school." 

"Mmm… got a weird talent?" Ray asks as he wipes his lips.

"Uh…. What do you define as weird?" Jack asks.

"Stupid human tricks?" Ray laughs, "My wife can bark and it sounds exactly like a dog, she'd kill me if I told anyone that."

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna go with no. I don't have any weird talents. At least none that I know of. But if you notice one, feel free to tell me." 

"I'll keep that in mind and let you know." Ray nods, "I assume you have at least broken a bone?" 

"Fuck yeah. Several. And not all from the job either. One time I went paragliding and landed wrong. Broke my ankle. Threw a punch wrong and broke my knuckles in my left hand. Frank likes the story where I got my jaw broken from a bear. It's how I got this scar," Jack points out the deep gash that ran down his jaw and chin.

"You got your jaw broken by a bear… so like, I need more." Ray tilts his head to the side, "I've only broken my arm. I also am what the kids call a soft boy."

"See when I say it like that, it sounds awesome. The whole story is more like, I was hiking in Germany. I wanted to see where I was born. Anyway, I'm hiking and this bear cub that's probably like our height plus half gets startled and jumps me. Damn thing was huge but didn't know how to fight or something because other than the swipe to the jaw which knocked my ass out, he left me alone. I remember trying to fight him before he pretty much backhanded me. I woke up from the hospital several days later after surgery. I don't remember much after that."

"Holy shit, Jack! That makes you BAMF material." Ray says with his mouth open wide, "That fucking scary as shit!" 

"It's not really badass if I got attacked by a bear. It would only be if, like, I purposely wanted to fight a bear. But yeah, it was pretty fucked up. I made peace with my life and death when I was a boy."

"As a boy. Jack. Again. Your boy here needs more." Ray rests his head on his hand.

Jack's smile fades. He stares into the lit fire pit for a moment. "If push comes to shove, I am the sacrifice to save Brock's life. At any given moment, I'm prepared to step in front of a bullet or blade. I'm not second in line for the proverbial throne. I'm his second chance at life. I had to learn to be okay with that. It's one of the first things that was… drilled into me."

Ray frowns and weighs his response to Jack's words. No kid should have to learn to live with that. He leans across his chair and hugs Jack. No words are needed. They can't change anything. 

Jack accepts the hug and responses. He pulls away after a moment with a nod of thanks. "What's sad is I don't think anyone else knows. Not Brock, not my sister, not even my parents. It was something my teacher said to me during training. Something that all Seconds get taught. I know, because Mom and Brock both have ensured me that I am Brock's right hand…. Or in his case, the left hand. Brooke is his right hand. And I don't think my parents or siblings would encourage that. So it tells me that this a rule that is like super old and probably from The Five."

"God that's so fucked up." Ray replies in disbelief, "We both know that Brock would disagree with this entirely if he knew. You're his rock."

"I know. And he's the Brock and I'm the Rollins," Jack giggles.

"I call him BrocknRoll!" Ray tries not to shout from excitement, "It actually works!!!" 

Jack cracks up. "Oh my god, that's fucking awesome. We have a bro name!" 

"You totally do!" Ray grins, "And I'm absolutely using it tomorrow."

"Did Brock explain to you The Five? Or is it just 'the shit' to you," Jack laughs softly. He's finding it hilarious that the biggest crime syndicate was reduced to a dismissal.

"Just the basics, more like yeah I'm part of a mafia family but like don't say shit to anyone cause it's a secret. Frank doesn't know I know, so we kinda like to fuck with him. He squirms and panics. What did he miss?" Ray smirks.

"Oh, that's good… I want in on that. Okay, so you know a regular family works and is structured, yeah? Kinda like the movies?" Jack shifts closer to speak with Ray quieter.

"Yeah. I do. Like big boss, right hand then next in line then enforcement then the cronies right?" 

Jack nods. "There's the Boss. My father and one day Brock. Then there's the Underboss; the true second in command. That's actually Brooke right now, and she'll probably stay that way for Brock. Maybe. She's also the Consigliere; the advisor and the management of the finances. She's exceptional in both roles since Dad's Underboss died several years back. Old age. I'm the Enforcer. Brock or Dad says 'go' and I follow. Think of it like I do the dirty work. But none of that is the point. My point is our family works differently than the other mobs out there. The Five is actually five separate families working together as one. Each Boss has a say in a sort of… committee. It's not my Dad we need to worry about. It's the other four families."

"So wait. They all have to approve of everything the other does? How does anything get done?" Ray has a hundred questions run through his head at once.

"Okay, it's not like an actual committee. The Heads are in near-constant communication. We each maintain our territories and none of the other families have a say in that. Something like an expansion of territory is discussed but they rarely argue. But big stuff like a wedding- yeah that's gotta be approved through all of them. They need to be sure the outsider can be trusted."

"Oh okay." Ray nods, "The same rules would apply for Brooke I assume. You?" 

Jack nods again. "One of the reasons why I don't date. I do casual hook-ups on occasion but I don't trust most people and they rarely prove worthy to be accepted. Frank has proven to me that not only do I think he could handle the responsibility but he would be rather good at it. Brooke and I would help them both."

"But. Jack, you deserve to be loved and love in return…" Ray says realizing he sounds like a damn Disney character. 

"Thanks, bro. But I'm happy. I'm good with the occasional lady bedmate. Besides, I gotta keep an eye on Brock. My job is to keep him alive and healthy."

"Yeah yeah yeah. I know the who thing but I gotta take care of my brothers, don't make me sell you to a nice farm girls family for three cows and pig." Ray winks at him. 

Jack gives him a long, slow, blink. He knows his face has to match the dumbfounded feeling he has at Ray's words. He looks at the beer in his brother's hand and frowns before hazel eyes meet brown. A small snicker escapes. "I think you need to lay off the beer now. You feeling okay, Ray?"

"Oh fuck off!" Ray laughs, "I'm just saying… nevermind."

"I think I get your point but I'm a little lost on the whole farm thing. Why am I only worth three cows and a pig?"

"It’s a dowry. The bride, well husband price is equal to that of the cows and pigs…"

"I know what a dowry is. That wasn't my question. Why am I only worth three cows and a pig? I am totally worth at least ten cows. Like a whole herd. And a horse," Jack giggles. 

"You'd be worth at least twenty thousand dollars..." Ray shrugs.

"More like six billion but sure." Jack shrugs. 

"Oh, the Italian to American exchange rate must be a dramatic difference…" Ray laughs, "Or is it inflation?"

Jack cracks up and smacks Ray in the shoulder. "No! Wait! I'm only an honorary Italian. It's like a double exchange rate!"

"An honorary Italian?" Ray asks.

"Wait, you don't know? I thought all the kids knew. You do know I'm adopted right?" Jack snickers hard.

Ray says with a shrug with a big silly grin, "Brock probably said something about this but apparently, I stopped listening."

"But I don't think that is how exchange rates work my dude." Ray says with the same smile, "I'm not a math magician."

"No more beer for you tonight, my dude. I'll give you the cliff notes. Born in Germany. Raised in Italy."

"No more beers is probably a great idea. That five am call time is gonna kill me but… meh." Ray shrugs again. 

"I don't know what that is, but that sucks for you dude. I'm sleeping in," Jack says.

"That's when I am expected to be up and on set tomorrow morning. And all the other rock stars have gone to bed early…"

"Yikes… you should go to bed, my man. You're not gonna get much sleep. Come on. Let's put out the fire and crash." Jack gently slaps Ray's shoulder and stands, picking up the trash.

"Yeah… I suppose. You taking Brock to the beach?" Ray asks as he stands and stretches.

"Yeah probably after lunch. I feel like I'm going to sleep most of the morning away."

"Yeah, man. You deserve to sleep in," Ray says tapping Jack on the shoulder. Once Jack turns, he gives him a hug. 

Jack grins and returns the hug tightly. Brock is right. Ray gives very satisfying hugs. No wonder his brother was slightly addicted to his cuddles. He's certain Ray just popped his back. He pulls away with a smile. "Thanks for that. Think you just cracked my back."

"Anytime you need a free adjustment, hit me up." Ray says with a nod, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Jack. Get some good sleep."

"Goodnight, brother. Sleep well. Make sure you take some Aleve or something with water tonight before bed. And see about getting a hold of some OJ in the morning. Should help with any hangover."

"I will. Thanks, Jack." Ray turns and heads towards his door.

Jack ensures the fire is put out properly and finishes cleaning up the trash and fixing everything up nicely. He heads inside his bungalow and gets ready for bed. He's asleep right after he hits the pillow.

Frank's alarm screams alive at 4 am. He angrily turns the alarm off and grumbles in his head. He stretches his legs out and strokes Brock's chest. He slips out of the bed and quietly.

"Wha' timezit?" Brock mumbles, rolling over. 

"Too early. Go to sleep baby." Frank yawns

"Can't without you," Brock yawns a squeak.

"'M sorry baby. I wanna crawl back there with you." Frank moves back to the bed and kisses Brock, "I gotta shower." 

"Okay," Brock yawns after kissing him. He cuddles back down under the pillows. "Hurry back." 

"Always." Frank disappears into the bathroom and showers quickly. He dresses comfortably before returning to the bed. 

Brock reaches out a hand from under his cocoon of blankets for Frankie. "Don't leave me," he whines sleepily.

"I don't wanna," Frank says taking his hand and kissing the top of it.

"Can't sleep without you. 'S not safe. Gimme five and I come with," Brock says, though his actions don't follow his words. Instead, he tries to pull Frankie back into the bed. 

"Oh no, no, no. Mr. Octopus, you're not tricking me." Frank grins as he tries not to get pulled back in, "Maybe you can sleep with Jack? He's a good cuddler, right?"

"Don't wanna move. I'm comfy. And cold."

Frank looks around the room and sees the box under Brock's duffle. He sighs and lifts the heavy package as he groans, "Sit up punkin butt."

"No," Brock whines. "Too early to get up."

"You don't have to leave your cocoon. But you need arms to open this." Frank drops the box in front of him. He pulls his phone and calls Jack to come be a wall for his brother. He waits patiently as Brock sleepily opens the box. He explains to his husband that it's a weighted blanket and that it will help him and that his brother will be over shortly to be his wall. He unfolds the twenty-pound blanket and covers Brock. He kisses him several times before heading out the door. 

He doesn't remember the car ride or the conversation he's had with the band. As they roll on set, he feels like he's the living dead until they find the craft service table covered in breakfast treats. He loads up on coffee and a couple of hard-boiled eggs. 

The makeup and hair ladies style him up nicely. The stylist dresses him in the military uniform for the video. He takes a photo of himself and sends it to Brock's phone. He looks pretty damn handsome. The band is ushered on set to pretend to play the song for hours. Facing different directions with multiple cuts. It's not until 9 am that they get a break from filming.

He pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and texts Brock to see if he's awake. 

"I feel like dog shit." Ray chuckles at the food table again, "But it was fun hanging out with Jack." 

"Jack's my favorite." Frank gives him a soft smile.

"He's a very cool dude. I am hoping he sticks around for a little longer so we can hang out more." Ray nods in agreement.

"It would be good for my husband too." Frank said as he picks up a banana, a peanut butter cup, and a knife, "I really think he's helping Brock come back to life."

"Yeah, we heard." Bob says from the other side of Ray, "Lots of begging and moans coming from your bungalow." 

"At least I'm having sex…"

"I will be soon enough. Linds is supposed to be joining the tour soon. Like two or three shows soon." Gerard beams at the band.

"Good." Frank nods and smiles at him. He checks his phone to see if Brock's responded.

Brock: I love you.  
Brock: I like the blanket  
Brock: You are so handsome and cute.

Frank: Love you more. Glad you like it. I adore you. Have fun with Jack today. I have to go back soon. 

Brock: Jack is sleeping like a baby. He mumbled something to me when he came over about how he hates dawn now. Guess he wasn't happy I woke him up. ☹️ I'll make it up to him later. We're doing nekked cuddles. Well. I am. Take lots of pictures. I'll send you some from the beach. Wish you were with me!

Frank: He's probably grumpy at me, not you, love. I'm the one who woke up the beast. I wish I was there having naked cuddles. I have video and pictures to share. Be safe on the beach. Maybe don't wear your RBs or your new watch to the beach… my sunglasses are by the television.

Brock: I'll be fine. Break a leg but only proverbially okay? 

Frank: I'm not allowed to move around so no real leg break. Love you.

Brock: Do you guys get a decent break for lunch? Maybe Jack and I can come visit and we eat?

Frank: Yes. Lunch is from 1130 to 1230. We are done for the day at 2

Brock: Okay! We'll bring you good food! See you at 11ish. Love you! 

Frank: Ily ❤️❤️❤️

Brock slides out of the bed and pads over to the bathroom mirror. He takes a selfie and smirks. The counter's edge is right at his V line and hides anything below from view. He sends the image to Frankie with several hearts and winky faces.

Frank: Did you still wanna be an extra in the video? I suggested you'd be a good USO bartender… Jack could dance with a pretty girl too.

Brock: Um. Is there any way we can do that when I bring you lunch? Or maybe I shouldn't. I slept away my beach time.

Frank: I just choked on my egg cause of you. 

Frank: you should go to the beach. I'll come to find you after we are done filming. Maybe you can come see us tomorrow. It's an action day and we'll be on a beach.

Brock: Okay. Sorry. I'll play extra tomorrow or something. I'm much better as a soldier anyway. We both are. Also, please don't choke on food. 

Frank: the only thing I wanna choke on is you. 

Frank: no sorries needed, baby.

Brock: Funny. I wanna choke on your cock. Shame you are there and I am here… 

Brock: I'm tired of waiting for Jackie. I'm gonna go now. Bye! love you stay safe be good

Frank: 😘

Brock does his morning routine before grabbing swim shorts from his duffle that he picked up yesterday and slides them on. He pokes Jack to wake him. With a grunt and the bird, Jack sits up and wonders why it feels like someone is sitting on him. It takes him a bit to work his way out from under the weighted blanket and Brock's incessant nagging and poking but eventually he does and begins to get ready. When they are both dressed and snazzy, they head out and go to the beach. They play hard in the sand and waves, wrestling each other and trying to drown the other. Time is non-existent for them with the sun bright and shining down on them. It's not until they are both laying down on towels and totally not tanning, that Brock's stomach growls and he finally remembers food. And Frankie.

"Shit shit shit shit," Brock frantically chants as he digs around their stuff for his phone.

"What? You ok?" asks Jack with a raised eyebrow.

"What time is it? I told Frankie we were meeting up with him for lunch. At 11:30." Brock finally finds his cell and he rolls over to be able to see the screen. The clock shows that it's nearly 1 pm. He quickly types a response even though he doesn't think Frank will be about to get it until after they are finished for the day. "Motherfucker." 

"I take it that we missed lunch."

"No kidding, Sherlock. Damn. Hopefully, he won't be upset. I kinda bailed on being in the video today as an extra. I wanted to do it but the beach had a more powerful call." With a sigh, Brock shifts onto his side. He puts on his best puppy dog eyes he can muster. "I'm hungry." 

"Go get something to eat," Jack replies, not moving from looking at his phone.

Brock looks over at Jack and grins. He whines, "I don't wanna move. I'm so comfortable."

With a heavily annoyed sigh, Jack turns to look at his stupid older brother. "God you are so fucking annoying, you know that? You have two legs. Get your lazy ass up and go get your own food. Leave me alone."

"But Jack," Brock drawls out the whine of his brother's name. "Please?" 

"Is that an order?" Jack grumbles under his breath just loud enough for Brock to hear. The asshole.

"No. Not really. I'm playing. I only want you to cause I know you love me. You really don't want to go, that's fine. I'll go get it." Brock moves to sit up, patting Jack on the shoulder in the process.

Huffing, Jack stands and pockets his phone in his swim shorts along with his ID and card. "No. No, you stay and rest. You know it amazes me that somehow I'm the baby of the family and yet of the two of us, I'm the mature one. What do you want, Bossman?"

Brock snickers because Jack was totally right. "Pizza or a burger. Hold the body fluids you might shove in just to be a dick."

Jack's response is to just flip his brother off as he stalks away in the sand to the little strip mall of food and shops for tourists. He needs a drink too. He makes a beeline for a bar and joins the crowd. He slides into a chair and signals the bartender. Brock's pizza can wait. He wants a rum and coke or something.

"Seven and Seven please," Jamia says to the bartender cutting in front of the man next to her, on purpose of course. 

"You must've needed a drink that bad for you to cut in front of me," Jack says not exactly kind to the woman who so rudely cut him off. 

"I am so sorry! That was pretty rude huh?" She turns her head to look at Jack and lets a soft smile roll over her lips, "Can I make it up by buying your drink?" 

"I think it would be pretty rude of me to not accept such a nice offer, don't you think?" Jack tilts his head and gives her a smile. "I'm Jack." 

"Jamie. It's nice to meet you, Jack. What are you drinking?" She asks. 

"I was thinking a rum and coke but I think I might upgrade. Think I'm going to get a Long Island. Top shelf, I don't do cheap," Jack smirks at her.

"Tell the nice man." She chuckles, "As long as it makes up for me being a jerk."

Jack grins at her and gets his order placed. He turns back to the lovely lady next to him.

"Are you from here?" Jamie asks, knowing the answer.

"No, I'm just visiting for a few days. Sort of a mini-vacation. What about you?"

"Oh no, I'm a New Yorker. Just here on work." She smiles, " Are you here alone?"

"Yeah," he replies simply.

Jamie raises an eyebrow, "Oh well then I suppose that's good for me." She nods at the bartender for putting their drinks down, "I'm here working on a story for Rolling Stone about an upcoming music festival." 

"No shit?! That's wicked cool." Jack takes a drink and nods appreciatively. Just what he needs after dealing with Brock's shitheadedness. "How's that going for you?" 

"Not bad. I'm trying to track down bands and interview them. There are several upcoming bands that I want to talk to." She sighs, "But I'm having a hell of a time getting a hold of their managers."

"I feel like the best way to go about that is probably Google the record label and try to get them to set it up. They are the big bosses in charge. Maybe that will help?" Jack shrugs and takes another drink. "So how long are you in town for?" 

"Couple more days. I leave Friday. You?" She grins. 

"I think maybe tomorrow or the day after...I haven't decided yet." He grins back at her. She was cute. His phone vibrates several times and he pulls it out to check the missed messages from Brock demanding where he was and why hasn't he returned with pizza. Or a burger. Or a hot dog. Jack sighs and rolls his eyes, giving a middle-finger emoji as a reply.

"I can let you get that." She offers softly. Not like she's been following him and that big muscled idiot since yesterday. Wonder if Frank knows he's cheating on him with this guy… could be interesting to play that card at the right time. She scans his face and keeps a gentle smile and warm eyes.

"Nah. It's not important. Not when I have a lovely lady such as yourself here."

"Oh well." She replies genuinely flustered, "Don't want you to ignore something important..."

Jamie takes a drink and pauses, "Where all have you been so far in LA?" 

"Just here. Went to the Sunset Strip yesterday and did some shopping. Checked out the Walk of Fame. Totally doing the touristy things. What about you? Have you gotten the chance to relax… let loose… enjoy yourself or is it all work and no play?" Jack asks, voice dropping a little. 

"This is the first time I have gotten to relax since I got here two days ago." She sighs, "I think, I found some good company to relax with. I do have to ask, you're not an ax murderer right?" 

"Oh god no. But I feel like that's probably what every ax murderer says," Jack laughs.

"That's probably true!" She laughs. He was actually cute. Shame he's one of those guys, "Well, I'm not a serial killer either. So win for both of us!"

Jack laughs hard before taking a drink. His phone rings and he groans. Dammit, Brock. He turns to her after double-checking the caller. "I'm sorry. I gotta take this. He's going to keep bugging me otherwise."

"Okay?" She wrinkles her forehead in concern. So much for being alone there, Jackie...

Pressing the button with a sigh, Jack answers with a short, "What now?" There's a pause as he listens to Brock bitch. "I said I was going to get it for you, but I didn't say when or how long it was gonna be. This is the price you pay for sending me instead of getting your own damn pizza."

Her ears perk up at the faint murmur of what she thinks could be Brock's voice. She leans a little closer but plays it off by placing a soft hand on Jack's knee casually as a man moves in behind her. 

"Quit being a little bitch. I stopped for a drink so I can deal with your whining ass. When I'm done, I'll bring you your food. Yes, I'll give you a massage later. I love you too, pain in my ass. Bye." Jack shakes his head. He turns to Jamie with a smile. "Sorry about that." 

She withdraws her hand and gives him a disappointed look, "The wife?" She asks with a voice that verges on sad. 

"Oh, I'm not married. No, thank you. I'm more of a casual person. I make it a point to let the ladies know I'm not looking for something serious."

"Oh. Thank God!" Her hand rests back on his knee as she gives him a dirty smile, "At least we are both on the same page." 

Jack finishes his drink and turns to her, smile matching hers. "You wanna get out of here… go somewhere more private? Maybe we can finish the chapter together."

"Thought you would never ask." She tosses back the last part of her drink and rises to her feet. They say chicks are easy. Big doe eyes and a smile is all it takes.

"Where are you staying?" She asks. 

"I was going to ask you the same." 

"It's a weird place called the Charlie or something… it's like little apartments." She says with a wrinkled nose, "Not bad just… different. I can drive if you don't mind?" 

Jack smiles down at her. "Sure. But I got to do something first. I kinda owe someone pizza and I don't wanna be a dick. Do you mind? You can come with and then we can bounce right after. I promise." He slides a hand around her waist and 

"I don't mind. Let's go get some pizza for your friend. " She smiles up at him with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

Jack holds her hand as they chat some more and walk down the boardwalk to stop at a place that sells pizza by the slice. He decides to be a nice brother and get Brock two New York Style slices of pepperoni and a coke. They carefully make their way back to his spot in the sand where Brock is clearly dozing on his stomach on the towel.

The excitement begins to flutter in her chest as they get closer to Brock. Is he bold enough to call her out in front of his lover? "I love this weather." She says as they approach Brock.

"Me too. It's very similar to what we have back home. Not New York. We're from Italy. This motherfucker is my older and highly immature brother, Brock." Jack points him out.

She slips her arm around his side and moves as close to him as she can get with a smile on her face, "Brothers, eh?" She replies, even better. 

"Brock. I got you your pizza. Wake up," Jack says loudly with a nudge of his toes.

Brock groans and stirs. He turns his head and looks at Jack. "What took you so long? I'm starving. Is Frankie here yet?"

"No. I think they are still filming. Here. Take this so I can go. Please," Jack says rather urgently. He more or less shoves the box in Brock's face.

"Okay? Why?" Brock sits up and yawns. He notices a pair of feet nearby and looks up. He must be dreaming. Hallucinating. 

She grins at Brock, "Hi there." She plays it sweet and innocent.

Jack motions to her, "Brock, this is Jamie. This is my brother, Brock."

"Jamia," Brock says at the same time as Jack.

"Jamie. It's nice to meet you, Brock?" Jamia grins at him. The look on his face was priceless. 

Rage fills him. That backstabbing bitch was here?! "Why are you here?" Brock asked with a venom-filled voice. He quickly stands and goes on alert. He didn't have any weapons here and yet he was confident enough that he wouldn't need them. Jack was here and would have his back.

"I... I'm just working on a story…" she stammers a little. It's all an act. It makes him look like the asshole she knows he is. She turns into Jack, "is he always like this?" She pretends to cower a little.

Jack frowned. He rises and moves closer to Jamie. He's not sure what's going on but he's never seen Brock react this way to a lady. Did he know her? "No, he isn't. Brock, what's going on?"

"Bullshit," he spats at her. He moves closer; he's gonna kill her this time. "Did you follow us?! How long have you been spying on us?!"

"I… don't know who you are, I'm sorry." She flinches, she knows it's only going to last so long before Brock tells the truth.

Jack puts a hand out to Brock's chest. Something was seriously wrong here. He's never seen Brock this angry this fast. "Brock, tell me what's going on."

"You've been had, brother. This bitch is not who you think she is," Brock growls at Jamia.

Her mouth drops open in fake shock. She turns away and sees Ray and his poof of hair moving right towards them. Excellent. She works up the fake tears and sniffles a little, "I don't know who you are mister!" 

"Jamia… Frankie's crazy, abusive, whore of an ex-girlfriend. You stay the fuck away from my brother and husband," Brock snarls.

"Brock!" Jack shouts. "I think you've been mistaken!" 

"I…," she starts but quickly drops the act, wiping the tear from her eye. She steps away from Jack and towards Brock, almost aggressive in her movement. "I hope you seriously didn't marry that idiot." She smirks at Brock, "Truly surprised you haven't dumped his simple ass. I mean he is only good for one thing…" Her voice darkens she glares at Brock.

Ray quietly slips his arm around Jack's waist, "Hey handsome…" his voice, bright and joyful as it always was.

Jack jumped before relaxing at his brother's affectionate floofiness. He grumbles but tries to not direct it at Ray. "Hey yourself." 

"Raymond." Jamias voice is icy as she greets him, not taking her eyes off Brock, "Heard that whore you call your wife finally got knocked up… yours or the mailman’s?" 

Brock suddenly lurches forward, dropping her to the sand, his hands around her throat and squeezing. "Go to fucking hell you goddamn bitch!" 

The band is there in seconds seeing the commotion and the drop to the ground. Frank stuck between Gerard and Bob.

"Brock! No!" Ray shouts as he attempts to pull him off of her, "She ain't worth you catching a case, dude!" 

"Brock!" Frank's voice calls from behind his bandmates who are making it a point to block him from seeing.

"Baby's yours?" She manages out with a squeak.

Jack jumps in Brock and forcibly removes him from the woman. He quickly moves in between them both. "Not here!"

"You stay the fuck away from my family!" Brock screams.

Frank pushes through the band and makes his way to Brock's side. His arms wrap around his waist and hold him tight, "Baby," is all he can whisper when his eyes land on her. Frank feels the color drain from his face. A pit forms in his stomach and a wave of nausea crashes into him, "Jamia..." 

"Still sluttin' around with meathead, huh?" She growls at Frank, "He's gonna leave you. They always do Frank, but I stayed." 

The boys in the band all snap to Frank and Brock's defense as they shout and point for her to leave.

It's not long before his head pulls him back to the place he used to be. He was powerless. Exposed and embarrassed for being who he's become. His hands drop from Brock's bare skin to his side and he tenses.

Brock tries to go for her throat again, rage overruling any common sense, but Jack holds him back. Jack shoves Brock back further away and begins to speak softly in his ear. Rapid and hushed German falls from his lips meant to calm Brock down to a more rational state. Slowly, the rage dissipates and a dark calm washes over him the more Jack speaks. Yes, this was a much better plan. Brock shakes himself a little and finds baseline again. He calmly walks over to her as if they were friends. "My apologies. I guess I was wrong in my assessment of you, Jamie. I must be thinking of someone else. Rather, a doppelganger or something. Would you like to join us?"

The entire band falls silent. Frank looks to Brock giving him a 'what the fuck' look as he steps back into the boys in the band. His stomach flips and drops. This is a nightmare. It's one he can't escape.

"What?" Jamia replies, she blinks in confusion before she snaps back to reality, "I'm not going anywhere with you! I'd rather be dead…" 

"No, join us here on the beach. Oh, wait, that's right you were going to go with Jack." Brock looks to his brother. "You kids have fun."

Jack smiles at her. "Yeah, baby. Thought we were going back to your place… The Charlie, right?" He moves to put his arm around her.

She tries to step away but isn't quite fast enough to avoid Jack's arm, "What are you gonna do fuck one of the band twinks in front of me… I'm good, thanks!" She hisses at Jack.

"The Charlie." Frank's voice is smaller than he expected it to be. She was that close. Was she following them? He's never been more thankful for his friends than when Ray puts an arm around Frank to ground him a little. 

"Not into guys, sweetheart. This is just my brothers and their little band of misfits. You and I hit it off really well…" Jack says to her, holding her close to him. "My brother is sorry, right? Just a misunderstanding. You can work on your interview while we have lunch. Unless you wanna go swimming? Give me another chance, Jamie? Please?"

"I, uh…" she says confused by the whole twist. Brock recognized her. He knew her name. She could work this in her favor, "Ok. We should go. I don't feel safe with him around." 

"Don't feel you have to go, I am sorry. Really. You can stay. The guys won't mind, right boys?" Brock says. 

"Yeah, right guys?" Jack echoes his brother. He catches Ray and Frankie's eyes. His expression doesn't match the lightness in his voice. He winks at them. He hugs Jamia closer to him, in a more intimate hug.

Frank says nothing as Ray wrinkles in concern then frowns, "Whatever."

"I guess it's fine..." Gerard makes a disgusted face as he watches Jack hug her. He's gonna need to burn that shirt and shorts. 

"I'm going to get waters for the band." Bob says, looking notably unhappy with the turn of events, "Frank come help." 

Brock moves in front of Frankie and Ray, his back to Jack and Jamie. He kisses Frankie softly, "Trust us," he whispers to them both. "Trust me." 

Jack pulls Jamia to him, so that they were face to face, just as Brock moves to Frankie. "What do you say, darlin'? Stay with me and my friends?*

"I guess..." She can't keep the disappointment off her face. This isn't how she planned to work this but she can improvise.

Ray fights his need to protest this instead he pulls the kid close to him acting as a shield. He's unsure if Frank was going to keep it together or fall apart whatever the case may be.

Frank just nods. He feels another body move close to him. He looks over and smiles at Gerard who looked oddly comfortable in the casual shorts and muscle t-shirt. Frank pulls back from both Ray and away from Gerard. He takes a silent seat in the sand. He hates California.

Brock knows he has a limited amount of time while Jack distracts the bitch. He grabs Frankie again and pulls him into a harsher kiss before whispering in his ear, "I love you. Play along. Please." 

Moving to Ray, Brock grabs the back of Ray's neck and whispers in his ear, "We have a plan. Trust us and play along. I need my harem of boys. By the time this is over, she'll never come around again."

"We'll play along," Ray replies softly with a nod. He keeps an eye on Frank who is sitting cross-legged on the sand, "I'm keeping an eye on the little one. I have a bad feeling." 

"I'll handle the aftermath. See if you can get the others to join in." Brock quickly glances over his shoulder. Times up. "Make it look like we're making out. She hates PDA," he whispers quickly.

"Just kiss me, you've done it once it's fine." Ray sighs. He wraps arms around Brock's shoulders and leans in. Sorry, Chrissy.

Brock wrinkles his nose. He whispers, "That was a threat. Not a ruse." 

Ray rolls his eyes as he groans, annoyed, and goes for it, feeling Brock tense as he kisses him, 'Sorry Frankie.'

Jack panics for a second because that was a little ahead of the plan but sure. He can roll with that. He turns her a little and lets her catch a glimpse. 

Jamia flinches at the sight, "What in the holy fried fuck!?" The words were meant to stay in her head but had escaped, "Ew."

Brock pulls out of the kiss slowly and rolls his eyes to Ray. His back is to her and he doesn't have to fake his expression. Taking a deep breath he turns and smiles all lovey-dovey to Ray before looking at Jack and Jamia. "Sorry. Was just saying hi." 

"Awfully friendly way to say hello." Jamia grimaces. Her arm slips around Jack's waist as she glances up at him, "Sure you don't wanna go?" 

"Oh, darlin' these are my friends." Jack leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Let's sit and chat, hon." 

Brock nuzzles Ray for a second before nudging him to Frankie. He moves to the next boy in his harem.

Ray sits beside Frank and leans in before whispering, "Just play along. Brock wouldn't let anything happen to you." 

Frank nods and plasters a fake as shit smile on his face. "I think I'm just hungry." His voice is brittle as the words come out.

"Hey, Mike-n-Ike. Missed you, baby." Brock wraps an arm around him and again whispers for his bandmate to play along and play it up.

Mike squints at him, "Did you get all sweaty just for me?" He has an idea of what might be going on. He runs a finger down Brock's chest. The motion feels wrong but he fights his urge to pull back, "Missed you today." 

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you later, okay?" Brock coos suggestively at Mike. He makes a half-motion to kiss him but he's not sure if Mike is cool with that. 

Mike leans up and kisses his cheek. He glances at Frank then back to Brock. And gives him a warm welcoming smile. 

Brock mouths a thank you before moving on to the next kid. He's not sure if he was thanking Mikey for playing along, for not kissing him, or for not punching him in the process of it all but, either way, he was grateful. He's praying to God every second that Frankie won't be pissed off.

Mike pats Brock butt before sitting down. He glances at Jamia who is wearing a face that is a mix between disgust and rage.

Brock realizes the next one is Gerard and for a moment he's not sure he can keep up the charade. He's barely sure he can keep up the mask. His auto-body response kicks in and he can feel the rising panic. His anxiety kicks in and screams at him to abort the mission. He ignores it. Jack's job was to keep her there and keep his hand on her while she watches. He releases some of the rage in his soul at her and the damage she's done to his Frankie and it's more than enough fuel for him to strengthen his resolve. Without breaking stride, he wraps one arm around Gerard's waist and pulls him into a kiss. He knows this one would not be complaining or fighting him. In fact, he can probably bank on Gerard responding and it won't even be fake.

Gerard had a strong suspicion of what was going on but couldn't help but tense up at Brock's touch. His eyes dart to Jack who was engrossed in that devil woman. After telling himself that it's a game, he relaxes and lets himself enjoy the attention, his fingers push through Brock's hair.

Jack leads Jamia to the towel and has her sit, joining right next to her. He watches Brock kiss Gerard and while he knew it was going to happen, his own anger bubbles to the surface. He uses it to fan the flame under her, "Disgusting, isn't it?" 

"I don't know why they are even allowed in public." She mumbles.

Frank tries not to react to the kiss but he can't help it. His hus-- Brock wasn't supposed to do that. He takes Ray's hand and laced fingers with him. Who knew Ray was the one who would keep him from breaking. He really deserves a raise.

"Alright! It's my turn! Daddy's been away for too long!" Bob says as he moves in and breaks them up, he wraps his arms around Brock. He nuzzles Brock's chest.

Jack nearly laughs and instead turns it into a snort cough. He passes it off as one of disgust and derision. "Fuckers." 

Gerard slips beside Frank and gives him a little nod. He leans into Frank's ear and whispers, "I'm going to kiss you. It's for show. Please don't hate me."

"Hi baby boy," Brock wraps his arms around Bob tightly before lifting him and carrying him over to the others. "Missed you too, sexy." 

"I don't like it when you aren't around," Bob repeats words he's heard Frank say to Brock. It was a show, acting. It was a little weird. But if it purges that bitch from their lives, he's fine with it. 

Gerard kisses Frank. His hand carefully cradles his cheek. He doesn't expect it when Frank crawls across his lap and kisses him back. He freezes, unsure of what to do.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She hisses quietly. She can't settle her eyes in one place. She grips Jack's knee and feels her anger bubbling.

Jack whispers in her ear, "Between you and me, I only play nice for my brother. Faggots do this all the time, but I kinda got used to it. They are good people if they weren't freaks."

"I don't know how you do it. Makes my stomach churn." 

"I have to either look away or imagine them as chicks. It's a good thing I have a strong stomach. Thanks for putting up with this. It means a lot to me. I know this wasn't our original plan but don't look at them. Pay attention to me, so I get the pleasure of looking at your gorgeous face." Jack holds her hand and kisses the back of it.

"Brock! Come sit with us!" Ray says loudly as he puts the towel.

Brock carries Bob, praying it doesn't look as awkward as it feels, over to the towel before gently setting him down by sliding him down his body. That move was mostly so he didn't drop Bob in the process and less about the sensuality of the ruse. He steadies Bob and gives him a silent "Are you okay?" Bob nods and Brock makes his way into the pile of men and pulls Bob down with him. He leans over Gerard and kisses Frankie. It's more real than anything else he's done since she's arrived and yet it's still a little exaggerated. He adds an overly loud moan, just for the hell of it.

"He's old enough to be their fucking father." She says uncaring if Brock hears, "That alone is predatory." 

Brock pulls away from Frank and feels his heartbreak from the lack of response. His husband didn't even try to give a fake response. His anxiety skyrockets and suddenly everything was wrong. It wasn't going to be enough. She was going to win in this giant game of mental chess. Right now she was in check and he was close enough to breaking character.

"I didn't say I was done, sir..." Frank says softly. He taps Brock's shoulder.  
He gives him a soft smile as he plants himself in Gerard’s lap.

"Excuse me, as the boss of this harem of boys, I decide if you are a good boy enough to continue kissing me," Brock says loudly. He's surprised his voice matches his facial expression and body language and not his panicked eyes. He lays back more and stretches out on his side like the queens of the movies. He can imagine his harem giving him grapes and fanning him and lavishing all sorts of needy physical affection.

"Sorry. Sorry, sir." Frank pulls back. He can feel himself crumbling a little more. 

"Be nice to the baby. He still thinks he's in charge." Ray says leaning into Brock. He knows that Jack and Jamie can't see his face, he mouths 'relax' to Brock. The boys all lean into the game.

"Baby needs to work on convincing me he is a good boy and gets kisses. Work that sexy ass, baby." Brock forces himself back into the mindset needed for the mask to be effective. His eyes lock with Jack for a moment before turning away. He fakes shame.

"This is disgusting. I'm not sorry. You people are what's fucking wrong with this country." Jamie snaps after seeing the look on Jack's face and turning to Brock, "You're an embarrassment to your family, you pervert." 

Her words make Frank's body move off Gerard and closer to Brock. He kneels beside him.

"First of all, you're in public, have some god damned decency." She raised the volume in her voice, "Second, your mother's should all be ashamed to have created you. You're all abominations."

Brock ignores her, focusing instead only on Frankie. He pulls him closer, wrapping an arm around him. He smiles at him, letting Frankie play his part and do the work.

"God you are hot when you are fired up," Jack whispers vehemently to Jamia. "Tell them all the things I can't. Hurt them. Shame them." 

"It's not our fault your pussy is dry as the Sahara and no one wants you," Frank growls. 

"You of all people know that your mother is embarrassed by your actions." She rises to her feet and moves closer point a finger a Frank, "You waste your life playing shitty as sad boy fag music and tramp across this country with your merry band of homos." 

Jack slips away and moves quietly through the crowd. He makes a few choice comments loud enough for bystanders to hear to the types of people who would zero in on the drama. Ripples are made and Jack slips back to the others.

"No one wants to listen to a bunch of sad little faggots cry about no one loving them." Her gaze turns to Brock, "And you, you are encouraging all of this disgusting behavior. You're gonna burn in hell for this!" 

"You ruined all of these boys. No woman will ever want to touch them because of all the queer shit you've done to them." She pauses for a moment to breathe, "You probably pass Frank around and use him like a fuck doll, because he is only good for that. Just a worthless piece of faggot ass." 

"Actually, that's where you are wrong," Brock pipes up.

"Oh, the pimp speaks..." she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not the pimp, Janis. They fuck me. Not the other way around," Brock says, casually.

"You disgust me!" She snaps, "That’s all you queers do is fuck each other and spread your homo bullshit around."

"All of you should be ashamed! Your devil music and faggotry is ruining kids." Jamie growls, "Fucking gross. You should all kill yourselves! Make the world a better place."

Jack slides up to Jamia and stands next to her. He doesn't respond or does anything just yet. His work is done. Already he can see some people taking notice out of the corner of his eye. 

She looks at Jack and gives him a look as if to say join me.

"Your brother is ashamed of you." She hisses at Brock, "It's okay Jack, you can tell him. He needs to know!"

"She's right. You do need to know how I feel. Why don't you stand up and face me like a man," Jack hisses in spite.

Brock's anger spikes and he stands, fists clenched. This might be the only time he would fight Jack over a woman. Though he might be the woman… He moves as if he's gonna punch Jack.

Frank jumps to his feet and moves between Brock and Jack, "No." Frank says in a low angry voice.

"Stay out of it Frank!" She snaps at Frank, "This isn't your place!"

"It is! I'm not having the two people I love fight because of your disgusting ass." Frank snaps.

"No Frank. Hate to say it but he doesn't love you. No one will ever love you, Frank." She moves closer to Frank pointing a finger at her, " You gave up the best thing you've ever had for a faggot piece of ass."

"No, Jamia. No one will love you and your black heart." Frank snaps back, "He's better in every way than you could ever be." She reacts and slaps him hard across the face. Frank steps back and blinks. He nearly trips over Ray. 

Brock hears the slap of skin against skin and forgets himself, forgets the game, the crowd they now have, and the rationale to think of the consequences. He grabs her hand and twists her fingers back hard; a cracking sound soon follows. 

The crowd thankfully didn't see that. Jack is smart enough to stand next to her and block Brock's reaction. Jack waits and watches the crowd that's slowly growing. He sees cameras. "Smile and wave boys." 

Brock ignores her in favor of going to Frankie and pulling him into a hug. He can't do anything overtly romantic so he pulls away quickly. It's time for phase two. Watching her burn her own stake. With a nudge of the others, Brock points out the crowd and the occasional camera flash before returning to her; the puppet.

"You stupid faggot! You stupid piece of shit!" She screams at Brock, she holds her hand close to her chest and begins to feel the panic and the more intense pain radiating, up her arm.

"Are you okay?" Brock asks falsely.

"What do you think you big queer bastard?!?" She screams at Brock.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," he replies. He's not watching her.

"I'm not okay! You broke my hand!" She snaps.

"Self-defence from what I saw," Jack says, moving to stand next to Brock.

"What? This big behemoth neanderthal bastard assaulted me!" 

"I didn't see it. But… perhaps they did?" Jack points out several cameras behind her. "Checkmate." 

She turns and looks. Her mouth drops open. She turns and looks over at Jack, "What have you done?!" 

"Game," says Jack.

"Set," replies Brock.

"Match," they say in perfect unison.

"I hate you! I hate all of you!" She screams, she turns on Frank one last time, "You're going to die alone, Frank Iero!" 

"Oh Julia?" Jack says to her. "Janet? January? Jayla? Jasmin? Justine? Jenna? Jill? Joliet? Jeanette?"

She spins to face Jack, "It's Jamia!"

"You were right. I did have something to say to my brother. And I just wanna thank you, for letting me get this very important thing off my chest," Jack says. He turns to Brock.

"What'd you want to tell me, Jack?" Brock asks sweetly.

"If you can't beat 'em join 'em!" Jack says overly enthusiastic before jumping at Brock and kissing him hard.

Frank's mouth drops open at the kiss. His face is burning from being struck so hard. The demons in his head are hissing at him. 

"You all are disgusting! Incestuous faggot!" She snaps, "You're going to be with a brother fucker, Frank?!"

"Better than a heartless bitch." Ray hisses from behind Brock.

Brock signals Jack to move and stand next to him. He keeps his arm around his brother's waist. Just because he can. "I wonder how many people in the crowd behind you have a camera? How many are recording you making a fool of yourself? What do you think they'll post it on? YouTube? Twitter? Probably even Instagram. You might get famous if this goes viral. The whole world will see you screaming hateful slurs at a couple of kids."

"What have you done?!" She snaps at Jack. She shoves him with her one good hand.

"I will get you back for this! All of you!" She hisses at the band and stops at Frank, "You're going to regret this!" 

"You'll just be another nightmare," Frank says quietly.

"I think it's time you leave. Take the walk of shame," Jack says, all playful charade dropped. 

She growls as she shoves past Jack. She storms through the crowd and disappears into the fray. Her figure is no longer visible to Frank. He keeps himself together while there is a crowd. He shoves everything he's feeling down and lets himself feel nothing. 

Gerard and Mike begin picking up the towels and the boy's belongings. There's going to be fallout. It's going to be ugly. Gerard knows how much Jessica gets to Frank. He knows that Brock will be a wreck over the whole kissing the band. 

"We should go feed us," Ray says with a tender voice as he looks at Jack. 

"Yes, I should eat," Frank says with a nod. He gives a grin to Ray and looks at the band, "all the boys should. I think the driver is waiting for us still."

Brock watches the bitch leave with a cold rage simmering below the surface. He hasn't moved, even as the crowd's attention wavers and fades. He feels more than hears Jack move to face him. 

"Are you okay?" asks Jack softly. He knows he's not. Brock knows what he's really asking.

Brock gives a small, curt, nod, "I'm fine." He waits a beat. He switches to German. "You know what I want." 

"Private or public?" Jack asks. He grabs his cell phone to make a phone call.

"Public. I want you to stay out of it. I need you here."

Jack sifts through Facebook for a bit before he turns to the band. "Hey what was her last name?" 

"Why?" Frank asks protectively.

"Nestor." Gerard spoils it. Even if she just gets jumped, she'd deserve it.

"Thanks. I'm gonna see about getting a copy of a video one of those lovely people made. Post it to her Facebook," Jack says, lightly. It wasn't in the original plan but now that he says it, it's not a bad idea. 

"She deserves worse," Ray growls.

"I'm sure she will," Jack says with an even, casual tone. "People like her always get their comeuppance."

"Never sooner enough though," Ray replies to Jack with a small frown. He's aware of the damage done. He knows Jack is too.

Frank stands there a little impatiently. He's fidgety. 

Jack closes Facebook and opens up audio recording. He stands close to Brock and holds the phone near. He'd rather not do this with the band so close but right now the sooner they took care of this, the better. For once, he agrees with Brock's recklessness. He nods at his brother.

"For crimes of assault and dishonor of the highest degree, I, Brock Rumlow, heir of the Lucchese, declare Jamia Nestor an enemy of The Five and is to be eliminated," Brock says in Italian. 

Jack closes the audio and sends it to their father through a heavily encrypted program on his phone. Dad will take care of the rest and within minutes the whole Family will know. If they are lucky, she'll be taken care of by the end of the week. Maybe even sooner. 

"So what now?" Mike asks curiously.

Frank looks to Mike and stares at him for a moment then turns back to Jack and Brock. 

"Crowds finally clearing," Bob comments softly to Gerard who scans the area. He's wondering if she's waiting for another go. 

Jack pockets his phone and moves to help pack up their things. It doesn't take long before his pocket vibrates with what he assumes is confirmation. It's a shame Brock ordered him to stay out of it. He was played a fool and could really enjoy revenge in a physical sense. Like breaking every bone in her body. Spilling her blood and watching it pour into the dirt. Someone else will get the pleasure of doing that. So instead he's going to turn and work on damage control.

Brock turns and actually feels a sense of relief that she will never be bothering them again. He moves to Frankie and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him into a passionate kiss. His hands don't stay still for long though, they travel down and grab Frankie's legs, lifting him up and seating him at his waist. He's going to fix this. He's going to take care of his husband.

Frank kisses Brock back but makes a little yip into his mouth at the feeling of being lifted. One hand rests softly on his chest while the other rests lightly on Brock's neck. In his head, he repeats that everything is alright, like a mantra. If he says it enough, it will come true.

Brock holds Frankie up under his pert bottom with one hand so he can actually hug Frankie with the other. He breaks the kiss to turn to the others. Gratefulness doesn't even cover what he's feeling. "Thank you, guys. So much. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Probably killed her on a public beach." Ray jokes but he is being serious.

"Yeah, thanks for pulling me off of her. I would rather not go to prison for murder," Brock says. He hugs and kisses Frankie closer, tighter, in his arms. It would have been worth it. It was worth it.

"Sorry," Frank whispers. He rests his head on Brock's shoulder and places a kiss on his neck. 

"You're worth it. Don't worry about her. She's never coming back. It's being handled," Brock whispers back before kissing him hard.

Jack finishes packing up stuff and joins the group. "We're good to go. Pizza?" 

"Pizza sounds fantastic," Ray says with a nod. 

Frank kisses Brock. "I wanna go home. I don't like California." 

"Me too baby. But you gotta play soldier for your music video for one more day. We're okay. You're okay. I love you," Brock murmurs softly. He begins to walk, still carrying his Koala. The others can either follow like good ducklings or be left behind.

Jack falls in step with Brock and motions to the others, "Come along, kittens. We gotta follow Daddy Boss!" 

"Jack!" Bob shouts with a laugh.

Jack just cackles and nudges Bob playfully. 

The band pours out of the SUV once they reach the bungalows. Lunch was delicious, and exactly what everyone needed. The group was able to drop the weirdness from everything that had happened. There is  
a tension that swirls around Frank as he stands silently beside Brock. He wants to go inside but also wants to be around his friends. He's trying to avoid the inner voice that is trying to get to him.

Brock keeps Frankie under one arm as they wait for the others to decide if they were going to head inside or chill. He is rather torn about being in private or staying close to his family-friends. His training says that they shouldn't hole up.

"I was thinking we could hang out. Watch a movie or something a little later… thoughts? Opinions?" Ray offers.

"Sounds like a great idea to me, Sunshine. I'd love to hang out with you guys," Brock agrees happily.

"I'm cool with that," Jack adds.

"I'm in!" Bob nods, "I can walk to the grocery store up the street and get food and we can make a small family dinner." 

"Yeah. I think a quiet night inside sounds perfect." Gerard nods after a little thought.

"I'll be there. You guys know that." Mike smiles.

"I need a shower." Frank says quietly.

"Yeah… same." Ray pats the kid on his shoulder.

"A beer and a cigarette too." Frank adds.

"Yes to all of the above." Bob nods.

"Meet up around seven?" Ray asks to receive nods from the band, "Seven it is. I gotta call the little woman." 

"Apologize to her for me?" Brock asks softly. 

"There's nothing to apologize for but I will give her your love, how's that B?" Ray gives him a small side hug. This action starts a chain of hugs for both brothers. A small chorus of thank you and love you dude echoes before they slowly part from one another.

"Thanks Jack." Frank says quietly.

Jack hugs Frankie as tight as he can, one hand ruffling his hair. "You know I have your back. And so does Brock. Trust in that. I love you, bärchen."

"Never doubted it for a second." Frank says with a grin, "I just appreciate you."

Jack feigns hurt with a dramatic hand over his chest. "Just appreciate?! Ow my heart! My achy breaky heart! Brock loves me enough. Gimme kissy Brock. You love me."

"Bite me, asshole," Brock deadpans.

"You know I love you, dummy." Frank grins a little, "I just…" He clips his words off because now's not the time for this. Keep yourself together.

"There it is! Finally, he says it. Whew! Thought I'd have to beg. Took you long enough." Jack laughs and hugs him again. 

"Oh bite me. You know I love you." Frank laughs, "Loved you're curly sue ass since the first day I met you." 

"Hmmm nope. Now how I remember it. You hated me. Wasn't until I swept you off your feet with my awesome charm that you changed your mind."

"Well yeah, that's after I did my best to prove that I'm not a damn gold digger. Or sugar baby…" Frank snorts as he hugs Jack with a tighter squeeze.

"Speaking of which, give me back my sugar baby husband, Jack. It's koala time. Shoo. You stink, go take a shower." Brock moves and tugs Frankie away from Jack.

"What if I wanna keep him? Just because you said that?" Jack holds onto Frankie tighter. He's grinning playfully.

"I’m smol. You're gonna break the koala." Frank laughs, "Plus, I don't think you want me in your shower, Jack."

"If I can share a bed naked with Brock and you or share a shower with him, at this point in my life, I think I can share a shower with you. I've done worse things. Now, what you plan on doing in that shower is where we differ." Jack laughs. He lets Frankie go, though. 

"Yeah. I don't think Brock would be cool with certain shower activities." Frank laughs and shakes his head. He goes back to Brock's arms and rests his heavy head on him.

"Hell, I'm not cool with us doing something like that. And I'm pretty chill with everything. I gotta draw the line somewhere I guess," Jack says with a laugh. He grabs his things and begins to head to his Steve- the only dude he'll ever be in. The thought makes him snicker hard. This place naming their bungalows was weird.

Frank looks up at Brock, "Was it something I said?" He tries his best to keep a straight face but he can feel himself failing at it.

Brock laughs hard and pulls Frankie in for a kiss before leading him to their own dwelling. He waves bye to the others.

Frank sits on the couch the second they are inside with the door shut. He plays casual even though inside his head was a storm. "What a day," he sighs, "I need a drink." 

"Amen to that," Brock mutters. He pulls Frankie up from the couch and into his arms. "Who said you can leave my side?" 

"Is that an order?" Frank gives him a smirk before leaning up to kiss him, "Do you wanna take a shower with me?" 

"I'm debating that. If I do, I'm not going to be able to cuddle and nap with you while we wait for the others. Because if I do, I'm going to do wicked things to you."

"What if I'm a little hedonistic shit and want it all?" Frank asks with a glimmer in his eyes. He's doing everything he can to cover up how he feels.

"You deserve it all," Brock says softly. "All the good things. None of the bad." 

"I dunno. Baby might not have earned it…" Frank teases before biting the tip of his tongue.

"Baby doesn't need to earn anything. Love is freely given and all the things that come with it." Brock holds him close and tight.

"You're the boss… who am I to argue." Frank smiles, "We should take a little nap then shower. Or vice versa." 

"It's not your fault," Brock says abruptly.

"What?" Frank looks up at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. He thought he'd done a good job of hiding his problems.

"It's not your fault," Brock repeats.

"It's... I'm fine." Frank manages out. 

"It's not your fault," Brock says again.

"I'm not sure what you want from me! I'm sorry…" Frank replies with frustration laced in his words. He feels like he needs to leave. Like he's invaded a space he shouldn't be in.

Brock cups Frankie's face with both of his hands and kisses him softly on both of his cheeks before kissing him on the lips. He whispers, "It's not your fault baby. It's okay." 

Frank scans Brock's face. He doesn't know what the right answer is. He struggles with what he needs to do to make this right, to make it go away. He can feel his throat get dry as he stares at Brock, "It is though," his voice wobbles slightly, "I'm sorry"

"No. It's never your fault. It's always going to be hers. I love you. And it's going to be okay. You are always my perfect, sweet, beautiful, good boy. My husband. My love. It's not your fault- you've done nothing wrong." 

His eyes betray him and let tears fall down his cheeks. He clenches his jaw to keep his words in. He shakes his head. Tears flood his vision and push over his lashes. Brock's words break him and everything that he's been forcing down comes rushing back up and comes out as a loud sob while his entire body tenses. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. I did this and I hate myself for it. I'm sorry please don't leave me, I'll be good," he babbles incoherently through the sobs and tears at Brock as he struggles to keep air in his lungs.

Brock holds Frankie tightly, picking him up and carrying him to the couch. He sits and never lets his husband go. He just holds him as tight as he can and rubs his back soothingly. Occasionally, he'll whisper soft words of encouragement or praise in Italian, voice full of love. His strong boyfriend, whom he calls husband and rightfully so, has been carrying him for weeks. Now, it was Brock's turn to do the same and he was proud to do so.

Frank's head rests on Brock's shoulder as he calms himself down. His fingers curl into Brock's chest and draw small circles into his skin. "I ruined our alone time." He whispers with a trembling voice, "I just need to man up. I'm really sorry." He tries to get himself back to center. Brock doesn't need this cry baby bullshit. Frank takes a full, deep breath. 

"You didn't 'ruin' anything. She did. And any time we are together is cuddle alone time. Nothing can ruin that; not even her. I don't know how you can possibly man up considering you've never ever been a man down? Not sure that's possible. You are a good man. I know I call you boy and kid and all sorts of nicknames that rather infantilize you but the reality of it is, you are a good man. I love you. You are strong, you are smart, you are funny and adorable. You are selfless and honest. You are a wonderful man that I am proud to call you my husband, even though we don't have the legalities taken care of. There is nothing she can take from you that you don't give her. You have nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for."

Frank nods and takes a moment.

"She got under my skin." He comments with a sniffle. He doesn't deserve Brock. He was tender, compassionate, warm and too wonderful for Frank to ever deserve. "I like when you call me boy." 

"Good. Because I like it too. It's not an age thing… it's a size thing. You know how I am about my Twinkie," Brock grins at him before kissing his cheek.

"You still love me?" Frank whispers. 

"I will always love you, tesoro. You are it for me. There will never be another. It's you or no one. You're the end of the line for me," Brock says matching his tone.

"I only want you. No one else." Frank replies, "That's it.

"You shouldn't have broken her hand." He adds softly.

"I told you on our first date: she lays a hand on you, I was breaking her fingers."

"Shoulda broken her neck," Frank replies coldly. "I know you keep your promises. I never worry about that. I hate that she can do this to me. I hate that I feel like I am falling apart all over again. Like I am doing everything wrong and that you might be one foot out the door… even though I know you're not." He pauses. "I didn't want to be a mess. Well, not a mess like this at least. I'm supposed to be the strong one right now."

"We are stronger together. We lift each other up. And so do our friends and family. Alone, and we will crumble under the burden. But having a strong support system means we will prevail. You've carried me for weeks. It's my turn to carry you. That doesn't make us weak. It makes us as a couple stronger. I love you. And I will always be here to pick up the pieces just like I know you will be there for me." Brock nuzzles him, pressing soft kisses everywhere he can.

"How did I get blessed with you?" Frank asks, touching his face with soft fingertips. He scans his eyes, unsure of what he is looking for but something. A catch to it because there always has been in the past. He turns Brocks head toward him and kisses his lip, "I love you." 

"I love you more," Brock says into the kiss.

"I do have to tell you something… please don't be mad at me." Frank says wincing a little. He bites his lip before fidgeting with his lip ring.

"What, baby?" Brock asks with a frown. What could Frankie possibly have done to make him mad?

"You stink." Frank smiles but fights it.

Brock laughs. "You aren't a bed of roses yourself, mister! Come on, let's go shower and then cuddle."

"I smell like a field of daisies, thank you." Frank snickers before kissing Brock then crawling off his lap. He stops and turns to look up at Brock with a hand extending a hand to him. He pulls him into the bathroom.

The shower felt like it barely started for Frank as Brock exits first. He had gotten used to the quick rinse but he had other things in mind. Maybe not sex but other things. He rinses off and sighs as he watches Brock through the glass shower door as he turns the water off and steps out. He dries off and follows Brock out into the bedroom. He pulls a pair of shorts from his bag and slips them on. He sits on the end of the bed and watches Brock flutter around the room before he crawls into bed beside Frank. 

Strong arms pull him up the mattress and into his spot with soft kisses that almost tickle. He talks about the video shoot until he feels drowsy in Brock's arms. He's not sure when he passed out but he's woken by knocking on their door. 

The band arrives with brown bags full of food and smiles. Ray and Bob refuse the multiple offers from Brock to help cook. 

"Bob and Ray's sideshow attraction present, your dinner. " Bob grins wide at the groups. They present to the group chicken enchiladas, beans and rice, with cold beer and limes.

He doesn't say a word but Frank knows that the food is going to make him sick later. But it is so damn good it is worth it. The room fills with appreciative moans at the delicious meal. Once it's concluded, Mike and Gerard wash up. 

"It's almost like… they don't want you to lift a finger." Frank says to Brock as he sits beside him after brushing his teeth. 

Brock lifts a middle finger and grins, "How's this?" 

"What would your mother say, Rumlow?" Ray laughs.

"Hey Brock, do we as a band have to start calling you daddy?" Mike jokes. 

"Only if you want to but no, not really," snickers Brock. "Did not expect that from Bobby though. Thought for sure he was gonna kill me for lifting him up."

"Nah man. I'm just glad I didn't throw your back out." Bob teases, "Also glad I caught you off guard, really wanted to sell it."

"You gonna rate how the band kisses?" Frank jokes.

"How did it feel kissing Gerard again?" Brock throws at him.

"Is it safe to use bleach as mouthwash?" Frank wrinkles his nose, and makes a yuck face at Brock. 

"RUDE!" Gerard hisses. Frank sticks his tongue out in return then smiles.

"Everyone is lucky to get to kiss you, Brock. You're a good kisser. So… how was kissing Jack?" Frank asks with a tilt of his head as he bites his lip.

Brock bites his lip and decides on how he should answer. He hesitates and gives an awkward laugh. "Uh… so… it's really not a big deal to me cause I've done it before." 

"Hold up…" Ray puts a hand up.

"What?" Frank blinks then blinks again, "Come again?" 

"Oh fuck," Jack says softly. He groans and puts his head in a hand.

"There's a reason Jack is pretty chill with, like, everything. We've done a lot of things most brothers aren't comfortable with. Like kissing. It was for a mission," Brock says slowly. He can feel the awkwardness making him flush and the sillies creep up in his throat.

"A lot?" Gerard questions.

Frank tilts his head to the side as more questions fill his head than the answers he's getting, "What kinda mission would require that? Were you infiltrating an underground gay club in Kabul or some shit? And don't you get a lifetime membership to said club at birth?"

"Frank, it's not like pledging a fraternity…" Bob laughs.

"Um, no. But we were pretending to be a couple at a party that our target was attending. I don't trust very many people and Jack was the only one comfortable enough to pretend to be bisexual. It's a very good thing we are not actually blood related."

"Did you get hazard pay for that?" Mike laughs.

"Huh, so you have made out with your brother for the job." Frank smirks and glances at Jack.

"I can't even imagine Jack as anything other than a lady killer." Bob laughs.

"We did not get hazard pay. Bastards," came the muffled voice of Jack from behind his hands. The mission was long and exhausting. He hated it then but they did have a few laughs during the most ridiculous parts.

Brock nods, "That mission is also why he's cool about naked cuddles with me." Speaking of which, Brock crawls into the bed and pulls Frankie in front of him, wrapping his body around his husband. Frank melts in his arms with a content sigh.

"Well, it makes more sense now." Frank tries not to laugh at the shades of red Jack is turning, "Just like kissing and cuddles, right?" 

Brock's face and ears turn red, giggles escaping from his throat. "We had to pretend to have sex." 

Frank chokes and turns his head to face Brock.

Ray blinks in confusion, "With others in the room, right? How's that even work?" 

"That's not a thing…" Gerard sighs.

Brock giggles into Frankie's neck. "No... At night; in bed." 

"Who was the top?" Frank smirks at Brock before kissing him.

"He was," Brock snickers before kissing him again. "It was hilarious." 

"Wait! What?" Frank feels more intrigued by this with each detail. He turns and looks at Jack with a shocked look. "Oh sweet baby Jesus in a manger…" 

Jack looks at Brock with a red face and pleading eyes for him to just spill it all or to shut up. He can't take this much longer. He's pretty sure he can die from embarrassment.

"Brock. You can't just leave it there!" Mike protests the silence between them, "Words please. My fragile little mind is screaming here…" 

"What? I answered your questions," Brock teases sarcastically. "I don't know why you're upset…"

Frank playfully glares at him. "How do you have fake sex… with your brother? And don't give me 'it's classified'…" he says in a mocking tone. 

"I mean, it's not hard." Brock has to stop and giggle at that before he can continue, "You just make the bed rock, throw in some vocalizations and make sure they find you naked in the morning."

"You two are not that good of actors." Ray snorts before taking a drink of beer.

"Yeah… when you fake it, it's obviously fake." Frank says with a nod to Ray.

"Excuse me, I was top of my class at West Point in acting. I'm one of the most skilled at undercover missions. It's precisely why Brock chose me," says Jack with a rather offended yet playful tone.

"Nope. Don't buy it." Frank shakes his head.

"I chose you because Murphy and Westfahl both refused to be my date. Out of all of the guys, you were both willing and someone I trusted to watch my back," Brock comments. He snuggles Frankie closer. 

"Ah so the truth comes out." Ray laughs.

Brock laughs, "Jack's not wrong either. I just really didn't want to pretend date my brother. He is the best at undercover though."

Ray gives Jack a look. He wants to challenge the level of talent but he doesn't want to be a dick. "I don't believe you. Either of you. It's just not something you fake." 

"Women have been faking orgasms for decades. Why not guys?" Jack tosses at Ray.

"Yes but when you are fucking her, you don't truly care if she's faking it." Ray says raising an eyebrow, "You can tell the difference between porn acting and reality. You can't act that." 

"Yeah the difference is you need to put in actual feelings and emotions. You have to believe it." Jack looks around at the guys and sees nothing but general disbelief and amusement. "Oh fuck it. Brock, let's go. Bathroom. I'm gonna fake fuck you." 

Brock looks at Jack with confused eyes. He just wants cuddles. Though he was having fun messing with his brother. It's not often he gets to see Jack cherry red and flustered. He sighs and gets up, leaving Frankie on the bed rather reluctantly. He trudges into the bathroom and leans against the sink.

"Use a fake condom, please." Frank snorts.

"Bite me," Jack barks before joining his brother and shutting the door. Part of the faking required imagination.

"Shouldn't you be biting Brock?" Frank calls back with a laugh.

"Shuttup!" comes the muffled yell in reply.

Jack grumbles softly about this whole thing until Brock whacks him up side the head for being dumb. To which Jack smacked Brock for hitting him. They speak low for several moments as they discuss how they can pull this off; again. Jack times in his head how long it would take a couple to make out before moving.

"What do we do if they are believable?"

"If it's believable, what do you want? Hundred bucks? You wanna drive the unicorn when you go home?" Frank asks with a smile as he winks at Gerard.

A soft moan fills the air.

The room falls silent. Each boy exchanges a look. They all fall on Frank. He knows Brock this intimately and can authenticate if it is accurate. 

Frank shushes the quiet soft chatter between Bob and Mike. 

"Oh fuck!" Brock moans.

Frank shifts a little uncomfortable at the idea of Brock making that sound without him. 

"Okay that sounds real." Ray comments. The others hush him. He's gotten up and moved to the bed to sit with the kid. 

A loud thump against the door makes it rattle for a moment before rhythmic thumping follows. Another moan escapes. A groan. 

"Brock's noisy," Frankie comments. "The whole time."

"We know. It's annoying," Mike snorts.

"No you said that wrong. It's hot as fuck." Frank corrects him. 

"Oh god, Jack! Fuck! Yes! Harder! Oh god don't stop please!" The door rattles harder and faster.

Mental images fill his brain, the idea of his top being a bottom was not only entertaining but kinda arousing. Frank feels his body shift the direction of his blood. Is it allowed to get turned on by the idea of someone fucking your top, your sometimes Dom,' he asks himself.

Brock gives a cry and Jack moans as they "climax." Then silence ensues. After a few minutes and another giggle from Brock, both boys exit the bathroom. Neither of them have a hair out of place and neither appear to be bothered by their "activities". Jack sits back down in his seat, rather smug. Brock crawls into the bed with Frankie and cuddles him close.

The room quiets as they watch Brock and Jack get comfortable. All eyes are on the two of them. Frank leans his head back and kisses Brock's throat. He takes Brock's hand and rests it in his low belly. He wants to have Brock touch him but he knows better than to try.

"Cuddle me," Brock whines. He's feeling needy. He doesn't care who, but prefers one of his brothers. 

"So a few critiques..." Frank says softly, "Brock's a lot noisier than that. Were you even there, Jack or did you show up late?" 

"Ha fucking ha," he replies dryly.

"It's damn believable. If I didn't know better I'd be convinced." Gerard comments.

"Yeah. You are pretty good…" Ray rises from the bed and makes the gesture for Brock to scoot so he can fit. 

"It's very weird hearing my very dominant top being fake fucked like a needy bottom." Frank comments, "Who's your inspiration?" he asks Brock with a grin as he turns his head.

Jack gets up and takes two strides over to move in with Brock and halts when Ray does the same. He's not sure what to do now.

"Literally every porn video ever," Brock says into Frankie's neck. "Jack's right. It's all about the feelings… headspace and adding emotional context. You have to believe it."

Frank snorts, "Faking sex isn't like a tulpa. Though, it was hot." 

"It's probably because I know you guys but I don't see Brock dating you, Jack. Your rugged good looks might compete with Brock's being just a pretty boy in general," Bob comments as he adjusts himself into a lean on the arm of the couch.

"Did you want to be in bed with your brother-boyfriend?" Ray smirks at Jack. 

"Not when you put it like that," Jack says with a snort and a wrinkle of the nose. "He's your straight boyfriend, not mine." 

"Scoot Brock." Ray chuckles. He starts crawling into the bed. 

Brock happily wiggles and scoots him and Frankie over a little so Ray and flop in. Not too much room because the tight fit is extra comfy. He likes his wall.

Jack shrugs and instead gets him a beer before sitting back down and taking a drink. "You can have him any day, Ray." 

Brock turns a little and looks at his Floof brother. He says, "Frankie said you and he got me the blanket. Thank you." 

"I'll always help my favorite big boogie. Or is it daddy now?" Ray grins, "It was his idea. I picked out the weight. That's all but you're welcome."

"You got a fancy blanket?" asks Jack.

"It's a heavy one. Tried it this morning. I like it a lot." 

"I'm glad you like it." Ray nods. 

"I did a lot of research and talked to Sam about it." Frank says with a satisfied grin.

"We should start this movie. Our call time isn't quite so early but 7 am does come quickly." Ray sighs.

"What movie are we doing again? Did we even decide?" Jack asks.

"I don't think we ever did!" Ray laughs. 

"I won't even make it past the first half. I already know this." Frank yawns. 

Brock hums in mild agreement. He'll probably stay up for at least three-quarters. But with hot Ray behind him, he might not. "What are we wanting to watch?" 

"Something light hearted." Mike says with a nod, "After today we all need it."

"I vote for something comedy or cute," Brock sighs, content. He presses back against Sunshine, wanting a more squishy feeling.

"Breakfast club?" Bob asks.

"Jumanji!" Frank pipes up. 

Jack frowns. "I don't know either of those movies." 

"You don't know the 90s classic film jumanjii?" Frank asks appalled. 

"If I did, I wouldn't have said that I didn't know either of those movies," Jack smirks.

Frank throws his pillow at Jack, "You know what I was saying, Jacqueline." 

Jack shoves the pillow back, "Fuck off, Francesca." 

"You love me." 

"We could catch the last half of Titanic." Ray chuckles as he shuffles through the tv channels.

"Mmmm… baby Leo. Kid was hot as hell… I wouldn't have let Jack freeze in the water though," Brock says.

"There was enough room in the door for him." Gerard comments.

"Leo was like three years younger than me." Frank turns his head towards Brock and smiles.

"Still would have fucked him," Brock laughs.

"You could fuck me…" Frank murmurs.

Brock nuzzles close and whispers, "Maybe later." 

Ray nods as Jack, "Find something. I'm getting nowhere." 

"What's the Jumanji thing about? And why is it special?" Jack asks, searching for and pulling up the film.

"it had Robin Williams in it. It's about a kid who gets sucked into a board game then years later he gets released but all kinds of craziness follows him. It's fantastic." Frank explains excitedly. 

"Alright bärchen. Let's watch that," Jack says, playing the movie.

Frank turns his head and kisses Brock. "I think you'll like it!" He snuggles down in the blankets and pulls Brock's arms tighter around him. 

~~

Frank alarm started shouting at 6 am. His eyes pop open to see a face next to his own. His first instinct is to shout but he doesn't. It's Jack. Not a stranger. He can feel Brock behind him but his husband's arms weren't around him. Frank slowly sits up and looks around. 

Brock was draped over Ray. Gerard and Mike were passed out on the couch and Bob was snoring on the floor. He worms his way out from under the covers and steps on the cool hardwood floor. He stretches with a small squeak before going to wake the others. He saves Ray for last. 

Frank dresses quickly in hokey jeans and an old yellow and red Marine Corp shirt then shakes Ray.  
"Ray Ray! Wake up we gotta go." 

"I don't wanna." Ray yawns and stretches.

"Don't move too much or he will octopus mode you." Frank softly warns. 

"How do I?" 

"I'll take care of him." Frank crawls over them and leans into Brock's neck, "Brock. Baby wake up." He kisses Brock's ear then cheek.

Mike moves around the bed and quietly shakes Brock's arms. He steps back and watches, he elbows Gerard. "Watch." He whispers.

"Guys." Frank hisses.

Brock makes a squeaking noise in his sleep and instinctively squeezes the body in his arms tighter. One leg moves to pin down his wayward boyfriend. He sighs, mumbling softly in Italian for him to stay still.

"Guys this isn't funny." Ray grumbles.

"Watch." Mike smirks and tries to move Ray more, "He'll squeeze tighter." 

Jack wanders over. He yawns wide and stretches. "What's goin' on?" 

"Demonstrating octopus mode." Mike smiles at Jack. 

"Ah. How are you doing Ray?" Jack asks.

"Tight squeeze. I could probably get out." Ray says a little stiffly.

Jack snickers softly and leans over them both, carefully keeping his body away from touching Brock. He lightly runs his finger along the underside of Brock's arm, starting from the armpit to forearm. 

Brock jerks in his sleep from the tickle and again cuddles closer and tighter to Ray. His hands subconsciously clench from his dreams. He gives a shuddering sigh before snoring again. Drool begins to pool on Ray.

"Jack!" Ray hisses as he looks at him. 

"See he's like quicksand." Mike encourages him with a devilish grin.

Jack giggles evilly. "Did you expect me to help you?" 

"Yes!" Ray growls.

"Oh I'm sorry, poof bro. I suppose I should assist. But this… is high class entertainment. And I just can't see why I should pass that up," Jack grins at Ray.

"Don't struggle or he will lay on you." Frank warns him, "He'll also growl at you in Italian." 

"Help. Me." Ray asks pathetically.

"Should I help him?" Frank asks Mike and Jack.

"Nah," Jack grins evilly.

"Brother." 

"Brother." 

"Also, try not to squirm cause he might… take it wrong." Frank snickers.

"Ray…. Are you ticklish?" Jack asks with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

"Don't. You. Dare!" Ray warns. 

Bob leans over and pokes Ray in the side and makes him jerk. 

"Stop it!"

"Feet?" Mike asks with a smile.

"Frankie, please help?" Ray asks.

"Gotta brush my teeth Toro. Sorry bub." Frank chuckles as he crawls off the bed.

"I got that," Jack says before trailing three fingers up the arches of Ray's feet.

Ray backs his hips into Brock and pulls his feet up, "When I get out of this I'm kicking your asses!" Ray growls. He tries to twist in Brock's arms hoping to get free.

Frank saunters into the bathroom and brushes his teeth. He listens to the sound of Ray trying to get free.

"Quit moving and go to sleep," Brock sleep-growls in Italian. One eye cracks open but it's unseeing. He shifts so he's more so on top of his bedmate to keep him from moving. He loves on his boyfriend to ensure no hard feelings, planting soft kisses. "Good boy. Love you." Snores follow soon after.

"Should I help him?" Frank leans against the door and looks at Jack.

"Let him suffer for a bit longer then I'll free him." Jack still can't stop smiling.

"What did I do?" Ray groans. 

"Bad luck, Ray." Gerard snickers.

"Brock!" Ray squeaks, "You're squishing me!" 

"If you can talk, you can breathe Ray," Jack comments with a smirk. "But… I'm going to take pity on you and help. Just because I'm an awesome brother."

"Please?"

"I got you dude." Jack goes over and stops before putting his hand on Brock. He looks at Frank and then turns to the others. "Frank shouldn't see this. He can't know the trick I have. He has to suffer with Broctopus. Go get 'em."

Mike ushers Frank towards the door. 

"But I wanna know!" Frank protests as Mike forces him outside. "Can I at least have shoes?" 

"We're clear." Bob says.

Jack grins. "Take your hand and put it on the back of his neck. Try to put your finger on his pulse point." 

Ray nods and does what Jack says. His hand reaches up and grabs the back of Brock's neck

"Now squeeze, put a little more pressure on his pulse. Natural reaction is to move away and turn. I know you think I'm cruel for letting you suffer but I've grown up with this. If he's going to keep using you as a teddy bear, you'll need to know how bad it could get before I teach you how to escape. Don't tell Frank." 

"Oh he's never learning this trick." Ray says as he squeezes.

Brock's face and shoulders scrunch up and he squirms before flat out rolling over. He sighs and wakes with a yawn. Frankie is gone. He whimpers softly. "Frankie?!" 

"It's like a mother holding it's kitten..." Mike asks Jack softly 

"He is right here." Bob opens the door and let's Frank back in. 

"What time is it? We going now?" Brock sits up and reaches for Frankie.

"Asshats." Frank hisses at the band. He crawls in the bed and sits beside him, "Hey baby, did you wanna go with us on set? You and Jack?"

"Yeah okay," Brock yawns and wraps his arm around Frankie before putting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling him. "Hi." 

"Hi baby! You were octopus mode on Ray." Frank kisses his forehead.

Brock turns and gives Sunshine a sleepy apologetic face. He's not remotely functional yet. "Sorry Sunshine." 

"Hey bub. You're good, B." Ray pats his shoulder, "We should get up and get dressed. We can hit the craft food table before we shoot."

Brock nods but doesn't quite move just yet. He's still trying to wake up. He needs coffee.

Frank strokes the back of his head with his fingertips, "You should get up, my love." 

With a stifled yawn, Brock nods and forces himself to stand up. He makes his way into the bathroom, stretching as he does so. Passing by Jack, he pats his little brother on the chest before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jack grins at Ray. "You doing okay, brother? Did he break a rib? Any bruising?" 

"Only thing broken or bruised is gonna be you," Ray gives him a playful look.

"Better be careful, Ray. We're filming in water, Jack could drown your floofy butt." Frank gives him a look, "He doesn't swim, he sinks."

Jack shrugs rather nonchalantly. "Anything I do will only be in defence, Frank. If Ray wants to try his luck with me, he can be my guest. He'll lose but at least he's been forewarned."

"I am sure as fuck not going to mess around near water. I can't swim! I know better, Frankfurt." Ray chuckles nervously.

"We should really teach him." Bob says softly, "I'm gonna go change really quick. Meet you at the SUV." 

"That's a good idea." Gerard yawns. He follows Bob towards the door, pulling his little brother behind him, "Meet you in 10."

"You can't swim?" Jack asks Ray. "Why?" 

"Just never learned." Ray shrugs, "B, can I borrow a shirt?"

"Sure!" Brock hollers from the bathroom. He steps into the shower.

"Is he gonna be done in time?" Ray looks between Jack and Frank. 

"Yeah. He speed cleans." Frank smiles as he pulls Brock's duffle out, "There are weapons in his bag. Be careful." 

"Oh I'll be. Holy fuck!" Ray says pulling a knife out, "Really?" His head turns to Jack.

Jack shrugs at the six inch blade. "If I were a lesser man, I would hint at him clearly overcompensating for some things. However, since I own the sister to that knife, I really can't say much. It's a strong blade. Great for defending."

"My husband's got nothing to compensate for..." Frank raises an eyebrow.

"Knives can have sisters?" Ray asks, pulling out a blue shirt. He strips off his old shirt and tosses it at Frank before pulling it on.

"They do when they are custom made by hand and are an identical set. Musicians, such as you, call your guitars by the female pronouns. It's the same principle."

"It's like Bela and dark Bela." Frank nods.

Brock exits the shower and walks out with his towel wrapped around his waist and still dripping water from his hair. He's ten times more awake now, considering he took a semi-cold shower. He grabs his duffle and begins to get dressed. "What does the breakfast table have? I'm starving."

Ray jumps a little, "Jack was just telling us about how the length of your knives compensates for other areas you're lacking… any input?"

Brock raises an eyebrow at Sunshine. "I could measure? But I'm not sure how that answers my question about breakfast…. Unless you mean there's sausage available? I do enjoy shoving meat down my throat but it's a little early for that in my book."

Frank's face turns three shades of red as he covers his face. 

"They have eggs, bacon, sandwiches…" Ray replies a little unimpressed with Brock's wit, "I'm sure they can make you a Jersey trash plate if you really want meat in your throat."

"Never heard of it but it sounds right up my alley. And I'm fairly certain it's not compensating if you are confident in your body. I'm not insecure in that area."

"Shouldn't it be up Frank's alley?" Ray asks

"Depends. I still don't know what it is. You said 'meat in throat'. I'm assuming it's a BJ thing?" Brock slides on pants.

"A trash plate is literally everything." Frank says taking a deep breath, "Covered in hot sauce and ranch. It's American to the core." 

"Actual food?" Jack asks to clarify.

"Yes. Usually diced potatoes, eggs, bacon, sausage, cheese." Ray nods. 

"Sounds good to me. Minus the sauce and ranch. Why did you say it was a Frankie thing? I mean, it's certainly better than what I was thinking- which was a back alley blow or something sexual. Your fault by the way with the compensation questions." Brock quickly arms himself and within a few minutes, he's completely ready to leave. Moments later, Jack follows suit.

"I think it was a dig at me being a street rat, babe." Frank sighs as he crawls off the bed, "You do know you'll be undressing and dressing in uniform, right?" 

"Unless you're coming to watch?" Ray asks as he moves to the door.

"Nah. I'm gonna be a soldier again. I don't mind being a stripper today." Brock throws his arm around Frankie and holds him close.

Jack laughs, "I bet we'd make a killing off your body. Women would throw away their life savings at you just to watch you dance."

"I'd pay for that." Frank grins as he turns the light off after Brock and Jack exit. He locks the handle and deadbolt then bounces down the stairs after Brock. The car speeds the boys to the video shoot. The band raids the food table then gets sent to change into uniforms. Brock and Jack are escorted to the extras tent to change. 

Frank emerges from the trailer dressed in uniform. It's a little big for him. He looks around the lot for Brock.

"You know he'll come find you." Ray says as he places a hand on Frank's shoulder, "And he's got Jack. He doesn't need you." 

The words hit Frank a little differently. He blinks and looks up at Ray for a moment. The others step out and stretch. 

"You look pretty adorable playing dress up in your dad's uniform." Bob jokes. 

"Looks good on me, at least that's what your mom said last night." Frank says smacking Bob.

"You're not even tall enough to ride that ride, kid." Bob laughs and playfully shoves him. 

"Does anyone know how far out we are going out?" Ray asks a little nervously.

"Barely off the beach, it will be fine." Gerard pats his shoulder.

"I don't want to drown."

"You won't," Frank assures him. The PA ushers them towards the 'set'. The beach is covered with giant Jack looking things, with barbed wire and mesh looking sheets. 

"Frankie's right. I won't let you down, soldier," Brock says right behind them.

"Neither one of us will," says Jack.

The band collectively jumps and turns to face them. 

"You look good, B. Jack you too!" Ray grins and hugs them both. He can feel the nerves bubbling in his chest.

Frank's eyes track down Brock with a big grin spreading across his face. He would absolutely love to take the uniform off him. The Commander's voice. A little rough touch. He swallows hard and blinks.  
"You look great!" Frank says with a wide smile.

Brock's eyes rake over Frankie in the uniform and feels his body heat up. His boyfriend looks absolutely delicious in the old army uniform and Brock suddenly wanted to punish the little soldier in the best of ways. He toys with the idea of bending Frankie over his desk back when he was active Commander. He knew then and there that they were going to be trying some roleplay.

"You look very nice, baby" Brock says with a hint of heat to his voice.

Frank bites his lip and grins, "Thanks! You ready to storm the beach?" 

Jack perks up. "We're doing the storming of the beach at the battle of Normandy? Cool!" 

"And they say I have the military kink,* Brock laughs and nudges Jack.

"Running off the boat and everything." Ray grins. His hair itches his neck. He scratches under the helmet.

"Military kink, eh?" Frank smirks. He's curious how long it takes for Brock to notice he's without his lip and nose ring. 

"Boys in uniform, all the weapons, and hand-to-hand combat, are all the things that get my blood up and pumping," Brock grins and winks at Frankie.

"Oh. Interesting..." Frank raises an eyebrow. This is not helping him stay focused, "I think I understand the feeling."

"The director has a whole scene set up for us. Explosion. Lots of sand. It's gonna be rad!" Bob grins at Jack.

"Sweet. Let's go Commander. We get to be privates again," Jack says excitedly.

Brock rolls his eyes as he follows Jack to his mark. "You say that like you miss it. It was nightmarish. Always being told what to do and every question was met with 'it's classified' or 'that's above your pay grade, soldier'. Pissed me off so I decided I would do better and boss around my COs one day. And I did."

"Huh… it's classified. Sounds familiar." Frank comments, he glances at Brock, "Along with that's none of your business or concern." He takes his position as fog rolls across the beach. The director calls for quiet as the music blares from well hidden speakers. 

Frank turns his head to Brock and winks, "Enjoy the music babe."  
Explosions begin sending sand flying as bodies move across the sand. Frank charges up the sand damn near tripping and taking cover with Gerard.

The director yells cut. He talks with Gerard about the scene. Frank's eyes scan the beach. He's looking for Brock. Or Jack. They reset and start over again. Frank knows what's coming. He takes a breath and nods at Gerard. He charges up the sand and takes cover with Gerard again. 

This time Mike charges up the beach but spins as if shot, he falls to the sand. Gerard screams his brother's name. Frank scans the beach. He watches Ray 'treat the wound but it's too late.' They do the take several more times before taking a break to reset. 

Brock isn't sure how he feels about knowing and watching Mikey get shot and die. The first time he saw it, his immediate reaction was to go over and try to save him. Then logic kicked in and reminded him that this was fake and only for show. The subsequent takes after that were a little easier to bear; less of a panicked feeling and more of an uneasiness in his stomach. He's glad when the director is satisfied enough that they move onto better things.

The director orders the band and extras on to the boat. The director put Jack on a higher seated position and Brock next to Ray. Frank behind Ray with Gerard in front of him. Mike and Bob on the opposite of the boat. As the boat heaves and sways in the water, the motion makes Frank's stomach twist a little. He leans forward and looks at Brock. "Having fun?" 

"Mostly. The repetitiveness is getting rather boring. I get why; it's just that in a real battle there aren't any do-overs. You either do it perfectly or you die. But other than that, yeah, this is kinda cool. How are you doing?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Frank smiles at Brock cheerfully. He doesn't want to be a downer.

"Well don't puke on us," Jack warns.

"I'll make him aim for you, brother." Ray calls back with a smile and a wink.

The boat stops in the water, the director explains what he's looking for then yells action. Frank crosses himself and kisses his necklace. The band hits every mark they can. As the boat moves towards the shore, slowly water begins seeping in. It's not noticeable at first. Once they reach their mark and the second camera is lined up for a perfect shot and ready to go, the gate opens and the water pours in and pulls the boat's gate down. 

The rising water wasn't bad at first. Cool; until it got past Frank's thighs. "Woah! Hey!!" Frank shouts with a hint of panic in his voice. He hears Ray shouting as he stands up. The commotion on the boat turns into something real. In the moment of panic, Ray slips and goes sideways into the water. "Ray?" Frank shouts trying to grab for him before he tips over the edge.

Seconds later the boat shifts and rocks hard as a Brock shaped blur dives head first into the water after him. 

Jack moves to do the same but waits. The boat isn't stable and Brock's jump pushed more water in. "Nobody move or we'll take on water faster. He'll be okay. Just wait."

"I'm kinda freaking out Jack." Mike replies with the quiet panic as the water fills the boat. The water reaches Frank's waist. The engine cuts and waits for the retrieval of Ray. 

"I know. But it's going to be okay. He's going to be fine. Brock's an excellent swimmer. We aren't going to sink. Is Ray the only one who can't swim?"

"Can swim just not fond of deep bodies of water." Mike blurts. 

~~

Brock pushes hard in the freezing murky water, grabbing Ray by his arm, then waist. It's not easy to push and kick their way back to the surface but he fights and claws with everything he's got until they both break the surface and breathe air. He holds Sunshine close and with a death grip. He can feel Ray's panic in his own body. "I've got you. Not letting you go. You're okay, brother." 

"I hate this. I hate it!" Ray coughs out.

Brock pats his back as hard as he can in the water to help him cough up water. Yeah it's kinda in his face. He doesn't give a shit. He nearly lost someone he loved and would endure so much more if it meant his brother and best friend was safe.

"Boats not safe enough to take you two back on. We're up to our waist. You'll have to swim back, Brock," Jack says. He starts the engine.

"Okay." Brock nods. They can do this. He's decided here and now that he's going to teach Sunshine how to swim.

The engine pushes it towards the shore and everyone charges out full speed. As soon as he's out of the boat and on dry land, Frank drops to the sand. He lies on the sand and takes a deep calming breath. He stares up at the sky and let's his body relax for a split second. He can hear Gerard's nervous laugh. He rises to his feet and joins the group. 

"Thought we were all gonners." Bob jokes anxiously as he rubs his neck. 

"I was fine until the water touched my balls and then I was not having a good time," Frank replies with a joke to ease his nerves as a shiver runs through him as a breeze comes across the beach. He looks around to see Jack approaching with an angered look on his face. He breaks away from the band and goes to meet him or at least cut him off before he flies off the handle.

"Jack." Frank says with a stern voice, "You got that look." 

"You know me so well," Jack growls at him.

"Talk to me, Jack! What's going on?" Frank asks as he walks backward in front of Jack.

"I'm gonna knock his lights out. Nearly killed my brother."

"No. No let's not do that!" Frank says putting his hands up.

"I can and I will," growls Jack.

"Jack, let Brock handle it. If you hit him, you'll go to jail." Frank warns with his own growl back at Jack. He stops in his tracks and grabs Jack's shirt, "Stop, please." 

With an animalistic snarl, Jack jerks at the grab and stops. He glares at the director over Frank's shoulder before he forces himself to cool down. A hand comes up to rake through his own hair; his tongue spills rapid curses in German. "Fine." 

"Thank you." Frank exhales in relief. He hugs Jack. He doesn't know if that's the right thing to do but he feels like he needs to do it.

Jack hugs him back just as tight. It was scary to watch and not be able to help. Even though he knew without a shadow of doubt, it was still upsetting to know they nearly had a causality. If they hadn't been there…. Jack shakes his head. It's best to keep focus on the now and not the what ifs. He lets Frank out of the hug and walks with him back to the group to wait for Brock and Ray.

"Kick your feet with me, okay?" says Brock as he shifts his hold on Ray a little. His legs haven't stopped kicking hard and fast just to keep them afloat and now they have several yards to swim. He won't let Sunshine know but he's getting tired.

"Fuckfuckfufuckfuck!" Ray starts as more fear fills his chest each time they move through the water, "Can't breathe. Gonna die." 

Brock stops moving and pulls his Sunshine's arms around his neck. They are face to face and were it anybody else, it could seem intimate. And it was, just not in the typical way people looked at intimacy. Brock realizes that Sunshine taught him that and feels pride well in him. Weeks ago he would have panicked at their hold. Months ago and he wouldn't have let himself hold Sunshine in the first place. "Here. Hang on to me. You trust me to keep you safe, yes? I'm not going to let you go. I promise. I keep my promises. You are my brother. I love you. You are safe with me. Just like I'm safe with you at night. I know what you are feeling. I feel it too, remember? I know it doesn't feel like it's going to be okay, but you have my word: I will die before I let you."

Ray nods his head. His chest is too tight for words to escape. He trusts Brock. With his life. He forces words to come out but they are rushed and higher pitched, "Itrustyoudontdie!" 

"We got this, Sunshine. Today is not your day to die," Brock says with grit. He pushes himself even further and manages to find strength in a burst of adrenaline to swim with the living dead weight at his side. The moment they reach the bank and Brock is able to stand, he pulls Sunshine into a true bear hug. Now that his brother is safe and the fear has abated, rage takes its place. He kisses Sunshine's cheeks before letting him go.

The band rushes closer to Brock and Ray.

"I wanna go home." Ray frowns, "I'm cold and wet." 

"Sammee!" Frank shivers again. He knows that he is soaked from the belly button down and Ray is drenched. He hugs Ray tight. Once he lets go of Ray he wraps his arms around Brock.  
"You ok, baby?" Frank asks before looking up at Brock. He rests his chin in his stomach.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Brock says, hugging him back tightly and kissing him. "I'm gonna talk to the director and see about getting us a better boat."

Before Frank can respond, Brock is walking away, leaving wet footprints in the sand, "Don't hit him!" Frank calls to Brock.

The director was sitting behind the bank of cameras chatting with his assistant director. He taps his pen against the screen, "I like the way this is looking. I do think that the look of fear on their faces really sells what we are looking for." He glances up to see someone in a soaked uniform marching towards him. He rises to his feet and takes a breath.

"You've got two seconds to explain to me what the fuck just happened before I bust every one of your goddamned teeth in," Brock snarls at him. His voice rises with each word.  
"That fucking boat nearly killed Ray and you are sitting here doing goddamned nothing!"

"Fuck! shit! Damn it!" Frank hisses, as he runs up the beach. The band and Jack follow close behind him up the beach.

"Brock. No!" Frank says loudly, he can hear the sound of his wet pants sloshing as he moves.

"Woah hey! I'm sorry you guys fell in! I can't do much from here!" The director says putting his hands up in protection.

"Brock!" Frank is closer but not enough to touch his husband.

Brock's voice raises an octave from the anger and outrage. "The boat started to sink! I didn't fall in! I jumped to save my brother who doesn't know how to fucking swim! It's not safe and you need to fix this. Now."

"I am not sure how I can fix this, but if you have suggestions I am open to hearing them." The director replies diplomatically. A tiny trace of fear slips between the words as the bigger man shouts. 

Frank finally reaches Brock. It had felt like forever trudging up the sand after him. He's already put out one Rumlow fire… well, Rollins fire. Rumrollins? Rollow? Maybe Brack?

"Brock." Frank exhales as he touches Brock's back.

"You are the director. You are supposed to be the man in charge. This is your responsibility as a leader to make sure these people are safe. The prop failed. What are you going to do about it," Brock challenges, arms folded over his chest.

"Well, we can see if the props department has some sort of tarp they could use to tape up the seams and patch the leaking spot?" He suggests but truly he's got no idea.

Frank can hear the group finally arriving behind him. 

"You only have one boat?" Brock growls at the director. His idea wasn't wholly stupid. His own wheels begin to turn.

"We have a smaller camera crew boat but technically yes. Why?" He asks, stepping forward in a non threatening manner. He truly wants to hear what he's got to say.

"Did you get any viable film of them going to shore?" Brock's fingers drum against his forearm. He's working out the math in his head along with a few scenarios depending on the director's answers.

"Frank… this is your partner yes?" He asks before going forward.

"Yes, this is my husband." Frank hugs Brock's side. 

"Okay. Yes we have, would you like to see it?" The director asks.

Brock shakes his head. It's not really important in the short run. He takes a breath and hugs Frankie back. Once he finds baseline, he replies, "Take the boat back out. Use a wide angle lense and film them coming in from a distance. We use dummies wearing the uniforms instead of the boys. When they get closer to shore, that's when we switch over to real people. Do a few cutscenes if needed. Keep the original footage of them unloading on the beach or whatever you've got and edit Ray in. Or refilm it. Or get a new boat or a fake ocean because I'm not letting any of these boys back on the water without better safety."

"He's also sort of head of security for the band..." Frank adds

"I like the dummy idea. I think that could work." The director smiles and welcomes Brock into the tent, "I had an idea of keeping the boat pretty much on shore but having it simulated like it is in the water… what do you think?"

"Hollywood magic of CGI?" Brock asks.

"Kinda. I'd have some PAs on the sides rocking the boat, maybe someone splashing water on the sides. Then add some CGI in post? Here look at this shot. I think I could expand it and make it better." He rolls the footage back to Frank's face, visibly freaked out, just about to kiss Brock's dog tags, "I was thinking that a grainy dark filter would really sell this."

"They stormed the beach in the early pre-dawn if I remember my history right. Make it dark enough and it could work. My brother would know more than me though," Brock says thoughtfully. He turns his head and hollers for Jack.

Frank looks at Brock with a little smile. Just another little hat Brock can wear. He's cute when he takes charge. Makes him feel all tingly.

Jack pokes his head in. "Yo?" 

"We need your war nerd help." Frank smiles.

Jack has to duck to get in and hunch himself but he makes it work. "What's going on, sugar britches?" 

"Hi. So I was going to throw a grainy dark filter." The director plays back the footage, "Maybe getting some scenes where the boat isn't truly in the water to film some filler with the boys." 

"You excelled in history more than me. Would the darkness be accurate," asks Brock, looking at Jack. Jack nods.

Frank hugs Brock as he listens to the Rollow boys converse with the director. They make a plan to set us the final shots for the day before they lose the good lighting. Next thing he knows, they are back in the boat and pretending the boat is rocking in the waves. The motion somehow makes him feel worse than before. After the final shots are taken of them storming the beach again. The AD calls it a wrap and releases everyone. 

The band quickly strips out of everything on their bodies, underwear included. They soaked to the bone and are more than ready for lunch and warm clothing. The day is grey and gloomy, threatening to rain on them. The boys in the band chatter about scouting a place to write and record while they are here. Gerard pushes for the paramour, he wants to stop by and look before they leave. 

Frank steps out of the trailer and heads for the SUV. He crawls in the back of it and grins wide at his husband who is waiting for him. He crawls into his lap and kisses him probably a little too passionate for the setting but he doesn't care. He's had this need inside of him all fucking day and that's only the tip of the iceberg.  
He sits beside Brock and leans into him. His hand strategically placed high up on his thigh. He bites his lip to keep himself from blurting for the others to hurry.  
The others load in and get settled as the driver takes them back to The Charlie. Frank acts as casual as he can as they make their way to the room. He tightens his grip on Brock's when Jack stops Brock and asks him questions. He softly whines a little but waits.

Jack eventually heads back to his bungalow and heads inside for a long overdue shower and maybe a nap. He'll call home and check in on things. Maybe try to take Germany again.

Brock turns to Frankie and gives him a reassuring smile before unlocking their door and entering the bungalow. "Today would be a good day to have a hot tub." 

"Yes it would." Frank says standing in the living room and watching Brock move around in the room, "Wouldn't mind a hot shower." 

"That's the plan, tesoro. Come on," Brock offers his hand.

Frank takes his hand and follows him. He sighs and relaxes just a little, "I wish we had a bathtub. Wouldn't that be good? Candles, bubbles or maybe a bathbomb." 

"Yeah, just like home. Making me semi-homesick there, baby." Brock takes him into the bathroom and begins to slowly strip down. The clothes were still a little damp from his sweaty, stinky, body and he felt gross taking them off. He kisses Frankie as thoughts of his husband wearing the uniform enters his mind.

Frank grins into the smile as he pushes his jeans off his hips. He pushes Brocks shirt up gently before pulling back, "At least I have a little bit of home with me," he says with a tender voice and a softened expression. Fuck he's turning into a damn lifetime movie script. He pulls the shirt off his love and drops it on the ground, "You looked sinfully good in that uniform, sir." 

He kisses him again then breaks away, "You were very distracting." 

"So were you," he replies huskily. Brock's hands come up and move under Frankie's shirt, pushing the fabric up. "Gave me wicked ideas." 

"Oh yeah?" Frank raises an eyebrow before biting his lip. His fingers fiddle with the elastic of his boxers, "I bet we are thinking the same thing." 

"Oh? So you were thinking about me bending you over a desk and spanking you before I fuck you hard?" Brock says with a little growl.

"Uh well…" Frank swallows hard as his chest flutters a little at the idea, "No. But close pulling you to the side, in the bushes and sucking your cock." 

"I much prefer your idea. Maybe mixing the two…" Frank grins up at him before pushing down his boxers then leaning up to kiss him.

"Oh I agree. As soon as I can plan it better, we are doing a bit of roleplay. That is, if you are interested in that." Brock places his hand in Frankie's hair.

"I'm very interested." Frank replies, scanning Brock's face, "But I don't wanna wait..." 

He puts one hand on Brock's chest and gently pushes him backwards as he follows him into the shower. He needs him and he is confident Brock feels the same way. 

Brock pulls Frankie close to him and into a kiss. He wraps his arms around him and kisses him deeper. His hands roam over bare skin and squeeze his ass. One hand let's go to slap his ass cheek hard before returning to grip at the mounds of flesh.

Frank moans into his kiss at the rough touch. His fingers push into the skin on Brock's low back. He can feel the need in his body rising with every second. He pulls back slightly, pulling Brock's lip with his teeth. He pulls away long enough to grab Brock's cocks and make slow strokes as he kisses his chest. 

With a soft and deep groan, Brock's eyes flutter a little and his head tips back. "Fuck, Frankie." 

"You like that? Wanna get you hard. Want you to fuck me…" Frank's voice is low as he watches Brock's reaction. He loves making him come undone with a simple touch.

“Yeah,” groans Brock. He’s quickly getting on board with the idea of fucking Frankie. Not in the shower though; it’s way too small for that and his body isn’t quite ready. At least, he doesn’t think so. A hand buries itself in Frankie’s hair, giving the black locks a harsh tug, before it slides down to his shoulder and gently pushes down. “Kneel. Show me how talented you are with your mouth.”

Frank nods eagerly. He drops to his knees in front of Brock. He keeps a firm grip on his cock, his tongue licks runs over the slit before he wraps his lips around the head as he sucks. His hand keeps the same speed as before but he tightens his grip around Brock's cock. His mouth follows his hand down the shaft, keeping the hand steady at the base, he slowly pulls back as he starts a slow and steady bob. His free hand cups Brock's balls and massages them with care as his mouth does most of the work.  
As he gets into it, he starts a soft hum in his throat, dropping the hand and taking Brock down as far as he can before his body forces him to retract. He continues the action, each time getting easier to take him a little deeper. Frank pulls off Brocks dick to catch his breath as his hand returns to stoke him, "Love your cock. Love the way you taste..." He goes back down and follows the hand. He releases his hold and rests one hand on Brock's thigh as he works his husband with his mouth. 

Brock moans loudly, muttering words of encouragement and praise in a mix of all three languages he’s fluent in. As much as he loves giving a blow job, Frankie’s mouth probably rivaled his own in skill. He’s holding his hips back as much as he can but his hips still buck forward just a little. 

Frank moans around Brock's cock as he feels hips pushing into his throat. He pulls back from his cock, "Throat fuck me… use me like a good little boy toy."

Both of Brock’s hands bury in Frankie’s hair and grip as tight as they can. With a harsh gasp, Brock finally gives into the need and begins to thrust his hips. He starts off small and gentle thrusts, testing Frankie’s resistance and just enjoying the warm flooding feeling his body receives when he does so. A moan bubbles out of his throat and he begins to thrust faster; harder. “Fuck Frankie. Feel’s so fucking good.”

Frank moans and focuses his breathing. His hands rests on Brock's thighs as his husband thrusts into his mouth. He feels his thighs tighten and force him to rise and fall slightly. He'll have a sore throat later but it is absolutely worth it. He can feel that familiar tingle as the arousal in his body with each thrust into his mouth from Brock. Could he get off on this? Is he becoming like his husband?

“Oh god,” Brock wrangles out. He thrusts faster, feeling the lowest part of him inside begin to tighten.

The door of the bungalow bangs hard, three sharp beats from a fist as Jack impatiently fidgets out on the stoop. He had knocked a few minutes ago but it seemed that his brothers….. Brother and brother-in-law were engaged in something or asleep. Jack doubted it was the latter. Fuckers. Jack bangs on the door again before moving around to the windows. He finally finds the one that has some form of human shapes in it and he bangs on the glass. He steps back and shouts, “Brock!”

Frank's hands hold on to Brock's thighs. The sound of another voice breaks through the bliss in his head. He tries to force Brock's cock down his throat. He doesn't want to stop. His body is buzzing with excitement. He wants to make Brock cum. 

There’s another bang on the glass, harder this time and it’s enough to snap Brock out of his lust filled haze with a jolt. He instinctively pushes Frankie away and turns to fight whatever was trying to come into their sacred space and harm them. 

“Brock!” Jack’s voice was muffled by the glass. “Open the fucking door you asshat!”

Frank looks out from behind his boyfriend, he is worried and a little spooked at Brock's response, "Really, Jack?" 

Realizing that it was just Jack, Brock stalks over to the window and opens it with a pissed off growl, “What the fuck is so goddamn important, you motherfucking cockblocker?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jack says with tightness in his voice. “Open the door. Please.”

Frank sits up straighter. He stands up and makes a move for their duffles. He pulls underwear for Brock then himself. He hands it to his love before pulling his own on. He opens the door and stands aside. He shifts uncomfortably, his dick is still hard. "Come on in..." 

Jack pushes his way in with a hurried, “I’m sorry. I know you guys were busy and I’m sorry.” 

Brock goes to him and wraps him in a hard hug. He pulls back and grasps his little brother’s shoulders. “What happened? Who’s hurt?”

Frank sits on the couch and is silent as he lets the brothers comfort each other. He wants to ask the same questions. He pulls a pillow into his lap.

“I don’t know what happened yet. Brooke called me, said it has something to do with Dad. She had to go speak with the doctors,” Jack says with a tremble in his voice. “As soon as she hung up, I came over here.”

Frank covers his mouth. His mind plays back a memory of Brock talking about his father being older. His mind wanders into a place it shouldn't. He thinks back to his own granddad getting injured and taking a long time to get better.

Brock feels his heart stop. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how to process this. Was his father hurt badly? Was he going to die? Was he okay? A hundred possibilities and scenarios enter in his mind and not a single one was he ready for. He tries to keep his control, for Jack’s sake, “But, he’s alive, right? She said he was alive at least?”

Jack shakes his head even before Brock is finished asking his questions. “She didn’t say. I don’t know if she even knows. Mom’s not answering my calls. I don’t know if she even can; her focus is going to be on her husband.”

"Do you think that you need to leave?" Frank asks. The words shake as they come out of his mouth, "Family is important." 

Jack nods and heaves a heavy sigh. “I will. Probably. Depends. I don’t know. Sorry.”

Brock just moves and sits on the couch next to Frankie. He can’t think yet. He needs…. He doesn’t know. His eyes water.

Frank hugs Brock tight. "Don't apologise. It's confusing. I'm sorry that you guys are going through this so far away." 

"What now? Do we just wait to hear from Brooke?" Frank kisses Brocks temple.

Jack nods and joins his brother on the couch. “All we can do. I really am sorry for cockblocking. I can leave and give you guys a few minutes to…” Jack sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Forget about fucking, you guys reek like sweat, wet dog, and serious body odor. Gross. Did you guys even shower or did I stop that too?”

"We were gonna shower… but things came up. Brock baby, you should go shower while we have a moment. I'll hang out with Jack." Frank strokes the back of Brock's head.

“You guys go ahead. There’s literally nothing that I can do right now except sit and wait. Finish up and take your shower. I promise I’ll wait until you have come before I give you any news, if I have any news to share. I’ll be fine. Promise. Go.” Jack says.

Frank makes a small pout and sighs, "Hang out here. We'll be back. Him sooner than me, most likely. I think the moment’s passed." 

He releases Brock from his hug and slowly rises to his feet, he taps Brock's knee, "Come on stinky butt. Let's go shower." 

Brock stands and follows him into the shower. He turns the water on and pulls his husband tight to his chest. Leaning down, he buries his face in Frankie’s neck and inhales deeply. He mumbles, “I don’t think you stink.”

"I think we might be biased. I like the way your sweat smells." Frank replies. He wraps his arms around Brock and holds him tight, "You know, everything is going to be ok. Right?" 

“I don’t, but thank you anyway. And I love the way you smell too. Except your farts. But I don’t think anybody is going to like those.” Brock gives a small smile, the little bit of humor washing away the fear for a moment.

"If you did, we might have to have a talk." Frank gives a soft laugh. His hand rubs Brock's back, "I wish I was a little taller." 

“Mmm, I don’t. I love you small and tiny,” Brock grins a little. 

"If I was big and tall I could squeeze you until you squeak." Frank looks up at him. He could hug him better, "Did you know that when you love someone and it's real. The way they smell smells good to you."

“Mmmm. Is that why you always smell so sexy when you sweat? When you move that ass on stage and return to me soaked, I just want to claim you. It’s true love like some fairy tale prince thing?” Brock chuckles softly and moves to wash their hair.

"Exactly. Just like when you come back from a very good and long workout, I can't keep my hands off of you. And I mean, the fairy and the prince parts aren't wrong…" He gives him a big cheesy grin. He closes his eyes and enjoys Brock's fingers in his hair. 

"But then again, I love everything about you." 

“Took the words right out of my mouth, tesoro.” Brock lightly scrubs Frankie’s scalp in a sort of massage. He leans down and gives him a peck before continuing.

He lets out a small moan, "It's too bad we didn't get to finish." 

“Jack said we could. And blue balls suck ass,” Brock whispers against Frankie’s lips. He presses their lips together, lingering this time before pulling away to rinse his husband’s hair.

"It does...Suck." Frank replies with his eyes closed.

“Agreed,” murmurs Brock before moving to kiss and suck at Scorpio. He hasn’t been paying much attention to his lil buddy and he frankly misses him. He licks and nips a little before latching on and sucking hard.

Frank lets out a moan. Tingles run down Frank's back. His fingers push into Brock's skin, one releases his hold on his husband's back and moves between them. He's unsure if this the right move to make. His hand rests on Brock's stomach. He tests the water to see if he should go further. He turns his fingers towards his low stomach and moves his hand slowly as another moan slips from his lips as Brock’s teeth touch his skin.

Releasing Scorpio, Brock moans softly against Frankie’s ear. He’s quickly hardening again. All desires that were cut off now rush back with full force. His hips buck up, seeking more contact. His hands slide and roam over Frankie’s body. Fingers seek out and find perky nipples, twisting them and pinching ever so slightly in such a way that he knows his husband loves. He kisses and lavishes his tongue over the now red and sore spot he made on Scorpio’s claws before he makes his way down to Frankie’s collarbone.

Frank takes Brock into his hand and begins stroking him, slow at first. He lets out a louder moan at the feeling of Brock fingers on his nipples then his neck. He picks up the pace of his stroke. "Baby. I wanna make you come. Inside of me." His words were punctuated by moans from what Brock was doing to him. 

Brock pants out, “No lube.”

"Conditioner?" Frank tries to keep the whine out of his voice, "I don't care. I just want you." He grips Brick harder and keeps his stroke going. 

“Not gonna last much longer, baby,” Brock groans out. His hands fumble around a bit at the bottles in the shower caddy until he finds the conditioner and squirts some into his hand. “Turn around.”

Frank does what he's told and turns his back to Brock. The water hits his skin and warms his chest. He takes a deep breath to steady the excitement inside of him. He hopes this feeling never goes away, it's lust but it's something more.

Taking his conditioner covered hand, Brock spreads his husband’s ass cheeks and gently inserts one finger, twisting it around and giving it a few thrusts. “God, Frankie, baby. I love you, so much.”

Frank bends slightly and pushes back into Brock's hand as he moans loud, "I love you! Fuck this feels so good!" He clenches around his finger, his brain is screaming to skip the prep and fuck him. He bites down on his lip and looks back at Brock, "Please." 

Brock fingers him a little bit more before adding a second and third quickly. His other hand adds more conditioner. Because there was no way in hell he was going to accidentally hurt his Frankie and he can just hear Mama Linda yelling at him in his head for using this anyway. Still, it was better than nothing. As his fingers thrust, Brock goes back to attacking Frankie’s neck, one arm wrapping around his body and raking nails down his love’s chest. “God I love the noises you make, baby. Gonna fuck you real good.”

"Oh fuck! Brock, you make me feel so good. I love you!" Frank moans out. He grips Brocks arm and digs his nails into the skin. He clenches tighter around the fingers inside of him as he groans out loud, his head drops back onto Brock's shoulder. 

Brock removes his fingers and liberally squirts probably too much conditioner onto his cock but when it comes to lubrication and safe sex, there really is no such thing as too much. He lines himself up and slowly pushes in with a low and heady groan. “Fuck... Never ceases to amaze me how fucking tight you are. I love it. I love you.”

"You're amazing. Fuck you feel so good!" Frank whines out as he clenches around Brock. The arm around him and the fullness inside of him forces his body to respond. His blood races through his veins as he whines and pushes back against Brock. 

Moaning low, Brock slowly pulls out before equally slowly pushing back in. He always starts off slow for both of their sakes before he picks up his pace. The hand that was gripping Frankie’s hip moves to the wall for stability as his hips go from a steady rhythm to one of need. 

Frank's hands trade places, the free one gripping his own cock now. He strokes himself without asking or begging for it. His head shouts for him to do it. He moans louder, "Oh god, fuck! I love you! Your cock feels so good!" Frank pushes back against Brock. He tries to match his rhythm. He needs to come, his thighs ache as heaviness builds inside of him. He whines loudly before groaning and dropping his head forward.

"Fuck Frankie! Oh shit!" Brock gasps loudly. He's ramming into his husband hard now, chasing his much needed high of release. He needs to come. He needs to feel pleasure instead of pain. He needs his husband, his love, his touch. He needs his Frankie. Another moan escapes as he buries his face in Frank's neck, "Love you so much, tesoro. Come for me. Please." 

"I'm close!" Frank blurts out, "Fuck!" He arches his back a little and presses his back into Brock's chest. He forgets his own dick, his hand reaches back and pulls Brock into a kiss that he moans loudly into. He pulls away to whine out, "Please come inside of me! I'm so close!" 

Jack sits on the couch, simultaneously trying to tune out the sex sounds from the bathroom and listen in as a way to distract from the chaos in his head. He tries to focus on a game on his phone but it's not enough to keep the nervous energy at bay. His fingers drum on his knee. He… needs a distraction. He needs his brother but he's currently finding solace in his husband's arms as a way to run from the torture of waiting. He doesn't blame him. He did interrupt and really, he would probably do the same given their positions were reversed. He turns his phone over in his hand absently and before he knows it, his thumb is opening up the contacts and he's dialing Ray.

"Hey! What's up Jack?" Ray replies in a chipper voice.

"Is there any way you would be okay with coming over to Brock's place? I… I need your help, brother." Jack's voice wavers and cracks a little at the end.

"I'll be there right away! Just gotta put pants on." Ray says without question.  
"I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I'm sorry."

Ray knocks on the door softly. He's not sure why but he feels it's appropriate. He feels antsy. Something about Jack's voice struck him hard.

Jack opens the door and pulls Ray into a tight hug. He's trembling and is just so relieved to have his other brother there. "There's been an accident with my dad and I'm just going stir crazy waiting for an answer. Please ignore Brock."

"Hey! It's ok! I got you!" Ray says as he squeezes Jack tight. Ray didn't notice the sound of, uh, passion coming from the other room, "Let's go sit." 

Jack let's him into the bungalow and heads for the couch, sitting hard. As soon as he sits, he's back up again, pacing now. He needs something to distract and burn off the nervous, fearful energy.

"Hey. Come. Sit." Ray says with a calm voice as he pats the cushion beside him, "I wanna show you something." 

Hesitantly, Jack does. Though as soon as he tries to keep himself still, his knee begins to bounce. His fingers drum and clench as he tries to focus on whatever it is that Ray is going to show him.

"Brock hasn't seen it yet and I don't know if you–," Ray hesitates and grabs his hand, "Jack, there's nothing you can do right now but take a big breath, can you do this?"

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. I know but it's just hard. I don't know if my father is dead or alive. And it's just…" 

"I know you are. You're doing just fine too. I just feel like you might explode into confetti." Ray says with a soft smile. He lets go of Jack's hand and pulls his phone out then sits it in his lap, "It's scary. You can't control it but that also means you can't let it control you."

Jack takes a shuddering breath and tries to calm his racing mind and heart. He can't keep the worry and fear from nagging and overtaking his mind. Worst-case scenarios fill his head. He needs to keep control over himself. There is nothing he can do for his Dad. He's more than halfway across the world. He knows this and accepts it. It was more the waiting that was slowly killing him from the inside out. He buries his hands in his hair and fights back tears. His chest hurts from the emotions storming inside him.

Ray pulls him into a big tight hug. He lets Jack cry, "let it out. It's okay to cry. You are scared." Ray strokes his back. He knows how he would feel if he were in Jack's shoes. Family is important. Everything. He can't imagine the pain he's feeling.

A shrill ring cuts through the air and Jack jumps, pulling away quickly to fumble with his phone. A quick glance tells him it's his mother calling. His thumb slams on the answer button and he brings it up to his ear. "Mom! Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is Dad okay? What happened?"

Ray leans closer and looks at Jack. His curiosity is piqued.

"Breathe, my son," came the rich and low voice of Jack's adoptive mother. Her voice had an echo quality to it and it takes him a little bit to realize that he had accidentally put her on speaker. It doesn't matter. Jack sags a little in relief that it seemed Maria Rumlow was not in fact distraught. It meant good news for his father. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks her again.

Maria doesn't hesitate, "He's going to be okay." 

With a hard exhale, Jack has a hard time focusing on anything other than the relief he feels that his dad was going to be okay. He nods, before he remembers that his mom can't see him. "Oh thank God." 

"But he is not out of death's hands yet," says Maria beautifully in Italian. She switches back to English . "He is currently in surgery. Have you told your brother?"

"Si," replies Jack. He frowns as another phone begins to ring. He glances at Ray, to see if it was his but he gets a shake of the head in reply. He locates the other device. It's Frank's and it appears his mother is calling him as well. "Hang on, Mother." 

"Can't really go anywhere, but alright," replies Maria dryly with humour in her tone.

"Ha. Ha." Jack replies before answering Frank's phone. He was just going to tell her that he's busy and he'll call her back. "Hello?" 

"Hello? Who the hell is this?" Linda asks, concerned at the stranger's voice on the other end.

"Oh sure, you answered that phone with a hello but didn't even bother to say hi to me. All you wanted to do was see how your father was doing," Maria mutters teasingly. She's figured out that she must be on speaker given the way that Jack's voice sounds airy and the background noises.

"Where's my son? Who are you?" Linda asks. Her voice begins to fill with concern.

Ray covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing loudly. He likes Jack's mom. 

"My name is Jack. I am Brock's brother. Frank cannot come to the phone right now. He's… busy." Jack says carefully.

"Busy doing what? Are you the good looking younger brother?" Linda asks.

"Well, unless you mean Ray, then I'm going to say yes, considering I'm the only officially legal younger brother."

"Were you going to tell me that I've got a fourth child now or was I supposed to just figure it out at Christmas, when you boys finally come home? Did I drunk adopt someone again? Damn, I need to lay off the vodka then," Maria jokes. She laughs a little too, imagining just how annoyed her youngest is right now.

Ray snorts.

"Frank is busy doing Brock," Jack snorts and glares at his phone. As if by doing so, somehow his mother would feel his smack he'd love to give her.

"Doing?" She asks, confused.

"Well that explains why I hear, uh, background noises. And here I thought you were watching porn, Jack," Maria chuckles. "Good for them."

"Mother!" Jack shouts at his phone. He can't ignore her any longer.

Ray laughs this time.

"Wait is that your mother?" Linda asks with the sound of mischief in her voice.

"She's on speaker, yes. I apologize, Ma'am. I'll have Frank call you when he's less naked," Jack sighs and rubs his temple.

"Wait. You're the first in-law I've spoken to…" Linda says, sounding a little sad, "Frank hasn't called me in weeks." 

"My mother can't hear you, ma'am. You aren't on speaker. I'm sorry my little brother hasn't been a good son though," Jack replies.

"Another brother? I have been out of the loop for too long," says Maria with false exasperation. 

"You should just let them meet." Ray says with a wide grin, "They'll have to eventually." 

"Oh who's that lovely voice belong to? Is that your girlfriend, Jack? Are you finally going to settle down? Give me a grandbaby."

Jack's face is a nice shade of pink both from frustration and embarrassment. Maria usually isn't like this unless she wants to be a pain in his rear end. A quality that Brock picked up on at an early age. With a reluctant sigh, he puts Frank's mother on speaker as well. Picking up both phones and holding them together, he flops himself back down on the couch. A particularly loud moan and curse from the bathroom makes him regret his choices.

"Oh no ma'am. Definitely, not Jack's girlfriend. Not even a woman." Ray chuckles, "My name's Ray."

"Is that my adopted son?" Linda asks Jack.

"I thought he was mine?" Maria laughs. "Nice to meet you, Ray and whom I'm assuming is Frank's mother? I'm Maria Rumlow."

"Hello Maria! I'm Linda Iero, Frank's mom. It's nice to kinda meet you." Linda's voice is cheerful.

"Hi momma Linda." Ray says with a cheerful tone.

"How long have they been going at it? They have to come up for air sometime…" Linda asks.

"Based on the speed of thrusts, the insane amount of 'I love you's, and pitch of Brock's moans, I'm going to say he's nearly finished. Probably going to be done in the next five or ten thrusts," Jack simply states.

"The fact you know that like a mathematical equation, is fascinating and concerning." Linda laughs.

"I've been privy to far too many of Brock's bedroom adventures. In this case it's the shower, but hey, not the point. They should be done soon," replies Jack. 

"I am assuming that this Frank is the current boyfriend, correct?" Maria asks.

"Yes ma'am." Ray says with a concerned look on his face as he stares at Jack.

"Interesting." Linda comments on Marias question. Brock's not mentioned her son to his mom, not concerning at all.

"Oh fuck! Yes yes yes!" Brock screams loud enough from the bathroom as he slams hard into Frankie and comes.

"Oh look, Brock's done. Let's wait and we can speak to my son about this together," Maria's voice was several degrees cooler than normal.

Jack slides down into the couch more, as if both women were really there in front of him. He can easily imagine it now. Both of them with their hands on their hips and a stem look on their faces. Maybe a finger gets wagged at him too; he's really not sure what kind of mother Linda is.

"Yes this sounds like a great idea, Maria. I am very curious to know the answer." Linda asks with an unhappy tone to her voice.

Frank emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He is walking backwards and grinning, "So then that makes you poppa bear..." 

"I am not, hush you," Brock grins at his husband. He looks up and sees, "Sunshine! Hey! I'm sorry… you probably heard, well, everything. Sorry. Frankie was helping me relax." Brock realizes he's rambling now. The reality of the situation with his father slams back into his face. He goes over and hugs Ray. 

"Hello Brock." Linda says unhappily.

Brock pulls out of the hug a little, totally lost. "That was a pretty good impression there, Sunshine."

Jack holds up Frankie's phone.  
"Not an impression, Mr. Rumlow." Linda's voice darkens.

"Hi momma!" Frank says cheerfully.

"Hello Frankie." She replies a little shorter with Frank than she means.

"Momma Linda, is something wrong? Are you okay?" Brock asks. He nudges Jack over so he can sit, still partially wet and naked under the towel, between Jack and Sunshine. He offers a hand to Frankie to join him.

"I was just thinking how wonderful it is that you love my son and how thrilled it was that I finally got to meet you. My heart would be broken if my son ever hid you from me. I was just…" Linda stops herself from going off the handle.

"Well, you knew about Brock within the first week so… I'm not really sure what made you think of this… I tell you everything." Frank chuckles as he takes a soft seat on Brock's lap.

"Apparently my boys do not," Maria states. Her tone is less than thrilled but still pleasant.

"Mom?!" Brock gasps. "Is Dad okay?" 

"Your father is fine. I'll explain later. But first I want to know why you failed to inform me you were seeing someone again."

"What?" Frank says turning his head to Brock. He slowly rises to his feet, "Ma, say goodbye." He takes the phone from Jack's hand. 

"Frank, I wanna know the answer!" 

"Leave her be. As a mother and yours, she has the right to hear this conversation." Maria's rich and sultry voice was cool yet soft. It expected compliance.

"Yes ma'am." Frank replies. He chooses to stand instead of sitting next to Brock. He changes his mind. He should probably get dressed. He sets the phone on the coffee table and moves for the bedroom.

"Please don't be angry with me," Brock says to everyone. He can practically feel the radiating anger from everyone in some varying degree. Except maybe Ray but then again Brock's sure Sunshine doesn't really want to be here and is probably angry from that. Why not. Everyone else is.

Ray reaches over with an open palm to rub Brocks shoulder, offering a smile of support.

"I am not, my son. Rather, disappointed that you seem to have found happiness and you declined to share it with the rest of the family. Why is that?"

"I was afraid. Afraid that you wouldn't accept him. Afraid that you'd see him as just another Tyler and he's not. I was going to surprise you guys when we showed up for Christmas," Brock quietly says.

Linda makes a small 'huh' on her end.

Frank is trying to not listen as he pulls on black lounge pants and a Ramones shirt. He stands in the doorway with wet hair and a frown. Was he supposed to be like goddamn Christmas goose at the Rumlow family Christmas party or is this just something to keep Brock out of hot water. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for a response from Mrs. Rumlow.

"Well considering you've never brought home a boyfriend, I suppose this is a big step for you. Having never met Tyler, I only know what you and your brother have told me. You are correct on assuming I would have thought your new love interest was the same," Maria concedes.

Jack growls at the mention of Twatface. His death still wasn't enough for the damage he caused Brock. Damage that still exists to this day. Jack wishes he had killed him slower.

"And as a son, sorry Maria to butt in," Linda adds tenderly, "You should speak with your mother often. Because what I'm assuming no is you've not called her in a moment, yes, sweetheart?" 

Frank frowns harder. There's the nurse in her coming out.

"Mom, I need you to know and understand that everyone listening in to this knows and accepts who and what we are, okay?" Brock says quickly in Italian before switching back to English. "I didn't want to be forced to make a choice between the man I want to marry and taking Father's place and running the business, before you even met Frankie. I don't think Father or you would have approved had I said something. I asked permission and received Frankie's Dad's approval to marry him, the day I met Frank Sr. I wanted to do the same with you guys. Jack and Brooke have both given a seal of approval."

Franks head tilts to the side. His little demons are soaking up the words, deliciously cherry picked from everything Brock has said to use a little later. 

Ray looks at Frank and gives him a stern look then nods his head to join the room. He glares at Frank when he shakes his head no. 

Maria sighs. "Since your relationship with Tyler ended so disastrously it nearly killed you, I can see your point. I'd rather you not date someone who hurt you that much again."

Jack pipes up, "I wouldn't have let that happen again. I trust Frank."

Frank gives Jack a warm smile as he enters the room. He leans over and kisses Jack's forehead. He pulls back and goes to get a bottle of water. He's still a little too salty to join the group. The logical side of him gets it. But the emotional side is not on board. He's struggling with the need to get out. Maybe he just needs a cigarette. He'd text Bob but he doesn't have a phone. He sighs and leans against the counter.

"I want to marry him, mom. I love Frankie so much. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I've got new friends. A new brother. A nephew on the way. Frankie has brought nothing but joy in my life. And I was too scared Dad or the other Four Heads would not accept him into the Family. I won't give him up for anything but I can't lose you too. He's going to be a great leader like you, mom. I know it."

"It means nothing to this conversation, Mrs. Rumlow but the family loves Brock. You raised a wonderful man." Linda adds with a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Even Carolyn, Brock." Linda's voice hints to the inside story.

"We all love Brock." Ray says softly with a smile as he bumps into Brock with his shoulder, "My wife Christa and I made him a godfather." 

Frank snorts and shakes his head. He can hear his mom's laugh and it softens his fear a little. He wishes she were closer. It's infantile but he wants his momma.

"Excuse me, brother. I am The Godfather. Not a godfather," Brock joins in on the laughter. 

"My bad, he's the godfather!" Ray laughs.

"He'll make a very fine Godfather, both literally and figuratively. With your father in the hospital right now, you are acting Don, my little prince," Maria says fondly.

Frank blinks and looks at Ray. About form in his stomach then a new feeling takes over, Ray knows? His eyes pop to Brock and glares. "Does this mean he needs to come home?" Frank speaks a little colder than he intended.

"Only if there is a rebel uprising amongst the peasants," Maria laughs, jokingly. "If he's needed, he will be called. Contrary to what Emilio thinks, it's not him that has the power. I've been running this family for decades. A few weeks is nothing."

"Okay, thank you ma'am." Frank politely replies to Maria.

"Are you always this polite?" she asks him.

"I try to be." Frank says with a small smile, "Unless provoked, at least." 

Brock stares at Frankie. He speaks to his mom, "He's angry at me. I'm not sure why. I don't want to fight."

"I need to learn goddamned Italian." He mutters. 

"Be nice, Frank Anthony." Linda's voice is a stern warning, "And language."

"Oh never mind me if that is what you are worried about. My boys curse like sailors. We Italians are used to it. It's part of the culture," Maria laughs. "My daughter prefers to speak with a touch more grace but she's still her father's daughter. I'd love to know all about you boys, since I'm waiting for news. Helps pass the time."

"What exactly happened?" Jack asks softly. 

"He stepped out of the shower and slipped. The doctor says he broke his ankle and bruised pretty much everything else. They're setting the bone now and adding a screw to help stabilize it. He'll be in a wheelchair for a bit while it heals, then physical therapy and a walker. It's going to be a long road but he's fine."

"So Mr. Rumlow is going to just have wheels for a while." Ray says as he gives both of the brothers a look.

"I am thankful that Mr. Rumlow is going to be ok. Brock and Jack were torn up about it." Frank says as he softens his voice, "Rightfully so, I am sure you were too ma'am."

"A fall like this can kill someone of his age, so yes, we were all very concerned over what happened."

"Maria, how are you doing? Are you okay? Medical incidents like this affect you as much as it does him." Linda asks.

"If you'll excuse me, I am going to step out for a moment." Frank says to the room, "Ma, I'll be back. Play nice with Ray and the Rumlows." 

"Where are you going?" Linda questions. He can't see her face but he can picture it. She knows what he's up to.

"Over to grab something from Bob." Frank said as casually as possible.

"Hmmm." Linda responds with disapproval, "You'll have to start over again, Frank." 

He rolls his eyes at her. He steps closer to Brock and kisses the top of his head. "Love you." 

"Love you too," Brock murmurs back. The angry hateful brain gremlins in his head hiss at him that Frank is lying and he is leaving. They whisper that it's all too much for his boy and he's going to rabbit. His body tenses as he tries to ignore it all and remember the truth.

"Come back soon. I look forward to hearing more about you, Frank," says Maria with a smile in her voice.

"You do?" Frank asks with genuine surprise.

"Oh yes. You have captured my son's heart and gotten past his siblings. You are the first Brock has ever wanted us to meet. That speaks volumes, child."

"He can stay. Surely whatever it is can't be that important." Ray glares at him. He's got an idea and if Brock was in his right mind he would too.

"That cigarette can wait, son." Linda growls at him. 

"He doesn't smoke anymore," Brock says without thinking. 

Frank's face flushes and his eyes drop to the floor in guilt.

"Frankie?" Brock asks. He's surprised. 

Frank stays in place for a moment then sits on the coffee table, "This is more important. I apologize." He looks up at Brock and gives him a small smile and pleading eyes, "What would you like to know Mrs. Rumlow? I'm an open book."

With a small noise, Brock grabs Frankie and pulls him into his lap tightly clinging to him. He buries his face in his boy's neck and peppers kisses there. Frantically he whispers over and over, "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. I'm sorry." 

Seeing Brock move, Jack quickly presses the mute button on both phones. He doesn't think either man wants their mom to hear this part. It's the best he can do.

"Well let's see, let's start with the basics. What's your job, what are your hobbies, and since you said you are an open book, what chapter are you on?" Maria asks with a laugh.

"Thank you for apologizing. We can talk about this after we're off the phone with our mom, ok?" Frank says with a gentle voice. He lifts Brocks chin and kisses his lips, "I love you very much and don't think the worst… at least try not to."

Brock nods, miserably. "You can have the cancer stick, just please don't leave me." Brock holds him tighter.

"Oh silly bear, I'm not leaving until you make me or the protection order gets notarized," stroking Brock's hair, Frank places a kiss on Brock's nose, "I'm not going anywhere for long. And I don't need one, remember I gotta reason to live."

Brock nods and let's himself relax a little. "Okay." 

"You ready?" Frank asks Brock before kissing him again. Once Brock gives him a small nod, Frank looks to Jack and gives him a nod to unmute the mothers.

"Well, Mrs Rumlow, I am on the 25th chapter. I think this might be one of the best ones yet. But they keep getting better. I am a touring musician, a paid musician. My hobbies, well I read, I write music, I um, recently took up running for exercise. I like to cook and bake." 

"All good things! Cooking and baking is a much needed skill to keep an Italian happy, especially Brock." Maria laughs.

"Oh yeah! He's brought out the want to cook and bake in me. I like seeing him smile. What else would you like to know?" Frank replies with a big smile of his own. 

"You don't bake for me?!" Ray protests.

"You haven't earned it." Frank says, he with a grin.

"Frankie loves me more Sunshine, but that's okay. I love you, brother," Brock says. "I'll cook for you and make you extra squishy."

"Careful, he really will make you squishy and keep you that way." Frank leans in and kisses Brock softly.

"Then we can work out together though. I like a little squish because then it's the perfect pillow," Brock laughs.

"Chris loves my dad bod." 

Brock snickers. He reaches over and grabs at Sunshine's tummy and tickles him. 

"So, Frank, do you have siblings besides Ray?" Maria asks. She's curious about this new young man that Brock has welcomed into the family fold as well as his boyfriend.

"Oh, uh. Ray is just a bandmate who is like my brother. I do have an older brother and sister, James and Christine." Frank answers as he rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"Frankie is the baby of the family." Linda adds.

"I get to claim Sunshine as my brother," Brock says adamantly. "Mine first and then Jack's."

"I see. And I'm assuming you call him Sunshine due to his name being Ray?"

"Yes. It's my nickname and nobody else is allowed to use it," Brock nods, voice firm. 

Maria chuckles. "Understood. So, Ray. What do you and Frank do in your band? Perhaps I shall listen to your music."

"Uh well, ma'am. I am the lead guitarist and Frank is rhythm guitar." Ray says looking at Brock and Jack for help.

"Guitarists? That's cool. What is your band name?" She asks.

"My Chemical Romance." Ray and Frank speak in unison then look at each other.

"Their little band is full of talented young men. Not my kinda music but I'm proud of Frankie." Linda comments. The loud speaker of the hospital going off in the background makes Frank cringe just a little.

There's a bit of a clacking noise as Maria types on a computer. "Very handsome young men from what I see. Nice tattoos, Frank. Which one are you Ray? Any song recommendations that you have for a first time listener?"

Frank forgets that he is easily Google-able. "Uh, well, Ghost of You is a good song… Helena?" 

"Sunshine is The Floof, Mama," Brock pipes up. "Mikey has glasses and his brother Gerard is the frontman and lead singer. I'm the tour manager now." He sounds proud.

"Well I shall listen to both of these later. I'll give you my verdict via text," Maria says.

"Our music is very…" Frank looks at Brock for the right words to properly describe their music, "Loud?" 

"It's rock and roll, so it's loud." Ray agrees.

"Hard, classic, or alternative? More Slipknot or Breaking Benjamin? Insane Clown Posse? Green Day? Pink Floyd?"

Frank scans Brock's face, "How is your mother cooler than you?" 

Maria laughs. "My son is far more picky when it comes to music than I." 

"Closer to Green Day, ma'am." Ray comments.

"Oh then I am sure I will love it. I enjoyed quite a bit of their songs from their album American Idiot."

"We have toured with them before. Really nice guys." Ray comments, "That album is a new classic if you ask me." 

"Oh absolutely. So, Linda, what do you do?"

"I am the head nurse in the psych ward at Essex County hospital." Linda replies.

"That is amazing that you can do that. You are a strong woman then. You all know what I do. I've been asking all the questions, do you have any for me?" Maria inquires lightly.

"Brock mentioned you have an upcoming birthday. Flowers or candies?" Ray asks. Frank gives him a look that clearly reads suck up, which he responds with an eye roll.

"Flowers. I can always use more flowers for the garden. However… " she trails off.

"Frank, boys, and Maria. I hate to leave so soon but I have to get back to work. It was wonderful meeting you Maria, I hope we get to meet in person. Jack, same with you young man. Keep both of those boys… hell all three of them safe." Linda says warmly.

"Yes ma'am," Jack replies.

"It was wonderful to speak with you, Linda. I, too, wish for us to meet, preferably before the wedding nuptials," replies Maria.

"Absolutely. It should happen. Take care of yourself and your husband." Linda replies but pauses, "Frank call your mother more. She worries about you. I love you bubby. Be good."

"Love you too momma." Frank says as his cheeks get a little pink, "Bye mom. Be safe." The call ends and he quickly pockets his phone. 

"Bubby," Jack snickers quietly.

"She calls him pookie too." Ray giggles. Brock and Jack dissolve into giggles at that.

"Maria er- Mrs. Rumlow, do either of these chuckleheads have childhood nicknames?" Frank asks as he glares at Jack then Brock.

"Oh, forgive me. You may call me either Maria or some variation of Mother. Mrs. Rumlow is for the business, dear. Not the family aspect. That goes for both of you boys."

"Yes ma'am!" Frank and Ray speak as one again and look at each other.

"And they say Brooke and I do the freaky twin thing..." Brock giggles. "And you two aren't even twins." 

"How is the better looking one of the twins?" Frank asks Maria with a big playfully grin for Brock.

"Brooke is doing well. She's currently back at the villa, keeping the others informed and aware of what is going on." Maria sighs, "She is alright, but stressed. She is strong, like her father and has risen to the occasion."

After a moment of silence, Maria speaks again, "I called Brock patatino. Which means 'little potato'. Just because he was a very healthy yet heavy baby. Could out eat his two siblings any day. Which only increased as he got older."

"He still does." Frank grins wide at Brock as he curves his back to shrink just a little. He kisses his lips softly, "Little potato is the cutest thing I've ever heard."

"Jack was at first topolino. Little mouse; when he was an infant and toddler because he was a very quiet baby. Rarely fussed and could sneak around. Always observant. That changed as he reached adolescence though."

"Little mouse, eh?" Frank leans a little to the side and smiles as his brother, "I love both of those nicknames." 

"I do too. They are cute!" Ray bumps into Brock.

"Jack became tigrotto once he reached puberty. He's still my little tiger. Total sweetheart but with feistiness. Brooke has always been fiorellina. Little flower. Delicate and graceful."

"Brooke's fit her." Frank smiles softly.

"Brooke is graceful but she'll still pull a gun and shoot you," Jack says with a laugh.

"Yeah, she has to with hellion brothers like you two." Frank snorts.

"Brooke was just as rambunctious as her brothers were. It's a Rumlow trait. Dating Emilio when we were in our twenties, had taught me that very well." Maria laughs.

"And I'm gonna teach my nephew the same thing," Brock says brightly with a nudge at Ray.

"Oh lord. I'm doomed." Ray laughs.

"Hey, I'm not that bad!" Brock protests.

"Not as of late, but I imagine Frank has a different experience than I." Ray grins, "You can't be the little black rain cloud and Tigger." 

"Watch me," Brock mumbles softly.

"Maria?" Frank asks softly.

"Yes, child?" 

"I am curious, because you never finished answering Ray's question about your birthday…"

"Oh yes, flowers for the garden. But I was going to add that perhaps I could visit you boys. I've never been to America and I would like to meet you, and your band."

"Yes, that would be wonderful!" Frank replies excitedly at the very idea.

"I like to think I move around rather well for a woman who is seventy-nine. Still got all my original parts," she laughs.

"I am more than confident that you can dance circles around your boys." Ray smiles.

"She probably doesn't look a day over fifty five with your fountain of youth genetics." Frank says softly.

"I do not know about looking fifty-five but I was a gymnast when I was in my teens and early twenties before I met Emilio. It was how we met, actually. I still can dance, that is very true. Just slower. I switched over to modeling when I turned twenty-three and did that until I got pregnant at twenty-eight."

Frank wants to ask how she met her husband but feels like it's a better story for them in person. He wonders how Brock feels about the idea of his mom coming to visit. Oh god! Should he be living with Brock? Would she think it was inappropriate? 

"You have lived such a fantastic life, Maria. Gymnast, model, mother and the family business. You'd have a best seller if you wrote a book." Ray comments. 

"Except I'd have to leave out more than a quarter of my life's details. Which is such a drab." She sighs dramatically before laughing.

Frank looks at Brock's face, "Any advice for me, Maria when it comes to your son?" 

"Communication and patience. And chocolate. He is a people pleaser and fixer. Always trying to take care of others and it weighs down on him emotionally. We used to sit up late at night with cups of hot chocolate or chocolate milk depending on the season and have long heart to heart talks and cuddles. He's my sensitive one. And my pride and joy."

"Your little prince?" Frank asks.

Maria chuckles richly. "Very much Principino. Our family is powerful and highly respected and we raised our three to be leaders in their own right. Our family is run differently than others and Brock has had the training and guidance to be able to be his father's successor. A better one at that."

"He will be a fantastic leader." Frank nods, "I have no doubt about that."

"He is rather good at keeping his ducklings in a row." Ray smirks.

"Ducks in a row is better than squirrels at a rave; or so I've been told. But alas, I need to leave. Brooke is calling and I should probably check in on Emilio," she says regrettably. "I will let you boys know what happens." 

"Okay, Mama," Jack says softly.

"Thanks Mom," Brock says.

"Nice to meet you, Maria. Look forward to seeing you in person." Frank's voice is warm and friendly.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Maria." Ray says cheerfully.

"It has been a joy to speak with you and Frank both. I am terribly sorry it was under these circumstances but thankful and grateful that things have come to be the way they are. God works in ways I will never understand but in this, I do. You boys take care of yourselves. I cannot wait to meet my two new sons." 

"Yes! It will be great to actually give you a hug and show you around New York." Frank says softly.

"Brock, do not be so hard on yourself. I know you did not intend to keep your new love from me and your father in the way I thought. I forgive you and it seems so does your boyfriend. Forgive yourself, my son, and do not let it fester. I like what I am hearing from him; even more that he makes you happy. Let me visit and I will work my magic on your father should he protest. Take care of yourself and your brothers. I miss you both so much. Jack, keep an eye on him, my little tiger. Guard him well. Neither of you are needed here, so enjoy your friends. I love you, my sons."

"I love you too," Jack says.

"Love you, Mom," Brock echoes.

Jack reaches over and hangs up his phone before pocketing it. He turns to his brothers and gives them a small smile. "You guys should get dressed. Not sure how you aren't cold, Brock; considering you're letting it all hang out." 

Brock adjusts the towel a little so he's covered a little better. "Sorry…." 

"Babe, we've all seen dick before… cool fact, we all have one." Frank strokes his cheek, "Are we going somewhere, Jack?" 

"No, but I assumed that myself and Ray would be returning to our own rooms. Let you two lovebirds re-shower… or did you manage to do so at some point during the screaming?" Jack smirks.

"Oh my god!" Frank's face turns cherry red.

"Holy shit, our mothers heard us," Brock whispers with a dropped jaw.

"Yes. Yes they did. We all did in fact," Jack nods.

"Your mothers heard you call Frank a good little… what was that Jack?" Ray smirks. He enjoys the rosy cheeks on Brock, "Either way. They heard." 

"A decent amount. They were going at it for roughly fifteen minutes before I called you."

"Damn boys." Ray teases. 

"We showered for at least the first five," Brock mutters, face pink. He was not overly worried about his mother so much as Linda. His mom was… a free spirit of sorts. 

"It's fine… it's cool. We're adults." Frank says struggling to reassure himself it was indeed fine.

"Yeah, totally," Brock squeaks out. 

"You could have turned the sink in the kitchen on!" Frank hisses and playfully hits Jack's shoulder.

"Oh but then I couldn't have had the pleasure of telling your mother that you were busy doing Brock. Mom didn't even care or notice, I don't think." Jack looks at Brock. "She's walked in on you far too many times. She's desensitized now."

"Walked in on you?" Frank questions Brock with a gleam in his eye, "You're rotten Rollins." 

"Yep. I know," Jack says as he stands up. He stretches before giving a small yawn. "Get Brock to tell the story about how he came out of the closet. I'm going back to my room. Probably going to call it a night. Love you guys."

"There is no story. Jack's just being a dick. Ignore him," Brock grumbles. He looks up at Jack. "Still love you, even if you are an ass." 

"Love you Jack." Frank rises to his feet from Brock's lap and hugs him.

Jack hugs Frank tightly. "I love you, bärchen. Be good. Don't be too hard on Brock. Sleep well, brother."

"Did you wanna see the ultrasounds?" Ray asks Brock quietly. 

Brock practically squeals as he suddenly finds himself halfway in Ray's lap, "Gimme gimme gimme. Where is it? I need it. Give it here. I need to see the baby."

Frank looks at Jack, "He and I were gonna talk until he turned into a middle school girl."

Ray pulls his phone up and unlocks the screen, "Christa had another appointment. They think that baby Floof is growing faster than planned. So, the ultrasound looks more like a baby and less like an alien. She sent me a video too." He hands the phone to Brock and lets him see the black and white image.

"Faster than planned?" Jack asks with a concerned frown.

Brock snags the phone and goggles over the still image. He's in love. He doesn't quite understand fully what he's looking at but the shape is at least familiar. He sends the picture and video to himself. 

"Yeah, boys tend to grow faster in the womb also they think she might have preggo diabetes…" Ray winces as his brain drops the word gestational, "He's got a strong heartbeat and he's gaining weight like crazy."

Ray points out his head and little hands and feet to Brock, "Did you wanna see?" He asks Jack.

Brock gushes over the photo. "I love him. He's my squishy Floof nephew and he's the bestest in the whole wide world. His toesies are so cute! And his little hands!" 

"Sure, I'd love to see but not sure Brock is willing to let go of the phone. I think someone has baby fever," Jack chuckles. "It's his manly PMS."

"Fuck you," Brock grumbles as he starts the video. His brother's right though. He's not ready to give back Sunshine's phone just yet.

Frank lifts Brock's phone and unlocks the screen and opens the photo to pass it to Jack. 

"Thanks Frank," Jack says as he peers at the photo. "He's cute. Very good shape. I'm not a baby enthusiast like Brock is, I'm afraid. So I've really got no idea what it is I'm staring at. But the weird shape is nice?"

"They are better out of the oven." Frank comments. He points to the head, "Heads here."

"They are confident he's gonna be a Christmas baby for sure." 

Brock squeals with delight. "Best present ever!"

"So that's my baby boy." Ray grins as he scratches Brock's head, "Chrissy sends her love to you guys. She said something about calling you with a wives club briefing, Brock?"

"Ohhh, yes. I need to look into that. Yes." Brock nods. He still hasn't given back Sunshine's phone yet. He needs to do that. But he doesn't want to let go of Baby Floof.

Jack let's go of Frank and makes his way to the door. "I'm going now. Goodnight guys. See you in the morning." 

"Night Jack!" Ray says with a sleepy smile.

"Night big bro." 

Brock glances up absently before returning to Sunshine's phone and the video. "Night Jack." 

Frank returns to the couch and sits. He rests his head on Brock. 

"Are you gonna need me to stay the night?" Ray asks with a little smile. 

Frank slips Ray's phone from Brock's hand and replaces it with Brock's. He is torn. He wants to sleep with just his husband. But he has a fear that Brock will have another nightmare. Or a panic attack.

"My baby picture," Brock grumbles, taking the phone back. The spell is broken anyways and instead of staring at it, he sets the phone down. He's a little sleepy. And hungry. A yawn escapes and maybe he's actually really tired. They have been up since dawn. "Do we have any snacks? I think I'm too tired to eat a full meal." 

"What would you like, baby?" Frank asks.

"Babies aren't edible," Brock smirks a little. "Though Baby Floof is just so cute I wanna eat his little fingers and toes!"

"You mean I can't get snack babies at Babies R Us?" Frank jokes, "I'll get you whatever you want to eat, Brock."

Ray smiles. "Alright my dudes. I'm going to pass out in bed." He taps Brock then hugs him. He leans across Brock and hugs Frank. 

"See you tomorrow, love you guys." Ray takes his phone and heads for the door.

"Love you Sunshine," Brock says after him. "See you tomorrow."

"Night RayRay." Frank says before looking up and seeing the door close.

Brock stands and goes to Frankie, wrapping his arms around him tightly, nuzzling his cheek and neck. He kisses Scorpio. "I love you." 

"I love you too but do you know why I was upset?" Frank asks.

"You were mad I hadn't told my mom about us; about you. I'm not ashamed of you, if that's what you are thinking. I promise," Brock says, muffled into Frankie's neck.

"Yes. It kinda hurt. Not gonna lie, it actually really hurt. Logical me knows why you didn't. And I compared my own situation to yours and that's not fair." Frank sighs, he wanted to raise his voice but Brock's too calming to allow that.

Brock pulls away. He knows he fucked up pretty bad. He figured why Frankie was upset but not the why behind the why. He's not sure why Frankie didn't already know that he hadn't said anything to his parents. He supposes it doesn't matter in the long run. 

"I think I let myself get swept up in everything and I assumed the love was enough but I know there's more to it." Frank says as he turns to see why Brock isn't there any more. 

"Love is enough," Brock murmurs before wrapping Frankie up into a hug. "I was just a coward and played it safe. I wanted us to have a chance just in case they said no. I think subconsciously I figured you already knew which is why I was so surprised by you being angry with me. I've never introduced a boyfriend or lover to my parents and I haven't been home in six months. I call Jack more than anyone else and sometimes Brooke. This was the first time since last Christmas that I've heard my mother's voice. You meeting them was going to be a special moment and a first. I'm so sorry I hurt you, tesoro. I didn't mean to."

"I know that you didn't. It's why I'm not mad anymore. I let my emotions cloud my head. And I'm sorry. I love you more than anything." Frank squeezes him tight, "You're not a coward. You never have been and never will be. It's one of the millions of reasons why I am in love with you."

He leans back a little and smacks Brock's arm, "Call your damn mother more often." 

Brock gives a fond little smile. He whispers, "Yes, sir." 

"Did you really think I was gonna leave you?" Frank asks.

Brock nods, "For a moment, yes. That this was something that was too much for you to handle."

"I'm gonna tattoo it on my forehead… 'I'm not leaving' in big bold letters. I'm staying put, mister." Frank says firmly, "Death do us part... Hell or high water... You're mine. If I gotta mark my territory, I'll just have to do it…" 

"Okay. Please don't but okay," Brock says with a smile. "I get your point. I kinda like being yours, just like you are mine."

Frank pulls Brock into their bedroom and puts him to bed, grabbing the weighted blanket. He grabs a snack or two and goes back where they spend a little time watching mindless television and cuddling before Frank drifts off in Brock's arms. Brock follows soon after.


	21. The Sin City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band travels to Las Vegas, the city of sin and money. Trouble finds them and another lost duckling finds his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry for the long time posing- things got really hectic with life. Hope this chapter makes it up to you. Things get a little harried for the band and for Brock. Be sure to check the end note for a special link to a video that is a must-watch for bonus enjoyment!
> 
> Remember, we don't own the real people (that would be creepy), the characters owned by Marvel, Ed Sheeran's song "Perfect", nor do we make money off of this. This is a work of fiction and only the places are real. Any likeness to any person or event is a coincidence. Enjoy!

It has been over a month since they left Los Angeles. It seems like a dream more than anything else. They played all over the west coast from Seattle to Santa Fe. The crowds all started to look the same. Other bands they played with were fine. Touring gets hard when you're homesick. Gerard could feel the summer beginning to wind down as the concert dates began to get closer together. 

They were expected in Mexico City in three days but today was the start of a new opening act; this meant that Lindsey would finally be on the road with him. Gerard can feel the anticipation blooming in his chest as he closes his notebook. He gives Frank a little nod, surprised that he was even free of the Broctopus before wandering back into his bunk. It is getting late and he wants to be rested for when his lady arrives in the morning.

"Night, Gee," Frank says softly. He can see the soft glow of the city lights. The red neon lights up his face as the bus drives onto Las Vegas Blvd. The Welcome to Las Vegas sign glimmers like a beacon against the night sky. The twinkling lights and the flashing signs fill the bus and paint everything inside a golden hue.

It's the second time Frank's been to Vegas and he wants to keep the idea of seeing the welcome sign important in his mind. Like some ritual. He can hear Brock fussing from the back. He takes a breath and slowly moves to the back of the bus. It's 3 am and he was drowsy as hell. His legs move like he's underwater.

The second he sits on the bed, he's consumed with strong arms wrapping around him and soft Italian words that sound like the usual go to sleep; but there are more words, _'to movi trooper_?' The warmth from Brock's body and strong arms pull him back to sleep. 

Brock shifts and stretches as he wakes. Inhaling deep, he nudges and kisses Frankie, whispering good mornings and several ways for him to say he loves him in the three languages he knows. He slept well. He's feeling good today. Plus they are in Vegas and who isn't excited about that? He nudges his boy again, " _Tesoro mio_ it's time to wake up." 

Frank turns and rolls into his chest, "I don't wanna." He presses his forehead to Brock's skin and takes a big breath in, "I like here...safe and warm." 

"Yeah, but there are so many fun things to do today. Aren't you excited?"

"What are we doing? Besides the show and a little bit of press?" Frank yawns as he turns his head and rests his head in Brock's chest. 

"Well, we can do pretty much everything and anything. This is the city that never sleeps after all. Just remember no shotgun weddings. Those are real and the last thing we want to do is get drunk and wake up to find you and Bob are married. I'd like to at least see one live show. Maybe check out the casinos just for the hell of it. Go shopping and get those tee shirts that say some shit like I Survived Vegas. Eat."

"You've never been to Vegas huh?" Frank looks up and smiles at him.

"I've never been to ninety percent of the country, _gattino_. I didn't travel that much in the states during the service," Brock smiles back before pecking him on the lips.

"Probably got enough sand in your mouth for a coupla lifetimes, huh? So what you're saying is I'm your travel sugar daddy?" He tilts his head a little with a stupid smile on his lips.

Brock cracks up loudly and hard. He rolls over onto his back, chest heaving with laughter. "Oh my god." 

Frank props himself up on his elbow with his head resting in his palm, he loves Brock's real full laugh. "Just Frank, not god." Really he'd be the worst _travel daddy_. They don't do fun things and it's a lot of bus time.

Brock laughs harder. "You're gonna pop my travel cherry?" 

"Mmm if you let me..." Frank raises his eyebrow, he leans forward and kisses Brock's cheek then pats his belly, "I'm going for a run. If you wanna try to catch me..." 

"Please. I'll catch you before you even get off the bus," Brock snorts.

"Yeah...right. I'm too quick and sneaky." Frank slips out of bed. He pulls on sweats and a tank top, "Wanna make a bet on that?" 

"No, because I know I'll win and I don't want to hurt your feelings," Brock grins at him as he gets dressed.

Frank pulls on his shoes and smiles before wink, "Yeah, okay..." _A little playful competition never hurt anyone, right?_ "Like I said catch me if you can, babe." Frank pulls their bedroom door open and moves through the bus, Brock hot on his heels. The rest of the band was either sleeping or quietly entertaining themselves inside their bunks. He pushes the button to open the door and steps outside. He waits for a moment and looks around. Maybe a run on the strip could be fun but they should stick close to the venue, "Brock! Dude! Tick tock!" 

"Hush you, I'm right behind you. Cool your jets, baby," Brock teases.

"Sheesh, take _forever_!" He teases back as he lightly stretches before making a move towards the gate. He glances back and gives Brock a smile that he hopes reads as up to no good.

"Please. I'm still faster than you." 

Frank waits for security to open the gate, he steps through, pulls Brock into him but his shirt to press his lips to Brock's. "Prove it, papa bear." He lets go and takes off running.

Brock laughs and takes off after him, hard at first, and then tapering off once he catches up to him and they match pace. 

"Nice of you to show up..." Frank comments. 

"Bite me," Brock laughs.

"Show me where and I will." Frank grins, "How far do you wanna go?"

"Hmm… at least a mile. Maybe more. The property is pretty big, maybe we could go around that? Or did you want to run half of the strip?"

"New York, New York? Statue of Liberty?" Frank asks.

"Sure. You going to be able to make it that far? You might pass out from exhaustion or lack of breath," Brock teases.

"Oh, you're really cute. You sure you won't get cramps, old man?" Frank teases.

"Please. Everyone knows I'm in better shape than you, _amore_ _mio_. I can outrun you any day and probably carry you in the process." He grins at his husband.

"I might actually work out more than you. Two hours every three days… and you're not carrying me." Frank tries to keep his breathing level but isn't doing so hot. 

"And yet you aren't able to chat and run," Brock comments.

"I can talk. Hell, I could sing." Frank replies. His stubborn streak coming out.

"Really? Go for it." 

"Ah but you hate my music. I'm just saying, I'm doing just fine." Frank glances at Brock, "Could do this all day… and more." 

Frank pushes himself a little hard as they round the corner, it was already getting hot outside. They shoulda gotten up earlier, "Do you need water?" His tone of voice is now serious.

"Do you?" Brock huffs.

"I will. Just worried about you." Frank replies, "Don't need you getting heat exhaustion." 

"Heat and I are long-time friends. I know how long I can run in the heat. What about you?"

"I'll either be fine or pass out. But I'm good. Were you having bad dreams last night?" He asks, he shoulda started slower. Now he's gotta keep up with Captain Italy, the _summer soldier_ over there. He wants to mock the smugness but the shithead is right, Brock can handle heat better than he can. 

Brock smacks Frankie and motions for him to follow and cuts from the sidewalk. There's a drug store chain there and they can stop in for some water and then head back. He jogs until he slows to a walk, offering his hand to Frankie.

Frank follows without question. He takes his hand and follows him inside the store. "Need Tylenol?" He jokes but on the inside He's thankful for the break. 

"No, but some water would be great. You're sweating buckets. Maybe I should take you back to the hotel and dunk you into the pool."

"Yeah? That's what you wanna do? Sure you don't wanna drown me in the canals for being a smartass?" Frank chuckles as he wipes his forehead. 

"Better a smartass than a dumbass anyway. Though I would still love you even if you were a dumbass," Brock laughs and raises their joined hands to kiss the back of Frankie's.

"Good to know you don't just love me for my brains." Frank jokes, "But seriously, you gonna be ok to keep going? Don't want you to get all tuckered out before the fun happens." 

"That's a good question. Are you going to be able to run back or are you going to need a taxi? Uber driver? Because I can totally run back."

"Oh, I can run. Did you need some Icy Hot? Maybe a knee brace? I know it's hard on old joints…" Frank picks up a box and grins before biting the tip of his tongue.

“Ha fucking ha. You laugh and tease now, but just you wait. One of these days, you are gonna trip and fall off the stage and I’m gonna just offer you some Bengay and an ice pack and laugh my ass off the entire time. By the way, Bengay and all of those pain creams _stink_. It lingers like old people and cough drops. If I’m ever that bad, just take my gun and shoot me.” Brock chuckles lightly before moving on to the coolers and staring at the twenty thousand different brands of water. Why the fuck are there so many types of water?

"No, you know you'll baby me… cause well I am your baby." Frank smirks, "And I happen to kinda like the smell of Icyhot.

"I also know that you are in fantastic shape but I gotta be a pain in your ass." 

“Not literally, thankfully. That’s my job,” he winks at Frankie. “Also, IcyHot is disgusting, you weirdo. Do you want flavored water, sparkling water, distilled, spring…. What the fuck is still water? How is that any different than distilled? Then there’s this canned water shit that looks like it’s from Japan. Which it probably is. The downside to being in one of the tourist capitals of the world; far too many options you didn’t know existed.”

"Are you done with your water rant?" Frank keeps a straight face but the corners of his mouth pull upward slightly. He opens the cooler and pulls two bottles of regular water, "Unless his highness needs sparkling water?" 

“No, I just wanted a regular fucking water,” Brock laughs. He takes one of the bottles of water and cracks it open, downing a quarter of it. He grabs another from the cooler before making his way around the store. “This place has touristy shit. Wanna check it out?”

"Yeah, let's go so we can go shower unless you're not done with me yet?" Frank leans up and kisses him. He grabs the bottles from Brock's hand as they reach the register.

Brock snags his half-drunk bottle back from Frankie and drinks more of it, finishing it before he’s even all the way up to the register. “Mine.”

"Yes but I'm buying." Frank glares, "You gonna be okay running with all that water in your belly." His hands slip under Brock's shirt slightly and rest on his stomach.

“Yeah, a couple of liters of water won’t give me a stomach ache,” he replies casually. He does lean over and whisper in Frankie’s ear, “My size kink does not extend to my stomach. Just yours when I stuff you full of my cock.”

Frank's knees buckle slightly. He makes a small noise as he looks up at Brock. His cheeks flush a deep red. "Is that… uh plan for later?" His voice is shaky.

Brock just gives him a sly look and a grin before he hands the cashier a ten-dollar bill for the waters and some donation to some charity he’s never heard of. He takes the second bottle of water and cracks it open before he walks backwards out of the store with a shit-eating grin. “Coming?”

"You're a shit, Rumlow." Frank follows him, "I hope I'm coming later." 

“I think every fortune teller in this city will probably tell you that the chances of that happening are good. But then again they do get paid to tell you all sorts of shit so I dunno how valid that statement is.” Brock laughs as he walks and drinks the water.

"But Brock… the angels," Frank says with a straight face and blinks. He throws his empty bottle in the trash, "They probably should give you wings to keep up with me…" 

“Did you just backhanded call me an angel?” Brock grins wide.

"No lover. I called you slow." He leans up and kisses Brock's lips. 

“No, I think I heard you call me an angel. Said I needed wings. Which means I’m an angel.” Brock grins triumphantly. 

"Oh no. Babe, you're adorable." Frank grins.

“I know. You ready to run back?” he asks.

Frank doesn't reply, he just goes. It's the only way that he is going to get any kind of head start. Even for a split second.

Snorting, Brock waits for about thirty or forty seconds before he takes off after Frankie. He keeps his pace, purposely trailing behind Frankie, just to let him think he has a lead. Maybe he should play nice and let him “win”. A new thought enters his head as they pass the other well-known hotels and businesses on the strip and he grins to himself. An idea that may or may not be well received but he’s already committed to it. He files it away in a little compartment in his head and continues to run, enjoying the tiny sexy ass bounce in front of him. Yeah, he needs to fall behind more often if this was the amazing view he got. It was tempting him and mesmerizing to watch. Suddenly being teased for being old and slow just became worth it all.

Frank realizes that Brock hasn’t met him yet. He glances back and gives his husband a confused and worried look. "You doing ok, Brockaroo?" Frank shouts, his shins and calves are starting to burn, "Wanna slow down?" 

Brock increases his speed and matches pace with Frankie. “I’m doing fine. Just now understood why you always ran behind me. The view from back there is awesome. Might have to start doing the same; letting you win and all. It’s a very motivating view.”

"Oh yeah? It's not winning if you purposely lose." Frank laughs, "But you like the view, eh? Maybe I'll start doing squats..." 

“Or take up twerking,” Brock teases with a loopy grin.

"Maybe just some private dancing in the hotel room." Frank grins, "Are we just running today?" 

“Now what makes you think that is a thing?” Brock laughs. “We have a job to do, remember?”

"I meant for the workout, you goon!" Frank laughs. He slows his pace, "I don't like yelling at you." 

“That’s good. We really shouldn’t be fighting anyway. And why would we? What do you want for breakfast?”

"I'm a simple man. Eggs are always good." Frank replies, "I imagine that you're not on the menu…" 

“You are more than welcome to have eggs and sausage for breakfast or at any other time, baby,” he winks. “Should we invite the others? It’s getting time for them to be up anyway.”

"We probably should get 'em up and feed them." Frank pants out, "I always want sausage…" 

They are roughly a block away and Brock can see The Venetian in the distance. He turns to Frankie, “Wanna walk the rest of the way? Use it as our cooldown time?”

"Yeah, that works for me." Frank nods, "If I'd have known that I would have found you, I woulda quit smoking sooner. Wouldn't have had a death wish..."

Brock laughs and slows down to a walk before taking Frankie’s hand and kissing him. “If you had known you were gonna meet me, you probably wouldn’t have ever started smoking, _tesoro_.”

"Woulda started hanging out in the men's department sooner. Or just creep around Manhattan more." Frank squeezes Brock's hand. He can hear someone around them shouting at them but he ignores it. He kisses Brock a little more tenderly just to irritate their crowd.

“Maybe we can get you a few more sets of clothing while we are here. Maybe some bling for when we go out to the fancier upscale restaurants. You in a suit, mmhmm. Damn. You know our dining in the hotel is going to be something like a black-tie event, right?”

"I haven't owned a suit since I was a kid. A little update to the wardrobe might help me look more like a suitable husband." Frank replies as someone across the street screams 'faggots' at them.

“Just for the fancier date nights. I think you dress fine. I’m not one of the stereotypical gay dudes where fashion is my life. I literally know nothing about fashion beyond color coordination and possibly generic styles. I like to look nice but feeling nice is more important in my book.” Brock gives his husband a fond smile and kisses his temple. He’s aware of the people that are staring, some even holding signs. He’s tracking them, like he always does but really it barely registers and he’s too engrossed in the one person he does care about to give a shit about some haters. There’s always going to be people who hate them. That’s their prerogative. 

"I'm literally a jeans and t-shirt kinda guy." Frank smiles up at him, "I do like the way you dress. Especially when you wear those jeans that hug your ass. And green… you look good in green."

“I love you in red but honestly, I’m more interested in the skinny jeans you wear. Holy fuck they make me want to rip them off and fuck you hard and fast. Even watching you wiggle and squirm to get _in_ them is as hot as hell. Don’t get me wrong, I want you to wear form-fitting and more grown-up pants but the skinny jeans around the house though? Fuck. Me.”

"Grown-up?" Frank smirks as he pulls the door open for his husband. He makes a mental note to pick up better-fitted jeans, "I'll pick more red shirts." 

“Red shirts and maybe some tiny red lacy panties, oh, sorry, _man_ ties as you love to call them,” Brock says as he boards the bus with a glance over his shoulder to Frankie and a wide, devilish grin.

"Lacy manties, eh?" Mike grins wide as the board the bus, "I didn't think you were a lace kinda guy."

"Seems more like a satin or silk undies guy." Bob laughs.

Frank's face turns a dark red. _Oh my god!_

"B, are you thinking red like that color?" Mike asks as he tucks his leg under his butt.

“I prefer a little darker. And lace is great for ripping off the body. Silk and satin stain a little too much for lingerie. Now, everyday stuff, sure, I’ll go with silk. Egyptian silk though. Much better quality.” Brock stares at Frankie and smirks, enjoying the darker shade his love was turning. He loves these guys and their willingness to play with Frankie for him.

"He seems like a thong guy." Bob snickers.

"Or jockstrap. Leave them cheeks out in the air." Mike laughs.

"Thoughts Brock?" Bob smirks.

"I hate you guys," Frank murmurs.

“You know, he only wears these little cotton things. But maybe he should wear a thong…. Now that I think about it. Thanks, Robby,” Brock beams.

"Hipsters." Frank grumbles, he squeezes Brock's hand. 

Brock hums and pulls his lip in thought. “Robby. Not sure about that either. Bobby is getting there but… crap. Dammit, Robert, why the hell do you have such a normal nickname?” He laughs and sits down on the bench seat. It’s been three months and he still hasn’t come up with anything unique yet for his drummer. Or his lead singer but that one is actually harder than Bob’s.

"Yeah, I'm telling you. Bob is hard to find a nickname for." Bob laughs.

"Yeah, his mom calls him thumper." Mike snickers.

“Rabbit,” Brock blurts and grins. Suddenly it just clicks in his head. Thumper made sense, considering Bob was always thumping away on drums, but it was the Bryar last name that made the most sense to him. Briar patches and rabbits were something he had learned go together somewhere a long time ago. And Bob was rather fond of raspberries...

"Rabbit’s not bad." Bob grins.

"It fits." Mike snorts looking down at his foot that was subconsciously tapping.

"I like it." Bob replies, "Now you just need one for Gee." 

"I'm going to get changed," Frank says softly. He releases Brock's hand and moves to the back of the bus. He knows that he's got backs facing him except Brock. As he reaches the doorway, he drops his sweatpants and underwear before glancing back at him. 

Brock arches an eyebrow and gives him a smirk and a wink before smiling and turning back to the others. He’s not sure if he wants to let his boy stew and suffer his own tease or go over and play with him some. The view was really nice. And tempting, but maybe he should focus on his band.

“You guys excited about being in Vegas or no?” he asks them.

"It's Vegas, B. Excited, huh?!" Bob grins and nods, "Been here before but you never have enough time to see it all."

"Excited." Mike agrees with a big smile.

"Stoked!" Ray calls from the bathroom.

"Yeah, Vegas is cool..." Gerard says as he emerges from his bunk.

Frank pulls out baby wipes, he'll whore bath it until they get into the hotel. He gets dressed and doubles up on the deodorant and cologne. He was going to wear a different shirt but he pulls out a simple red t-shirt with a pocket and tighter jeans but not quite skinny ones. He can hear the words travel daddy in his head and feels his neck heating up.

“I’ve never been. Frankie said he was going to be my Travel Daddy,” Brock giggles just thinking about it.

"Travel. Daddy? Like a sugar daddy?" Ray questions.

"That was supposed to be a bedroom thing..." Frank says quietly to himself, "He's on a mission to keep me scarlet-colored today." 

Chuckling evilly, Brock grins wide. “You look good in red. That shirt looks good too. So, not sorry.”

Frank turns to look at him, he raises an eyebrow. He's trying to cover up the traces of embarrassment with flirting, "You look better with nothing on…" 

“Do I though? I feel like maybe I should get a third party opinion… Like a vote,” Brock teases, looking at the others and smiling. “Maybe I should go out and do a little striptease for some strangers. See if they really like me half-naked. Think they’ll like an old man like me? Since you told me this morning I would need a knee brace and some pain cream that smells like shit.”

"I think you look good," Frank says softly. 

"I think you could give thunder from down under a run for their money." Ray comments.

"Was he picking on you, B?" Mike asks, "I'll beat him up if he was…"

“Just some motivational running sass. Speaking of running,” Brock slaps the table in front of him and looks over at his floof brother. “Sunshine, I miss running with you. Your squish is growing. I’m going to start getting you up again and dragging you out with us if you don’t get back into your routine. We need to do every other day, dude.”

"Well my gym buddy was sleeping in and filling into the Haagen Dazs, so I put my routine to the side for them." Ray grins and winks, "I'll happily get up and outrun Frankie." 

"I'm not that slow." Frank pouts as he leans against the counter, "I'm determined to get lean and mean." 

“You are already physically fit and perfect just the way you are, sweetheart. You are already lean but mean is just not in your nature, _gattino_. We’ve been over this.”

"Yeah. I know. I'll drop it." Frank nods. 

"You're already small Frankie Doodle." Bob says as he wraps him in a hug.

"I've seen your _petit chat_ get pretty nasty." Mike comments.

Brock goes to speak and then has to close it as he registers the French coming from Mike-n-Ike’s mouth. “Since when do you speak French and how have you never shared this before? Because, damn. The ladies must love you, especially Lady Kristen.”

"I'm not fluent but I know enough to get by. She doesn't know…" Mike's cheeks are stained a light pink.

"He gets embarrassed when he has to use it," Ray smirks.

“It’s cute. Some practice and you’ll be sweeping her off her feet in no time; well more than normal anyway. You kids ready for breakfast?” Brock asks, rising and making his way to the back of the bus so he, too, can change into something less sweaty and stinky.

"Hurry up, travel baby." Ray snickers.

“Hey! That’s not funny, Sunshine!” Brock hollers over his shoulder; it’s belied by his laughter right after however.

"Quiet down. You're only meant to be pretty, not have a brain…" Ray teases.

Brock blows a raspberry at him as he strips off his shirt and goes into the bathroom to clean up a little. “At least you think I’m pretty!”

"You are. It's why we keep you around," Bob snickers.

“I still want my tiger!” he calls from the bathroom. 

"You have a Jack!" Frank calls out as he pulls a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Do we have time to go shopping, B?" Ray asks as he winks at Frank.

“Yes! We need to do all the things!” he hollers over the sound of running water. He hasn’t needed to bathe in a sink in a while but it’s quickly coming back to him now. 

"Brock wants to get me in a suit," Frank speaks softly.

"Well, he is gonna be surprised when he sees how nice you clean up." Ray pats him on the shoulder. 

Once he’s finished using the hand soap as a body wash for his upper torso, Brock rinses off a little and applies deodorant before stepping out. It’s not nearly enough as a regular shower but at least he doesn’t feel extra gross. He quickly changes into a new shirt and camo cargo pants before arming himself. When he’s finished, he rejoins the boys. “Ready?”

"Breakfast. Then a press thing right?" Gerard asks.

Brock nods, “We have an interview with Kerang! magazine at the business room at eleven-thirty.”

"Is it the three boys?" Bob asks.

“No, it’s for all you ducklings.”

"Hell yes! The Kerang people are cool as hell!" Ray smiles and nods at the boys. 

"Wonder what kinda photoshoot they wanna do?" Frank asks.

“Emo, so dress in all black and extra twinkie aesthetics, okay? You guys can change after we eat; I’m starving.”

"I'm not twink like..." Ray laughs and pats Brock's shoulder before slipping an arm around him, "Let's go eat." 

The band files out of the bus. They move as a unit out into the street. The group finds themselves inside of a restaurant with a silly name. The place is busy with people moving around and laughing at each table. The smell of sweet and savory fills the air.

"Hey Frankie, you still want sausage and eggs for breakfast," Brock whispers in his husband's ear.

Frank blushes and tries not to smile, "Is it hot Italian sausage?" He replies low as he looks up at him.

"Extra spicy too. Just waiting on you to say the words. We could check out the bathroom here. Haven't done that in a while," Brock teases softly.

"Oh yeah?" Frank asks as he leans up and whispers in Brock's ear with a soft little smile on his lips. His cheeks still tinted pink, "You wanna fuck me in the bathroom?" 

"Thought about it. Maybe not here though, we are rather pressed for time. Besides, you _eating_ sausage is something a little more… quicker."

Frank gives him a quick kiss on his lips, "Tease." 

"You love it," Brock kisses him back.

"Oh, I do," Frank replies as he slips his hand into Brock's thigh and squeezes. He lets his fingers rest a little higher up, carefully stroking the material of his pants. Maybe, two can play this game.

Brock's eyes widen. He didn't expect this to happen for some dumbass reason. Probably because they pretty much had a dry spell and now things were moving back on track a little. It kinda made things feel sort of new. Exciting. He chuckles and wraps his arms around Frankie in a bear hug. He rests his chin on his shoulder, nuzzling him. He murmurs, "I love you. Can't wait to get you into the hotel room. Treat you real nice. Extra special."

"Yeah? Help me unwind?" Frank asks as his hand slips between them and grazes over Brock's crotch, "Maybe give me some good Italian lessons?" 

"Maybe a bit of a massage. There's a spa at the hotel. And a fitness center. Gonna make you burn off that extra energy; work you hard and then get you massaged and rubbed down with some oils. How's that?" 

"That sounds good to me…" Frank grins, he's not sure if he is reading too much into his words but chest flutters a little.

"Keep it PG 13, you two." Ray quietly reminds them.

"Bite me Toro or you'll be the ring bearer at our wedding," Frank grumbles.

Brock grins at Sunshine and nods at him, with a quick glance between him and Frankie. It's an invitation; if his Floof brother wants to follow up with Frankie's challenge. He will if Sunshine won't. 

"I'd be the cutest ring bearer. And you don't scare me, shrimp." 

"I'm not a shrimp." Frank glares.

"You are," Ray snorts.

"Jumbo Shrimp though," Brock adds. "Just so you can feel better about your shrimpiness." 

"I'm not a shrimp. I'm big." Frank pouts. Frank's hand cups Brock then releases.

"A big shrimp." Ray chuckles 

"I hate you," Frank grumbles.

The waitress approaches, she's smaller than Frank with platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She grins at the boys. She leads them to their table with a seat for Brock to have his back to a wall. Passing out menus, she takes their drink order and disappears.

After a few minutes, she returns with their drinks and takes the order. The table chats idly about the day and the show, each man excited about some aspect of their stay in Vegas with a band. All agreed that massages were in order. 

Once the food comes, the other table goes quiet and everyone enjoys their meal. As each boy finishes their food, the conversation resumes. The topic is clothing for the interview. They decide on black and white. Something truly fitting of a punk emo death metal band.

The band makes their way back to the hotel and waits patiently in the lobby for Brock to check them into their room. Their eyes can't stay focused on one thing for too long. Within the walls it felt like stepping into another world, each surface is beautiful and detailed to an almost fantasy-like. Rich browns and shiny gold picks up light and glimmers, catching Frank's eyes. 

"He looks happy," Bob comments as Brock returns with keys and wearing Frank's favorite expression of pure unfiltered joy. 

"I assume no one has to share rooms?" Ray jokes.

"Unless they want to." Bob glances at Frank who was enamored with Brock. 

"What's going on, B?" Gerard asks as his eyes scan a woman walking past and eyeing the band.

"Do we have a good room?" Frank asks as he reaches out for his husband's hand.

Brock lets out a little laugh as he takes Frankie's hand and gives them their keys. "I officially love this place. We have great rooms. But…." Another laugh that turns into a giggle escapes and Brock tries to keep it quiet. "This hotel and The Plazzo are both Italian themed, right? Which, by the way, we are totally going on gondola rides if you are interested. Anyway. So, I figured I was going to have a bit of fun…. I pretended I didn't speak a word of English."

"Oh? How'd that go?" Frank smirks.

"They got me a translator," Brock replies with a snicker.

"They didn't...oh my god." Frank laughs. 

"Did you keep up with the charade?" Ray asks with a little smile.

Brock snorts, "Hell yeah. So, yeah. That's going to be my thing while we're in the hotel. Maybe. I might not. What do you guys think?"

"Do it!" Ray encourages him.

"I'm not going to turn you down because I love it when you speak Italian." Frank grins up at him. He pushes himself up and kisses Brock. 

"I'm all for trolling people," Bob replies.

The Ways both nod in agreement.

"Great. Too bad Jack isn't here though," says Brock. After all, what sort of band manager only spoke Italian to a group of boys who only spoke English. At least with Jack there, it would have provided credibility as his brother would have jumped at the chance to play translator. 

"Jack would join in," Bob smirks.

"Start translating to Brock in German..." Frank snorts.

"Yes!" Brock laughs. He leads them to the elevators.

A young woman wearing a blue pencil skirt, sensible high heels, and a white blouse with a blue blazer over it, approaches them. She's wearing a lanyard that shows she is with the hotel staff. She extends her hand to Brock and says with flawless Italian, " _My name is Isabela and I will be your translator during the duration of your stay, Mr. Rumlow. Please do not hesitate to ask for anything as we at the Venetian take pride in the way we take care of our VIP guests. I am sure you would like to be shown the rooms?"_

Brock shakes her hand and nods, " _Yes, please."_

The boys grin at her, eagerly.

Isabela turns to the band. " _Are you with Mr. Rumlow?"_

Ray nods with a smile. The others nod, following Ray's lead.

" _Follow me, please,_ " she says, motioning towards the elevators. The band rises and follows quietly. She takes them to their rooms and waits. " _Would you like me to give you a tour of our amenities and services today?"_

Brock shakes his head. " _No, but thank you. The band and I have an interview. What floor are the business suites on?"_

_"The lower levels. Floors two through four. Anything else I can assist you with at the moment?"_ She replies.

"I was curious ma'am. Do you know where the closest coffee shop is?" Frank asks politely.

She makes a little oh of surprise, clearly not expecting any of them to know or understand English. "We have coffee available downstairs in our on-site restaurants as well as the lounge areas. But, I'm sorry, you do not need my assistance?"

"Oh, we do. I don't speak a word of Italian and he doesn't speak English other than the word bathroom…" Frank smirks.

Brock smiles and nods like an idiot. 

"He's awfully pretty… probably smart… but I don't know." Frank grins up at Brock and nods back. 

"Mr. Rumlow said you are in a band. You work together, yes?" she asks with a head tilt.

Frank clears his throat and straightens his posture, "Yes. He's in charge." Frank says with a small raise of his eyebrow and a soft smile.

She smiles back at him and at the others. "How does that work? Unless you use a translator?" 

"It doesn't. It's been a nightmare, the language barrier." Ray adds, "He mostly smiles for good and grunts for bad. Like a GQ caveman." 

"How do we get ahold of you?" Gerard asks softly.

She pulls out a small business card with her cell number on it as well as the hotel's information and hands it to Gerard. "Feel free to call if you need my services during your stay or call down to the hotel desk."

Brock moves and wraps his arms around behind Frankie, kissing his neck. " _What is taking so long? I want to lay you down on the bed and kiss and lick every inch of your skin. Get you all hot and whimpering for me before I tie you up and fuck you hard. Maybe make you scream."_

Isabela's eyes widen and she flushes. "I think it's time for me to go, I'll check in later." 

"What did he say?" Frank asks her then tilts his head to the side at the translator.

She swallows a few times and tries hard to maintain a professional demeanor, despite the obvious flush of embarrassment. "He wishes to engage in intercourse with you." She turns to Brock, " _I do not feel comfortable with this sort of unprofessionalism. I will not translate this nor do I feel comfortable with you speaking in such a way."_

" _I understand. I will refrain. My apologies, miss,_ " Brock replies.

Frank gives Brock an apologetic look, her tone was not happy. He crossed a line and actually felt bad. He also really needs to secretly learn Italian. 

"I am so sorry. I didn't know." 

"Of course. I understand. I hope you gentlemen enjoy your stay. Have a good day," she replies coolly before turning in her heels and stalking to the elevator and leaving.

Frank takes the key from Brock and opens the door, "Come." He taps on Brock's arm and motions to join the inside of the room. 

As soon as Brock enters the room, he turns to Frank with a sheepish grin. "Well, that backfired. Oops." 

"Yeah. My bad babe. I didn't know what you'd said was sexual…" Frank snorts, "Shoulda assumed. Given the context."

"Also she probably thinks you're banging your impressionable employee." He winks.

"Aren't I though," Brock says with a smirk. He wraps his arms around Frankie's waist and pulls him into a kiss.

"Impressionable is something I'm absolutely not. What _did_ you say to her or is that to remain a mystery?"

"I told her I wanted to tie you up and make you scream while I fucked you." He kisses him again.

"Oh… oh okay!" Frank flushes.

"I wanted to see if she would actually repeat it or not. Too bad you guys need to go play press or I would back that statement. Good thing I like teasing," Brock says as he lets Frankie go.

"I do enjoy our little game, though I really like teasing you…" Frank smiles.

"Do you remember the last time I tried the edging game? Trying to see how long we could go without. And it backfired; twice if I recall. How about we try something different? We still tease each other all day, but the game ends at the end of the night instead of days or weeks. I _will_ fuck you tonight. We just need to tease and wait until then."

"Maybe work on building up to taking it out a little longer…" Frank suggests raising an eyebrow.

"We went a few weeks without. I think we probably could physically do it but I'm not sure if our self-control could handle it with active teasing," Brock chuckles. "I'm willing to try."

"No that's fair. I think my goal is to get you to blush as much as possible." 

"Oh. So you want to do all the teasing and me leave you alone? I can do that. See how long I can last before I snap and drag you someplace." Brock nods in thought. Yeah, he could do that.

"But lover, I know that hot button I can press…" he grins. He won't do it but he could, "I'm game. I'm always up for a challenge." 

"You play that card and I'll not watch your show tonight. Now get dressed for the interview. We're going to be late." Brock nudges Frankie and smacks his butt.

Frank laughs and scoots away to his bag. He had an idea for what he wanted to wear but is choosing something different. Tighter. He strips down completely and shimmies into black skinny jeans and a tight white shirt, with a black jacket over it. He fluffs his hair and nods at Brock. "Ready." 

Brock and Frankie meet up with the band in the hallway before they all take the elevator down to their assigned room for the magazine interview. Brock does a quick cursory look to see if Isabela is around to join them but isn't surprised to see they are alone. Seems she decided to remove herself from them. Fair enough; he really didn't mean to push buttons so much. He didn't even plan what he had said, it just slipped out. Oh well. The interviewer was a rather portly woman but young with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and a southern English accent, named Chelsea. And after introductions are done, they all sit and begin.

The questions were pretty standard but her focus on the new album turns towards the boys.

"Why do you feel like revenge was the driving force behind the album?" She asks with a big smile at Gerard. Her _adoration_ of him shines through her eyes and smile.

"I was at a place in my own life where I was angry. My own relationships had gotten complicated. It wasn't until my Grandmother passed away that the album really took shape. I...We funneled all our grief and sadness into it." Gerard answers as he looks around at the band, "Revenge just an idea behind the concept, the record ended up being much more about loss and real life than anything, so I would say it's a good split."

"Yeah, Elena had really helped shape the early years for the band. She helped rent us a U-haul for our equipment. She fed us and sent us clothing when we couldn't afford them." Ray adds with a smile.

"That's so sweet. I'm sorry for your loss. It's about two lovers separated by death and the concept of; do you feel like your own _relationships_ helped to shape this album? Has it changed your own relationships with one another?" She dances around the questions she isn't allowed to asks gracefully.

"Every time we make an album, write a song… it has a little part of us in it. So, is it going to be shaped by the relationships we have, I would say yes,” Gerard answers. 

"And it's an outlet for pent up emotions and feelings. We have been able to grow, fall away, and learn from each other every time we write." Frank comments.

"There's been a buzz in the industry about rumors of your next album? Anything you can share?" She asks.

"It's going to be fantastic." Mike pipes up with a huge smile.

"It's all in pre-production," Ray adds shortly. 

"There's also been talk about the shakeup with the bands line up in front and behind the scenes, how has that change over been for the sound and the band in general?" Chelsea asks, glancing at Brock then back to the band.

"It was a little rough. I had to kinda speed learn all the music and learn the band dynamics." Bob comments.

"Other changes have been a learning experience. I feel the changes have made us stronger as a band and as people." Frank says looking to the side a little to see Brock in the corner.

"I gotta ask and I know I'm not supposed to but Lyn-z from Mindless Self Indulgence made a comment about falling Way hard for a man… is it you?" She asks Gerard.

"What?" He blinks.

"On social media," Chelsea says pulling her phone out as she pulls up the page.

"I… oh. Uh. Well," Gerard stumbles over his words.

"I assume that your relationship with Bert and _others_ … have ended?" She asks looking directly at Frank. 

Frank's face flushes a little as he struggles to keep a poker face. He hates these fucking questions. He looks over at Brock and gives him a help look.

Brock leans forward, "Don't answer that, boys. I'm sorry, ma'am, but the dynamics of the band's interpersonal relationships are strictly off-limits and are not to be discussed. Please stick with the approved questions. Thank you."

"Understood." She says with a nod, " Apologies gents."

"Thanks," Gerard says with an exhale.

"Stricter now, I see. Does this have to do with new management? I assume you've heard about the writer who made some claims about the band and inappropriate behavior?" She asks as he rests her pen on her notebook.

"No, but we aren't interested in rumors and lies. We stick together and defend one another, this includes our management." Gerard says with a dark tone to his voice. 

"Our manager has been wonderful. He's made a lot of changes to the band that have been positive. He's a breath of fresh air." Bob adds.

"Yup. He's pretty great. He makes sure we are cared for." Frank beams.

"I will go on the record that I am much stricter than the previous manager and that is something you may inform others of," Brock says.

"Structure is important. It's good they have you in their corner. " She replies warmly, "I had been warned that you guys were… rambunctious to say the least." 

"There's no more Rockstar lifestyle for the band. We're just a bunch of nerdy dudes who would rather play video games than go out and party." Ray comments.

"That's all the questions I have. I believe we have a photographer who is waiting with a hair and makeup crew for you guys." Chelsea replies with a wide smile.

The boys rise from their seats and exit the room with Brock in tow. They try not to be awkward but all are secretly hoping he doesn't ask the question they collectively are dreading. 

"I hate makeup," Mike grumbles.

"But they're going to make you less undead and more human-looking," Brock teases.

"But we like to look like vampires!" Mike whines playfully.

"You are a pretty painted lady, Mikey!" Ray teases.

"Think of it like this, they gotta add make-up to enhance the paleness so the camera doesn't try to compensate for the lack of blood in your veins. They gotta add color so the camera will take it away. Otherwise, you might just poof outta existence and then what? You won't have any fancy photos to sell to your fans. It'd just be clothes without a body," Brock deadpans.

The band goes silent for a moment before laughing. Frank slows and slips his arm around Brocks, "Shoulda heard his dad rant about water this morning…" Frank chuckles.

"Water?" Ray asks.

"There were far too many options," Brock grumbles.

"He was growly about it." Frank snickers.

"But like… he's not wrong," Bob says with a shrug as Gerard opens the door for everyone.

The hair and makeup crew welcomes the band and gets to work on making them look pretty. The photographer encourages them outside and takes photos of the boys. Each one is broody and properly emo. The photoshoot doesn't take long. 

The boys return inside a little sweaty but all laughing and talking. They quiet at the sight of Brock on the phone. Each band member takes the makeup off then gathers their things. Frank joins Brock's side, looking up at him with a wrinkled forehead. He rubs his husband's back gently.

Ray's eyes watch Brock as he stands with the other guys who quietly chat.

Brock speaks softly into the phone. He did not expect to need to settle a territory dispute so soon after his father's injury. Several business owners were fighting over something stupid and causing dissension on a particular street that bordered one of the other Families. It was stupid and yet time-consuming. He wasn't familiar with the current Head of the Gambino family and the talk was tiring.

Three of the boys lift cigarette boxes and nod at Brock before disappearing outside. Frank pulls the room key from his pocket and lifts it for Brock's attention. He gives a small nod, he's thinking privacy is probably important right now. The wrinkled forehead makes him believe it had to do with his _new job._

Brock shakes his head at Frankie and holds up a hand to signal that he's almost finished. Thankfully Luciano and he came to an agreement that didn't involve an owner's death so that was a win on his negotiation skills. After thanking the other man, he was patched back to his sister and mother; assuring him that his father was doing well. Finally, he hangs up and sighs.

"Everything ok?" Frank asks softly. His hand slips under Brock's shirt and rests on his side. He invades Brock's space.

" _Sì. Va bene_ ," he replies. 

"Okay. Would you tell me otherwise?" Frank asks with a little grin as he rests his chin on Brock.

" _Certamente_ ," Brock nods. He says the word slowly and carefully for Frankie and Ray.

Frank squints and nods.

" _Certamente._ Certainly. Of course." Brock nods at Frankie. " _Va bene_?"

"Ok." Frank gives him a smile, "How's your dad?"

" _Va bene. Sta andando bene_ ," Brock says, again at slowly. 

"Am I getting an Italian lesson today?" Frank laughs. His other hand slides under Brock's shirt.

"Only if you want," he chuckles, wrapping his arms around Frankie. "He's doing fine."

"Good. I'm glad!" Frank says, hopeful with a deep breath. 

"Mom did say that he was complaining during physical therapy today so that's a good sign."

"Oh, so it's genetic…" Frank replies, raising his eyebrow. He leans up and kisses him.

"You looked worried, B." Ray says as he approaches, "I'm happy he's ok and whatever that was about is _fine._ " 

"So… what now? We have at least an hour or two before soundcheck…" Ray asks.

"Well, we can either relax or be tourists. What would you like to do, Sunshine?" 

"Maybe, let's wander this place? I hear the shopping inside of here is pretty cool. Maybe even realistic compared to the real Venice." Ray offers.

"I'll be the judge of that. But yeah, I like that idea. Shopping and gondola rides. Then soundcheck and massages before the show. They're probably closed by the time you boys drag yourselves back here. Too bad we aren't here long enough to play at the casinos. Just for the hell of it. Or see a show instead of _being_ the show," says Brock, nuzzling Frankie but looking at Sunshine.

"We have tomorrow right?" Frank asks.

"Yeah but barely. Knowing us, it still won't be enough time before we are on the road again. I'm going to see about making the next tour less compact and a little more spread out. Have an actual day to explore the cities we are in. Less frantic rushing feelings going from city to city. It'll probably last a little longer but I think the trade-off will be worth it on our sanities. Either of you knows when Lindsey is coming in?"

"I know we perform with her band tomorrow in Mexico City. I'm not sure if she's coming here tonight or meeting us there." Ray says with a shrug.

"I mean, if papa bear would, let’s say, walk back on his curfew maybe we could play…" Frank's hands slide over his love's hips and into his pants. 

"I think I can be convinced… times five," Brock grins playfully.

"Oh yeah?" Ray says pulling his wallet out, "I got two hundred bucks and an ultrasound photo and a concert ticket… name your price?

"We'll give you a slightly used Frank to sweeten the deal?" Ray snickers.

"I already have a Frank. You'll need your money to blow on blackjack or something. What is the concert ticket for?" Brock asks but really doesn't care about it any more than he cares about the cash. He wants to be convinced, sure but he's not super interested in things.

"It was the first concert that Christa and I went to. She picked the most embarrassing concert to take me to but you know what that boy band put on a helluva good show." Ray answers eagerly.

Brock smiles at Ray. "Okay, that's adorable. And not only do I not want that, but I can't take it. It's too cute and needs to be in a memory album for Baby Floof to enjoy later." 

Frank snickers to himself.

"Cat caught your tongue, _gattino_ , or did you want to share with the class?" Brock says with a raised eyebrow.

"Just thinking about you keeping the tags from when we met." Frank snickers.

"I don't have them _anymore_! It was just… in case… you know. Once we started dating I tossed them. Thank God it was only for a week," Brock chuckles. He looks at the door and wonders what's taking the cancer sticks so long to be smoked. He's missing his other three ducklings and is starting to wonder if they were getting into trouble.

"You kept them?" Frank says feeling oddly sentimental over paper tags from jeans.

Brock tilts his head. He's confused at Frankie's question right after he joked about him keeping the tags. Perhaps it was a speculative joke? It has to have been. "Well. Yeah, I thought you knew that. They were special to me because it was the only thing I had to remind me of _you_."

Frank pulls him down by his shirt and kisses his husband passionately, "I never knew that! Baby, that is so sweet!"

"Thanks," Brock murmurs against Frankie's lips. He whispers an "I love you" before pulling away and grinning lazily at both boys. "Where were we again? Oh yes, you two are trying to convince me to let you go play past curfew tonight."

"All else fails, Frankie. We can plan a jailbreak." Ray grins.

"You have been subjected to the Brocktopus… there's no way I'd escape with my bones unharmed." Frank snickers.

"Question is, would they leave without you? Why, yes. Yes, I do think they would leave you to be the sacrificial kitten," Brock snickers.

"Duh. This ain't the musketeers." Ray chuckles, "We’ll have a drink in your memory."

"Bastards," Frank grumbles.

"Alright, we can talk it over to the rest of the Ducklings, if we can find them. Come on. Let's go see why it's taking them so long to suck on cancer sticks," Brock moves towards the door, motioning for his favorites to follow. "They probably saw something shiny. Again."

Frank follows behind him and looks back, "Sunnyside. Come." 

Ray grabs his shoulder bag and follows the guys, his two brothers out the door, "They probably got pulled away by shiny things." 

"The whole fucking city is one big Shiny Thing," Brock huffs. 

"You probably should invest in one of those little kid leashes for each of us," Frank admits.

Brock stills and pulls out his phone. "I've got something better. But I will consider the leashes. And GPS trackers embedded in each of your butts. With a little tiny sticker that says 'if found please return Duckling to Brock' with my number on it."

"You are absolutely getting left once in Vegas, Ray."

"Frankie! He is absolutely not! Behave," Brock hisses at him with humor in his eyes. He calls the responsible one of the three missing, Rabbit.

"He's gonna leave you on purpose. I hope it's somewhere you don't like…" Ray jokes, "Hey Brock! Did you know that there is a butterfly greenhouse?

And you'll be a big teary baby..."

"Don't you dare."

"I'm doin’ it…"

"Oh… hey Brock! Brock daddy. My dude…" Bob answers audibly nervous.

"Rabbit. Where are you?" Brock asks, sternly and trying hard to mostly ignore the other two boys. "What happened to a quick smoke?" 

'Rabbit.' Frank mouths at Ray.

"Well, see… we were smoking then we heard a commotion, and then well, we followed it and now we somehow wound up in the Mirage… investigating the noise," Bob says as the sound of a slot machine comes through. 

"Are you high? Or are you just stupid? That's a shitty ass explanation for telling me you are at the casino," Brock barks into the phone. He's irritated. "Are the other two with you?" 

"They were a bank… they are somewhere around here. They have their phone…" Bob says with the tone of his voice a slight wince.

"Fine. Remember, soundcheck is in two hours…. One and a half hours. You and the others better fucking be there on time." Brock hangs up on Bob and pockets his phone. He grabs Frankie's duffle and begins to head upstairs. "I'm going back to the room. You guys are welcome to join. Otherwise, the three amigos are in the Mirage casino. You have one and a half hours to play before soundcheck. Don't be late."

Frank follows, Brock's mad. Ray hesitates… "I. Ok," is all he manages out. 

Frank walks quietly beside Brock. He wants to check in but isn't sure about the response he'll get.

Brock is silent as they walk back to the rooms. He's trying to figure out his emotions. He's angry. That much is very true. But his mother taught him that anger is a mask. You can't have anger by itself and without reason. Nobody got angry for the sake of being angry. So. He's angry. Why? Because he's hurt. Why? Was it because he felt like they snuck off without telling him on purpose? Or was it because every time he thinks he can trust these men to be responsible adults, they go and get themselves into trouble? After the interview they had where they were practically singing his praises, they do the very thing he hates? Maybe it was because it felt kind of like lying.

"Brock." Frank's voice sounds small and thin, reminding him of a mouse as they stop at their door.

"What?" he replies quietly. He's angry but not at any of them. Maybe he can get that massage while the others gamble.

"Why are you upset?" Frank's forehead wrinkles.

"Am I too bossy? A bad manager? Am I doing something wrong here that makes the band feel the need to sneak off? Or maybe I baby everyone too much. I can stop that, sure." Brock says, clearly frustrated and pissy. He gets the door open and enters, tossing the bags onto the bed before unpacking and getting undressed. 

Frank leans against the wall, "Tell me when you're done brooding and we can have a conversation, I've got an hour and twenty-five minutes."

"One, don't be condescending. And two, there isn't anything to discuss. They are grown men who have decided to spend their free time at the casino. They can do whatever the fuck they want with their free time. Just like you and Ray can. My job is to make sure the band is on time for soundcheck. There isn't anything to be done except I just need to deal with it and not babysit. Simple as that."

"So clearly you're not done. Which is fine. Don't take it out on me. I'm sorry." Frank tries not to be sarcastic but his words are dripping with it, "You're just being emotionally irrational." 

"You know what, you can take that sarcastic attitude and shove it up your ass. You asked me what my problem is. I told you. You don't like it, get the fuck out and go play with the other kids, adults. I'm not in the mood for your condescending attitude. It's not helping." Brock moves and changes into sweats and a loose tee-shirt. 

"Don't cuss at me, first of all. Second, you're the one acting like the ditched prom queen." Frank replies sharply, "You know you're a good boss and a great manager. But Jesus fucking Christ lighten up. Stop acting like you're PMS-ing!" 

"Get out," Brock says coldly. "Show up for soundcheck on time but get out of my sight until then." If Frankie was going to just stand there and insult him then he could just leave.

"Really!?" Frank snaps. 

"I'm not going to just _let_ you stand there and insult me or my feelings, so yes."

"What's the fine for missing rehearsal? A thousand dollars? Right?" Frank asks. 

"Find somewhere else to sleep tonight then."

"You're _actually_ kicking me out?"

"You going to keep pushing me?"

"I'm not trying to Brock. You got your feelings hurt and I'm very sorry. I love you but I'm not gonna let you fume over some dumb shit," Frank sighs, "I'll leave but I'd rather not sleep alone."

"You stood here and insulted me and somehow I'm just supposed to let that go?" Brock scoffs. 

His head tells him to just submit but some little devil whispers not to bow. Frank takes a breath and chooses the path of least resistance, "I'm sorry I insulted you, it wasn't my intention. Sorry, I further hurt your feelings. And I guess I'll see you at soundcheck, Brock. If not, I'll pull money from _my own_ bank account and get a cashier's check for you."

"What the fuck for? You planning on, what? Leaving?" Brock says, eyes wide. 

"What?! No! Why would I? You're...here…" Frank's head cocks to the side in confusion, "I'm not going anywhere without you." His forehead is wrinkled. Where did he get that idea? "Baby, just cause we get into a fight and I miss soundcheck doesn't mean I'm leaving you. It means I'm being an ass."

Just like that, all the fight leaves Brock and he sits on the bed, head in hands. He takes a few breaths to try to calm and recenter himself as a few fear tears escape. He dismisses them as not important. For a god-awful moment, he honestly believed Frankie was leaving him and they were through as a couple. His chest hurts just thinking about it again.

Frank kneels on the floor at Brock's feet. He fucked up. He hurt the man he loves and can't think of anything other than sitting and waiting for Brock to speak. Submit and be small. Wait for the repercussions, no matter what they are.

"I'm sorry," Brock whispers.

"I'm sorry. I was inconsiderate." He says quietly in return. His eyes stay cast down to the floor.

"Not angry at you. Never was. Until you insulted me, then yes. I'm sorry if I made you feel attacked," Brock says quietly. He wipes an errant tear away. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, not really. I just am an ass." Frank sighs. He is struggling to keep the shake from his throat, "I shouldn't have been sarcastic. I'm really sorry."

Brock sits up a little and offers his hands out, "Up?"

Frank flinches slightly at the movement. He looks up to see Brock's hands reaching for him. He sits for a moment and blinks, "You want _me_?" He asks confused.

Meanwhile, Ray is listening to his two friends fight. His fingers tapping the keyboard angrily. The whole damn thing started with their inconsiderate actions. Now, Brock and Frank are going to break up. He's going to lose one of them, and it's not the one that he thought it would be if this ever happened. 

_Ray: I am so **disappointed** in you three. Brock has done so much for this band. If your selfish asses woulda waited a half a fucking second. He was going to go gamble tonight. Instead, you have to do this. Now Frank and him are broken up. We are either out a guitar player or a god damned manager. _

He waits for a moment. But the messages poured in before he can send more information.

_Bob: what?!? No! Omg dude! I'm headed back. What that fuck happened?_

_Ray: they have been fighting for five minutes._

_Gerard: it wasn't personal… they can't break up. I finally figured out the right words to say to Brock to express my guilt over causing him to break again_

_Ray: well you missed that train, idiot._

_Mike: I'm in the elevator. see you in a few._

Ray leans against the wall and sighs. He slides down and sits on his butt. He'd pick Brock. His brain didn't hesitate. If it's true and they are truly through, he'd stay friends with Brock. 

Mike joins him quietly. Then Bob and Gerard join them. They listen to the two argue then silence 

"It's a thousand dollars to miss soundcheck?" Gerard asks quietly.

"Yeah, dude…" Ray whispers, "Miss an actual show without a valid reason and you risk being kicked out." 

"Wow."

"Alan never enforced it unless he needed money." Ray sighs.

The boys fall silent as Brock's room does too. 

"I'm sorry don't be mad. I didn't mean to flinch." Frank putters out as a tear pushes over his lashes.

"'m not. Not anymore. You're my good baby. Need you. Wanna hold you. Up?" Brock murmurs, fighting back tears of his own.

Frank takes Brock's hands and rises to his feet. He moves in closer to Brock. He's not sure how he's wanted but he is pliable. He has a sinking suspicion that Brock's fight being damped had to do with his fear of being alone. He wasn't going to push it but, he worried this will bubble back up because he can't keep his stupid mouth shut.

With a little tug, Brock pulls Frankie into his arms and lap, hugging him tightly and burying his face in Frankie's chest. He's not entirely sure what just happened in the last few minutes of their fight but he's sure as hell not telling Frankie what he's feeling now. He does need to stop being a little whiny bitch. Be a better man. Instead of speaking, he presses Frankie close and peppers kisses where he can. They are both hurting from their fight. And he's got more than an inkling of why Frankie was upset now.

"I love you and I'm sorry," Brock whispers wetly. "I will never hit you, baby. Spankings don't count." 

"Ok." Frank replies, running fingers through Brock's hair, "I love you too. I'm really sorry." 

"I'm sorry for threatening to kick you out of the bed. Please don't leave me," he whispers. The touch is soothing and he seeks it. 

"I'm not going anywhere, not without you, and I'll tell you it a thousand more times." He tilts Brock's chin up and kisses him, "You have to make me leave." Frank kisses him again before taking a breath to keep the emotions down, "But I don't want you to go either… and I don't want to sleep alone or leave without you."

"I don't either. Just angry words," Brock shakes his head. "I'm sorry I got mad over the other ducklings."

"You don't have to apologize. It's normal. I didn't mean to lessen your emotions and or insinuate that you're less than for feeling that way. Also need to watch my tone and understand that everyone doesn't take what they feel and cram it into a small bottle." Frank replies as his fingers run over Brock's skin softly. 

"I do sometimes. But I actively try not to. I try to work it out before sharing it with the class. At least, in this case. I did overreact."

"I shouldn't have feminized your emotions. Because they aren't a gender thing. And I like that you share how you feel with me. It was a dick move to use that against you." Frank says softly, his finger traces the shape of Brock's ear.

"Yes. It was. But you aren't wrong either." Brock sighs into the touch.

"Well, You're not a ditched prom queen. And I don't think your period is for at least another two weeks." Frank replies with a trace of humor in his voice, "But I love you… and why did you change your clothing?" 

"I figured if everybody was going to spend their free time doing what they wanted, I would do the same… Was going to go to the spa. Alone because I assumed you and Ray would go do whatever you wanted for the hour." Yeah, he's still more than a little bitter.

"Oh." Frank's brain processing, "You can still go. You need it. And it's important." 

Brock snorts lightly, with mild humor in his voice, "Is that a lady thing too?" 

"Oh shush," Frank laughs. "But I mean it, it's good for up here and your overall well being." His fingers touch lightly on Brock's temple. He's worried he's set the fantastic progress back and Brock will be a shell again.

"Why did you offer me a check if you weren't going to bounce?" Brock says quietly.

"In my contract with the label, I am required to go to things like soundchecks and press. If I purposely miss, let's say a soundcheck, I am penalized a thousand dollars which goes to the touring manager. If I miss a press thing or event, it's fifteen hundred. I skip a show, I am breaking my contract and am no longer allowed to perform with the band."

Brock pulls away and scrunches up his face. "Well, that's just stupid." 

"It was a favorite tool of Alan's to get compliance."

"Now it's just stupider," he snorts.

"Though, I should check the contract. It's been a while… and well my old boss was a dick and liked to steal money from us." Frank says thoughtfully as Brock's phone chimes with a text notification, "Is that your girlfriend?" 

"Emma is too young to be playing with the phone, so I don't know," Brock says as he grabs his phone from his pocket and checks the message.

The messages come in as he unlocks his phone.

_Ray: Please don't break up. Please don't leave!_

_Bob: I am so sorry, B!_

_Mike: Are you and mom getting a divorce?_

_Gerard: Brock, please don't be mad! We were selfish little pricks. I'm really sorry!_

"I think maybe you should open the door and let the others come in. Apparently, they've been listening to us fight." Brock sighs and puts his phone down. Why was it that when things went wrong, it was always his fault for making things worse? He had no right to get angry at them. No right to fight with Frankie and now he's hurt his team. No wonder these guys leave him and sneak out. 

"What?" Frank blinks, "Are you ready to see them? I don't… wanna push you too far out of my _orbit_?" He is trying to find a way to say it without saying it. He doesn't want him to spiral. The man has made bounds and leaps towards his old self.

"I've hurt them too. I need to apologize. They think we broke up…. We aren't, right?" Brock looks at him with drawn in eyebrows and fearful eyes.

"I hope not. I mean, I bought a ring…" Frank's eyes scan Brock's face, "I'm still in this until the end." 

"Did you seriously buy a ring?" He sounds as shocked as he feels.

"Here's the cool thing about marriage, there are two people involved, so yes, I did. But it's waiting until after you know, you do the knee thing. I do the tears thing..." Frank smiles warmly.

"What if I wanted to pick rings together? My parents have a private jeweler who has made all of the family heirlooms. Did you ever think about that? No. You just thought about yourself. Shame on you," Brock laughs, completely teasing.

"Well, in that case, you can have it now." Frank grins and shakes his head.

"Oh nooo. You've ruined the surprise, now," Brock teases some more. He kisses Frankie before hugging him. "Where did you get it anyway? Target? Tiny little hobos like you can't do much more than those toy rings from the quarter slots."

"Two soda tabs and some fishing line count as a ring, right?" Frank laughs, "Tiny hobo… that's a good one baby." 

"It doesn't have to be an engagement ring. Just something sentimental." Frank says, peeling Brock's arms from him, "If you want it, you can have it." 

"Like a promise ring?"

"Yes! Exactly what I was thinking!" Frank slips from his lap and moves to his duffle bag. He pulls the smaller train case thing that he uses from picks and strings and returns to the bed, "Do you want it?" 

"Maybe not keep the boys outside and then you can kinda propose to me with a promise string ring so they don't think we are broken up? I _really_ need to apologize to Sunshine and Rabbit for being an asshole."

Frank nods. He slips off Brock's lap and moves for their door. He pinches and pokes at his eyes to make the skin look red just cause he's a little shit. He pulls the door open and takes a big breath in, "Come in. We need to talk."

The guys slowly walk in, visible dread weighing their shoulders. They stand against the wall. Eyes down and hands in pockets.

"Hey Brock," Mike says trying to be cheerful.

"Hey Mikey," Brock says quietly.

"We don't want you guys to break up!" Bob comments with a small voice. The others nod in agreement.

"I owe you guys an apology," Brock begins. "All of you." 

"But. We fucked up?" Gerard asks.

"You are grown men and I shouldn't be babysitting you. If you want to spend your free time doing whatever the fuck you want, that's fine. I'll learn to live with that. As long as you show up to the required things, I'm doing my job," Brock says, soft and low. He hates the truth but it's there. He needed to lighten up the reigns.

"But. Like. We enjoy spending time with you." Mike says with a small smile, "And like we wanna experience Vegas with you." 

"But we don't wanna be part of the cause you guys break up." Gerard says

"Then why did you feel the need to sneak away and leave us?" Brock asks as neutral as possible. "You tried to cover it up, Rabbit. Might as well have lied to me."

"I was trying to be cute." Bob says dropping his head, "I don't think that, at least for me, it's intentional to wander off. 

"I agree. I don't think we are purposely leaving. It's not like let's hurt Brock's feelings." Mike says with a wrinkled forehead.

"Yeah. To be honest, we kinda thought you'd come join us." Gerard says rubbing his neck. 

Frank sits beside Brock but puts a small gap between them. 

"Logical me understands that. Emotional me doesn't. And I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Ray says warmly, "It is hard to know the intentions of another person." 

"I'm sorry for being rude to you, brother. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Brock looks up at Ray. 

"It's okay. I am ok. No harm, no foul." Ray smiles, "But I don't want you guys to break up… so we'll handcuff you two together until you get along and love each other again."

Brock looks at Frankie. "Are you going to miss soundcheck? Or will you be sleeping somewhere else tonight?"

Frank rolls his eyes before giving a pissy reply, "Are they mutually exclusive? If I skip sound check to be away from you, am I banished to the fucking bus?" 

"Yes."

"Seriously, Brock!" Frank stands and snaps, "You're kicking me out?" 

The band stands silently in horror at the idea that they were watching in real time this solid couple fall apart. Ray goes to open his mouth but is cut off by Frank continuing.

"Cash or check then Brock!" 

"Stop offering to pay me dammit," Brock snaps back. "I don't want your fucking money!" 

"Fine. Does this work then?" Frank pushes the ring box into Brock's hand.

Brock blinks. He hadn't expected an _actual_ ring box. At least one of those plastic bubble things. He just stares at it in his open palm. 

"Well..." Frank blinks. He rests his hand on his hip, he gives Brock a look of 'say fucking something'. He wants him to open it. He wants to see the look on Brock's face. 

Ray's mouth falls open. Is this a weird-ass proposal? He stares intently at Brock. 

Gerard blinks hard. He always expected Brock to do this. He, Bob, and Mike stare confused and intrigued. The room was full of excited tension. 

Brock opens the small box and his mouth drops. The ring was gorgeous. It looked like a gunmetal gray with a single diamond in the middle with some sort of inlaid border on the top and bottom of the ring. Definitely not tiny hobo material. It was absolutely beautiful and Brock was finding it hard to speak. 

"Shouldn't you be kneeling for this?" Brock whispers before looking up at Frankie. He remembers it's a promise ring and not an actual engagement ring. Sure. He smirks then snickers, "This is rather small for a cock ring." 

"I mean, it was sized to fit you." Frank smirks as he drops to his knees to be level with Brock, "Do you like it?" 

The bandmates lean over his shoulder to see the ring. Curiosity eating them up. Each man trading looks then looking back at the boys in front of them.

"It's beautiful," he replies quietly.

"It has my G string as part of it." Frank grins wide.

Mike and Gerard chuckle but quickly quiet. 

"You own a thong?" Brock asks, so confused. He stares at the ring harder, trying to figure out how underwear was involved.

"From my guitar. The G string on my guitar, it broke during the show when you first watched me perform. I saved the string and yeah… so it's kinda special."

"Oh." He's not sure what to say. He's honestly at a loss for words. This doesn't look like a promise ring. It's far too pretty for that. He's half-expecting Frankie to actually propose. 

"I don't know how promise rings work but will you be my guy?" Frank asks with a smile and a little glimmer in his eyes.

"Yes," he replies softly. He still can't speak properly. Was he supposed to put it on himself or did Frankie want to do that?

Frank picks the ring up and offers it to Brock to slip it on to his finger, his heart feels like it stops for a second as he waits for Brock's finger. 

He did his homework, he got undercover help. It's perfect. Please just take it.

Brock takes the ring and slides it on. It's a perfect fit. He marvels at how right it looks on him. Feels right too. A little giggle escapes. "Did we just get engaged to get engaged? Or is this an official proposal?" 

"I thought you were supposed to be the one to propose…" Frank leans up and kisses him, "This is just a promise. That I'm not going anywhere and I love you." 

He pulls Frankie up so he can wrap his arms around him, kissing him deeper and harder. How he loves this man so much. Were he not bound by his family, Brock would have already properly proposed and married him.

"You like it?" 

"I love it. I love you," he replies in between kisses.

"I love you more." Frank cups his cheek and kisses him, "I just want you to be mine. I have your tags. You can have my G string."

Brock can't contain the snickers anymore. It starts off small and quiet but quickly escalates him outright laughing. "Please stop staying it like that!" 

"Nope. I'm telling… I'm telling Jack you're wearing my G string." Frank gives a huge smile as the idea develops in his head. 

Ray tackles both of his idiot friends to the bed, "I hate both of you for that!" He kisses the back of Frank's head and then Brocks cheek, "About time you locked it down, Frankie.

"Oh thank fucking god you aren't breaking up!" Mike folds over dramatically.

"Congrats guys!" Gerard says with a deep exhale.

"When are you getting married?" Bob asks.

"We aren't engaged yet, Rabbit. Just a promise," Brock grins at Bob.

"But when it happens we invited right?" Bob asks, his smile gets bigger at being called Rabbit.

Brock grins at him before whispering in Frankie's ear. He looks at Brock with a small smile before whispering back, "I already planned on it. You haven't asked me yet. Didn't wanna jump the gun." 

"I already asked Sunshine. Kinda ruined it already. Since when did we do anything conventional anyway? Make them happy. Ask," Brock whispers in Frankie's ear.

"So, I wanted to wait until _someone_ asked officially but if it's cool with you guys and you're not busy. Would you wanna be my groomsmen?" Frank sits beside Brock and rubs his hair. 

"Yes!" Mike pops out before anyone else.

"Jesus, about time you ask." Bob jokes, "Of course Frankie."

Gerard nods with a soft grin on his face.

Brock just ruffles Sunshine's hair with a goofy grin and a poke in his ribs. He doesn't need to say the 'I love you'. Even he knows it's written all over his face. 

Ray falls to the side and laughs. 

Frank makes the decision that he's gotta get something to ask Gee to be his best man. Frank kisses Brock's cheek before he rises to his feet and hugs the guys tight, "So yeah… it's a promise ring for now. But I get to say he is wearing my G string and watch him squirm. Glad you guys were here for this."

"So do you do a joint bachelor party or separate?" Mike asks as he crouches down.

"I vote separate. Double the trouble and double the fun. At least for you guys. Whatd'ya think Frankie?" Brock lays on the sheets and stretches.

"Okay. It could be interesting. But no strippers. Unless they are chicks." Frank winks at Brock.

"Brock's is going to be classy like wine tasting and artisan cheese plates and Frank's will be let's go rob a liquor store and liberate some strippers and give 'em all puppies." Bob laughs.

"I am perfectly alright with strippers, so long as they are hot sexy men," Brock smirks. "But also wine."

Mike snorts at the overlooked comment from Bob, "We should do something _different and_ interesting. Like camping and tactical paintball. Or I dunno. Fun. Not the same shit." 

"As great as that is, we don't need to worry about that until at least next year. We have time to plan it out," Brock grins. "But no puppies as gifts and no robbing a liquor store."

"Spoilsport." Frank laughs.

"A whole year of you two love birds just being love birds? I don't think the world's ready for that." Gerard smiles. The look on his face is adoration. They were cute as hell. 

"Well, we are already halfway there. Can't do much until Christmas. Once we get the a-okay, then we can start planning. Not long after that is our one year anniversary of dating." Brock taps his stomach in thought.

"Jesus, this year's gone by." Ray comments.

"What if we got married exactly one year from the day we met?" Brock throws out. 

"Do you remember the day?" Frank asks.

"March 24th," Brock replies. After a moment of frowning in thought, he adds, "I could be off by a few days. That's an easy fix though. Technology is a wonderful thing."

"Bank statement?" Ray asks. 

Frank leans into Brock's body, he kicks his knee to the side, and steals a pillow for his chest and elbow to rest on. He eases into Brock's hip and rests a hand on Brock's inner thigh. His actions are deliberate but done innocently, 

"Yeah because I don't keep receipts and Jack didn't meet him until nearly a week later. I don't think I texted anyone about it. Wow, how things have changed in five or six months. Points for me for not pulling a gun on you guys again!" He laughs hard.

"Sometimes they deserve another gun to the face hello…" Frank smirks. His tone is light and happy, "How long would you have kept me a secret?"

Brock's grin slowly fades and his face morphs into one of confusion. He heard the tone but the words dig in. Was this a reminder that he had fucked up and that Frankie was bitter? He frowns and tries to decipher how to respond. He doesn't know the right answer here.

Frank turns and sees his face. He turns his body and lies beside Brock, "Excuse me, sir?" He taps his chest.

Brock looks to his husband and gives him a slow blink. He speaks softly but loud enough for all to hear. His voice is full of the uncertainty his head is spinning. "Is… is this because I didn't tell my parents about you?"

"No, you goob. I wasn't talking about that. I was only playing around." Frank strokes his chest, "Are you being mean to you?"

He sighs and nods, "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I just gotta chase those lil gremlins out," Frank leans up and kisses him softly, "or I'll send the sunshine squad in to help."

"Oh am I on the sunshine squad?" Ray asks. 

"Duh," Frank replies with a grin, "You gotta keep papa bear from listening to the gremlins in his head."

"I think you _are_ the entirety of the sunshine squad, Sunshine. Or the Captain, at least," Brock smiles at him. "You bring the light into the darkness with your joy and level-headedness. That is why you are my Sunshine. My only Sunshine. You make me happy. When skies are grey." Brock cackles as he sings the lyrics.

"Yeah. Just don't get sunburnt?" Ray tries to downplay the attention. His cheeks flush a little.

"So, after the show… what's the plan?" Bob asks.

"Are you guys going to be awake after the show?" Brock giggles. He looks at the clock. "Wanna do something before soundcheck?" 

"Yeah!" Mike replies as he stands up.

"I'm in." Ray nods.

"What are we gonna do?" Frank asks before kissing Brock.

"Shopping, sightseeing, I still wanna gondola ride at some point, and… we can go to a casino," Brock lists. "What's going to take us the least amount of time so we aren't late for rehearsal?"

"What kinda sightseeing?" Ray asks.

"Dunno. Let's ask the travel daddy," Brock grins and looks at Frankie.

Frank cheeks flush, "Uh well, the old strip is cool. The neon graveyard is cool. Hoover dam. The _mob_ museum." 

"The neon graveyard?" Ray asks.

"The mob museum could be cool," Gerard says with a nod. 

"I'm sorry… the _what_ museum?" Brock asks.

"The mob. As in Al Capone. Lucky Luciano. Mob museum." Frank keeps his voice level and smooth. He's scared with how causal he's keeping himself.

"So the Neon museum?" Brock asks, chipper. "Is everything under black light? That sounds cool."

"It's actually really cool! It's all of the old neon signs from the long-demolished casinos and stuff. It's really neat." Frank beams. 

"I'm good with whatever you guys want. You decide and I'll follow," Brock says. He sighs and cuddles Frankie.

"Let's shop and go from there," Ray says with a nod. 

"Works for me," Frank answers before kissing Brock's neck.

Brock leans up and kisses Frankie on the lips before grinning, "Let's get you some non-tiny hobo clothes."

"Are tiny hobo clothes like the smallest potato sack and plastic bag shoes?" Ray snickers.

"I'm getting actual grown man clothing?" Frank looks up at the guys.

"Aw no more shopping for girls jeans?" Gerard jokes.

"We can upgrade him out of the teen girl’s to women's, at least," Brock laughs and extends his fist for a bump at Gerard.

Gerard pauses for a split second then fist bumps Brock. 

"Y'all are _really_ cute." Frank grumbles. 

"Sweetheart, you only own one pair of men's pants… and I bought them for you," Brock says with a wide grin.

Frank sputters, "I. Uh. That's." He does a mental inventory of his clothing. _Fuck_ Brock’s right. "I own men's cargo shorts." 

"How many of your tight shirts are women's?" Ray asks curiously, "You and Mike are dainty enough to fit them." 

"I'm not dainty!" Mike and Frank protest in unison.

Brock cracks up and stands. He pulls Frankie up and maneuvers him so that he's standing next to Mikey. "I'm the expert here in Twinkies. I shall rule who is the smallest. So let's see…"

Brock walks a circle around them both, grinning like a loon the whole time. He's having fun. After a complete assessment walk-around, Brock wraps his hands around Frankie's waist to measure the circumference. He does the same to Mike-n-Ike. Then after a nod, he moves behind them both and giggles. Stepping forward from behind them both, he kneels before wrapping an around both of their thighs and lifting them so they sit on his shoulders. 

"No! No! No!" Frank protests.

"Woah!" Mike calls out and tries not to squirm much.

"My verdict is…!" Brock cackles. "Frankie is the Twinkie King but Mikey is skinnier!" Brock cackles more before he lets them go, sliding them down his chest before flopping all three of them onto the bed with a laugh.

"Does that make me the twink prince then?" Mike asks 

"Do I get a crown?" Frank laughs.

"You are equal! Twinkie's all around" Brock cracks up. His face and chest hurt from laughing so much.

"Oh, so we have to fight to the death to reveal the one true Twink?" Mike snickers.

"Yes!" Brock can't seem to stop laughing. He can't breathe and is certain his face is red. "Oh my god. Oh, god. I can't breathe." 

"What? No. We share the title!" Frank barks and playfully smacks Brock, "Get your giggly butt up. We should head out." 

Still laughing, Brock sits up and catches his breath before standing. He offers his hands to both boys still on the bed. "I love you guys." 

"Love you too Boogie," Mike says taking Brock's hand and rising to his feet.

"Yeah. You're alright..." Frank gives him a playful look.

After Brock changes back into his clothing from earlier, the band moves out of the room and heads down to the shopping area. The entrance glows a warm golden color from the glass ceiling cascading sunlight down. Gold and black and red fill their eyes as they walk deeper into the huge atrium. Giant red letters that spell out LOVE stands out as the centerpiece among the flowers and planters.

"Can I make a bad joke about my love being bigger?" Frank asks as he laces fingers between Brock's.

"Only if we get a photo in front of it," Brock replies. 

"Done." Frank says, pulling him towards the giant letter, "Ray!" 

Ray turns slowly with wide eyes he nods and takes Brock's phone, "Alright my favorite weirdos. Ready?" 

Brock turns and smiles at Ray before he turns back to Frankie and kisses him, holding the position so that Sunshine takes the photo. After a few moments, he pulls back and kneels down on one knee. It's fake and for show but it's also going to make a great photo. He kisses both of Frankie's hands and waits until the photo is taken.

Frank's face slips into genuine surprise as he watches Brock. For a moment, he panics but settles with Brock's comforting smile helping him. 

The place feels like a giant mall until one reaches the entrance to the canals. The realistically painted ceiling and the smell of water filling his nostrils reminds him that this place is special. He grips Brock’s fingers and looks up at his love to see his face as they step in.

Brock's eyes dart around and take in the majestic architecture and style and a huge wave of utter homesickness washes over him. The arches, the lights, the colors, the smell of the water, the actual freaking gondolas all were perfect replicas of Venice. Although he lived in Capri for the majority of his life back home, for the first seven years of his life, he ran and played amongst the streets of the renaissance. Rome and Venice were both romantic cities and Grand Canal Shoppes brought that perfectly. It made his chest ache with a heaviness he didn't expect. He wants to go home.

"Honey?" Frank's voice is tender.

Frankie's voice snaps him back to reality and he smiles at him briefly before looking back around. He can't take his eyes off of the canal. 

"Everything ok?" He speaks gently.

"Yeah," he smiles again. It doesn't quite reach his eyes though. He looks around again and spots Godiva's. "I want chocolate." 

"Lead the way, love." His thumb strokes the top of Brock's hand. He can see something in Brock's eyes that makes his chest tighten.

The guys have fluttered along the walkway and into shops near Godivas. Frank follows with Brock, his eyes can focus on one thing. "You should have gotten those leashes."

"There's still time. Maybe I can fashion something out of rope while we're here? In the hotel. Not literally here. There's not enough string or ribbon for that," Brock says as he browses the bags of confectionery goodness. He's not wanting something big. He wanders towards the case where they have freshly made items dipped in chocolate.

"I might need one for you," Frank says looking up from across from Brock. 

"Why would you say that? I'm not running off," Brock says with a small chuckle. They have chocolate covered strawberries and truffles that looked pretty good. He was never a sweet and salty kind of guy, so he dismisses the dipped pretzels and caramels.

"Not unless you find a Ray-Ban store or something shiny," Fran smirks. 

"Okay, but unlike the others, I'm going to at least tell you where I'm going but also I feel like my preferences are pretty set in stone and you don't really have to guess where I've wandered off to. You know I'm gonna go for the Ray-Bans. I've got no idea where Rabbit or Mike-n-Ike will be. Gerard, I feel, would probably find the electronics store and hide in there. Sunshine… his shopping style varies too much," Brock comments as he waits for a cashier to help him.

"Mike and Gee would be in an electronics store. Bob, is going to find a place that has knives and swords or watches. Ray, is going to be in a baby store or shoes." Frank offers, "Me. The magic store… the angels have led me there..." 

Brock laughs and picks out a few strawberries and truffles. "Wonder what Carolyn would say were she here. The _Angels_ , Brock! They are telling me your relationship is doomed!"

"Your pride and his hedonism…. Oh god, the angels!" Frank puts his hand to his forehead and pretends to go weak, "Damn crazy lady." 

"There's one in every family. Except mine, because ours is awesome. Did you want something?" Brock asks him.

A dirty smile crawls across his lips. His eyes scan his husband before biting his lip, "I don't think it's available for purchase." 

The corner of Brock's lips twitch and curve up a little before he breaks out in a full grin. "Just so we are clear here, you do not, in fact, want any chocolate?"

"Nope. I sure don't…" Frank raises an eyebrow. He moves around the table and slips his arm around Brock's waist and into his back pocket. 

"Okay. Are you trying to steal my wallet again?" Brock asks with a head tilt.

"What! No!" Frank's an awful liar and he knows it. He pulls his hand out and the wallet too.

"The one time I actually keep it in the back pocket, you try to lift it like some street rat," Brock chuckles and shakes his head.

"You should keep it in your front pocket." 

Brock snatches his wallet back and puts it where it belongs. "Get your own wallet and buy me chocolate." 

"Get in line if you're done, my pretty mail-order husband." Frank grins.

Brock motions to the cashier who has been waiting for them to decide if they wanted anything else from the chocolate case. She grins at them before taking his items to the register and ringing it up.

Frank hands her cash. He hands the bag to Brock, "Come baby." He opens his hand to Brock and smiles, "Where to next?" 

"I wanna ride the gondolas," Brock says as he grabs a chocolate covered strawberry and eats it.

"Ok. Let's do it!" Frank nods. He pulls him along to the entrance to the gondola ride. He quickly hands the woman money before Brock can and turns to grin at him, "Come, baby!" 

"I want the white one," Brock says, pointing at a white gondola that has gold etchings and swirls. It stood out like a bright beacon amongst the other brown gondolas and Brock was transfixed on it. He's not sure if they can take food on the ride so he quickly finishes his strawberry. 

"Can we ride in that one? Please?" Frank asks the lady and hands her an extra forty. The white gondola glides up and allows Brock and him to board it. As the board glides along Frank waits for a moment before speaking, "You gonna tell me what’s wrong baby?" 

He waits for several moments to enjoy the familiarity of being in the boat. There's still a tightness in his chest but he knows it's not anxiety and so he dismisses it. He pulls Frankie close, cuddling him hard. He takes a deep breath before replying quietly, "Homesick. This place… I miss my mom. And I wanna go home." 

"Oh. How can I help?" Frank asks as he holds Brock's hand and squeezes.

"You bought me chocolate, sooo," Brock smiles at him. "I'm good. I just didn't expect this place to be so perfect and familiar. It's beautiful. It's just like Venice. I can't wait to take you there."

"I can't wait to go there, with you." Frank replies with a soft expression, "It probably doesn't help with your dad's accident, and well missing your mom never gets easier."

"Next thing you know we'll be waking up to board a plane to take you home," Frank says with hope in his voice.

Brock shakes his head. "We face a tour to finish." 

"I know. But Christmas is coming very soon." Frank reminds him, "What doesn't match home?" 

"The smells. There's always the smell of fresh-baked pizza dough on nearly every corner. And our gondolier would be serenading us. Not because that's a thing, it kinda is for tourists, but because I would have paid for the service." Brock tilts his head back to address the young woman. "You don't happen to speak Italian do you?"

The lady laughs and she shakes her head, "I'm from Ohio!"

Brock laughs and turns back around, cuddling his love. He pops a truffle into his mouth.

"I think you might be the only authentic Italian thing here. Frank jokes.

"Probably. But that's okay. This place is just familiar enough to be a pain," Brock says lightly.

"I'm sorry." Frank leans up and kisses him a little deeper. 

Ray strolls along the marble flooring with Gerard talking about how it feels strange but good seeing them together and not broken up. His attention is elsewhere, he'd called Christa but she didn't answer. To make matters worse, her own family didn't get ahold of her. He reasons with himself but he won't listen. He catches a glimpse of Brock and Frank on the water, he grins wide and elbows Gerard.

"They are so cute you'll get a toothache." Gerard jokes.

"They really are." Ray chuckles.

The gondola reaches the dock. Frank thanks the woman as he exits and waits for Brock off to the side, "What else would you like to do my love?" 

"Nothing specific really. Want to wander?" he asks as he takes Frankie's hand.

"Sure sounds good to me! Go find the right store to get me real boy clothes." Frank replies before kissing his hand.

"I'm sure there's plenty of stores here to get you something. Doesn't have to be here anyway."

"Hey lovebirds!" Gerard calls out.

Brock looks around for the owner of the voice and quickly locates Sunshine first, then Gerard. He grins and they walk over. "Hey yourself." 

"How's it going?" Ray asks. He's struggling to keep his worry undercover.

"How was your boat ride?" Gerard asks.

"Good!" Frank grins wide as he looks up at Brock. 

"Sentimental. Familiar," Brock adds.

"Home?" Ray asks with a soft voice. His forehead is wrinkled. 

"Did you guys wanna stop anywhere else? Maybe for the wife or boyfriend?" Gerard asks with a big smile.

"We were going to wander a bit. See about getting Frankie some big boy pants but we really don't have to. It's just a time killer and an excuse to buy stuff here. Did you guys have someplace in mind?"

"No, not really. The only thing I wanted to do is buy one thing but I haven't seen _it."_ Ray replies.

"There's one thing I wanted to find but I don't think it's going to be specifically here," Frank speaks softly.

"Let's find the others then," Brock suggests.

"Bob was in the place with the knight right outside of it. I can't remember the name." Gerard says with a shrug.

"Mike was using the restroom last I checked." Ray says absentmindedly, "I know he was also looking for the sunglasses store." 

"Did you wanna join him and look too?" Frank asks, stroking the top of Brock's hand.

"Sure. But let's stay together. No man left behind as it's starting to get busy," Brock says as several people push past him. He moves closer to Frankie.

The group moves together through the narrow passages, Frank feels like he is missing things as they travel. He can feel Brock's grip tighten each time someone moves in too close to him. A man pushes past Frank and sends him forward with a good amount of force. Frank adjusts and looks at Brock. He's more annoyed by strangers than anything else.

Giving the rude stranger a death glare, Brock keeps a steady grip on Frankie to keep him from falling. He shifts into bodyguard headspace and moves himself to act as a barrier for the guys as they wade through the now crowded area. Hopefully, one of the two stores they were headed to was nearby. Another guest of the hotel nearly runs over Gerard and a soft growl escapes him. A teenage girl runs up to Gerard and giggles before loudly asking for an autograph. Brock moves in front of her and cuts her off with his arms outstretched to create a barrier. He's not moving until he's given the all-clear.

"It's okay, B. I don't mind." Gerard says with a quieter voice.

With a nod, Brock moves to let her approach, while still keeping the other two boys safe. He wonders if perhaps he should just call Rabbit and Mike-n-Ike. 

"Hey. Is it okay that I get an autograph from the others?" She asks.

Brock nods, "If they are okay with it, yes. Ask for permission before touching. Thank you."

Her eyes open wide with a big smile as she looks at the boys, "Can I?"

The group nods and smiles eagerly. They sign her paper. "Can I hug you?" 

"Of course!" Gerard replies with a grin.

She gives him a big squeeze and then releases, "Thank you so much!" 

"Thank you for asking!" Gerard grins at her. As she scurries to her circle of friends, the boys quietly walk on. 

They continue through the Shoppes until they reach the end. A slightly panicked look washes over Brock's face. He quietly ushers them to the waiting SUV. The band makes it to soundcheck with minutes to spare. Brock disappears into the inner sanctum of the arena to meet with security and check the entrances. The crowded mall put him on edge; this made him feel better. It was a routine that he could follow.

After soundcheck the band wanders back to the hotel for quiet time and caffeine. Brock sits quietly in bed with a laptop in his lap as Frank naps quietly beside him. Frank's fingers curl into Brock's shirt and hold tight. The fight between them fresh in his memory.

After the show, the band is pumped. Awake, caffeinated, and ready to cruise the old part of Vegas. After a shower and dressing, the boys meet up in the lobby. The drive to Fremont is quick. But once they exit their SUV, the sounds of music fill the air. 

"Brock's gonna say if you wander off, we're gonna meet up here at… midnight…" Frank says as the group approaches the crosswalk. 

"No, it's 'stay close'. Don't stray. If you _do,_ meet here at midnight," Ray corrects, "and it will be directed at me." 

"Sounds about right! Papa bear is protective of his little ducklings." Frank says as he slips his hand under Brock's shirt and strokes his husband's back, "Right, baby?" 

"I don't want to lose you guys or see you get hurt, so please stay where I can keep an eye on you," Brock says.

"We know. We will be aware and try to stick close." Bob says with a warm smile.

"Thank you. You know I gotta keep my people safe. Where are we headed to first?"

"I know the answer but are we doing this is sober?" Mike asks.

Brock considers this. The boys know how he feels about them drinking. He'd rather them drink indoors where the risk of doing stupid shit is minimal. However, the _issue_ from earlier is still fresh in his mind. They never did address it properly. He still believes that they feel he's too hard on them. Perhaps a little free reign will do them some good. He's just going to have to deal with it. 

"You are adults and can make your own decisions. I will be the designated driver," Brock says carefully. He's certain he is going to regret this.

"Maybe we just practice a little moderation…" Frank suggests with a nod up at Brock, "so maybe don't drink three foot-long margarita drinks… one is more than enough."

"I think that's reasonable." Mike nods, "Thank you, Brock." He gives him a quick side hug as they reach the other side of the street and under the metallic canopy with bright swirling lights above them casting a white glow over everything.

"You're welcome Mike-n-Ike," Brock softly says as he returns the hug.

Ray looks at Brock and gives him a nod. He's already decided he's going to be Mike's sober pal. He knows B is already going to have his hands full with the three other children, "We should check out that place." He points to the brightly colored casino with the scantily clad showgirls outside.

"Fine but let's hit up an ATM first. We need cash that we are willing to be able to gamble with as to keep from overspending. Once the cash is gone, do not under any circumstances use your credit or debit cards and do not go back and get more cash. You lose the money, that's it. You are done gaming. I don't want you guys to get into debt." Brock knows he's fussing like a mom over them but he wants them to make good choices. On the flip side, he won't hesitate to bail them out without a thought.

"I was on top of that before we left the hotel." Bob nods with a smile, "Left everything but my ID and money behind." 

"Good Rabbit," Brock nods.

Gerard turns to Brock, "Can I give you these… just in case?" He pulls out two cards.

Nodding, Brock pulls out his own wallet and slides Gerard's cards in with his. "That's a good idea. Anyone else wanna give me the valuables?"

Ray and Mike copy him. 

"I think I'm ok. My husband's got it under control." Frank smiles as eyes scan down the long walkway. After Brock's wallet is tucked away Frank casually walks along with him on his arm. They pass by a buffet place and bar. A little ahead the gentle voice of a young woman echoes among the rings and bells of Fremont Street. The sound catches Frank's ear and causes his eyes to seek her out. 

The young woman was accompanied by a guitar player. She smiles as each person joins to watch her sing. Frank smiles back at her and grips Brock's hand.

"I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love." She grins again at Frank.

Gerard stands behind Frank and Brock. Her voice is good. She could be a singer. Better than half the shit out now. 

"Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight." She steps away to let her guitarist play when she sees someone trying to get her attention. 

Brock inches closer and signals to her that he wants to join in. He's not the best singer in the world and Frankie always said his opera sucked and it was off-key. But that was because it's _opera_ and everybody sings that off-key. Nobody can sing opera unless one is an opera singer. He's not terrible, so long as the song wasn't high pitched, and he knows this will be cheesy but he thinks Frankie will like it. He already decides that if he's going to fail, he's going to fail epically.

Frank looks at Brock curious as he watches his husband step up to the mic. Frank keeps a straight face, even if Brock tanks it, he's going to cheer him on. 

" _Ho trovato una donna, più forte di qualsiasi altra io conosca_

_Condivide i miei sogni, spero che un giorno condivideremo la stessa casa_

_Ho trovato un amore, per portare più dei soli miei segreti_

_Per portare amore, per portare i nostri bambini_

_Siamo ancora bambini ma siamo così innamorati_ ," Brock sings right where she left off, voice rich and deep. He's thankful the book in front of them both has the lyrics and that he's able to quickly translate it in his head.

Bob nudges Frank who looks at him. Frank gives him a smile that makes his cheeks flush red. Brock's got a voice. He's good too.

Frank's focus stays on Brock the rest of the time.

" _Combattendo contro tutti gli ostacoli_

_Io so che staremo bene questa volta_

_Cara, tieni solo la mia mano_

_Sii la mia ragazza io sarò il tuo uomo_

_Vedo il mio futuro nei tuoi occhi_

_Piccola, sto ballando nel buio, con te tra le mie braccia_

_A piedi nudi sull'erba ascoltando la nostra canzone preferita_

_Quando ti ho vista in quel vestito, sembravi così bella_

_Io non merito questo cara sei perfetta stasera."_ Brock stares at Frankie the entire time.

The young woman joins Brock at the microphone. She gives him a smile and sings in unison, their voices complement each other nicely. Frank swears if he has never been more in love with his husband than right now.

" _Piccola, sto ballando nel buio, con te tra le mie braccia_ ” 

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms”

“ _A piedi nudi sull'erba ascoltando la nostra canzone preferita_ ”

“Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song”

“ _Ho fede in quello che vedo_ "

“I have faith in what I see” She is smiling wide at Brock with bright eyes.

“ _Ora so di avere incontrato un angelo in persona_ ” 

“Now I know I have met an angel in person”

“ _E lei è perfetta_ ” 

“And she looks perfect”

“ _E non mi merito questo_ ” 

“I don't deserve this”

“ _Sei perfetta stasera_ ” 

“You look perfect tonight"

When the song is over, Brock steps away and gives her a little bow before applauding her. He thanks her and hands her a twenty dollar bill as a tip. Afterward, he walks back to his boys with a grin.

Frank isn't sure if he can keep himself from mauling Brock with kisses. He slips his fingers between Brock's and smiles up at him with bright side-eyes.

"Better than my terrible opera, yes?" Brock asks mostly Frankie but he's curious to know the other boy's opinions as well.

"Damn Brock. You've been keeping those pipes hidden by bad opera singing." Ray grins big.

"You were fantastic!" Frank blinks up at him. 

"Anytime you wanna open for the band, we can figure something out," Gerard says with a big smile.

"Thanks, guys. I'm nowhere near the professional level of you boys but I'm an okay singer. I'm better in Italian," Brock says with a small grin. "Also, if I hadn't seen the book with the lyrics… I wouldn't have done anything. I've heard the song but damn if I actually know the lyrics."

"No, you did amazing…" Frank squeezes his hand.

"Thanks, baby." Brock leans down and kisses his husband deep before pulling away and grinning wide. "Alright, let's go gamble." 

~~

12:04 rolls around with the sound of Brock's phone ringing. Frank's eyes stare down each person that goes by. 

"Ten bucks says Ray got lost." Bob murmurs to Gerard who elbows him.

"Shut it." Gerard hisses at the sound of Brock's phone ringing

Brock answers the phone with a frown, "Hello?" 

"Don't freak out." Ray's voice is a little shaky. 

Frank turns his head to face Brock. 

" _Mio dio_ ," Brock breathes. "Please tell me you are okay, brother."

"Well, that depends on what your definition of okay is." Ray chuckles nervously.

" _Sunshine_ ," Brock whines, voice urgent.

"Come to the 4 Queen's.." 

Brock motions to the boys to follow him before the words are even out of Ray's mouth all of the way. He power walks down the street, worse case scenarios playing in his head. "Talk to me. What's going on?" 

"Uh well." 

"Ray, please," Brock says urgently again. "Whatever it is, just tell me, brother. Are you safe? Are you injured? _Please_."

"I'm not hurt. Safe is a relative term." Ray's voice is shaking as his words are vague, "I tried to help." 

"I'm almost there. Are you inside? Where can I find you?" Brock's voice holds the edges of panic and he fights to not outright run to save his brother and best friend. He spares a moment to look back and make sure the other boys were indeed following him.

"Security office," Ray says softly.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. I love you. I'm almost there." He hangs up and walks faster.

Gerard looks at Frank then Bob. Confusion is spread across their faces equally. They follow Brock without question.

Brock nearly runs into the 4 Queen's casino and finds the first employee he can find. He doesn't mean to sound so gruff or alerted as he taps an employee on the shoulder but at the moment he doesn't give a shit. "I need to be taken to the security office. Now, please. My brother is up there."

"The main cage. There's a window off to the left. Give them their name and they can help you from there." The younger man says with a straight face.

"Thank you," Brock gets out as he takes off, jogging now. All he can think about is his family is in danger and he needs to save him. 

Frank and the others are confused and slow their pace, "What is going on?" He asks the other two.

"I have no fucking idea."

A security guard sits at the window in a white button-down with a black tie and gold tie pin. 

Brock runs up to the window nearly skidding into it. "I was told Raymond Toro-Ortiz was here. I need to see him. Now. Please."

The man's face pales slightly, "Oh. Give me a few minutes." The man gets up and walks away from Brock. His voice lowers as he picks up a phone and starts talking. He glances over and nods silently as he puts the receiver down. 

"What's your name?" He asks, "Who are they?" 

"Brock Rumlow," he blurts. "I'm his manager and best friend."

"This way." The man steps to the side and opens a door, "You responsible for the Way kid too?" 

"Yes, sir. They are both under my supervision."

"In here." He opens the door and reveals Ray and Mike being handcuffed to a table.

"Brock!" Ray's eyes light up as he sees his brother.

The moment he sees Ray, Brock launches himself into an attack hug. He holds him tight and kisses his cheek, burying his fingers in curls. Once he's checked over that he was telling the truth and his brother was indeed not hurt, Brock turns and does the same to Mikey. It's only then, now that his boys are safe, that the adrenaline eases and panic shows itself.

"What's going on?" He asks with a slight shake in his voice.

The door closes as another man steps in. "Who are you to these knuckleheads?" The man is dressed sharp with a tailored dark suit and a nice black and gold tie. His skin is deeply tanned and weathered wth age. White hair parts across his forehead and only further points out the sharpness in his eyes. He was not a man to be triffled with.

"They're family. Who are you," Brock asks, coolly. He has an idea and he's not thrilled about it. 

"Call me the uh, _manager on duty_ , Alexander Pierce." He says icily as he scans Brock, "You here to bail them out?"

Brock raises an eyebrow. "Manager on duty or _Head_ of _Security_?" 

"My official title is head of security." He replies.

"What did they do wrong that they are in cuffs?"

"Well tall goofy here shoved one of my men off of skinny here when he was being escorted back here. So that's assault. And skinny here, well…" Mr. Pierce glares at Ray before looking to Brock again, "He's not only here for picking up a hooker but he owes the casino a pretty penny."

"I didn't pick her up!" Mike snaps. 

The man moves closer to Mike with an open hand, "Shut up." 

"How much?" Brock asks, crossing his arms

"Twenty large."

"Debit or wire transfer?" Brock doesn't even blink at the number. "I could get cash but we are from out of town. Not sure the bank would let me withdrawal that much."

"Cash is preferred but let's not get the banks involved." 

"You'd have to be an idiot to carry anything over a few hundred in cash. It's just asking for a jump. What about the girl?" 

"She's been taken care of…" 

"She one of yours?"

"You can say that. She's working the wrong beat… she's been handled." Alexander squints at Brock. He's a quick study.

"Fine. Anything else before you let them go?" Brock asks. He's tempted to press for more information about the woman but this isn't his circuit and he wants to get his boys out of there safely.

"Don't ever set foot in my casino again. Or they won't find your bodies." He speaks to the boys as his eyes darken and narrow in on Brock, "How is my money coming?" 

Brock doesn't flinch at the threat. He expected it to happen. Jack would have done the same. "Direct, if you'll give me the information."

"You stay. They get out, now." Mr. Pierce says without looking away from Brock.

Another man enters the room and uncuffs Mike. He forces him to his feet and shoves him to the door. Ray rises to his feet the second he's uncuffed but forced against the wall hard enough to take the wind from his lungs for a moment.

Brock is there in an instant, grabbing the guy and snarling, "Get the fuck off of him." 

Mike is flat against the wall watching as the man called Pierce puts a gun to the back of Brock's head, "Stand down, Mr. Rumlow. Unless you want to break your mother's heart."

"You kill me and there will be a war on your doorstep within the hour. A war, you or your Boss doesn't want on your hands," Brock growls. 

Mr. Pierce pulls the hammer back, "I highly doubt your death would do more than ruin a good suit."

"Brock please." Mike quietly begs. His stomach is knotted up.

"I suggest you get your filthy hands off my man." Mr. Pierce hisses with his finger on the trigger.

"The Lucchese Family would have plenty to say about that," Brock snarls. "These men are under my protection. And you are violating their rights."

"The who?" Comes from the goon between Brock and Ray.

Mr. Pierce stays quiet for a moment before retracting his gun, "Lucchese, as in, the _big_ five Lucchese?" 

"Yes. Now stand _down_ ," Brock growls. "You kill me and my father will watch you and everything you own _burn_."

"Let him go, Franco." Mr. Pierce says with the initial coolness to his voice.

The goon pushes into Ray and says softly, "I see you again, I'll kill you." 

"Seeing as we're all a big happy family. I'll cut you a break, instead of twenty. Make it sixteen." Mr. Pierce's voice loses its ice in favor of persuasion, "Gentlemen. Mr. Rumlow and I have some business to attend to. You're dismissed." 

Ray hesitates. He doesn't trust these men and he doesn't want to leave Brock alone. He begs Brock with his eye to let him stay. 

"Go," Brock nods to them both.

Ray nods and grabs Mike as they head out of the office. The second they are clear from the door, Ray pulls the little Way into an open door. 

"Whatever you heard, you can't say a word of it to anyone. It will put you, Brock, and Frank at risk," Ray says firmly.

"But, Brock's." Mike starts but Ray stops him, "Yes, now drop it. He will, I'm sure, talk to you but I'm giving you a heads up." 

"The others?"

Ray shakes his head no, "You better call Kristen. And then get the money together to pay him back for this. This is huge and he could have let you drown."

The two exit the door and are greeted by the others. The Ways reunite with a hug.

"Where's Brock?" Frank says with a shake to his voice.

Ray glances at the door. He sees the fire in Frank's eyes. He grabs the kid's wrist, "Don't start problems." 

"If it was your little wife, you'd be tearing through the walls." Frank snarks pulling away and turning on Mike, "What the fuck did you?!" 

"I played a little fast and loose and lost." 

"So you got hammered, spent more than you had and now my husband is taking care of it?!" Frank snaps.

A muted bang causes Ray's head to jerk away from Frank. That sound is not good. He's praying Frankie didn't hear it. He's praying it isn't Brock.

"We need to take this outside. We are no longer welcome here," Ray says seeing security circling them. He moves the guys just outside of the casino. The fucking goon squad can't touch them there, "Text your husband and tell him we're outside."

"Got it," Frank says pulling his phone out and messaging him. 

"Dumb shit here got tangled up with a sex worker and bet more than he had. Now Brock's trying to fix this and who knows that happened to that poor girl." Ray hisses at Mike. 

"Woah hey! I didn't know she was _working_. And I did play too hard." 

"Michael!" Gerard hisses, "Not only are you with someone but you fucking know that you don't play more than you have!" 

Brock leaves the office with a fire in his eyes and strides hard through the casino. He's already texted Jack about the issue he had and to do a little digging. Frankie's text said the boys were outside and to the right of the building. Once he leaves, his eyes scan the crown for them.

"B!" Bob raises his voice and waves.

He approaches. "We are leaving. Now." 

The guys nod collectively. They follow close to Brock, silent. Frank tries to not glare at his bandmate. He keeps pace with Brock.

"I'm sorry Brock," Mike says quietly as they cross the street.

"It's fine. I took care of it." " 

"Ok." Mike knows to drop it. He also knows Frank won't drop it. He'll call his accountant dude and figure out a way to pay Brock back, the full twenty. _God, I'm an idiot,_ he thinks as he trudges behind Brock.

"You better call Tiny and tell her what you did," Bob growls.

Mike nods.

"No," Brock replies, voice hard.

"Oh...ok." Bob's voice wavers. How much trouble were they in? 

Frank keeps himself from questioning Brock's call. He's learning when to keep his mouth shut in a crash course kinda way. Especially today.

He sighs and drops the edge from his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge, ducklings. It's been handled and you don't need to pay me back or tell anyone. Just let it go, Mikey."

"Yes, sir." Mike nods. He's a bad duckling but he'll be secretive about it.

The band crawls into the SUV. Everyone is quiet as the music plays low, filling the air around them as they make their way back to the hotel. Frank watches out the window, staring at the side mirror. 

"I'm going to get something from the little shop thing," Frank says casually to Brock. He needs antacids, his guts are upset. It's the stress.

"Okay," Brock says. 

Frank grabs his hand and pulls back then him closer. He leans up and kisses his cheek, "Do you want anything?" 

"Nah, baby. I'm good. Want me to wait for you?" Brock kisses.

"If you want. I always want your company." Frank replies. It's not the best flirty come back but he's sticking to it, "But I do love watching you walk away..." 

_Ha! Saved it!_ He grins satisfied.

"Dork. But I love you."

"Love you the most. I'm just getting Tums. I'll be up in a couple of minutes." Frank nods. He's assuming that Brock's got several calls to make. How he's not sick of the band and some of the dumb ass kid shit, proves that Brock has the patience of a saint. Frank pats Brock's bottom playfully before walking into the small convenience area of the hotel. 

Brock turns to the others. He wants to speak with Mike-n-Ike and Sunshine. "Are you going upstairs?" 

"Yes sir." Bob nods.

"Yeah. I'm beat." Gerard yawns.

"Yup," Ray says. He's not tired but he's angry.

Mike says nothing but nods.

Brock hugs Rabbit and Gerard tightly. "Sleep well, guys. We'll have to get up early and play." 

Gerard hugs him back tightly. It's his way of saying thank you for saving his idiot brother, "Sounds good. I'll buy breakfast." 

"I agree with this plan. Get some sleep, B!" Bob says cheerfully.

"Yeah. I will. These old bones need the rest," Brock laughs. He turns to Ray and Mikey, whispering in their ear, "Stay here." 

Ray nods. Mike stays still. ' _Now's when we get yelled at,'_ Mike thinks _._

He watches his brother and Bob head for their rooms. The two chat as the walk 

"Let's wait for Frankie first," Brock says.

"Okay." Ray agrees.

Mike says nothing. Mentally he's doing gymnastics. He's making a list of all the shit he's gotta do to make this right. Maybe he should quit drinking?

Frank steps out with water and two rolls of mint tums. He didn't expect to see Brock and the others waiting for him. He steps up and slips an arm around Brock's wait, "Hi sweet stuff." He looks up with a smile.

"Hello handsome," Brock says. He turns the side hug. "Sunshine and Mike-n-Ike are going to come back to our room with us so I can speak with the three of you. Are you going to be okay with that, _tesoro_?"

"Absolutely baby," Frank smiles with a nod. He's not sure why he wouldn't be. He pulls open the antacid and pops one. 

Once they get into the room Brock sits on the bed looking expectantly at the others. He motions for them to sit. "So. First off, I want to say that neither of you is in trouble. I want to make that clear? Okay? I'm a little peeved but not at you guys. I'm extremely disappointed in you Michael. But, that can be forgiven and we can move on. Understood?"

Ray sits on the bed as Mike sits in the chair. Frank leans against the wall facing Brock. 

"Understood, sir." Mike nods as his eyes drop to the floor.

"Mikey," Brock says softly. He just wants to hug him. He hates seeing his ducklings unhappy.

"Yes," Mike answers. The way Brock's said his name makes his eyes look up at Brock. 

Ray takes a big breath. He didn't do anything wrong. His idiot friend was a different story and Brock was too nice. 

Brock can't stand this. He stands and goes over to him. "Come here, kiddo." 

Mike looks up at Brock shocked, "Why?" He stands up and looks at Brock confused.

He pulls him into a tight hug, one hand cradling the back of his head and pressing him to his chest. "You are okay, kid." 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" 

"Because I love you. And I take care of my own… even when wayward ducklings get lost."

"What now?" He asks as he hugs Brock back, "I'll pay you back, ok?"

"I don't want a penny of it," Brock says. He pulls away and ruffles his hair before sitting back on the bed.

Mike nods but his mind is already made up.

"Sunshine, you do not need to worry about that asshole Franco who threatened to kill you. He's been taken care of," Brock says with a touch of coldness.

"What?" Frank asks. 

"Taken care of?" Ray asks with a raised eyebrow, "or _taken_ care of?" 

Brock just gives him a look that indicates Ray already knows the answer to the question. He turns to Frankie. "Security pulled Mikey into custody and Ray defended him. The guy threatened to kill him."

"Oh." Frank nods with a raised eyebrow.

"Frankie. Mikey knows. The head of security was _Caporegime_. I had to," Brock says, looking at his husband. He turns to Mike-n-Ike. "We need to talk about that." 

"Oh. OH! Shit." Frank says with wide eyes. Mob. Fuck. 

"Yes, sir." Mike nods.

"We're safe for now, but this small-town fucker won't tolerate us being here again. Which is fine. Asshole," Brock huffs.

"Ray already told me that I have to keep my mouth shut about… everything," Mike says with a soft voice.

"Bob and Gerard do not know. I'd like to keep it that way. For now at least."

"Yes, sir." 

"Yeah. It was supposed to be the fewest people possible." Frank says with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm sure you have questions. Go ahead," Brock nods. 

"How dangerous are you?" Mike asks.

"You know my military history and the danger that comes from it. That hasn't changed. I'm still the same guy," he replies. Softly, he adds, "Please do not be afraid of me." 

"He really is a good man. Just a complicated family tree and _job_." Frank adds.

"What are you in the whole _thing_?" Mike asks confused, "How are you a Lutchess or whatever you said?" 

Brock looks at Ray and a little smile teases the edge of his lips. "I'm the next _Godfather_. And my family name and surname are a little complicated."

"Oh. I'm really sorry." Mike says with a frown, "Is this going to get you in trouble with your boss or family? That's a lot of money?" 

Brock snorts, unable to keep the humor from his tone. "Thirty thousand is small change. And my father is the Boss. He's injured right now anyway and I'm in charge." He smirks. "I'm the king now."

"Thirty?!" Mike and Frank ask.

"Interim King." Ray snorts, "You are still the big damn dork you've always been."

"Damn right." He grins at Ray.

"It wasn't thirty. Why did they bump the amount?!" Mike asks. That is not much more to repay but it might take a little longer.

"Politics are a bitch. He did cut you down to sixteen but I demanded blood for the threat and lack of respect for my name and status. He insulted me and what's mine. I decided to be generous to cover your debt and to cover his… lost wages for the girl. Throwing a little money is the easiest way to get compliance. It was easier after that to make my demands and threats for the insult. The entire band is under my protection. They violated that. I got what was due."

"The girl is…" Ray asks and does the slit throat thing.

"Yes. Not something I would have done. Apparently, he runs his territory a little more ruthless than I."

"Were we being followed by someone when we left Fremont?" Frank asks.

"Yes. I've paid for our safety. More than likely, he wants to make sure I wasn't lying when I said we were leaving tomorrow," Brock says. "I highly doubt anything will happen. And of course, I'll protect the band."

"What the fuck exactly happened or are we just calling it a loss?" Frank asks the room.

"You mean, what did Mike do to get us here?" Ray asks, "Though as his… handler, I failed my job too."

"It's not your responsibility, Sunshine. But I thank you for your help. We look after each other. You did good," Brock comments.

Ray nods. 

"I kept getting drinks in my hand. I was up… really up then poof. I tried to get it back but my luck and the alcohol made sure that the house was winning." Mike shakes his head, "They go to cart me away, Ray shoves the goons off and ends up getting thrown to the ground, kicked and cuffed." 

"Jesus."

Brock's eyes darken and he looks at Ray. "They kicked you?" 

Ray nods.

"A few times," Mike adds.

"Bullet wasn't enough," he mutters to himself under his breath. He sighs. 

"I didn't tell you to keep you from getting wound up." Ray tries to assure Brock, "Just tried to not escalate things further." 

"After that they cuffed us, they kept us detained until Ray called you," Mike says. 

"Thank you, Sunshine. You are right in not telling me. I would have lost rationale. Made things worse."

"I'm just glad Frank wasn't involved." Ray comments.

"Agreed. Mafia politics is not the place for hellfire kittens," Brock nods.

"That is true." Ray snorts, "He's a smart ass who'd get in more trouble."

"I am not. I can behave." Frank pouts.

"Behaving isn't the same as navigating through the political bullshit. You'll learn one day but with Pierce, I'm glad tonight was not it. I'm not ready to start a war _just_ yet," Brock smiles gently at him.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Mike asks.

Frank catches the just _yet_ and has questions for private time. He watches Brock's face. He's tired. He did want sexy time with Brock but that's probably ruined. Can they just have a normal day?

"I really don't give a shit about the money. It's not like I need it. You wanna do something? If you _truly_ really _need_ to do something… Get and stay sober." Brock's voice is gentle and full of concern. "Think you can do that for me?" 

"I… oh, yeah. I can do that." Mike replies a little speechless. Which one told on him?

"I'd like to help you if you want me. I'm not going to say how I know, Mike-n-Ike. But know that it's only because we care about you. _I_ care about you," Brock says gently.

"Ok. I can quit drinking." Mike nods, "I'll take your help if you're offering it."

"I'd do anything for my boys. A few drinks here and there is one thing but getting wasted often is the problem. But we should probably stick with straight sobriety."

"Ok. So, I assume you want me to trash the stashes?" Mike asks 

Frank pushes off the wall and moves into the bathroom. He knows that Brock is going to play intervention for a little while. Maybe not all night but he can get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth and washes his face. He quietly slips out of the bathroom and pulls sleep clothing and goes back into the bathroom to change.

"Yeah. It's more tempting to drink once you've made the conscious decision to stop. It's hard, trust me. I want a drink every day. With every meal. It's a habit I grew up with. I'm choosing to refrain from drinking for my mental health. So I know what you'll be facing. If needed, I'll even help you dump it."

"Ok. Deal. It would be nice to have at least someone there to keep me accountable." Mike nods and takes a deep breath, "You sure you wanna do this?" 

"I'm very sure. Like I said, I care about you," Brock nods.

"Ok. He pulls a small flask from inside of his jacket and tosses it at Brock, "There's a start." 

Frank reenters the room and sits on the bed behind Brock. He crosses his legs and listens to Brock speak with Mike about sobriety.

He catches it easily and gives him a smile. "I'm proud of you. I hope you know that. I'm proud of all of you guys. I know I mostly parent you and I don't mean to but I love you guys and I just want you safe and healthy. I can't lose you guys."

"Love you too Brock. If this isn't a wake-up call, I don't know what is." Mike moves closer to Brock and hugs Brock.

Brock hugs him tight and in true Italian fashion, kisses him hard on both cheeks. "I've got your back. We're good, okay? I mean it. Don't worry about the money. It's nothing to me. You are more important."

"I still am sorry and I will make it up to you," Mike says squeezing him. 

"I'll go with him and help him empty his liquor stash." Ray offers with a sleepy smile.

Nodding, Brock lets Mikey go. "Go to bed, boys. Sleep well." 

Ray fills in the space that Mike had occupied. He kisses the top of Brock's head, "You're a fantastic big brother. Love you, Brock."

"I love you too," he mutters. "I'm so glad you are safe. Thank you for calling me."

"You're the only person I knew would help." Ray nodded, "Get some rest. See you in the morning." He fluffs Frank's hair and leads Mike out the door.

Brock sighs deeply and rubs his face before reaching out for Frankie. He needs to hold him. Actually, there's nothing he wants more than to literally hold and cuddle every single one of those boys. He just feels the need to watch over them and keep them safe so intensely it hurts. 

"Baby." Frank says scooting closer to Brock, "You gonna be ok..."

Brock doesn't respond, instead, he stands and picks up his koala husband-to-be, holding him tightly before kneeling on the bed and laying them down. He's mostly on top of him but he doesn't care. He knows Frankie doesn't care much either. A groan escapes before he kisses him harshly.

Frank kisses him back and cups his cheek. He sighs into the kiss. This feels good. He likes the weight on top of him. He wraps his leg around his love's waist as he melts into the bed. His hand moves to Brock’s neck as the other one to his ribs. 

"I love you. So much," Brock murmurs into the kiss. He tightens his grip. 

"I love you too," Frank sighs. He pushes his hips into Brock. He's unsure if this is the right move but it feels right.

"I can't lose them. I can't lose you," Brock says with an urgent whine in his voice. He groans and kisses Frankie harder, more frantic.

"I'm not going anywhere," Frank speaks between kisses. He moves the hand on Brock's side and slips it under his shirt. The feeling of Brock's warm skin sends goosebumps all over his own body.

Groaning, Brock pulls back a little just to grab at his shirt and pull it off. He eagerly goes back to kissing his husband, needing more touch. He needs to feel better about nearly losing his boys. He needs something. His hands roam and rake over Frankie's skin. He needs more. He whimpers into the kiss.

Frank’s legs loosen from Brock's waist. His fingers slip into his pants and attempt to push them from Brock's hips. "Help?" Frank asks between kisses.

With a frustrated sigh, Brock's grip tightens again and he rolls them over. Once he's on his back and comfortable, he lets Frankie go just enough to grip his hips tight. 

"This okay?" He asks. Frank folds himself forward and kisses Brock. His fingers press into Brock's chest as he lets a soft sigh out. He sits back and reaches his hands back and yanks on Brock's pants, "I'd like these off… you'd be much more comfortable." 

"Agreed. Help me," Brock says, planting his feet and raising his hips.

Frank makes a small surprised noise as Brock lifts him slightly. He pulls the clothing from Brock's body and follows with them. He enjoys the feeling of being on top. He crawls back on top of Brock and kisses him deeper with a little more need. 

"Your turn," he murmurs against Frankie's lips. His hands slip under clothing and tug to signal that he needs Frankie just as naked as him. Already he's tugging his sleep pants down. He's not sure what he wants just yet but he knows he needs something. He still feels nerve-wracked at the prospect of any one of his boys in danger. 

He lifts his shirt over his head and drops it to the side. He moves his body to get the pants off with the help of Brock's warm hands. "Better?" Frank asks with a grin. He folds over again and kisses Brock's lips once then moves to Brock's neck and shoulder. Frank's fingers push into his hair.

His eyes flutter closed and a small sigh of a moan escapes at the fingers in his hair. He presses up into the touch, his hands holding Frankie steady as he arches up his hips. "Please." 

"Please? Touch you? Kiss you?" Frank says between kisses and soft nips along Brock's skin. He wants the same thing but this is always fun to make Brock use his words. 

"Yes, yes, please," Brock whispers needily.

"I could wrap my lips around your dick and swallow you down?" Frank suggests before pulling away from Brock's neck, "Could ride that perfect cock until you fill me up..." 

Brock moans low, head tipping back and barring his throat. He likes those ideas. His head follows after Frankie, lips chasing after him. "Please." 

Frank leans over Brock again and kisses his Adam’s apple and slowly moves his lips to the side of Brock's neck, he rakes teeth over his skin before sucking on the spot. He rolls his hips into Brock. He makes the plan in his head of what he wants to do. "I want your cock in my mouth," Frank whispers in his ear. 

"Fuck, yeah," Brock breathes out. A ragged moan bubbles out from his chest.

Frank sucks on Brock's neck and rakes his teeth over the same spot before he moves down Brock's torso. He sucks and nips along his chest. Stopping at his nipple, he flicks his tongue over one while carefully working the other one between his fingertips. The moaning from Brock is the signal that Frank needs to keep moving south. 

He places wet slow kisses down Brock's low stomach. "I can't wait to taste you," Frank purrs against Brock's skin as his eyes glance up at him. Frank's hand slowly pushes Brock's legs a little wider to accommodate him. He kisses the top of Brock's thigh then the other one. Frank stretches his legs out and rests on his belly, with one hand he grips the shaft of Brock. He lifts his cock and runs his tongue along the underside. The tip of his tongue runs over the slit before wrapping his lips around the head, his tongue working the underside as he hallows his cheeks. 

"Holy fuck!" Brock gasps out. A groan quickly follows as Frankie sucks him hard. He's fighting between wanting to close his eyes from pleasure and watching his sexy husband worship his cock. 

Frank groans around his cock as he sucks. He takes Brock down deeper. Using the fist around the shaft, working together he follows the hand down but doesn't take him all the way down. Instead, he pays attention to the head of his cock while he strokes with his hand. He pulls back but still strokes him, "I love your cock..." 

"I love you. Love your mouth." Brock's hands find their way into Frank's hair, tugging and pulling for him to take him deeper. 

He dives back down this time taking Brock down and as far as he can before pulling back. He dips back down until his nose is touching soft skin. He exhales through his nose and fights the urge to gag, his throat spasming violently before he pulls off and takes a deep breath in. He grins up at Brock then goes back down repeating what he'd just done. Frank goes back to stroking and sucking until the excitement in his own body is too much to handle. 

"I want you inside of me," Frank whines as he wipes his chin and stares up at Brock with wide bright eyes. 

"Then get the fuck up here and split open your fucking Twinkie ass on my cock," Brock snaps a growl out. He needs his twink to ride him.

"Need lube." Frank groans as he attempts to reach for his bag without getting off the bed. He almost has it when his skin betrays him and sends him crashing to the floor. The pain stinging up his knees and wrist mixed with the buzzing feeling from arousal punches a laugh out of him. 

Brock can't help the bark of laughter at watching Frankie fall off the bed and onto the floor. "You okay, _gattino_?" 

He hands the lube up to Brock. "I'm fine. An idiot but fine." He gets back on the bed and sits between Brock's knees. His own knees are a little red and probably gonna hurt later. He puts his palm out for the lube, "Please?" 

Brock sits up to take the lube and kiss Frankie lightly before laying back down. Quickly he lubes up his cock before grabbing lithe hips and roughly pulling his husband where he needs to be. Gripping his cock tight, he pushes up into the extra tight heat with a loud moan. "Oh god, yes!" 

"Oh fuck, Brock!" Frank gasps at the invasion. The body waves between the burn of not being prepared and the electrical buzzing in his body. His thighs tighten as he fights the urge to clamp down on Brock. The need is too strong for him to hold off, he tightens down around Brock's cock inside of him and forces a whine from himself that he didn't expect.

"Shit!" Brock cries out at the vice-like grip, his hips snapping up from the feeling. He loves the feeling of being squeezed. It feels amazing. "Fuck Frankie you feel so fucking good." 

He pulls himself together and remembers he's got a job to do. Frank shifts a little and bends himself forward, the action makes him moan. He sits up again and slowly lifts himself to slide back down to the starting position. The voice in his head reminds him, the _boy on top means boy does most of the work_. He repeats the motion before leaning back a little and using his hands to hold on to Brock's thighs. Once he's ready, he rises and falls on the perfect cock filling him, he sets the pace, skipping over going slow in favor of faster and more frantic to match the feeling inside him. "Fuck baby!" 

The image of Frankie fucking himself on his cock makes Brock's dick tighten and a moan escape. The visual is incredibly erotic and he files that away into the mental folder for Frankie porn. His hips snap, bucking hard into his husband. Planting his feet into the bed for leverage, Brock's hands grip hard on Frankie's hips and he pulls him harder and faster onto his cock to meet the rough thrusts.

Frank's hands move from thighs to wrists in a quick action, as the mood changed ever so slightly in his husband. He tightens around Brock as hard as he can while Brock pounds into him. His head rocks back as he moans, "Oh yes yes yes! Fuck me!" 

Frank allows himself to enjoy the feeling of being fucked for a moment. A hand wanders up Brock's chest and rests there before gripping the skin. He wants to kiss his love. His perfect husband's lips. He folds forward a little and changes the angle of the thrusts from Brock. He cries out Brock's name as a weight drops on his hips, he didn't realize just how close he was, "Gonna cum. Please baby!" 

"Fuck, yes. Cum for me baby. Cum like the little cockslut you are," Brock growls out. His hips continue the punishing pace.

Frank's back tightens as he feels his body fill with the excited buzz that causes his thighs and back to tense. The words he wants to say have become just a string of words he moans out louder. The weight in his groin crumbles away with each push from Brock. His nails dig into Brock's skin as he comes, spilling onto Brock's stomach as he moans Brock's name. 

"Fuck! Yes yes yes yes," Brock chants, thrusting hard with each word. His nails dig into flesh and his whole body tenses. He comes hard soon after with a cry and a moan.

Frank keeps himself tight around Brock until he pulls out. He takes the opportunity to lean forward and kiss Brock. He rests his body on top of Brock and kisses his neck and chest before kissing him again. 

"Love you," Frank whispers in Brock's ear.

"Love you too baby," Brock murmurs before kissing him again, slow and sensual. He holds him tight and close as he focuses on recatching his breath.

A loud bang comes from behind the headboard, "You pervs done?" Bob's muffled voice calls from his room. 

Frank snorts and looks at Brock with a big grin. "I wasn't that loud, was I?" 

"Sorry Rabbit!" Brock hollers back. He can't help the snicker. "We're done! Goodnight!"

"Sorry," Frank shrinks a little.

Brock's snickers dissolve into full-on laughter. It was so cute to see how Frankie was embarrassed at being too loud! Such a big difference from when they first met and he swore he wasn't a loud person in bed. He remembers how he had to work hard at getting his love to be vocal.

"What?" Frank sits up a little. He tilts his head to the side before leaning back down and kissing Brock, "My wrist kinda hurts." 

"I'm sorry baby," Brick says as he kisses both of Frankie's wrists gently. "I was just thinking about how you used to say you weren't a loud person when we first started dating."

"I just never had good sex before," he says with a nod. 

Still laughing, Brock rolls them over so he can cuddle his baby and press soft kisses everywhere. "You are so perfect. I'm so happy you are mine." 

"I was thinking the same thing." He whispers before kissing Brock's chest, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Always, _tesoro_." 

"What happened in that security office? What happened to the guy that hurt Ray?"

Brock is silent for a moment. He speaks softly, "I demanded Pierce for his life. He threatened that he would kill Sunshine if he ever saw him again. I couldn't take that risk."

"Did you _do_ it?" Frank whispers.

"Yes. I didn't trust Pierce to keep his word." 

"How?"

The question throws him. He didn't expect Frankie to be interested in knowing the details of him killing a guy. Surely he's missing something. Maybe he was asking about how he didn't trust Pierce? "What?" 

"How did you do it?" Frank asks trying to keep his face stoic.

"Why do you want to know?" Brock frowns. Maybe Frankie was trying to learn to be comfortable with his job and was trying to get used to the dark deals?

"Well, two reasons. One makes me question my own morals and the other is curiosity." Frank states he scans Brock's face, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

"No it's fine; it's just not something you've ever wanted to know before and it threw me. I shot him in the heart."

"Fuck." Is the only word that Frank can get out at first, "As far as I know, you've not done this since we've started dating." 

"It's not. It is however the first I have done personally since we started dating. The other… well let's just say the bitch will never return to hurt you again," Brock says softly.

"Oh," Frank says quietly. He pauses for a moment and runs a fingertip over a scar on Brock's chest, "Does it make me a bad person that I find _that_ side of you insanely hot?"

"You aren't…upset… that I, uh, put a hit out on Jezzabelle?"

"No. She's a loose end that needed to be trimmed." Frank says with a nod, "She could have caused an issue down the line."

"Okay," Brock nods. "So you… think it's hot? How… er, what about…" He hesitates, unsure how to ask what he wants to. 

"I do. How? Well, it's a chemical reaction. What about it is hot? I think it's related to my unnatural attraction to Commander Rumlow or protective Brock." Frank replies, "Maybe it's the angry side of you..."

"So, it's the dominance of me and not the actual murder part? Like not something you'd want to see? Or do you?" Brock asks with a small frown as he tries to decipher this new kink. 

"If I have to participate, I will. I'm not going to volunteer _unless_ someone I love is in danger or hurt. I do know that being a part of your life means I will have to see and do things that I may not be comfortable with but I'd do it for you." Frank takes a moment to think, "I am always attracted to the dominant side of you because the submissive in me needs it. I need you."

Brock hums in agreement and in thought. "I think I was trying to ask more about the sexual aspect for you. Like do you get hot and bothered by the idea or would you get turned on the visual part? I will never have you personally involved in getting your hands dirty."

"Oh. Well, sorry I babbled." Frank's cheeks flush a little, "What do you mean visual as in being in the room if you were to do it? Or you come home battered and bloody?" 

"Watching me do it. I think it's safe to say you would enjoy me bloody. You liked it when I fought with Steve. But that's all in fun and very different if you know I'm not stopping until he's dead."

"I hate to say it but it probably wouldn't bother me. Especially if the other party deserves it." Frank winces a little, "The idea of being there is kinda hot but it's different when you're in the moment."

"And if I were to say, describe in detail?"

"It wouldn't bother me."

"Huh. Okay," he replies lightly. In his head, the little hamster is running his wheels about how he can use this to his advantage. He files all of this information for later. "We should clean up and sleep." 

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea." Frank nods, "So you don't think I am awful?" 

"How could I ever? No. Instead, I'm open to exploring this," he says as he reluctantly gets up.

"Oh." Frank sits up and watches him move around the bed before getting up himself. His ass is gonna hurt in the morning, "I think my knees are gonna bruise." He follows Brock into the bathroom like a puppy. He wonders what Brock means by exploring this newish kink of his. He's always game as long as Brock was involved.

"You didn't fall that far down, baby. Was it the way you fell? Do you want to soak in the tub?"

"I fell on my knees, they might bruise. I'll be okay but," he pauses as he leans against the doorframe, "I would love to take advantage of this tub with my very sexy husband."

"We just need to make sure we don't fall asleep in it," Brock snickers as he turns on the water.

"I think that's doable. I still have bath bombs..." Frank smiles, "Interested?"

He snorts, "Of course."

"Vanilla lavender or lavender chamomile?" Frank asks, taking a couple of steps in and kisses him before Brock speaks.

"Hmmm…. Let's do vanilla lavender. See how that smells," Brock says, returning the kiss.

Frank leaves and returns with a cream and gold bomb in his hand. "One Butterball for you." He waits for Brock to get in before climbing in with him.

He eases into Brock's chest and relaxes. His mind wanders, his fingers draw circles on the top of Brock's thighs.

"This is nice," Brock says softly into the curve of Frankie's neck. He presses butterfly kisses there before nuzzling him. "Smells good. But that might just be you." 

"I like this. It's warm, smells good and I got my baby. I'm not a wine man but a glass of wine and some candles, this could be orgasmically perfect." Frank turns his head and kisses Brock's cheek.

"You practically read my mind, _tesoro_ ," Brock murmurs into his ear before pressing a kiss against his temple. He sighs and begins to massage and caress Frankie's body, enjoying the physical contact.

Frank enjoys being touched. If he's not careful, he might wind him up. But then again he's always ready to go. "You singing in Italian was something that is going to stay in my memory for the rest of time." 

"Oh yeah? I think I could do a second performance. Maybe privately," Brock whispers.

"In that case, I'm all ears. And lips..." Frank says with the words trailing off before he kisses Brock a little deeper. "I could really show the singer how much I appreciate him…"

"Mmm. I like the sound of that. Maybe not tonight though, I'm half asleep. We should turn in. Morning is going to come early and the water is getting cold. I think I'm going to invest in a heating system for the tub back home," Brock smiles.

"Ok." Frank yawns and kisses Brock again. He pulls the drain and carefully steps out. He offers a hand to his husband. He grins at seeing his ring on Brock's finger, "You still like it?" 

"I still love it, you mean," Brock grins, standing up and grabbing towels. He opens the towel and fluffs Frankie, drying him off, before he does the same to himself.

"Baby…" Frank says softly.

"What?" He laughs as he fluff dries Frankie. "You don't like my tumble dry mode?" 

"Not really. I feel like I should be a big fluffy kitten." Frank grins at Brock, "I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I am so truly happy that you are in my life." 

Grinning, Brock drops the towel and lifts Frankie into his arms before kissing him deeply. "You are my _gattino_. And I love you so much. I thank God every day that you are in my arms; in my life."

"I was thinking that my demons are all pretty quiet. Which I think it's you. You're helping to make me more stable. Even when it's not around us." Frank strokes his cheek, "I was half tempted to crawl through the security window to find you… glad I didn't. But I would have." 

Brock walks them to the bed and gently lays them down before getting comfortable under the covers. "I'm very glad you didn't either. I killed a man to protect Sunshine and his family; our family. I'd burn all of Vegas for him. And you. And Mikey and the rest of the ducklings. I'm glad I didn't have to though."

"I'm glad you protected the boys." Frank turns to face Brock. He kisses Brock's chest. "Thank you for everything today. Not just the scary parts, but everything."

"I'd do anything for you and my family," Brock murmurs. He pulls him close as possible, kissing him softly, and entangling their legs. He heaves a deep sigh before closing his eyes. 

The following day was hectic after breakfast. The band loaded onto the bus and headed for Mexico. The bus gets stopped and searched by border patrol. The guards pulled bags from the underside of the bus and discussed running a dog through the bus. After being questioned about the arsenal of weapons on the bus, they were gruffly sent packing across the border. The bus keeps moving on towards their destination. It takes a full twelve hours before they arrive at the hotel. 

Lindsey is waiting outside the hotel with a huge grin. 

"Hello boys!" Her voice is cheerful but definitely sleepy, "Hi Brock!" 

"Lindsey! Hey how's it going, lady love," Brock says brightly. He pulls her into a tight, welcoming hug.

Squeezing him back she asks excitedly, "I'm good! You? How was the trip? I missed you!" 

"Long, but just fine," Brock smiles and moves away so Gerard can see his wife. He hopes that Gerard's not going to be upset that he greeted Lindsey first. He moves to help unload bags.

Gee pats Brock's back and passes by him to scoops Lindsey off her feet.

Ray smiles as he leans into Brock's ear, "You gonna scoop your boy off his feet like that." 

Brock snorts, "Nah, it's much more fun to toss him over one shoulder and listen to him protest."

"I'm literally right beside you." Frank snorts. 

Bob grins, "He is small like a sack of potatoes." 

"Lightweight like one too," Brock grins at Bob. "But then again, I can lift all of you. Maybe iffy on Sunshine though."

"I could probably lift you, B." Ray grins.

"A lightweight wha-!" Frank sputters, "The rudeness."

"Brother, I've got at least twenty percent more muscle mass than you. I highly doubt you can lift me up more than a few inches," Brock chuckles. 

"I feel like I could lift you but need a day off after." Ray chuckles. He pats Brock's shoulder.

"I'd give you a hernia. Ruin that dad bod Chrissy loves so much. Can't do that to her. It'd break her heart." Brock laughs and begins to head inside with as many bags as he can carry.

Ray picks up the rest of the bags and heads in as well, "Oh that would buy us extra days off..." He glances at Frank and Bob.

"I'd still make you work!" Brock throws over his shoulder. "You can play and not move around. Unlike _someone_!" 

Frank looks up from the magazine and grins, "Hey! You like my lil shimmy." 

"I do. So, Linds, did you check in yet?" Brock asks her.

"I haven't. We just landed and arrived like 10 minutes before you boys." Lindsey answers him with a grin.

"Great. We can try to get rooms in the same hallway. If not, am I getting you one, Gerard? Or is Lindsey joining our tab?" Brock asks. He glances at Lindsey's band and crew curiously.

"I don't mind sharing a room with Gee." She grins and kisses her hubby. The excitement radiates off her. She almost looks like she's glowing, "I wanna introduce you to my band too!" 

Frank takes Brock's hand and squeezes. He pulls him down a little and whispers, "Be good." 

After Brock checks them into their hotel room, the band re-groups, changes, and meets in the lobby for dinner. Lindsey is sitting in the lobby with three strangers sitting with her. She waves happily at Brock.

Brock notices the three other strangers, two men and another lady, and his good first thought was somewhere along the lines of _Great. More Emos_. They actually appeared to be more hardcore emo than his own ducklings. By the time he's halfway across the lobby, Brock's already named them in his head, Short Spiky Emo, Skinny Spiky Emo, Emo Doll, and Lindsey.

"B! Come meet my bandmates!" She stands as soon as he is within earshot. Grinning she turns to the others, "This is the guy!" 

"Brock, this is James Euringer or Jimmy Urine." Lindsey smiles and points to the tall skinny one. He rises and extends his hand to Brock.

Brock has to keep a straight face at the name. He's a master at politics and has done undercover work. And yet on some childish level, the kid in him is cracking up so hard. "Brock Rumlow. Nice to meet you." 

"James, nice to meet you finally. She hasn't shut up since the show was over and hopped a flight." He grins at Brock.

"This is Steven Monsano," Lindsey points to the heavier guy. 

"Hi. Brock. Nice to meet you, Steven," he says with a polite grin.

"And Jennifer Dunn but her stage name is Kitty." Lindsey grins and nods. 

"Ma'am," Brock says, shaking her hand as well.

"Gerard said they have an Italian restaurant in the hotel. I'm starving. I'm sure the boys are too. Is that okay?" Lindsey asks.

"Feed me," Frank says quietly.

"Frank is his husband," Lindsey says softly to her bandmates.

"Sweetheart, you had me at Italian food," Brock grins. He puts an arm around Frankie. He could totally go for some wine. He's not sure that's okay just yet though. "Yeah, we are starving." 

Leaning up, Frank kisses his cheek. 

"The restaurant is over this way." Lindsey points as Gerard joins her side. The others quickly fill the lobby before the bands make their way to food. They are put in a separate area away from the public with large glass French doors.

Frank puts his hand higher up on Brock's thigh as he takes a drink of water. Innocent action, naughty intention.

Brock arches an eyebrow and places his hand on top of Frankie's. He switches his focus to the menu and the other band. "So, how was the flight?" 

"Awful. Flying commercially is terrifying." James states, "You drove in yes?"

"Jimmy here is terrified of flying. The flight wasn't that bad." Jennifer, aka Kitty, answers with a soft voice.

"As someone who is also afraid of flying commercially, my deepest sympathies to you, James," Brock says with a sympathetic voice.

"How do you like bus life, Linds says you're nowhere close to being in the industry… must really love little Franco there."

"It's been a rough adjustment but we're working on it. Bus life itself isn't so bad in of itself." Brock smiles at Frankie and his boys.

"Brock's gotten used to sleeping in the bunks, kinda." Frank smiles up at Brock. His fingers grip on Brock's thigh before stroking the material of his pants. His little grin turns into a devilish smile. They have a patio. They are on the top floor and he's got ideas.

"Behave," Brock whispers to him before going back to looking over the menu. He's thinking spaghetti and meatballs today.

Frank shakes his head no. He already knows what he's having. So he doesn't need to look at the menu. Besides riling Brock up was more fun.

"So how have you been, Lindsey? Been a little while since we've seen each other. Missed you," Brock says, smiling at her.

"I have been pretty fantastic! Working on music. Touring. The usual. Wives club misses you." She replies with a happy excitement in her voice.

"I miss them too. I love my ladies," he replies, smiling.

"I heard a rumor…" Lindsey glances to Frank then Brock again with a playful voice, "That someone's gotta ring."

The band quietly chatters among themselves as Lindsey and Brock talk. Ray found himself watching Brock as he talked with the newcomers, he looked comfortable. He wonders what his opinion of them really is, he knows his brother is very good at masking his feelings. 

Frank lets his fingers stroke the inner seam of Brock's pants with his fingertips. He casually talks to Kitty, snickering in his head because he was the kitten here… not her. "This is my first time in Mexico. Have you guys been here before?" 

"We have. But we haven't gotten to stay the night. It was a flight to South America literally after the show." Kitty replies with a smile and nod.

Frank grips Brock's thigh. "We have done that before. It's exhausting." He replies with a nod before pushing his lip ring with his tongue.

Brock tries not to notice the lip ring but fails anyway. His _gattino_ was being a sneaky kitty and he loved it. He proudly shows off the promise ring, "It's got Frankie's G string _from his guitar_." He looks at Frankie with an unamused yet teasing expression as if to say _See? This is how you describe it_.

He beams up at him with love, "It's how you say it. I much prefer saying that it's _just_ my g string. You turn a pretty shade of red." Frank replies to the look with a sassy tone. He plays with the lip ring again. 

"The way _these_ two fuckers did it was pretty cruel," Ray snorts. 

"He means genius," Frank replies with a raised eyebrow. His hand slides a little higher and barely grazes his crotch, "Did you get what you wanted? I know you've wanted big meat _balls._ "

"It _was_ a legit fight though," Brock mutters. His heart is pounding fast in his chest. He casually reaches down and moves Frankie's hand back to his thigh. "And yes. Spaghetti and meatballs." 

"Yeah I heard the whole thing but before he gave it to you, I was contemplating like, who will lose my friendship and I was surprised by my choice. If I'm being honest." Ray replies casually as his eyes naturally fall to Frank.

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't have to choose. Nobody has to choose," Brock says quietly. He's certain it's him because he's the danger. The outsider. He's only known them for less than six months. Frankie has known them for years. Plus, it's his Family ties and mental and emotional instability that's causing the rift. He's the problem; even though he's working on it. If push comes to shove, it would be him that would walk away.

"Thank God for that. Thank God for new friends." Ray tips his beer to Brock. 

"Amen to that," Frank replies to him. He drops the game he's playing for a moment to take Brock’s hand and kiss the top of it, "But you are staying… for like _ever_. So nothing to worry about."

"Good. I don't want to go anyway," Brock says softly before leaning down and kissing his husband.

"You two are very cute. Linds said you guys were but you're like fairy tale cute." Kitty says with a sigh that almost sounds dreamy.

"Yeah. I'd pick Brock. He's cooler and plus he actually wants to go shooting with me," Bob says with a serious face but gives Frank a wink. 

Frank rests his hand on Brock's wrist. He traces the veins in his arm as he looks up while Brock speaks. He lightly bites on his lips before spinning the ring on his lip again.

"So when are you and Gerard offically tying the knot," Brock asks Lindsey. He's really not comfortable with the discussion of their fight. They didn't even really resolve it. That's something he's going to have to deal with on his own, it seems.

"Well, sooner rather than later," Lindsey says with a confident nod as she glances at Gerard. "He wanted to marry me the first week that we met." 

"I'd marry you right now if you'd let me," Gerard says looking up at her with a soft expression and bright eyes.

"Funny, Frankie and I wanted to do the same," Brock grins. 

"Day two, I think… At least that's when I knew for sure that I wanted you for my own and forever," Frank says softly as he glances up at Brock. He tries to contain the feeling of butterflies in his chest just thinking about that first week. 

"I knew you were the one for me the day I met you. Even with emo punk metal clothing," Brock says looking down at him. He leans over and kisses him.

"Emo. Punk. Metal?" James asks with a curious smirk as he tilts his head slightly.

"Oh, right. I forgot to add 'death' to that. Sorry baby. Emo punk death metal," Brock nods, assuredly.

"He's not serious?" James asks Gerard, who responds with a nod. 

"He hates our music too." Ray snorts. 

"But I love _you_ ," he points out.

"That's very true. Brock has done a lot to make the band better." Bob comments, "We were a little resistant to the changes but honestly, he's made a huge difference. Even the curfew has been helpful."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Brock gets excited as he pulls out his wallet and hands little paper cards that have been laminated to each of his boys. "Don't ask how this is related to the conversation. You have health insurance now! And dental and vision but that's not as exciting to say."

"How?" Ray looks at the piece of laminated paper.

"When did you do this?" Gerard looks up at Brock with big soft brown eyes.

"I couldn't sleep a few nights ago. Asked the Google about private health insurance. Got you all family plans so the ladies and dependants are covered too. And then I used the printer at the hotel yesterday to print the little cards." He's weirdly excited about this. He grins wide.

Ray gives him a look. He's got questions for a private moment, "Brock. Thank you," his voice is soft. He rises from his seat and hugs Brock. Soon the others join him and smother his brother with affection. 

Were Brock a teenage girl or an emoji, he feels he would be completely matching the blushing adoration smiley. He loves these boys, so much. He loves them with all of his heart. He tries his best to hug them all back. "I love you, ducklings. My boys. My very best team." 

"You're too good to us," Bob says hugging him tighter.

"My boys need the very best." 

"How do we..." Ray asks with a pause. He knows the answer. He looks at Frank and gives him a small nod.

"Brock. Really?" Lindsey asks with a shocked look.

"Did you?" Mike asks

"How do we pay you?" Bob asks.

Brock snorts. "You don't."

Frank gives a nod. 

"I wonder how their gnocchi tastes here. Or the chicken parmesan," Brock comments.

"I can't _really_ have what I want." Frank pouts.

"We'll talk…" Ray says cryptically as he looks at Frank.

"Do you have your meds with you? Did you take them this morning?" Brock asks.

"They are in the room and I think so but I don't want to push it. I'll be good. Don't worry." Frank leans up and kisses him.

The table orders their food and each other's company. After dinner, each group breaks off and heads to their own rooms. The time in Mexico City feels more like a dream. Soundcheck came quickly and the show even sooner. Watching from backstage, Brock witnesses Lindsey nearly walk off stage before doing a backbend and has a small heart attack. During the boy’s set, Frank thrashes around and smashes his head into a speaker but plays on anyway. He doesn't mention it once they get backstage and onto the bus. He cleans up in the bathroom and changes into soft comfortable clothing. He plops down next to Brock and rests his head on his shoulder as Brock and Lindsey talk. He closes his eyes as he cuddles up to Brock's arm, his head throbs, and his shoulder aches.

"So, the three of us need to have a conversation… four, I suppose," Gerard says taking a seat next to Lindsey. He picks her knees up and drops them over his lap, "I'm serious Brock." 

Brock tilts his head in confusion. They were already chatting. What could Gerard possibly mean? Perhaps something from dinner or about the tour. Still, Gerard’s presence in a private setting put him on edge. Nothing good ever came from being with him; not anymore. Not since the break. His hands tighten around Frankie and tension settles in his arms and shoulders as his anxiety spikes. A gut feeling causes ice to run down his back and the hairs on his body to stand up. He wants to leave. 

"I've been doing a lot of thinking and I have talked with Lindsey about this and I just want to apologize for the way that I have behaved in the past. I did a lot of damage and I was a selfish little bastard. I know that you might not be able to feel differently and I respect that and will be respectful of you and Frank. I'm sorry for being a dick," Gerard says looking directly at Brock. He can tell mentally Brock is climbing the walls to get away from him.

He doesn’t know how to respond. He’s not even sure if he can. It feels as if there is a rock in his throat. The words sounded nice but he wasn’t sure if his anxiety agreed with it. Right now, his anxiety felt as if he was staring down something dangerous, and if he moved he was going to be eaten. So, he just nods and tries not to move or respond in any other way. 

"I know that I have caused problems in your relationship. I know that I screwed myself out of getting the chance to be friends but I don't want you to tiptoe around me like everything you do I am going to…" Gerard pauses to find the word.

"Weaponize," Lindsey adds.

"Exactly. I'm not going to do that. I've been talking to Linds and my therapist. I don't want you to be afraid of me. Or hate me." Gerard says keeping his tone and expression even, "It isn't a trap. I swear, I'm happy in my own relationship and life. I don't want to throw a wrench in that and I sure as hell don't wanna ruin yours. You're good for Frankie."

“I don’t hate you,” Brock breathes out the whisper so soft it’s barely audible. He’s surprised he even has the air to speak.

"You don't like me either." 

He feels the need to defend himself. Again, his voice is strained and soft. It’s taking everything he has to be able to speak but he’s trying. “I include you. More. Now.”

"I know. I appreciate you for it too. But I can literally feel you squirm or you put someone between us. I just want you to be comfortable. My wife likes you and I don't want you to feel weird about me." Gerard struggles for words, "Plus you are pretty awesome and I would be missing out on a cool person."

Again the need to defend himself rises and he holds his head up a little higher. “I kissed you okay.” He blinks rapidly. That didn’t sound right. 

"Oh yeah?" Linds grins and raises an eyebrow.

"I know. I'm not talking about that, B." 

“Sorry,” he says automatically. His nails dig deeper in Frankie and he shifts his focus to his husband who has been far too quiet as of late. He frowns at seeing him asleep. How rude.

"He cracked his head pretty hard at the show, did you see it?" Gerard says gently, "Poor thing stumbled around for a minute and looked lost."

Alarm fills him and his eyes widen. He gently shakes Frankie. “How long ago? Was he bleeding? Did he seem disoriented after the show itself?”

"Uh, well. He was super quiet. Said his ears were ringing but I thought it might have been his inner ear being wonky. Or the little shit doesn't always wear his ear protection. Mainly just said he didn't feel good." Gerard replies with a head tilt. "Why?"

"Why are you shaking me?" Frank's eyes flutter open but immediately close as pain shoots down his neck, "The light is too bright in the room." 

"Gerard said you hit your head. How do you feel? What are your symptoms? Did you at all lose consciousness? Where does it hurt? Did you bleed?" Brock rattles off the questions quickly.

"'m tired. My shoulder and neck hurt. Lights are ow. Tired. I don't think I bled. I got spinny changing. I'm fine I just need sleep." Frank murmurs.

"Like hell you are. Sit up. Come on," Brock pulls Frankie upright. He grazes his fingers lightly over the red mark on his forehead and feels a decent-sized bump. "Shit." 

"I'm ok. I'll just take a nap and be ok." Frank says as he pulls away from Brock's touch slightly.

"No. You aren't allowed to sleep for the next twelve hours. Not until we get you to the hospital."

"A hospital?" Frankie asks.

"Yes. You have a concussion," Brock says, checking his eyes.

"What?!" Frank asks, semi concerned. 

"Thank God you have health insurance," Brock says wryly. "And I'm rich."

Frank makes a face at him, "Babe, I'm ok. I just need to rest my eyes." 

"You aren't allowed to sleep. I'm serious. I'll decide if you still need the hospital in a few hours but as of right now I'm going to tell the driver to take us to the first hospital once we pass back into the US," Brock says as he stands up. "Will you guys watch him? Keep him awake. Also, don't lie down."

"Yeah, I'll watch him. Sit up, kid." Lindsey says crawling up to her feet and moving to the sink, "Let's get you some tea. Peppermint?" 

"Anything else we should do?" Gerard asks before Brock disappears.

"Keep him focused, talking." He hesitates. "We'll finish our talk when I get back maybe. Sorry. I gotta… " Brock turns and hurries out the door and heads to the driver.

"You act like I am going to explode. I'm okay baby." He opens his eyes and squints at Gerard, "Hi."

"You gonna thrash around still?" 

"Probably," Frank says with a groggy voice.

"He's gonna have something to say about that." Gerard says with a frown, "Did you pick out a birthday present for him yet?"

Frank shakes his head no. He leans his head, "Problem of richy pants is finding presents." 

"Here. Drink this. Ice cold water. Wake you up." Lindsey hands him a bottle of water.

"I just bonked my head. Concussions aren't that bad." Frank snorts. 

"You can barely keep your eyes open, drink." She encourages him, "Brock will be back."

"Is Brock going to be mad?" He asks. And receives two head shakes. 

Brock returns and looks more than a little worried. He sits down and pulls Frankie into his lap.

"Why the face?" 

"Because it's mine?" he replies sassily. "And because you are injured and I _didn't notice_." 

"You were busy." Frank replies, "I do like your face but you got a sour strawberry face." 

"Lemon. Not strawberry." Frank corrects himself.

"You have a concussion. If not treated properly, you could have a brain bleed and die. So, yes, I'm worried."

"Oh. But my brain feels ok." Frank opens his eyes fully and tilts his head to the side.

"You wouldn't necessarily know that. You're already in pain."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Don't be mad." Frank says with shakiness to his voice. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, "I didn't think it was a big deal." 

“Any injury that causes you blood or significant amounts of pain or disorientation needs to be checked out. Please don’t make me start having a medical team on standby at each of our shows. I really don’t want to do that. Eyes open,” Brock says gently.

Frank groans and opens his eyes, "I don't think we need a medical assistant to help us."

"I told him that you were gonna make him stop thrashing around on stage if he isn't careful," Gerard says with a frown.

“Damn right, I will. Don’t make me put you in a human-sized hamster ball made of bubble wrap,” Brock says with an arched eyebrow. “And you are more injured than not. The least you can do is tell me you have an injury and I’ll make the assessment on whether or not you need medical assistance.”

"I'm not injured that much." Frank snorts. 

"You are." Lindsey says, "or at least that is what Gee had told me."

“Regardless, it’s far too much for my liking,” Brock adds. “We should probably get some ice for the swelling. This bump is concerning.”

"No touch," Frank says, pulling back from his husband. 

“Reducing the swelling is a good thing. Do we have Tylenol,” he asks both boys.

"Yeah. I'll go grab some." Lindsey says standing and moving to the bathroom.

"You can't rest if you want, I'm sorry baby." 

“It’s alright. I have plenty of work to do that will keep me busy and awake. You are always more important. You know that,” Brock says as he kisses Frankie’s cheek.

"So, we'll finish the conversation later. You've got a Frankie to nanny," Gee says gently.

Brock considers this. As odd as it is, he actually feels a little bit better. More put together since he realized that Frankie was injured and in need of his attention. It was like his anxiety couldn’t focus on two things at once and suddenly Gerard being a threat was less important as Frankie’s injury. He no longer feels the need to run and escape an invisible danger that his brain gremlins created. He looks at Gerard and Lindsey and gives them a small smile. “Actually, I think that is the perfect first task I should do.”

"Oh, alright. So I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a prick." Gerard exhales and nods. He's waiting for the reply.

Brock nods, unsure how to properly respond to that. He’s not sure what Gerard is wanting, other than some form of forgiveness. He does have roughly a dozen questions bouncing around in his mind regarding Gerard’s apology and their initial fight. But he’s not sure how to even address it or if he even can. He nudges and pokes Frankie awake while still keeping eye contact with Gerard. “Okay.”

"Did you have anything to say or expectation of me?" He asks Brock.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I’m not sure what to say.” He hesitates and again tries to get Frankie to give him a response. He doesn’t want to be alone in this. “I… have questions. I think, but I’m not sure I want them answered. I do. But…”

"I will answer anything you ask." 

Frank slides closer to Brock and rests his head on his shoulder. He thinks it's a little silly he can't just rest his eyes but he'll stay awake. As best as he can.

"He and I have had a few talks about this whole messy situation. I think it was immature of him to ever act like that." Lindsey comments as she crosses her arms, "Frank… open." 

“Thoughts, Frankie?” Brock asks as he shakes him gently. If he can get him engaged in the topic of conversation, perhaps that will fire him up enough to keep him awake for a while.

"What are we talking about exactly?" Frank yawns. 

"Gerard's freakout on Brock and his apologies and Brock's feelings," Lindsey replies.

"It was a selfish and hurtful thing to do. You really fucked up my husband's head and frankly, that made me want nothing to do with you." Frank snaps. 

"I'm sorry Frank." Gerard nods before dropping his eyes down to Lindsey's knees.

"We were in a stable place then you had to make it crumble because you were jealous? Of Ray? You don't get to be jealous of anything concerning Brock." Frank growls as he hugs his husband.

“Down, _gattino_. We are trying for a level-headed and honest conversation. Leave the anger out of your words. I am not going to punish him and neither should you. The damage is done and he has paid his penance.” Brock hugs him gently and kisses his husband's cheek. “You can speak the truth without spreading more pain.”

"Sorry." Frank shrinks a little, "I apologize for being _angry_ Gerard." 

"It's okay. You have the right to be mad. But thank you for apologizing." Gee nods and looks at Brock, "You have questions, please let me answer them."

Brock buries his face in Frankie’s neck and closes his eyes. Out of all of the things he wants to know and understand, he struggles with the right way to say them. Instead of asking specific things, he tries for an umbrella in the hopes that once the discussion starts, his words would flow. “Help me understand. Why.”

"Why? Why I acted like that?" Gerard tilted his head.

“I think hurt and anger caused you to scream at me. I want to understand your… point of view. Your feelings. What I did wrong.”

"At the end of the day, you didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I was the one who tried to make something innocent bad. I saw your friendship with Ray and the level of closeness and took it more personal than I have the right to." Gerard wrinkles his forehead, "I didn't want to believe that it was nothing more than he is your brother. I was also jealous."

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I am sorry,” Brock says softly.

"You didn't though. You were nothing but nice to me. Even after you heard about our past." Gerard shakes his head and speaks soft but clearly, "I took advantage of a situation and exploited your vulnerability." 

"You acted like you had a claim to something that wasn't _ever_ yours," Frank speaks with a coolness to his voice but stays calm.

"I know." Gerard nods.

“I misled you, I think. I shouldn’t have invited you into our bedroom. I failed to take care of your needs as I should have. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…” Brock pauses, the memory of Gerard screaming at him with venom-filled rage in his eyes and poisoned words on his tongue, rises to the forefront of his mind and he has to stop. He struggles to maintain control. He has fought hard to get Gerard’s voice out of his head only for it all to come rushing back with a vengeance. 

Frank's fingers begin to draw small circles. He wants to hiss mean and hateful words but he keeps them to himself, "I'll take the blame for this. I put the idea out there," Frank looks up at Brock. 

"No matter what happened. There was never an expectation of anything more. I invited myself in." Gerard frowns.

“You said you wanted to be included. You said I was neglecting you and the others. You said everything I had done and am going through was a lie.”

"I said everything I knew would hurt you. I made it a point to hurt you. I also did it to hurt Frank." Gerard replies, "It was a horrible thing to do." 

“But why? Simply because you wanted me to bed you? All of it was just… sexual? You pulled Mikey and Bob in; said I was hurting them too. Why did you want to hurt us? What did we do wrong to make you so angry and in so much pain that you lashed out? And how can I fix it?” Brock swallows hard and takes a deep breath, fighting for control. A broken, “I’m sorry” escapes.

"Baby," Frank says softly.

"It's nothing to fix." Gerard pauses, "I was angry. You were the newcomer. Everyone was enamored with you. I was... infatuated. Thought I had a chance."

"You have her!" Frank hisses as he sits up and points to Lindsey. He shuts his mouth and rests his head back onto Brock. He closes his eyes. 

"I know. I...was disrespectful to her as well." Gerard frowns, "She and I have been going to a couple’s therapist."

Brock nods, “Good. That’s good.”

"I just want you to not be uncomfortable around me. How can I help make you feel better?" Gerard asks.

Frank softens a little as he gets comfortable. 

“I don’t know,” he replies as honest as he can be. “But… I have your voice in my head. Nearly all the time. The hours and days after our fight was the hardest. It’s going to take work from both of us before I can un-hear the venom. I can’t tell you specifics because I don’t know. Right now, if it weren’t for Frankie, I know I wouldn’t be able to be having this conversation. My anxiety wouldn’t let me. I have far too many negative associations with you right now.”

"Thank you for doing this. I want to make things right." Gerard nods, "Even if we don't become friends, I wouldn't mind being an acquaintance."

Lindsey strokes Gerard's hand. She gives Brock a smile and a warm nod. She coughs and raises an eyebrow.

Brock shakes Frankie a little to wake him up before frowning at Lindsey. “What?”

"He looked he was softening like he was going to sleep," Lindsey replies warmly.

“Ah, shit. Wake up, Frankie. You gotta stay up the night,” Brock says softly while shaking him.

"Maybe no more eyes closed?" Gerard suggests, "Like cuddling but keeping them brown eyes open."

"We have 7 hours until we are in the States," Lindsey says with a small frown.

“If I knew more about medical stuff, I would know if it was safe for him to sleep an hour at a time as they suggest on TV,” Bock runs a hand through his hair. 

"Maybe I can Google it?" Lindsey offers.

"Call my mom. The Googles might give you bad information." Frank sighs looking up at Brock with soft eyes, "She is working a twelve. She'll be up." 

“Yeah, okay.” Brock fishes out his phone and turns to the others. “You guys should get some sleep. Enjoy your time together. Make the others wear earplugs if you are gonna have sex so they can sleep too. I’m going to call Linda and work on some emails and shit for the label.”

"Sex in the bunk is awkward and uncomfortable. Just sleep." Lindsey stands and kisses Brock's forehead, "If you need someone to stay up with him so you can get some rest. I can help." She kisses Frank's head before leaving. 

"Please ask if you need help. You shouldn't stay up all night." Gerard says with a nod, "Oh, I'm sleeping on her bus tomorrow… that cool?" 

"Night guys," Frank says softly.

“Fine by me. Goodnight,” Brock nods.

The two of them quietly leave the back room. Frank lets out a sigh, "I can take my pants off..." 

Chuckling softly, he nods. “Sure. We can get a little more comfortable. Go ahead and get undressed while I call your mom. I’m sure she’s going to have plenty to say.”

Frank leans up and kisses him, "She's gonna ask if you are taking care of yourself." He stands up slowly, a little wobbly, and drops his pants.

“I know.”

"She loves you." 

“I know. I think that she’s going to be more focused on you and your injury, however.” Brock stands and helps him undress so he doesn’t get more injured. Once Frankie is safely on the bed, he sits and dials Linda.

Frank snakes his arm around Brock and kisses his shoulder.

"Speak of the devil. Hello my caramel gelato dreamboat of a son in law, how are you?" Linda asks cheerfully.

“Caramel gelato? Now that is something I have never been called before. I’m doing well, thanks. Sadly, this isn’t entirely a social call.” He can’t help but smile into the phone, regardless of the severity of the situation.

"What did he do, now?" She sighs. 

“Bashed his head into a speaker so hard he gave himself a concussion. I’m worried because I don’t know how severe it is and I’m worried about a brain bleed. There’s a lump that’s extremely tender to the touch on his forehead and I have been told that he was disoriented after the hit. He’s experiencing loss of balance, sensitivity to light, and pain. I want to take him to the hospital but we have seven hours before we are back in the States. I need to know how to treat him and how much sleep he can have.”

"Damn it, Frank." She groans, "Alright love, I have a laundry list of questions that you need to answer… You ready for it?" 

“I’ll do my best, yes ma’am,” Brock nods, eager to get some answers to help his husband.

"Did he lose consciousness? Is he able to stay awake without being interacted with? Any bleeding? Weakness in limbs? Headache that gets worse? Confusion that doesn't go away? Slurred speech? Are his pupils dilating normally? Pale… well, paler than normal?" Linda asks as she flips through a concussion protocol book.

“I didn’t personally see it, so I’m unsure about the consciousness but considering he finished the show, I’m going to make an educated guess that is a negative. He is not able to stay awake without some form of outside stimulus, usually me shaking him every few seconds. No on the slurred speech and confusion. I’m really not sure about the rest,” Brock rattles off. He has no idea about his headache. He doesn’t think there’s any confusion outside his normal parameters, and Frankie is always pale but he doesn’t look like death. 

Frank blinks at him and tilts his head. He gives Brock a soft smile with sleepy eyes.

"Okay. So, the good news is you don't have to take him to the ER immediately." Linda sighs, "He does need to be checked out. You can let him sleep but the bad news is, he’s gonna have to take it easy for at least 48 hours. Not a lot of TV or phone. Easy on the physical activities for at least 24 to 48 hours."

“Does he have to be awake like every few hours to keep from going into a coma or is that just TV drama for good ratings?” Brock asks.

"That's mostly TV drama but if he isn't having most of the symptoms I asked you about, he's more than ok to sleep until you would normally wake up. No more than 8 hours though. Watch him for changes. Especially with confusion or balance or speech. If he has any changes, get him to an ER immediately." Linda's voice is soft and motherly, "What's your stress level?" 

“On a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst, I’m going to say a six and a half."

"Because of Frank's injury?"

“In part. Actually, focusing on him is helping me at the same time as causing some stress,” Brock says as he, too, begins to strip down.

"Is it stress you can't handle or like job stress?" She asks, "Do you wanna talk to a mom about it? I'm a good listener."

“Aren’t you at work? I don’t wanna take you away from your patients.”

"I'm on a locked ward. Not to sound callous but they have all been drugged and put to bed." She replies, "Besides, I'm doing paperwork, so talk to momma."

He doesn't respond right away, instead, he works on gathering his thoughts before he climbs into the bed next to Frankie and sits up. "Gerard and I had a talk tonight." 

"How'd that go?" She asks curiously, "Was anything resolved?" 

Frank rests his head in Brock's lap and snuggles down under the blankets.

"Frankie kept me from having a panic attack by simply being hurt. I'm not entirely sure what that says about me, but it's surely something. He apologized for everything," Brock says, his fingers carding through his husband's hair.

"To me, it says that your boy is a good way to keep you grounded in a high-stress situation. The fact that you are willing to care for him during your own turmoil, as a mom, makes me love you and trust you even more than I already do." Linda responds, "Do you feel his apology was genuine, and do you accept it?"

"I think so. Yes." 

"Why are you feeling so stressed, sweetheart?"

Brock sighs heavily and leans back, thumping his head against the wall. "I don't know. Never said it was rational thinking."

"I suppose I should ask if it's a negative thought loop? Or trying to plan ahead for the next time it happens? Or is this the come down from bordering panic?" She clarifies.

Frank snuggles closer and tries to stop himself from falling asleep. He just needs to close his eyes for a moment. Brock carefully touching him was like a little bit of heaven. The softness in Brock's voice made him feel like he was already dreaming. Melodic and soothing as his husband talked to his mom. 

"A lovely mix of the first and third. The subject brings back things I have worked so hard to silence. I haven't been totally successful but now it's back in my head. And that scares me. I nearly had a panic attack the moment I realized that Gerard wanted to speak with me. Even with Lindsey and Frankie in the room, I could still feel the need to run from danger. It wasn't until I noticed that Frankie wasn't contributing to the talk and Gerard told me about the injury that my anxiety shifted and put Frankie first. Only then was I able to handle being in the same room at a short distance with my living trauma."

Frank's eyes flutter open at his name. He turns to look at Brock. 

"It's almost like it started to dissipate when you noticed Frankie's hurt. Have you and your guy Sam talked about intrusive thoughts? I am no doctor or therapist _but_ I have been around long enough to know little about a lot… just enough to make me dangerous." Linda asks and waits patiently.

"It's been a while since I spoke with Sam. Things never settle and on some days, I'm just trying to survive each hour. My memory is shit nowadays with stress so while I could be wrong, I'm going to go with no, I don't think we have spoken about it." Brock sighs and rubs Frankie's back, looking down at him and giving him a smile. 

"So sometimes, our brain during its constant stream of thought creates junk thoughts. They are meaningless, it's like have you ever been in a car and watching someone cross in front of your car and a thought pops in your head to gun it and hit them… that's an intrusive thought. But you think it but never give it more than a brief moment of attention and it goes away. That's what's going on… I believe." Linda pauses, "There are a couple of tricks you can use to help lighten the weight of these thoughts if you want them."

"Like what? I'm willing to try."

"Again not a doctor but when you start _hearing_ those thoughts again, try to take a second to identify and label them. It's going to take time and you're not going to get it right off the bat. But when the idea pops in your head, think about it. Name it as intrusive and allow yourself to accept that it's not real. Stay focused in the moment, ground yourself with your five senses and stay as present as you can. Once you can do that, decide if the thought is real… has value in your life. Ask Frankie for help, you know my little goomba will do anything for you."

"I do. He's good like that. I'd do anything for him, too. Sometimes he puts himself at risk though and I worry my issues are only hurting him. I don't want to be the cause of us both drowning."

"I'd like to think I raised my baby to be the best one of the bunch if you ask me. I made sure he's empathetic and understanding, maybe a little too much but once he commits, he doesn't stop." Linda smiles into the phone, "He calls me _more_ when he's treading water. I can usually talk him down and help sort it out. You will never drown, him or yourself."

"He adores you and I think he's a good asset against these thoughts. Maybe give it a week. Every time you get them, evaluate _briefly_ what they are. Real or junk? If you can't decide, ask Frankie. Then once it's not real, let it go. Put it back in the stream and let it drift off." 

"It sounds easy but it's probably anything but," Brock sighs. 

"It's gonna suck, I'm not going to sugar coat it. You'll wanna quit but I think if you try it, you might be surprised how easy it is to just let it drift." Linda smiles, "I happen to know a young man who had intrusive thoughts. His were more _violent_ thoughts associated with anxiety and depression but he knows what the thoughts are."

"The first time I ever fell into a depression, I had those, I think. My thoughts were very violent amidst the feedback loop in my head. Sam, who was treating me just for my PTSD, got called in so he could pull me off the ledge of a bridge. He's been my therapist ever since. I've never dealt with _this_ kind of anxiety before and it has changed the inner narrative of my depression."

"Changed it how?" She asks. 

"The theme is still the same. I just mean the word choices are different. Gerard didn't call me a freak. He called me a liar. Either way, I still despise myself. The major difference is I'm not dating Gerard and so there's no love lost to add into the mix and make me feel that I have nothing left to live for. I'm not suicidal this time; I have Frankie and the band to take care of."

"Are you a liar?" She asks curiously, Linda knows that answer but she wants him to say it.

"Not unless I need to be," Brock smiles into the phone. "For what Gerard was speaking of, no. I am not a liar. I am not faking my anxiety and depression and my touch issues just to steal Frankie and Ray."

"That should be the foundation to build your own mental dam. Build with the things you know and can prove. You're not a liar. You're a good man. You deserve the best. So on and so forth. The more fortified, the easier it will be to let those ideas go. But you have to do it every day…" 

Brock nods and takes a deep breath. "Yes ma'am." 

"You are in a much better place than when we talked last. I can hear in your voice how strong you've gotten. How much you've improved and I'm very proud of you Brock." Linda says unable to stop grinning at the phone.

"Thanks, Mama. It's been an uphill fight but I know I'm winning. Got the best prize to fight for," Brock grins back, pride and joy in his voice.

"Is that prize a maybe, black and blond-haired, honey-colored eyes, 120 pounds with a bad attitude and heart of gold?" She asks. 

"Yes ma'am. Except all his blonde is gone. It was very shocking to see," Brock laughs.

"What? Why?" She laughs quietly.

"Why the change or why it freaked me out a little?" 

"Both. Actually."

"He and the other ducklings made a music video set in WW2. And it was weird because I've never seen him as anything else but the dual tones. I'm still getting used to it," Brock laughs again.

"I would put money on it, that he is trying to look more presentable as well as the music video. I know my kid, he's probably making plans."

"But I liked the blonde. I mean, I like whatever color he is, but it's just what I'm so used to. He doesn't need to look extra anything for me. I've gotten used to the tiny hobo punk look. It's cute." Brock grins down at Frankie. He tries not to panic at seeing his sleeping form.

"I know you do honey. He is probably planning for something happening in like four months or so?" 

"Oh," Brock says softly. Yeah, he forgot about that. 

"He hasn't forgotten. He's been asking me all kinds of questions that make me think he's getting ready for it." She sighs as she leans back in her chair, "Is he sleeping?" 

"Yeah. Should I wake him?" Panic enters his voice and head again. He doesn't want his husband to die! It screams at him that he's not doing it right and he's going to lose Frankie.

"No, no. As long as he's breathing, he's fine. He needs rest, it will help heal his brain. Dummy needs to be careful. Do you guys have a show tomorrow?" Linda says calmly.

"Yes, in Shreveport, Louisiana. Hopefully, we can make it on time, depending on how long it takes at the hospital. I told him that I was going to start keeping medical services on standby at each show if he keeps this shit up."

"As a medical professional and his mom, I don't think he should be going on stage tonight. Not with how much he moves." Linda winces, she knows he is not going to like that.

"Well. He'll either stand still or not perform. I could strap him into a chair and he can play sitting down," Brock chuckles at the ridiculousness of his statement.

"Yeah cause he is going to be _so_ willing to agree with that. I know my kid and I don't think he's going to be able to stand still. I would get him looked at when you get to the states." Linda says with a full laugh, "He'll bitch either way."

Brock snorts and frowns. "I have no problem canceling the show or finding him a replacement. He'll comply just on those grounds alone. I'm not going to put his health at risk for anyone or anything." 

"Which is why I trust you with him completely." Linda replies, "besides I know those boys can use a break anyway." 

"Of course. I'll see what the doctor says and go from there. I might just cancel it anyway. Maybe reschedule it for the next day and take a flight to Tennessee."

"I would put money on it that you could talk the other boys into getting behind it too. Especially, with his injury. A little help doesn't hurt." Linda adds.

"True. Though if push comes to shove, I'll play dirty and use the boss card. I still need to notify the label of his injury and the delay. They may make a decision that overrides mine so we'll see. I'm not worried about it. They seem to trust me and my judgment," Brock says as he leans over and grabs his laptop. Might as well start the emails now.

"You know what else you should do?" 

"Call you with an update?" He's not sure what she's looking for here but he tries. He wants to be a good son-in-law.

"And call your own mom." 

"Yes ma'am." 

"I love you, sweetheart, you're doing a great job and I'm very proud of you for all the progress you've made." Linda says softly, "Crazy Carolyn asked about you." 

Brock giggles quietly. "Oh yeah? What did she say this time?" 

"There's a baby! Oh but there's so much heartache… oh the angels!" Linda does an impression of Carolyn, "She's convinced that one of you knocked someone up." 

"Well that would be hard considering both Frankie and I are mutually exclusive and unless Frankie is secretly a woman inside, he's not pregnant. And his ex isn't either, that I'm aware of."

"Wouldn't be Frankie's anyway. She's a crazy old bat. But I have to do rounds love. So, call me and update me on Frank. Call your mom and get some rest. You need it too, okay?" Linda says with a distinct mom voice.

"Yes ma'am. Will do. Thanks for listening to me."

After he hangs up with Linda, Brock spends the next several hours going through emails from the label and emptying out all the junk shit that never seems to go away. He sends Lauren an email detailing Frankie's injury, his intended next steps, and his proposal regarding the show in Shreveport. He promises to update her with the medical diagnosis and follow up later. Once that is finished, he checks in with his family and calls his mom as promised. One hand never leaves Frankie's chest or back just so he can know his husband is still breathing. Before he knows it, the bus slows down as they pull into the hospital, bright sun shining in through the bus and under his door. He feels the bus stop and he gently wakes Frankie up.

Frank slowly opens his eyes and groans. 

"Easy, baby. Take it nice and slow. How are you feeling?" Brock says whisper soft as to keep him from hurting more from the headache he probably has.

"My head hurts. Did you sleep?" He asks a little whiny.

"I will in a bit. I need you to get up so I can put clothing on you. Help me out, baby," Brock says gently, putting away his things. He slides out of the bed and grabs Frankie cleaner clothes for the day before moving to dress his husband.

"Ok. Where are we?" Frank nods. He crawls out of bed slowly. His upper body aches, he offers a hand to Brock and takes a deep breath. 

"Laredo Medical Center. The first hospital once we crossed the border." Brock has Frankie sit on the edge of the bed and slips a shirt on him. He grabs loose pants because now is not the time for skinny jeans. He forces himself to put shoes on his boyfriend simply because he's sure Frankie would protest about being carried everywhere.

"What did my mom say?" Frank asks. He's too tired to protest. He just wants to snuggle with Brock.

"To get you checked out." He struggles to get the shoes on so he just forgets about it and carries Frankie in a cradle as gently as he can. Thankfully he hasn't unloaded his pockets or stripped down so he can just walk out of the room and head towards the front.

"Baby." Frank says softly, "I can put shoes on if you need help..." 

"Probably shouldn't be walking anyway," Brock whispers as he carefully maneuvers them past the bunks. 

Gerard pokes his head out of the bunk, "You need help?" He asks.

"Shit, did I wake you? I'm sorry," Brock says. "I think I'm okay."

"You sure?" Gerard asks, "I was awake." 

"Uh, maybe…. Yeah… okay. Can you grab a wheelchair?" Brock asks. He squeezes by in the kitchen and gets stuck for a moment before he's through and at the door. The door that is currently shut and missing a driver who didn't bother to hang around. If it were any other time, Brock wouldn't give a shit but right now, he's at the edge of a panic attack and all he can think about is how much he hates the driver for being a motherfucking asshole for abandoning them.

Gerard crawls out of the bunk and follows Brock. He presses the button to open the door. He scurries to the hospital entrance then rushes back to Brock. "I can go get him shoes," he offers.

"Please, Gee," Frank says looking up at Brock as he is set down in the wheelchair.

"Thanks. I'm going to get him checked in," Brock says as he pushes Frankie towards the entrance.

Gee nods and rushes back to the bus. He grabs Frank's shoes and sunglasses. He hurries back to the two of them, he can hear Frank growling about it.

"You need to relax, baby," Frank says softly.

"Head injuries are not to be dismissed. And I'm not taking yours lightly," he says as he waits in line to get checked-in.

"Ok. Ok. I won't push it." Frank sighs, he's too tired and achy to fight, "Maybe just hold my hand?" 

Gerard sits in the waiting area and watches as the nurse behind the desk hands Brock a clipboard with a sleepy smile. He listens to Brock ask Frank questions, in the back of his head, he knows Brock would rather he be Ray but maybe this can open him up to being less _stressed_ around him. 

"I'm not a hemophiliac." Frank sighs and rests his head in his palm. He watches Brock writing on the paper. "You have nice handwriting." 

"Thanks, baby." He quickly fills out the rest of the questions easily, the only thing he didn't know is the medical history. He rises and turns it in. He returns to sit next to Frankie and hold his hand, biting his lip.

"What's wrong?" Frank asks before kissing his hand.

"I don't want to have to wait," Brock says wryly. He leans over and kisses his husband's lips and forehead gently. "I realized something while I was filling out the paperwork; I have no legal rights yet because we aren't actually married yet. It kinda hurt."

"Baby. Soon."

"If something were to seriously happen to you, I'd be powerless to help. I don't– I'm not sure I'd be– I'm not ok with that. I'm not okay if you go back there and don't come back out because I don't have a say in what happens."

"Is there… is there options out there? Other than marriage at the moment." Frank squeezes his hand.

"The only one I can think of is Medical Power of Attorney. But I'm not sure what to do there or how long the process takes. We'd have to ask the lawyer if it's worth it to start the process or just get married. Either way, nothing will help today."

"I'm just gonna say that I don't think that I will be staying here. I'm going home with you… but it might not be a bad idea to look into." Frank replies 

Brock gives him a frown. Did he just say that once they were married, they were going to live in Italy? He's not sure how he feels about that. He wants Frankie to keep being in the band. Maybe they shouldn't get married right away after all….

They sit in companionable silence, Brock trying hard to stay still as he waits for Frank to be called back. He checks his phone multiple times to see if Lauren ever emailed him back. As time passes, he gets more antsy, so much that he makes it a point to get up and walk around a few times. He grabs a bottle of water and some peanuts out of a vending machine as a snack for him and the boys. When he returns, he notices that Gerard is alone.

"Where is he?" Brock asks, a little panicked.

"They just took him back," Gerard says softly. 

With a groan, Brock sits down in his spot and offers one of the bags of peanuts to Gerard. He hates waiting.

"Want a water?" He offers Brock a bottle as he takes a bag, "Thank you." 

"That's funny," he says, holding up his water bottle for him to see.

"Huh. Great minds." Gerard chuckles and pauses for a moment, "He's gonna be ok, I know it is hard to think straight at the moment but he's a sturdy kid." 

"Oh, I've never thought straight. It's more of a brightly-colored curve…" Brock uses his hand to illustrate his words. His knee begins to bounce hard and fast. What was taking so long?

"Brightly colored and glittery?" Gerard asks.

~~

Frank sits on the drab grey plastic bed with a loose white sheet feeling antsy. The older blonde nurse with bright green eyes who takes his vitals gives him a smile. Her name badge reads Donna with a green star on it.

"Nervous?" She asks as she writes on his paperwork.

"I am waiting for my husband," Frank replies quietly. 

"Oh. Where… where is he?" She tilts her head.

"He went to the restroom and then I got taken back." He frowns. 

"How about when the intake nurse takes your information, I go grab him?" She suggests.

"He's probably the tall tan one pacing the waiting room with my brother, the shorter dark-haired one," Frank says leaning back in the bed. 

"What are we here for? Concussion? Do you have any pain?" She asks.

"Head hurts, neck and shoulders too." He replies, "His name is Brock."

"Alright sweetheart. We'll probably take you back for an MRI. So, Callie here is going to get your insurance information as well as medical power of attorney. I'll go grab your husband. Try to relax, honey." A small brunette with a big smile and steps into his room as Nurse Donna leaves. Frank gives her a weak smile.

He feels like shit.

~~

"Yep," he replies to Gerard.

"Brock Iero?" A nurse asks as she steps out and looks around.

Brock stands, uncaring about the incorrect last name. He approaches her. "Yes. Hello." 

"Your husband has asked for you. Did you wanna go back?" She asks with a tender expression on her face. She can see his panic just by his eyes alone, "Do you think his brother would want to come back as well?" 

"Thank you," Brock breathes out as a sigh of relief. He turns to Gerard. "Gerard, wanna come with?" 

"Sure. If that's cool with you, B?" 

"Come on," Brock says, motioning to him to follow.

Gerard is at his side quickly. He sure as fuck doesn't want to wait there alone… he's happy to be included.

The nurse takes them through the door and into the emergency room. They pass by several doors and stop at the end of the hall. She pushes back the curtain to reveal Frank sitting in the bed with arms across his chest. He grins wide at the sight of Brock, "Baby!" 

Brock goes to him and envelopes him in a firm but not too tight hug. "You feeling alright, _tesoro_? Did they do anything yet?" 

"Just my vitals and insurance." Frank hugs him back, "You ok?"

"Yeah. What now?"

"I'm getting a scan. Then the doctors going to tell me what's going on." 

"Okay." He hugs Frankie again, burying his face in his love's neck. He hates hospitals. Hates the waiting. Hates not knowing.

"Honey. I'm ok." Frank wraps arms around Brock and kisses his cheek. He whispers in his ear, "You smell like peanut butter." 

Gerard takes a seat and waits quietly. He glances around the room. Hospitals creep him out and seeing Frank looking smaller and paler, makes him uncomfortable.

A tech in green scrubs comes in, "Frank Lero?" He asks with a disgruntled voice. He flips the paper on his clipboard and looks up then sighs. 

"Yeah. That's me." 

"Let's get _you_ to the rad lab." He says with a flat tone. He presses pedals on the bed and pauses, "You have to stay here, sir." 

Brock glares at the man, fingers tightening around Frankie possessively. He wants to tell the asshole that should he hurt his husband…. 

"I'll be right back," Frank whispers. The man pushes the bed slightly and waits. He's clearly not thrilled about his job.

"We will be right here," Brock growls low at the tech. "Waiting for him to return." 

Fifty-five minutes later and Frank is wheeled back into the room. He's got an orange juice in hand and somehow looks worse. The tech still looks pissed as he stamps down the pedal and trudges out, "There you go, Mr. Lero." 

"It's Iero. And your bedside manner sucks ass!" Brock calls after him with a snarl. He moves to Frankie and wraps one arm around him, kissing his forehead gently. "Asshole. Did he hurt you?" 

"No. I got nauseous in the machine. It's loud and cramped." Frank says softly.

"Please tell me you puked on _him_ ," Brock grumbles. He officially hates the tech.

"I did. Then cried, it's been a _good_ morning." Frank sighs.

Brock's heart breaks and he tries to pull his husband into his arms as close as possible. He presses their heads together and kisses him softly. "I'm so sorry baby." 

"It's ok. I'm ok, you're ok." Frank whispers and kisses him, "I didn't think you were gonna let me sleep last night." 

"I wasn't. But your mom said you could based on your symptoms. So long as you kept breathing…" Brock trails off, frowning. He kisses him again.

"You're gonna sleep until showtime tonight okay?" Frank says with a small nod.

Brock shakes his head. "I can't. I still have to wait for Lauren to get back to me and I need to figure out how to reschedule tonight's show. Your mom said you can't go on tonight until you are better. It's too dangerous."

"Oh. Then that's good. Longer to rest, with me then." He kisses Brock's cheek.

Frankie must really feel like shit if he didn't protest his cancellation of the show. It scares Brock more now that he realizes his husband is seriously injured. He leans over, nearly to the point of climbing into the bed with him, just so he can bury his face in his husband's neck.

"B, I can call Lauren, if you'd like?" Gerard asks softly.

"Did you wanna get in the bed. There's room, I'm little enough." Frank asks before Brock can respond to Gee.

"I'm just waiting on an email. I'll check on it later, thank you though," Brock says softly. He turns to Frankie. "I feel like they would probably kick me out if I tried. Plus, I dunno what the weight limit is for this. I'll be okay, _tesoro_."

"600 lbs." Gerard comments.

"They're going to give me a test where they check my eyes to see if it does something and then I should be free to go with you. So I can get you in bed and snuggle." Frank tries to comfort Brock.

Brock's phone chirps. With a sigh, he pulls it out of his pocket and checks the notification. His eyes take a moment to focus on the email notification. Frowning, he opens it and begins to read. He mutters, "She responded." 

_📧 Lauren:_

_Brock,_

_Please send me a report of what happened, photos of his injury as well as a doctor's note. We are going to cancel the show depending on what the hospital says. There is a possibility that the show will just be pushed into another week at the end of the tour. I will keep you posted. I have attached an incident report form that you and he need to sign as well as anyone who was a first-hand witness to verify the claim._

_Lots of Love,_

_L._

Sighing, Brock closes the email and opens his camera to take the necessary photos. He snaps a few pictures of the lump that was now beginning to turn shades of blue and purple. "Lauren needs photos, the doctor report, and we have to fill out an incident report. Any witnesses have to do the same. She's going to decide what to do about the show."

"It's one less thing on your plate, baby." Frank strokes the side of Brock's face with his thumb. Nurse Donna returns with a soft smile.

"Hi Frank, how are we feeling?" She asks as she checks his vitals again.

"Not great. Ready to leave." Frank sighs not looking at Donna. His eyes focus on Brock.

"Doc's gonna come in and check your pupil response and talk about the MRI. Then maybe, if you say please, we can let you go." She gently jokes, "Did you want another OJ? You guys want something? I can get it from the vending machine."

"Oj is good if it's not too much trouble," Frank asks and receives a nod.

"Does the vending machine have canned coffee?" Brock asks. 

"I can get you freshly brewed coffee, does that work?" Nurse Donna asks.

He nods, "Please. Thank you."

"Sure thing, hon. How do you take it?" 

"I'll take whatever you have, with some sugar if you have some. Regular, please." 

"Of course, cream? And you?" She looks at Gerard who shakes his head no.

"No, thank you." Brock smiles at the nurse.

"Gimme a few minutes, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, sugar." She pats Frank's knee and disappears out of the room.

"I like her," Frank says softly.

"She reminds me of Linda. Which, I promised I would call her once we get definitive answers." Brock pulls away from Frankie, kissing him before heading to the door. "I'll be right back, love." 

"Okay," Frank replies with a nod.

Brock pushes the curtain aside and slips out, closing it behind him. He makes his way down the hall towards the bathroom.

"He was a wreck huh?" Frank asks.

"Yup. Couldn't sit still. He was groany. Sighy. Practically flew when the nurse called for him." Gerard replies, "He didn't correct her when she called him Brock Iero."

"Has a nice ring to it." Frank grins but winces a little.

"He really was scared, Frank." 

"I know. He dressed me this morning." Frank smirks. A tall man in a white coat enters the room, "Frank?" 

"Last I checked." Frank quips back.

"Dr. Winchester. I'm here to check some of your neurological responses." He says, "Your head still hurting? How's your neck and shoulders?"

"Uh yeah, on all three," Frank says leaning his head back.

"Alright kiddo, were gonna do a few tests," The doctor pulls up the stool and scoots to the edge of the bed, "Young man, can you flip the lights?" 

The door opens and Brock enters, softly shutting the giant woodblock on hinges behind him with a click. He approaches the bed. "Hi. I take it you're the doctor?" 

"Dr. Winchester. And you are?" He offers his hand to Brock.

"Brock. His fianceé, legally speaking," he replies as he shakes his hand. He moves to Frankie and takes his hand.

"We are just about to do some quick tests to see where Frank is at." He says with a nod. He looks at Gerard and nods. Gee turns off the light and the doctor takes a breath, "I'm gonna check his pupil response to light, make sure it's normal. Then we'll go from there." 

"Give em hell, Doc." Frank sighs as the doctor shines a little flashlight in his face, "Make your head hurt worse?" 

"Yeah, a little," Frank answers in a whisper.

"We'll get you something for the pain." The doctor says, "Lights please." After a few more tests, the doctor excused himself and Donna returns with drinks. It takes another twenty minutes to get answers.

"No massive head trauma. He's got a concussion for sure. He needs to take it easy for a minimum of 24 hours." The doctor explains, "He needs to be careful for the next few weeks. No headbanging or rollercoaster rides. We're gonna send you home with something for the pain. Donna is gonna come back with your paperwork and discharge papers. Think you can scrounge up some bubble wrap for him?"

"Yes sir," Brock says seriously. He's not sure how he's going to keep Frankie safe but he'll find a way.

"I think he just might." Frank gives Brock a look, "And a helmet."

"Sit tight gents. You'll be outta here in no time." The doctor disappears out the door.

"I'm not wearing bubble wrap." Frank looks at Brock once the doctor leaves.

"You will if I tape it to you. As it is, I'm going to put pads on you and maybe that helmet. I'm seriously considering strapping you to a chair and you can play sitting down. You don't need to move to enjoy the music," Brock comments as he leans on the bed.

"Oh, you're very cute." Frank turns his body to face Brock. He starts to slide from the bed.

"No. Stay put until they say we can go." 

"But. I wanna go." Frank pouts.

"Frankie," he sighs. "Just sit until they say you can leave. Please."

"Yes, sir." Frank sits back on the bed. It feels like forever before the nurse comes in with a wheelchair and discharge papers. He grumbles, "I _can_ walk." 

"Get in the chair, Frank," Gerard says standing and stretching. He watches Frank grumpily comply, "Maybe you can wheel yourself out." 

"It's hospital policy that all patients with head injuries have to get wheeled out by the husband," Brock jokes with a tired grin.

"Fine. But can I walk to the bus?" Frank asks as he looks up at him.

"Only if you aren't dizzy or too light-headed or in a lot of pain. I don't want to make things worse." Brock squeezes his shoulder gently.

"Ok. Let's blow this popsicle stand." Frank touches Brock's hand, "I hate hospitals." 

"Yeah, me too. Though probably for different reasons," Brock says as he wheels Frankie out. They stop by the discharge nurse's desk and pick up the small package of pain meds before making their way out to the lobby and into freedom.

"Guys!" Ray says loudly as he stands and moves to meet them. The group joins him, "He gonna be ok?" 

"He's an unhappy kitten, but yes. He's going to be okay," Brock nods. He pushes Frankie outside and parks the wheelchair by the entrance of the hospital.

"Aw poor kitty. Hims got a boo-boo." Lindsey leans over and kisses the top of Frank's head, "Glad you're ok punkin." 

Brock reads over the paperwork while the others dote on his husband. "Alright, kitten. You said you wanted to walk. Think you can make it or should I take you to the bus itself?" 

"I can do it. Little pain and not dizzy." Frank nods, he never said anything about nausea.

"Okay. Tell me if you think you are gonna be sick, okay? I'll point the canon into those bushes over there," Brock quips as he folds up the papers as he tries to pocket them but realizes they don't fit. He needs his hands free to help Frankie. Why won't this work? What's he gonna do with the drugs? 

Frank stands up and gets his legs under him before he offers his hand to Brock to take something off his hands, "I can hold my meds or the paperwork." 

Brock frowns as he tries to figure out why Frankie is saying that. He blinks slowly. "But what if you need help walking? I can't carry you with your hands full." 

"I can always hand something to Lindsey or Gee or Ray." Frank looks up to Brock.

Slowly he nods before giving him the prescription and papers. "I need a printer. Where am I going to get one?"

"What do you need it for, baby?" Frank asks with a head tilt 

"We gotta sign the…. Paperwork from Lauren. And send it back. And print the pictures."

"Maybe we can find a library or a coffee shop?" Lindsey suggests as they walk to the bus.

"Yeah. Maybe, I can look when we get to the bus and see what we need, B." Ray suggests.

"Sure okay. I need to… call Linda and email Lauren back. And figure out if we are skipping tonight's show and driving to Memphis." He holds Frankie's hand tightly as they walk to the bus. 

"Okay. We'll figure it out, _polpetto._ " Frank says gently. 

Bob pulls the door open and lets everyone pile in before following. He watches Frank take the first seat he can, "You ok, kid?" 

"Just. Feel funny." Frank nods. He sits for a moment then rises to his feet. He slowly moves to join Brock in a different booth near the bunks. Brock has his laptop open and he helps him fill out the incident report online and upload the photos to Lauren. He sits quietly with him as Brock updates his mom then Jack. Once everything was done and there was nothing to fret over, Frank moves slowly to get into bed. His head throbs from staring at the computer screen. He pulls every article of clothing off his body and tries to get Brock to copy him. He turns on a quiet movie to drown out the sound of the bus moving and buzzing with life. 

"I just want you to cuddle with me." 

"I know baby. But it's nearly noon and you haven't eaten. I'm pretty sure it's better for you to take your meds with some food. Do you want something light like cheese and crackers or PBJ, as to not upset your stomach?" Brock's own stomach growls its demand that a handful of peanuts and coffee were not enough. He moves to kiss Frank and his head swims.

Frank touches his face softly as he kisses him. "The sandwich is fine. I don't suppose that you'll let me help you make said food?" 

He gives him a reassuring smile and a kiss. "I got this. You just snuggle in and relax, baby. Milk too? Should still have some in the fridge. If Mike-n-Ike hasn't used it all on cereal."

"Milk sounds good. Thank you, _polpetto."_ He says with a small yawn that turns into a smile. Stubborn but sweet. 

With a little kiss, Brock heads out of their bedroom and shuts the door behind him. His whole body feels like it's weighed down with lead. His head swims with lightheadedness again and he just leans against the door frame for a moment with his eyes closed.

"You good, brother?" Ray asks.

"Yeah…." He trails off, waiting for the dizziness to pass. "We have milk?" 

"We do. You uh, gonna stay in yesterday's clothing?" Ray asks, concerned.

He mumbles something incoherent about he will when he sleeps before pushing up off the door and making his way to the kitchen. The task ' _make PBJ_ ' acts as a little alarm in his head to keep him alert and focused. His body dumps more adrenaline into his system just to keep himself upright and moving. His stomach growls and the world swims again as his body warns his blood sugar is low from lack of food.

"Do you need help with anything sugar?" Lindsey asks.

"No I don't need sugar," he mutters absently. He can't find the bread. He can't remember where it's at.

"What are you looking for, Brock?" She re-words the question.

There's a slight stress to his voice. "Bread. I'm making PBJs. With milk. And I can't–" 

"Let me help. Please?" She eyes the bread by Brock's hand, "You have had a stressful morning." 

He hesitates; the little alarm is the only thing keeping going right now and what if it stops? Will he stop too? He can't function without direction. He needs… task. He mumbles, "I'm just tired. I can do it." 

"Some motherly love is what both you boys need." She says softly before touching his arm, "B, did you sleep _at all_ last night?" 

Brock shakes his head no. "Had to make sure he was still breathing. Linda said he could sleep if he was still breathing. Did work and made sure he breathed. Had hand on chest. Needed to make sure he was still breathing." His eyes water as the emotional dam cracks a little, the utter fear that if he slept Frankie would stop breathing and die overnight and he couldn't stop it or save him.

"Okay honey, I understand. Hey, he's okay now, so why don't you have a seat and I'll make you both sandwiches. You did a really great job of watching over him last night." Lindsey's voice is tender and motherly. Her arms wrap around him and hug him, the big dummy is dead on his feet.

He sags into the hug and a small sob escapes. He can't completely collapse just yet; he's actually too exhausted to do so. At this point, he's running on fumes and sheer willpower. He pulls out of the hug as his stomach decides to remind him it has needs too. He nods sluggishly and shuffles his way to the bathroom. He thinks he shuts the door. He can't remember as he sits down on the toilet.

Lindsay begins making the sandwiches quietly. The poor thing was dead tired. She pours two small glasses of milk and sits to wait on his return. 

"He must be pooping," Ray says casually.

"He's really tired. He didn't sleep," She replies.

"Imagine if they kept Frank for observation he would have been destroyed." Ray frowns, "B, you ok?"

Another minute passes and Ray is actually getting worried. He takes a second before pushing the bathroom door open. He peers in to find Brock slumped over. "Brock!" Ray says loudly as he steps in.

Brock jerks awake with an aborted snore. He moves too fast and the world sways again. His hand quickly grabs onto the counter to keep from falling off the toilet. His heart races from being startled and it takes a moment to recognize Ray. He's too tired to be embarrassed about nearly falling. He just grabs toilet paper. He's not sure he even used the toilet but he figures might as well clean. 

Ray steps back out and waits. "Let's get you into bed, big guy," he says full of concern.

Lindsey moves past Ray with the sandwiches for the two boys and steps into the back room. She watches Frank sit up eagerly then slump a little, "He's coming. He just is...slow." 

"He didn't sleep." Frank and Lindsey say at the same time.

It feels like forever but Brock finally gets himself cleaned up. He stands to dress and flush and the movement is too much for the precarious balance he has. The world jolts and tips, he goes down, and he hits something hard.

"Brock. You ok bud?" Ray asks, concerned as he steps in again. He sees Brock collapsed on the floor, "Damnit. Bob!" He needs the strongest.

"I'm good. Okay. Damn world moved," Brock mumbles as he tries to untangle his legs and pull up his pants. Now his head hurts.

"Bed now," Ray growls.

"Need to eat. I gotta fix PBJs." Brock says weakly. He manages to get himself untangled and he tries to stand. He moves extra slow while he pulls up his pants, just in case the damn world decides to pull the rug out from under him again. 

"Sandwiches are in your room. Go to your room. Now." 

"Okay," he replies. 

Ray puts a firm hand around Brock's elbow, "Now. Move." 

"Okay." He stumbles only once more coming around the corner from the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Don't make me handcuff you to Frankie." 

Brock looks at Ray, completely lost as to why he would say that. What did he do wrong that he needs to be cuffed? He goes into the bedroom and is surprised to see Lindsey. His hunger pangs increase at the sight of the food and his mouth waters.

"Sit, eat. I'll hang out with you. Then it's bed." Ray says sitting on the end of the bed. 

"What happened?" Frank asks nervously. Ray isn't like this.

"He fell asleep on the toilet then face planted. He needs to eat then go to sleep." Ray's voice is gruff.

Brock sits hard on the bed and grabs one of the sandwiches, practically devouring it. Within minutes, he's finished. Too bad Lindsey only made two. 

"Now bed." 

He downs the milk and nods. Brock moves sluggishly as he strips of his shoes and clothing. It takes far more effort and focus than it should. 

"When we get to Memphis, I will wake you and we can go out for food," Ray says firmly. 

Nodding, he reaches out and pats Ray on the shoulder and gives a squeeze. It's the best he can do right now. He nods his thanks to Lindsey.

"Come. Cuddle me." Frank says doing grabby hands.

"Holler if you need anything but I don't wanna see you for 8 hours. Love you both," Ray says turning the light off before nodding and closing the door.

"Love you," Brock mumbles as he slides under the sheets. He molds himself around Frankie. He's out before his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B: Help I’ve fallen and I can't get up. 😂 Life alert!  
> F: How long have you been awake?  
> B: 30hrs   
> F: 😭  
> B: 17hrs of no food minus a handful of peanuts. Sleep deprivation plus lack of food plus extreme stress equals the equivalency of falling down drunk. I would not pass a field sobriety test. 
> 
> Also: Brock's joining in on "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran was inspired by this video link here. It's totally worth a watch! Just listening to the man sing is AMAZING Here's the link: https://youtu.be/o1iUYc1Y_fk


	22. The Birthday Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band gears up for Brock's birthday. Brock and Frank's relationship takes on a darker turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a Happy Halloween! Sadly, our in-story timeline only puts the boys in September... whoops. Which also means it's Brock's birthday, on 09/25! Our Libra is turning 51!

**The Birthday Surprise**

Atlanta felt like it was electrified especially after missing Shreveport and being forced to sit during Memphis. Frank was itching to move around on stage but he knew that Brock would throw a fit and pull him from the stage if he did. He keeps his movement calculated and small. He sure as fuck wasn't going to headbang to Venom like he was aching to do. 

He had watched Brock down on the floor trying to rescue Lindsey as she tried to crowd surf in her skirt with her bass attached to her body still. He could see him saying something with _the look_ on his face. 

"Are you out of your fucking mind?! Get the fuck back up on that stage!" Brock screamed as loud as he could to be heard over the music and roaring crowd.

"It's fun!" Lindsey shouts back. She grabs his wrist and frowns as her boots touch the stage, "Go again?" 

"No!" He screams at her. Why can't these people ever just stay the fuck put where he needs them to be?! Why can't they just be safe?!

_Now might not be the time to act out but you know what_... "Fuck it," he mutters and does a little spin before moving towards the amps.

"Frankie!" Brock screams, fear shooting through him. He turns and wades through the sea of sweaty bodies and fights his way to the side of the stage. He has to get to him. All he can think about is his husband getting hurt again and this time not surviving it. 

Frank drops to his knees to get closer to Brock. He stares down at the sickening mix of angry and scared on his face. "What!" He plays innocent. He rises to his feet and thrashes just a little. 

Brock glares at them all before continuing to make his way backstage. He's tired; tired of his husband ignoring his own safety and Brock's rules. He's tired of these kids continuing to push against him, dismissing his feelings of anxiety. Stunts like this tell him that they don't care about themselves or him, just the thrill of dangerous stunts for fans who care even less about them than they do. He's tired of caring. If they wanna be idiots, he's going to let them. He takes out the mic that allows him to communicate with the boys and puts on his headphones. Then he finds a quiet corner to sit in and read.

Ray struts up to Frank and whispers, "Knock your shit off." He bumps him hard in the shoulder before returning to his side of the stage.

Frank gives him a look and nods. It's not good when Ray has to step in. His eyes track the line of men in front of the stage for his husband. He notices Brock isn't there, he's not at the backstage entrance. He's not around? 

_Crap_. He is either going to get growled at or ignored. He finishes the show and heads back to the green room. He downs a bottle of water and tosses back Tylenol. He peels off the soaked shirt and changes into dry clothes. He stands outside the door and waits for Brock. He asks crew members if they've seen him but no one can give him a straight answer. Worried even more, he goes and sits outside, hoping to catch him. He watches people leaving the venue but no Brock. He texts him but gets no response. He sighs and walks up to Gerard and Bob smoking, he pulls the cigarette from Gerard's fingers, takes one drag, exhales, and hands it back. He says nothing to them and heads inside the bus. 

Sitting on the bench seat near the bunks, all curled up in sweatpants and a loose tee-shirt is Brock. Next to him on the table is a large glass of wine, his noise-canceling headphones, and his cell phone. In his hands is a book that he's solely focused on while soft opera music plays from bus speakers. He doesn't look up when the bus door opens, so engrossed in his Tom Clancy book.

Frank stands for a moment and observes Brock. He makes note of the wine and the glasses. "God, you're _so_ hot," Frank mutters to himself. He leaves him be; his husband doesn't want to be bothered. He moves to the back of the bus. 

"You gonna talk to him?" Ray asks.

"I'm gonna give him space," Frank says softly.

"Hmmm." Ray curls his lip in disapproval.

"Can it, Toro. Go call your _wife_." Frank says snarkily.

"Lose your attitude," Ray growls, "Not my fault your boyfriend is sick of your shit."

"Fuck you."

"Grow up." Ray snaps, "This shit is why people leave you."

"Yeah cause why wouldn't they… you can't hurt me with things I already think Ray." Frank says, "I'm not doing this. I'm going to bed."

"Maybe, you can call your mom and she can come get you." Ray says with a snark he's not used in a while, "Not fun and sexy anymore, you gotta do some work. Better bail. Gotta go home and cry about it." 

"Just because you and Christa have a cookie-cutter marriage doesn't mean you have any authority to tell me how to be with him!" Frank shouts and points at him.

"The way you act, the fact that you don't give a shit, proves that he'd be happier dating her and I. At least we'd appreciate him!" Ray snaps and steps forward. His voice booming louder, "At least we wouldn't let him get hurt by shitty exes and being too much of a fucking coward and do something about it or acting like an ungrateful asshole!"

"You don't deserve him. He's given up everything for you." Ray adds with a louder voice. He's now in Frank's face. 

"Shut up!" Frank steps back, "That's not fair… I never–" Frank hesitates, the words rattle him, _Ray's right_ , "Fuck off and go hit on Brock. We all know you… just fuck off!"

"Stop being such a pussy and he wouldn't need me." Ray growls inches from Frank, "No wonder he's gonna leave you." 

Brock snaps his book shut, slams it on the table, and stands up. He clicks the opera off and turns to them. His hard voice rings loud in the small space, "Enough!"

Heads that had slowly emerged to witness this fight, quickly pull back into the bunks, the Ways and Bob listening to the argument. Brock's involvement means time to bail. Frank tightens his posture but is surprised when Ray doesn't. 

"He needs to stop being a little bitch and handle his problems," Ray grumbles.

"Stay out of my business." Frank replies low, the words rattle in his throat, "How about I show you a little bitch!" 

"I said, that's _enough_ ," Brock growls hard at the both of them. He moves towards them, pointing them both towards the bedroom. "Move." 

"I'm moving." Ray throws his hands up and moves to the back of the bus.

Frank hesitates. He chooses to not be defiant and moves to the bedroom with a defeated sigh. He enters the bedroom and stands with his arms crossed.

Brock shuts the door behind him as softly as he can before turning to his boys. He sighs and takes off his reading glasses to rub his face. "You two need to take a moment and chill. Then, we are going to talk like adults and without the insults to each other."

Ray leans against the wall with arms crossed.

Frank sits and takes a deep breath.

"I gotta say the things the _both_ of you said were out of line and disrespectful. I cannot believe the shit I just heard. I'm surprised it's coming from you, Ray. You had no right bringing up Frankie's ex. She's gone. She's not coming back. She didn't hurt me. And I'm not leaving Frankie. Frank, I'm beyond not okay with you implying the very _fucking_ thing I struggle with, and were I not so pissed off at the both of you, I would have a _very_ different response. Am I clear?"

"Yup." Ray nods. He is visibly tense. 

Frank's knee bounces. The fire in his head is tearing through him but he knows the second he opens his mouth, he'll ruin everything. He tightens his jaw to keep his words in.

"We've been on the road too long, tight quarters…" Ray says with a coolness to his voice. He glares at Frank.

"Is that really what it is, Sunshine? Or is this because I left the concert?" Brock asks with an edge to his voice.

"It's because he's disrespectful." Ray answers. He glares at Frank.

"While I don't disagree with you, you shouldn't have said those hurtful things to Frankie. That's crossing a line, brother."

"He knows better, Brock. He was asked to cool it, take it easy. But he can't. It's bullshit." Ray grumbles, "You're my brother and I don't think that–" 

"I know," Brock replies gently yet a little distant. "But he's an adult. I can't force him to do much. And I've decided I'm not going to force this issue either. I cannot be the tour manager and head of security. I cannot play boyfriend, manager, and security any longer. I cannot keep doing the same thing at every show: terrified that my partner is going to fucking kill himself on stage. Or panic when Lindsey decides to jump into a crowd and hopes like hell they will catch her. I can't and I won't."

"So. You're just done…" Ray asks, concerned.

He's going to puke. Frank feels his throat tighten as he opens his mouth to speak, "He's just our boss." 

Brock nods. "Since you have no respect for your safety or my rules to keep you safe; since you don't seem to care that I nearly lost you and all I could think about tonight was that you were going to get hurt again and this time not come back from it; Since Lindsey didn't care that, had the crowd not caught her, she could have broken her neck or seriously hurt a guest; Since Gerard and Mikey move around so much, those cords that trail behind them could have easily tripped anyone; they don't care. No, the only fucking thing anyone in this band gives a shit about is the fans, who, guess what? Don't give a fuck about you. They want to see you do all the crazy shit but you know what? They get to go home and rave. They aren't going to worry about whether or not you are going to break your goddamn neck. Or get another concussion that you might not live from. What you don't realize is that the actual show gives me fucking nightmares. I can't do it anymore." Brock takes a shuddering breath and tries to calm himself from the unplanned rant he was on. "I've sent Lauren an email. I'm stepping down as head of security. I will no longer be watching your shows, instead I will sit in the bus. I no longer care what you do on stage. I'm washing my hands from that. You do what you want. Hopefully the venue security is decent enough to be of some assistance, but frankly, Frank, I don't give a shit anymore if they aren't. You wanna play with your life in some form of Russian roulette, be my guest. That being said, I'm still your boss and I'm still your boyfriend. Instead of watching you move and panic, I'm going to read a book and enjoy the alone time."

Frank nods. He swallows hard, his eyes stay focused on Brock, he's a little relieved but still full of dread. He can't shake it, "Yes, sir." His knee doesn't stop bouncing.

"So. Just stepping down." Ray confirms.

"It's what he said…" Frank grumbles.

"Yes. I have to. It's for my own sanity. I don't need your shows escalating my PTSD any more than they already have," Brock says gently.

"Your sanity is more important," Ray speaks with confidence.

Brock nods. "For now, venue security will have to do, but I am going to ask to have actual band security as part of the crew. Since I want maybe two or three guys to be added to the crew, I'm going to have to go through the proper channels. If they approve, I'm going to suggest Monarch as a company considering I know they have high-quality standards and anyone hired from there will keep you safe where I can't."

"You know what's best," Frank says. He stills his leg, "I apologize for making you feel that way. I don't ever want to hurt you or make you worse."

Ray snorts and shifts his weight.

"Bite me, Toro," Frank growls.

"You'd like it too much, Iero." Ray sneers.

"Do I need to lock you two in here and make you wear the get-along-tee shirt?" Brock says wryly with a hint of seriousness to his tone. "What is going on with you two?" 

"Nothing." Frank glares.

"We're fine, B."

"No we actually aren't." Frank says rolling his eyes, "It's 'cause he thinks I'm not being a good boyfriend."

"If I were him, I'd have left you." Ray goes low. He feels bad seeing how the words cause Frank to flinch.

"Ray!" Brock hisses. "That's not fair. I'm not going to leave anyone. I love you both too much for that. Relationships take work. This is just a speed bump."

"They do." Ray nods, "Both parties have to make it work." 

Brock goes to Frankie and pulls him into a hug and kisses him. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere. But, do you mind giving me and Sunshine some privacy for a bit? Maybe throw dinner together? Please?"

"Sure." Frank hugs Brock but loosens his grip, "I'll figure something out." He gives Brock a nod and moves out of the room. He needs to not be near Ray cause he's going to cause a fight by being there.

~~

Frank pulls out a salad mix but puts it back. Then pulls chicken breast and throws it in a skillet with a bunch of seasoning and spices. He searches in the little fridge for salsa and cheese. Maybe he should do rice… who is he kidding. His appetite is gone. He needs his mom. He pulls his phone out and sends her a message. 

_Frank: momma?_

_Linda: what's wrong_

_Frank: got into it with a bandmate. Upset Brock because I didn't take it easy. Am I ruining this on purpose?_

_Linda: Welcome to the Iero curse. You're trying to find a balance between you and you in a couple. That bliss isn't there anymore and now it's real._

_Linda: you've also been Brock's support system without asking for help. You can't expect to have a sturdy foundation without support. You need to reach out and get help._

_Frank: fine. I'll get a hold of Sam. But mom. What if he does leave me, what if he decides that I'm not worth the effort._

_Linda: I don't think that would happen but if it did then, be happy he was in your life._

_Frank: I gotta fix this._

_Linda: I know. And I also know you will._

Frank sits on the bus bench and waits for Brock. He's going to ruin this.

Ray turns the door handle and walks out of the back of the bus. His face is softer than before but still, an unforgiving threat shows in his eyes.

Brock follows right on his heels, a carefully neutral expression on his face. He looks over at the kitchen area. "What's for dinner?" 

"Ensenada chicken was the idea." Frank replies softly, as the microwave beeps at them, "It's hard to do meals in this little ass kitchen." 

"It is. But that's okay. Sounds good. Thank you," Brock says with a smile.

"It should be ready in like five minutes. Just finishing the chicken in the skillet thing." Frank nods, he doesn't move from his seat. He looks up at Brock and gives him a careful smile. He is unsure of what happened back there but he's got a feeling, it ain't good, "My mom says hello to everyone." 

"Aww darn. I'll text her my love later," Brock says as he sits on one of the seats.

"She'd love that." Frank rises to his feet and checks the chicken. He flips it then sits back down. He pulls his phone out and checks the directions for the food and stands again. He's gotta mix the salsa and make the spicy dressing. Once he's done, the chicken is ready. 

He pulls the black heavyweight plates and dishes up food for everyone. A smaller portion for himself, "Dinners ready!!" He takes his plate and sits on a bench seat. 

Meanwhile, Brock sends a quick hello text to Linda and draws up the email he will need to notify Lauren about him stepping away for a week due to personal reasons and that he will be leaving Ray in charge.

Ray watches Brock's actions as he takes his plate and sits. The food smells amazing. He takes a bite and nearly melts in his seat, "Damn Frank this is good. I gotta fight with you more if you're gonna make delicious food like this." 

Frank says nothing.

Brock doesn't get up right away, instead he puts back on his reading glasses and continues to work on his email. He takes a sip of his now warm wine and makes a face. It's his first drink in over three months and he only has one bottle. He'll leave it for now, choosing to wait to switch it out when he grabs his dinner. He can't lose his train of thought. 

"It's good," Bob says as he sits across from Frank with a smile. He passes him a coke and winks, "Coke and a smile, Franz." 

"Glad you like it. I try to keep it flavorful but with a little heat." Frank says taking a small bite. Frank gives him a small weak smile and takes the soda.

When he's sent off the email, Brock rises from his seat and grabs his plate, setting the wine glass in the refrigerator before pouring him a second, colder one. He returns to his seat and laptop. Taking a bite, he looks at Frankie, "Thank you, _tesoro_." 

"Yup, you're welcome. I enjoy cooking." 

"Even with a microwave?" Brock chuckles.

"Especially with the microwave," Frank replies with a forced smile as he watches Gerard and Lindsey picking up their plates like a little teenage couple, giggling to themselves. His heart feels a little heavier watching them.

"This looks good, kid." Lindsey fluffs his hair before finding a seat with Gerard, "So you guys eat actual good food?" 

"We try." Bob says with a nod at Brock, "Of course inspired by Brock. He's always trying to take care of us." 

"That is true. Even when we are too pig headed about it," Ray comments coldly. His words are targeted at Frank.

Frank nods. He's not going to feed into it. He's already fighting himself, he doesn't need another opponent, "If we had an oven I'd have started cookies."

"Mmmm cookies. What kinda cookies do you like, B?" Lindsey asks.

"Chocolate chip," Brock says around a mouthful.

"Have you had his cowboy cookies?" Mike asks.

"Oh god, they are so good. " Ray groans.

"Does it have chocolate?" Brock asks with a head tilt.

"Yup. Two kinds actually," Frank says. "Oatmeal, caramel too."

"Huh. I'll have to try that one day. Think you can get ahold of Christine's recipe for her cake? It's still not better than sex but I want chocolate."

"Yeah. I'm sure she'll share it with her favorite little brother." Frank nods. He's already made plans for Brock's birthday. 

"Cake can't ever be better than sex." Ray sighs.

"I dunno. I've had some pretty damn good cake before." Gerard replies.

"I've also had some pretty terrible sex too. So it's _subjective_?" Bob replies unsure of what he wants to say.

"Christine calls her cake Better-Than-Sex Chocolate cake. Had some when we were there for the Fourth of July. I disagreed then. Still do." Brock nods at Rabbit, "Yes, it's very subjective."

"Hmmm. I'd try it." Lindsey says placing her plate in the sink. She goes to rinse but Frank gives her a look.

"I'll clean up." Frank says with a nod, "Gives me something to do." 

Brock finishes his and his wine before rising and joining the line to drop off his dishes. He wonders if the other glass is cold yet. "Need dessert after that mean dinner." 

"Yeah, we do. Thanks, Frankie baby." Lindsey leans over and kisses his forehead, "If you want help, I'll help you." 

"Thanks, Linds." Frank nods, "I think I got this. Go relax. Unwind."

Brock leaves his plate and glass in the sink since Frankie has volunteered to wash up. He grabs his other glass from earlier and finds it's cold enough. He takes it back to his little desk, leaning over to kiss Frankie's cheek along the way. "Thank you, baby." 

"You're welcome, Brock." Frank replies as he watches him walk past, "Sorry there's no dessert." 

"That's alright. Mike-n-Ike has candy stashed someplace. Or my wine will be dessert. Since this is my first time having it in months, I'm going to enjoy it." Brock turns to Mikey. "Got any gummies or chocolate?" 

"Both actually." 

"Chocolate gummies?" Brock chuckles as he sits back at his laptop.

"Chocolate dipped ones, yes." 

"Shut the front door. You liar. They do not make chocolate gummies," he says as his eyebrows shoot up.

Mikey slowly rises from the seat and heads towards his bunk then emerges and tosses a bag at Brock, "Chocolate-covered gummy bears and you're welcome."

Brock catches the bag and he looks at them in awe. "No fucking way. They think of everything. You may or may not be getting these back."

"Wait till he finds out about chocolate dipped chips," Ray smirks and winks at Frank.

"What do we think about maybe celebrating Brock's birthday this week. I know that someone is wanting to have a _magical_ time at the magic kingdom…" Ray suggests.

"I wanna go to Disney," Brock says as he eats a gummy bear 

Frank gives Ray a look. His gift won't be here until next week, "Ok. That will be fun!" He looks at Brock before rising to his feet. Bob's plate is the last to join the stack. He scrapes the remaining food into the trash, discarding half of his plate. He begins washing up, his head fills with ways to adjust his plans for Brock's birthday. 

"Did you want to show me that thing?" Ray asks Brock softly. 

Frank raises his eyebrow. The green little demon in his head hissing in his ear. He needs to hurry up and wash these damn dishes so he can plan his run for the morning. He's gonna go out since it's been a while. He needs it.

"Yes. Also, chocolate gummies are a no." Brock makes a face and tosses the bag back to Mikey. "Some flavors and textures just don't blend together. That is one of them."

"Meh. They do in a pinch. I have peanut butter cups, cookies and cream, or dark chocolate?" Mike shrugs.

Frank finishes cleaning up, he pulls his phone out and headphones before slips back on to the bench seat he'd been planted in before. He opens maps and begins planning his run. His head whispers questions. _What made you think you deserve love?_ _What’s he showing Ray? You've ruined this_. He sends an email out about expediting Brock's present.

He watched the others slowly make their way to bed until he was left alone with Ray and Brock in the seating area. He does his best to not stare or really glare at the two of them. Finally, he gives in, Frank pulls himself from the seat and heads to the back of the bus, he pushes the door open and heads for his duffle. He's cold and wants socks. He sits on the bed, pulling the socks on and quietly humming to himself. He's uncomfortable being in the small room alone. Brock always made things feel warmer, bigger, and safe. With soft steps he slips into the bed they'd been in for weeks and waits. Fuck, he's too impatient and hates waiting. He doesn't dare ask for Brock to join him, 'give him his space,' rings in his head, the voice in his head is his mother's. He can do this, he can wait.

"Does that make sense?" Brock asks Ray as he closes down the program the label uses to manage the band's budget.

"Yeah, it's not as complicated as I thought was going to be." Ray nods cheerfully. 

"It's not. The hardest part, I think, is doing the math in your head when something unexpected comes up. In my case, I'm not worried about it. Yours is a different matter." Brock closes down the laptop and puts his empty wine glass in the sink. "I'm beat. You ready for bed, brother?" 

"Yeah. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow." Ray stretches. He slides out of the seat and stands. He knows he's going to have to be the one to keep Brock strong. He extends his hand out towards the back of the bus, "Lady pterodactyl..." 

"I'm sorry, what now?" Brock says with a little laugh. He slowly moves towards the back and begins to feel his automatic stress response kick in. He starts to sweat and his stomach churns. He doesn't want to do this. He can't do this…. His heart picks up the closer he gets to the bunks and he's fairly certain he's going to puke. He turns to Ray, silently pleading for help.

"Move princess." Ray growls quietly, "I called you Lady Pterodactyl, I didn't stutter."

Frank hears the movement coming for him and quickly moves his body lower in the bunk for Brock to get in. _'Fucking finally,'_ he thinks with an exhale.

"Yes but _why_? I'm neither a lady, though you know I'd be the best damn diva ever, nor a pterodactyl," Brock says with a shaky voice he just can't hide. He moves further and has to take Ray's hand just to be able to walk past the bunk that's been his for weeks. His other hand covers his mouth to keep from doing…. Something. He's not sure yet if he wants to puke or cry. Probably both. Hopefully not at the same time.

"You are, in fact, a pterodactyl and are royalty…" Ray says with a smooth emotionless voice as they pass the bunk with the curtain open and the yellow light pouring out onto the floor.

"Explain to me how I'm a bird with what looks like a chainsaw for teeth?" It's getting harder to keep up the conversation, but it's the only thing he can focus on. If he didn't have anything, he wouldn't be walking at all. If it weren't for Ray, he couldn't be strong enough to not give into the urges. 

Frank makes a small soft sound as they pass by him. He lost the words in his throat.

"Hey man, I just call it how I see it," Ray says as he finally gets Brock into the back and closes the door.

"Brother, I can't do this," Brock whispers frantically the moment he steps foot in the bedroom. He's going to lose it. He can feel it. He sits on the bed hard and buries his face in his hand and fights both tears and nausea.

"You are doing it right now." Ray crouches down in front of him, "You are doing this for both of you. Okay?" He rises and turns the lock and checks the handle to make sure it's locked.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Brock moans quietly as a few tears fall. 

"You gotta breathe, B." Ray returns and hugs his brother. He hears the door handle move and feels a pang of guilt in his chest.

The moment the door handle moves is when Brock's damn breaks and he just sobs hard into Ray's shoulder. He hates this so much. "Let it out, Brock. It's okay," Ray says softly.

Frank stands at the door for a moment and blinks. He tightens his jaw and drops his head. It didn't feel real. He can't figure out what was going on as he sits on the edge of the bunk. A tightness in his chest makes it hard to breathe. The weighted blanket. He didn't notice its absence before. His head can not decide between anger or sadness. He can't leave. They won't hit Orlando for another three hours or so. He lies back in the bunk and lets the tears spill as he stares at the soft brown wood above him. He pulls the Polaroid of the two of them that he'd taped there weeks ago. His one-time intention of putting good memories above them no longer there. He drops it outside of the bunk and closes the curtain. He puts headphones in and finds whatever sound he can to cover up the noise in his head and around him.

"Hey, did you want me to turn on the TV for noise?" Ray asks Brock as he rubs his back.

Brock shakes his head no. He doesn't want anything except Frankie. He feels like he just ended their relationship. Ray was wrong. A break is not just a break. They aren't going to get better. He's lost his husband. He sobs harder, forcing his hands over his mouth to keep quiet.

"Let's get ready for bed, okay?" Ray says. His words are soft and slow as they come out of his mouth, "It’s okay, Brock." 

"No. No, it's not," Brock sobs. "I've lost him. You're wrong. It's not okay. I'm not okay. I swore I would never hurt him."

"You're not hurting him. Hey, calm down, okay?" Ray says gently, "It's just the sting. It'll be ok. I promise it is going to work out."

Brock strips off his tee shirt and uses it to cry in and wipe his face a lot. He's fighting the edges of panic and his breathing is erratic. He can't do this. He can't; it's too much.

"Hey. You need to take a drink of water, B." Ray pulls a bottle of water from the table. 

Eventually, the sobbing fades to a steady stream of tears. The emotional pain was so strong he felt it literally in his chest. It's still too much but his body can't take much more. Wiping his wet face once more, he takes the bottle from his brother and takes a few sips. He whispers, "Thanks." 

"I'm sorry this is hurting you." Ray says patting his knee, "Alright big guy, get undressed. You need to sleep." 

"Do I say something?" Lindsey asks Gerard. 

"No. It's not our place right now." Gerard murmurs.

"But."

"Lindsey. Stop. Go to sleep." 

"He just sounds so sad." She says quietly.

"I know. It hurts me too." Gerard says rolling and kissing her forehead.

With a trembling body, Brock stands and slides off his sweatpants, tossing both the soiled shirt and pants into a pile he doesn't care about. He never thought he would hate this bed or this room now that he's going to be in it alone. The deep hole in his heart aches more as he forces himself to climb in and slide under the covers. He pulls the weighted blanket up and tries to make it Frankie shaped so he's not alone. More tears fall when it doesn't work right, the blanket refusing to cooperate.

"Scoot." Ray taps his leg.

Brock jumps, not expecting that Ray would stay. He looks up at him and tries to get back some semblance of control. "You…" 

"You're not doing the first night alone. That's just cruel." 

He wants to argue that it's not fair that Frankie is alone. It's not right. It's wrong that they are both suffering and he can't have his husband. The logical part that is currently being smothered by the emotional waves reminds him that this pain is for a purpose and while he wants to scream at Ray to give him Frankie, what comes out is a begging sob of, "Please don't leave me." 

"I'm not going to Brock." Ray lies down and wraps his arm around Brock, "I got you, brother." 

Brock curls up as tight as he can, keeping a death grip on the weighted blanket like it was his lifeline. In some ways, it was. He tries to bury underneath it and still keep the person feeling at his front. He wants his burrito. He wants his husband. A war brews inside of him. No amount of pain now would be comparable to the future grief and loss he will experience should Frankie injure himself and not survive. And yet, he would forgive him on a dime, in a heartbeat. This pain wasn't worth the lesson. 

He's extremely thankful he's not alone. He knows he might have nightmares again. Nearly every night since Frankie's concussion, his mind has played out some theatrical version of _what ifs_ in which Frankie hits his head on an amp and falls off the stage. He wakes up every night with a hard jolt in his chest, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Frankie is dead. It always takes a few moments for him to realize it was just a nightmare and that his love is still sound asleep and safe in his arms. It's at that point that he usually pulls his husband in tighter as a few tears fall before falling back asleep. It feels like forever as he literally cries himself to sleep, desperately hugging half the heavy blanket and his brother. 

Once Brock is asleep, Ray fishes out his phone and sends a message to his wife. He tells her everything that is going on. How she's taking Brock home with her. His eyes burn from exhaustion as he turns the screen off and hunkers down for a long night. 

Frank lets sleep overcome him. He doesn't think he's got any more tears left to shed. His dreams turn into nightmares and come back with a vengeance. He tosses and turns. He can't get comfortable. He feels the bus rock slightly as it comes to a stop. He exhales and gives sleep one more chance.

The next time he wakes up it's early morning, he tries one more time for the door handle. When the door opens, Frank steps in and sees Brock and Ray sleeping in his bed. Their bed. A pain burns through his chest. He pulls his duffle bag and leaves the room, shutting the door a little hard. He changes into his running clothing and heads out. He needs to make himself tired. He needs to sweat this out. 

Ray jerks at the clap of the door, he swore he locked it after he went to the bathroom but maybe he didn't. He lets go of Brock. He rubs his eyes then goes for his phone. He's got two messages, one from Christa saying she's getting a bag packed and ready to hop a flight. The other one is from Jack, he's back in the states and is headed to them. It's a surprise and that he needs all the details. Hotel and all that jazz. He lies beside B and responds to both, he fights sleep best he can but dozes off. 

Roughly thirty minutes later, Brock jerks with a startle and a shuddery gasp as once again Frankie falls and hits the concrete in his head. He whimpers and tries to find him to make sure he's okay. But the blanket is in the way. 

"Relax. It was just a dream." Ray's voice is gentle as a way to comfort him.

"Please don't die," he whimpers, still trying to find him. He's not fully awake yet, reality and dreamscape blending and blurring together. He doesn't understand why the blanket is covering his husband on the dance floor.

"Brock. Wake up." Ray's voice is firm. Brock must be dreaming. 

Frank boards the bus. He's covered in sweat. His muscles ache and all he can hear is his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He needs water. He needs his Brock but that's not an option. He's not Brock's anymore.

With another soft whimper, Brock clutches the heavy blanket and rolls over, burying his face in Ray's neck and chest, arm holding him tight. The blanket wrapped tightly around him gives him the feeling of the wall and he can hear the heartbeat of another. Almost immediately, he relaxes as his breathing evens out and he returns to sleep.

Ray rubs his back. _Poor Brock_. Did he make the right choice for making this happen? Hopefully, today will be better. He knows that if Frank sees this, it looks bad. Really fucking bad. 

Running in Florida is _hard_. Frank dries off and puts on jeans from yesterday and a shirt. He needs a shower. _Does this mean I have to have my own room?_ _Fuck! I'm homeless. I don't want to be single._ A whole list of questions rattles through his brain. He shakes his head, he needs coffee. Against the voice in his head, he sends a text to Brock's phone, "I'll be back. Isly." He grabs his wallet and phone then heads out of the bus, a coffee is imperative. 

Ray waits a little longer to let Brock sleep before his own need to pee gets too strong, "Brock. It's time to get up." Ray says, carefully shaking him, "Come on sleepy head."

Groaning, Brock nuzzles the warm body in front of him, tightening his arms and pulling him closer. He sleepily mumbles in Italian, " _It's too early._ " 

"I don't speak Italian." Ray sighs, "You have to get up so we can do press stuff and check into our hotel."

" _Learn then_ ," he grumbles before pulling away and rolling onto his back. He rubs his face. He wants Frankie. "I don't wanna." 

"The sooner you're up, the sooner you can see Frank…" Ray offers

"I feel like shit. Thank you. For staying with me," Brock says quietly.

"You shouldn't have been alone last night. You know that I am always here for you." Ray says with a soft sleepy voice. He can hear the others stirring and moving outside of the room. It's probably closer to 9 in the morning, "I have to get Christa from the airport at 11." 

"She has new ultrasound sound pictures too..." 

He rolls over and scoots closer to Ray, eagerness in his eyes. "Can I come with?" 

"Yeah, of course," Ray responds, he's surprised Brock isn't wanting to be with Frank. 

Brock frowns. Actually, that time might not work for the schedule he has. That's okay. Breakfast and meetings are important and then he can maybe do some planning. Sit down with Frank. He slides off the bed and starts getting dressed. "Might not be able to actually. That's okay. I'll hog her after she arrives."

"Oh ok." Ray nods as he sits up, "I mean she is going to get you for a bit after this. So, you know." He stretches and gets out of bed. 

"So stay out of the way and let you have your wife and son? Okay," Brock jokes as he slides on jeans.

"No. She's gonna want to smother you. She's been updated on _everything_." Ray yawns.

"Jesus, is there anything you don't tell her? I mean, not that I'm complaining generally speaking, but how does she know already? When did you text her?"

"My last BM..." Ray jokes then darkens his tone a little, "If you're going home with her. Then she ought to know _why_ you're leaving Frank. And the band. Yes?"

Brock nods.

"I've been awake since seven. It's now nine-fifteen." Ray smiles at him, "A lot can be done in two hours."

Brock's gaze turns crestfallen and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. "Please don't say it like that." 

"Sorry. When you go on vacation, alone." Ray rolls his eyes a little with a sigh.

Frank's car arrives. He carries out the two drink trays and a big brown bag filled with breakfast food. He's talking himself out of a negative feedback look, he metally is convincing himself it was a fluke. Just a really mean way to prove a point. He stares out the window and gathers himself as the car pulls up to the bus. As he approaches the bus he takes a deep breath, "It was a fluke," he reminds himself as he opens the door and quietly boards the bus. He tries to go unnoticed as he places the bagels and bagel sandwiches on the table with the coffees marked with everyone's initials. He takes a seat and puts headphones in and listens to music as he drinks his coffee.

"Coffee?!" Lindsey's voice rings through the bus, "Thank you, Frankie!" 

"Oh, coffee," Brock says, perking up. He lowers his voice again. "Do I have to sleep without him again? I mean, how do I explain that without making it seem like… it's a breakup? I don't want to actually push him away. How did Christa and you talk it out?"

"Well, she was not nice. She told me she didn't want to see me." Ray says with a smile, "Maybe just explain how you feel and what you need to do to feel better and what he needs to do to make this work. Or be like Christa, call him a fuckin asshole and tell him to work on his shit before you can be with him."

"That's fair, I guess. I just need him to understand that this isn't permanent and that we're gonna be okay. We have to be okay."

"Be sure to say that. And say it a couple of times." Ray says with a frown. Seeing Brock sad hurts him, "As far as sleeping, it's better if you don't but it's up to you. Best way to do it would be to get him his own room."

Swallowing hard, Brock slowly nods. "Should I–? I should tell him. So it's not a surprise. I just–" 

"Yeah. Tell him you just need a little space and that he gets his room." Ray pats Brock on his shoulder, "Let's go see what kind of coffee is out there."

"Okay," Brock nods. He nods and opens the door. "After you."

Ray enters the main part of the bus. His eyes lock on Frank, he's sitting apart from everyone. The smell of breakfast and coffee makes his stomach grumble. Ray picks up the cup marked RT. He takes a sip and feels it touch his soul. A whisper of guilt echoes in his head.

"This is amazing, thank you, Frank," Mike says between bites. Frank gives him a nod.

"How did you know that this is my favorite drink?" Lindsey asks.

"I remember things like that." Frank gives her a small smile.

Brock goes over and curiously looks at the bag of food. There's a cup of coffee with his name on it and he takes it and a bagel to his seat, next to Frankie. He leans over to kiss him. "Morning, _tesoro_. Thank you for the breakfast."

"Hi. You're welcome." Frank gives him a little smile, "Hope the coffee is ok. They didn't have cold brew." 

"Anything is fine. How are you?" Brock pulls back, more than a little disappointed Frankie didn't meet him halfway for the kiss. It felt like a slap in the face.

"I've been better. How are you?" Frank says, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. He doesn't look at Brock, his eyes fix on the strip of light on the floor. If he looks at Brock he might cry. Or yell.

"Same," he says softly. His heart breaks again at the utter dejection from Frankie. He tries to focus on his bagel. He can't do this.

"One of your birthday gifts won't be here this week. But I have a couple other things for you, is that okay?" Frank takes a breath and looks at Brock's face.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Brock murmurs. "But that's okay. Later is fine. Thank you, baby."

Frank leans over and kisses him, "You have an eyelash on your cheek." He softly removes it, "Make a wish?"

_Please God, don't take Frankie from me_

Brock smiles and blows the eyelash away. "I feel like I should make a wish to make sure my wish comes true. Got any other eyelashes? Your pretty eyes have plenty. Gimme one."

"Oh no. It doesn't work like that, mister." He replies and shifts his position on the couch. He rests his head in Brock's shoulder, "But, eleven eleven is coming soon..." 

Squeezing his eyes shut and biting back words he knows will undo everything, Brock nuzzles him. With a small noise, he sets the food and drink down to properly wrap his arms around his husband and hold him tight. He mentally apologizes to Ray as his eyes water.

"I'm sorry for not listening to you," Frank whispers. He hugs him back. He wants to tell him not to leave him but he keeps that in.

The words nearly stick in his throat. He glances at Ray before he finds the strength, "Apology accepted. Thank you." 

"I." Frank starts but loses his thought as he scans Brock's face. He can't read him. He feels his heart clench. He can always see what's going on just by his face. It's how he can gauge the day’s activity level, "You should eat, we've got a big day." 

"So should you, _vita mio_ ," Brock whispers, kissing him hard and quick.

"I'm not hungry," Frank replies before taking a drink of coffee. Tears threaten to well up and spill over as his chin quivers slightly. He chastises himself. _Jesus, he just put you in boyfriend time out.Stop it._ "What's the plan for today?" 

"The usual show day stuff… nothing special. It's tomorrow that I wanna do stuff. I'm going to do some research about places to stay and hotels and things to do." He continues to eat his bagel.

"Oh okay! I'm excited to spoil you for once." Frank rests on Brock. This feels ok. He's gonna be ok. They are ok. 

"I think _we_ have time to run that errand I mentioned earlier," Ray adds.

"If you are sure," Brock nods. "First? Before hotel check in?"

Ray nods, "Yeah before check in."

"An errand?" Frank asks curiously.

"Yup. We should probably hit the road soon to do that." Ray nods. He knows that Brock will break if he's not careful.

"Yeah, okay," Brock nods. He quickly hugs Frankie and kisses him. "Be back in a bit. Okay? Eat. I love you." 

"Oh. Ok. I love you more." Frank replies confused. He thought they would spend a little more time together but he _guesses_ _not_. A red flag waves in his head, "Be safe." 

"Rental car was dropped off this morning. I'm ready, B." Ray nods.

"Coming, just a second," Brock says as he throws away his trash and grabs his things he doesn't leave without before he quickly follows after Ray. "Be back later, guys. Don't die or break anything." 

"That's not suspicious at all," Gerard mumbles to Lindsey.

Brock halts in his steps and freezes. Surely he heard that incorrectly. Surely _Gerard_ who just told him that they were going to be friends, who just recently told him that he was reading into something _innocent_ now has the audacity to fucking say a word? Anger roils inside him. 

"You two are up to something… it's your birthday…do not buy anything for yourself." Lindsey grins. 

"B, I think Ray is gonna leave without you." Mike chuckles. 

"It's a surprise okay gotta go bye," Brock rushes the words before darting out after Ray at a jog.

"So what are we gonna do while the boss is away?" Lindsey jokes.

Frank watches Brock leave. _Try not to fall apart._

"We can check out the surrounding area?" Bob suggests.

"Like a group walk!" She grins.

"Sounds like a plan." Frank fakes a smile.

~~

Ray waits impatiently in the driver's seat as Brock gets in, "What took so long?" 

"Gerard called us suspicious and I just froze. He _just_ apologized to me about our… thing. Fight. And now he's again hinting that we are doing something we aren't. I got so mad." Brock shakes his head. 

"I mean, we are sneaking off. But I understand what you're saying." Ray says.

“Not only am I pissed that he pretty much insinuated one thing after apologizing about it, but considering the things that have just recently happened, I’m worried Frankie will read into it, exactly like it is intended,” Brock says, with gritted teeth and a shake of his head. He puts his hand up on the handle of the car and rests his head in his hand.

"Maybe. And don't shoot me, but maybe it wasn't meant to be something bad and your exhaustion and nerves are pushing it to be negative?" Ray suggests.

“Maybe,” Brock says softly, mentally folding in on himself. He watches out the window at the passing buildings and cars.

"All I'm trying to say is, give him the benefit of the doubt. He only apologizes when he truly means it." Ray offers, "I'm excited to see Christa."

“Okay,” he agrees quietly. Maybe Ray wasn’t wrong. Frankie did tell him once nearly the same thing; Gerard rarely apologizes but when he does, he means it. It means something. That was important to remember. It still hurts though and he’s not ready to move on. It was just one more thing to be added to his mountain plate of fear and stress. 

"Get outta your head," Ray says flat.

Brock turns his head to Ray and gives him a look before turning back to the window. “Christa is gonna be huge.”

"She's been calling herself Large Marge… or a holding cell." Ray chuckles, "I'm sure she is absolutely stunning." 

“Radiant and gorgeous like always plus glowing with Baby Floof,” Brock says, mood lifting a little. Baby Floof always makes him happier. 

"Exactly!" Ray grins. He accelerates and pushes the speed over the posited limit.

~~

"We should totally get drinks down here tonight after the show!" Lindsey squeals after peeking into the bar near their hotel.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Gerard smiles, "We'll sneak out."

"I hear nothing." Frank pretends to cover his ears. He's thankful no one has brought up anything that happened last night. He could drown in his own thoughts if they did.

"I bet there are some fancy as fuck bars in this area," Bob comments as they keep moving. 

"I plan to see each one." Lindsey grins.

~~

Christa cannot believe Raymond is late. He’d better have a good reason and flowers. Her arms cross over her chest as she shifts her weight then gives up and decides to sit on the bench. Her feet ache already. 

Ray cruises into the airport, "We aren't that late..." 

“We’re like twenty minutes late. She’s gonna be mad at you. I’m gonna have to earn her forgiveness with a footie’s massage.” Brock tries not to giggle at his words.

"Shoulda gotten flowers." Ray winces as he slows to the curb in front of her, "Traitor." 

Christa sits up and pushes herself to stand up. She hates being so wobbly so huge. She crosses her arms over her chest as Ray jumps out of the car, "What the hell happened to eleven?" 

"Uh, traffic..." Ray winces. He approaches and kisses her forehead. He bends down and kisses her belly, "Hello Gorgeous." She kisses him back and frowns at him, "I'm hungry." 

Brock slides out of the car as quietly as possible and shuts the car door softly. He leans against the vehicle and watches them interact. It’s beautiful. She’s amazing to be carrying life and he’s an equally amazing man to have put up with him for so long. They are adorable. A wonderful couple. It makes his heart ache. 

"And you… you're the responsible one." Christa turns to Brock. Ray kisses her once more before letting her go and moving out of the eay, "Where's my damn hug?" 

“Was just waiting my turn,” he replies softly. 

"Get over here..." 

Brock takes a few steps forward and envelopes her in a large hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders, mindful of the rather giant sized tummy pressing up against his own. “Hello beautiful.”

"Hi! How are you holding up, sweetheart? Ray told me." She asks tenderly.

“Functional,” Brock says dismissively. He’s not wanting to talk about it right now and ruin the moment. Pulling away, he kneels and hugs the baby. “Hi, nephew.”

"He's been moving so much today." She sighs, "He loves my bladder."

"Alright, baby. We are loaded up, are you two ready to go?" Ray says softly. His entire demeanor has changed. He feels how much he wants to lock her away and keep her safe. He knows Brock will protect her. 

Pulling away a little sheepish, Brock nods at his brother. “Do you want the front seat or the back? Which one is going to be better for you? I can drive if you both wanna sit in the back? I can even pretend that I don’t speak English or hear so you guys can have some privacy.”

"Oh no. I'm putting my feet up. You're gonna drive me." Christa grins, "I'd rather have you drive than Ray. I wanna make it there in one piece."

Ray opens the door for her with a grin, "Ladies first." 

"I made up the guest room at the house for you. I've stocked up on things to make you feel at home." Christa grins up at him.

“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” Brock looks away, finding he can’t meet her happiness. He doesn’t want to be thinking of nights in an empty guest room, thousands of miles away from the one person he needs the most. He doesn't really _want_ to be going away. Not under these circumstances that weigh over his head and heart like a hopeless cloud of despair. The emptiness in his chest pulses as a reminder that it, too, agrees that it feels despair. He no longer sees the light at the end of the tunnel. He can barely see the tunnel but it’s pitch black and never-ending. He’s living on a prayer and trust in Ray that this is the right path. He slides into the front seat and waits for them to settle.

Christa pats Brock's shoulder, "I'd lean up and kiss your cheek but I'm a little too fat for that. But I love and appreciate you for driving me." 

“You are not allowed to say you are fat under any circumstances, alright? You are perfect and beautiful and loved. Not fat, but providing the ultimate gift of life. That’s the highest honor a woman can have that transcends man. So hush and quit insulting yourself and my nephew,” Brock says firm but gentle as he starts the car and heads out of the airport.

"Well, thank you. I still feel like I ate a beach ball." She replies with a giggle. "I'm a cute Butterball with a bonus baby Butterball." 

“I think the baby Butterball is the source of you being a cute Butterball,” Brock smiles at her in the rearview mirror. “Though, while you see you are a Butterball, I see something very different.”

"This is why I'm leaving my husband for you." She jokes, "He just teases me about my cankles." 

"I made one joke. I said I was sorry."

"Words hurt, Mr. Toro," Christa replies with a grin.

“Yes, they do,” Brock whispers under his breath before taking a deep breath and mentally shaking himself. “What the hell is a cankle?” Brock snorts. “Some kind of ankle on crack? Canker sores on the ankles?”

"It's what happens when your ankles swell to the size of your calves, or pretty close and you lose the definition between the two." Christa chuckles.

“Wow, that is a terrible thing to make fun of, Sunshine. Shame on you. Instead, you should be giving her massages to make her feel better,” Brock snickers.

"He's been quite mean." She tattles, "And no flowers for his heavily pregnant wife whose flown commercial from New York to see him… shame."

“I’m sorry. I offered to pay or give you my plane,” Brock says apologetically.

"Oh, it's fine, baby." She sighs. 

"I have been good. I bought you a massage. Paid to have a maid come clean. My mom's offered to come cook for you."

"She tried to get me to live with her," Christa says flatly. Her eyes scan the surrounding area, "I'm excited to see the boys, even the bad ones..." 

“None of my ducklings are bad. Even when they aren’t behaving, they are still good. Right, Sunshine?” Brock says softly.

"Yeah. They are good." His voice disagrees. But he's being good for Brock. He watches as Brock pulls into the lot where the bus is sitting with the youngest Way sitting outside smoking, "Home sweet _home_." 

“Mike-n-Ike can’t smoke around Baby,” Brock says with a little gravelly growl in his tone.

"He won't. Relax," Christa pats his shoulder again. She scoots to exit the car and stands up, "Come along boys." 

Brock is quickly out of the car and at her side, ready to offer a hand at a moment notice. 

"Oh my god! You are so cute!" Mike says stamping out his cigarette and moving closer to them.

"I am precisely the size of a small planet. Cute is not in the description, love. Round is." Christa grins and hugs him.

The bus door hisses open and spills more band members out with Lindsey the head of the pack. They hug her and greet her and the baby. "Where’s the angry pocket emo?" Christa asks.

"He is on the phone with someone in the back bedroom. Sounds serious." Lindsey shrugs.

Brock slips away from the happy group and boards the bus, making his way to the back. He’s curious to know who his _tesoro_ is speaking with. His head tilts a little as the sound of Frankie’s voice reaches his ears.

"Yeah, we can do it weekly. And when he's not around. It'd be better that way. I can't be even more of a disappointment… yeah I know." Frank's guard is up. He is trying to calm himself down and relax, "Yeah no. Okay, so I'll call you on Friday. Alright, take care...bye."

“Frankie?” 

Frank opens the door and greets him with a warm smile, "Hi love!" He steps to the side, "Are you in or out?"

“I’m here to see you, actually.” Brock smiles.

"Oh well, welcome to my tin can. I'll give you a tour if you'd like." Frank says leaning up and kissing him, "Glad you’re back." 

Brock kisses him deeply, wrapping his arms around his love and pulling him close and tight into his body. It takes a lot out of him to break the kiss and not let it continue. “Come with me.”

"Ok." Frank wrinkles his forehead for a moment and gives him a nod, "Where we going?" 

“Just outside. See why I left with Ray. It’s not what you might think, I promise.” Brock takes his hand and pulls him outside.

"Is it a pony?" Frank says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. He follows Brock and squints as they step out into the sun.

“Well she is rather big, but no. Not a pony,” Brock chuckles and bites his lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh my god, Chris you are so cute!" Frank says with a huge grin. She approaches him and hugs him tight.

"Hi, sweetie."

"You look fantastic," Frank says kissing her cheek.

"This was the surprise?!" Frank asks with a small head tilt, "For your birthday?" He hugs her again, "Let's get you off your feet! Come in!" 

"Ok, that sounds pretty great actually." She chuckles, she looks at Brock and gives him a nod. Her confused look intensifies as he looks at Brock.

Brock nods at Frankie before going back inside and deciding eleven forty-five wasn’t too early to drink a glass of wine. He snags a snack and sits, downing half the glass. He wants to do nothing more than cry. He doesn’t understand why everything feels so raw again. It was like he took three steps forward and took six steps back. The hole in his chest aches even more now that Christa is here. The reality of his situation becomes much starker with her presence. 

The glass of wine catches Frank off guard. It's as if something internally froze. Bells and whistles in his head sound. He pushes the panic in the back of his head, "Put your feet up momma." Frank puts pillows behind her back, "You want a water?" 

"That would be nice." Christa smiles, "Nice to be pampered."

"Hey, can you toss me a water?" Frank says looking at Brock, "When are we able to check-in?"

Brock grabs a bottle of water and tosses it to Frankie before sitting back down. “Check-in is at one o’clock.”

"Thanks, babe." Frank says with a nod, "I need a shower. Running in Florida is a sweaty affair."

"What are you running from?" Christa asks playfully.

"Demons." Frank gives her a wink. He's not lying.

"Just get some salt. Like those dudes from the TV show." Chris looks at Frank then Brock. 

Frank looks to Brock for help.

“Unfortunately, inner demons don’t respond to salt. They aren’t easily vanquishable. And sometimes they come back and bring their little friends too,” Brock says, taking a drink.

Frank's lost and just smiles, "He's not wrong." He eyes the glass of wine. It's not even noon. He reminds himself to not broadcast their problems. He drops it, he'll ask what's going on in their room. Frank sits across Brock and gives him a smile as the band files in and starts chatting with Christa. The bus comes alive around Frank as he sits with Brock, "You good?" He asks him softly.

"Yeah. Just… stressing. The usual, in some form or another. Though, I'm also happy to see Baby, which kinda means I'm very conflicted," Brock says. 

"Anything I can help with?" Frank asks.

"Yes but I'm not sure it's a good idea to do right this moment."

Ray gives Brock a look.

"Ok. I'll always help when I can." Frank touches Brock's hand. 

"I know you do, _tesoro_. You have a great heart and that is one of the many reasons I love you," Brock replies with a kiss.

"I love you too, baby." Frank says softly. He wrinkles his forehead. His throat tightens, "So what did you have in mind for your birthday, _polpetto_?" 

"Well, Sunshine's gift to me has already arrived," He says while looking at his brother and sister-in-law. “And I want to be a tourist at the theme parks. I want to see _Il topolino._ All of the rides and with my favorite people."

"Okay, so the mouse's big house and lots of rides. So platform boots are in order," he jokes.

"Disney world and food, right?" Christa asks. 

"Maybe not _just_ Disney but yes. Pretty much," Brock nods.

"I'm in. I brought good shoes to walk in." She says with a small smile.

"We can get you a scooter. So you don't have to walk and we can get good seating because of the wheelchair."

"Oh I see why I was brought here… so you can get cuts in line!" Christa laughs and slowly rises to her feet. She approaches Brock, leaning over she kisses his cheek, "I mean, anything for Brock." 

"No! That's not even a little bit the case!" 

"Oh yeah? Then what is it, huh B?" Christa teases.

He pulls her into his lap and wraps arms around her, hands resting on her stomach. "I just wanted to see Baby Floof. Because I'm all about the baby."

"You're using me for my child?! That's even worse Brock."

Brock cracks up and dissolves into giggles. He gives her a gentle squeeze. "Not sorry." 

"I know you're not, you shithead," she guides his hand to a spot just south of his hand, "He's thrilled about your plan." 

Brock feels a thump against his hand and feels his toes curl and his eyes widen and his whole body tense. Baby Floof was kicking! He's such a good baby! So strong! He's gonna be the best baby boy ever in the whole wide universe! A little squeak escapes from his throat. He feels like he's going to explode in a rainbow sparkle of joy and excitement.

"Thought you'd enjoy that. Ray, get my phone. I wanna show Brock the ultrasound video of his gender reveal." 

Another squeak escapes and he uncontrollably bounces in his seat, fingers tightening around his sister. "Gimme. Gimme. Gimme. Gimme. Give. Me. The. Photo. Now."

Ray rises to his feet and hands the phone to Brock, "Just press play." 

"Damn. You mean I have to move my hands from your wife to press the button? Ugh. Work." Brock laughs as he takes the phone and presses the play button, extremely excited.

"See. It's a little boy." She points out on the screen.

"Told you. I knew he was a boy. I'm awesome like that. Have you thought about names yet?"

"Remey." Christa shrugs.

"We are at a stalemate."

"Hmm, not a fan but I could learn to love it." Brock grins at Ray. He's comfy having a heavily pregnant woman in his lap. He pulls back and rubs her shoulders and back.

"Ray… I don't love you anymore." Christa sighs, "Brock's my new husband."

"I like the name Jackson." 

"Samuel is a good name," Gerard suggests.

Brock laughs, "I love how you didn't even acknowledge that statement, Sunshine." 

"She is stuck with me." Ray snorts. 

"No. I don't think so… you can have Frank." She closes her eyes, "That's the spot."

"You could always go with Manuel, after your middle name, Sunshine. I like the idea of James if you are sticking with a J name." Brock massages deeper into her flesh, working his way down her back. He presses and digs in deep with the pads of his thumbs in her lower back just above the swell of her butt, twisting his hands in a corkscrew motion.

"I've always loved the name Archer," Lindsey says with a dreamy voice.

"What about Finn, Ray?" Christa asks.

"Finray," Brock giggles.

Christa pokes his thigh.

"We could call him Sonny." Ray snorts.

"You could just name him Brock," Frank says softly.

"Oh god no. I feel like my names are not at all good for Baby Floof. Neither of them goes with Toro. It doesn't flow right. And it would be weird."

"Though when I yell at him, if he had your name, I'd be chastising you." Christa snorts.

"Exactly. Please don't yell at me." 

"Well when we get married, it's probably gonna happen," Christa smirks. Frank sighs and gets up from the seat. Ray steals his seat. The group laughs and talks while he disappears into the bathroom. "You don't get to marry him. You're stuck with me ma'am," Ray takes her hand and kisses it.

Time goes by quickly as the band fawns over Christa and the baby. They move into the lobby of the hotel. Brock leaves the group sitting on the couches while he checks everyone in, plus an extra room. 

Frank watches Brock as he stands in front of the check in desk. Something in the posture of his husband, and the whole day. Everything felt weird, no matter how much he tried to ignore it but it's been getting stronger and stronger the more the day progresses.

"What's going on?" Frank leans into Gerard.

"I want to ask you the same thing," Gerard whispers.

"I don't know but something doesn't feel good," Frank replies looking back to Brock.

"Why did he kick you out of bed?" Gerard asks.

"I have been a little too reckless and it went against his wishes. He said he was done." Frank reveals.

"Does that mean he's…" Gerard trails off.

"No. I don't _think_ so. But it feels off." Frank sighs.

"You know he still loves you." Gerard reminds him.

"I hope so." Frank nods as it looks like B was finishing up with the cute guy behind the desk, "I might have ruined it." 

Brock has been through some tough times. There were fights and struggles under his belt that he hadn't thought he would survive and he bore those scars proudly. There were times where he thought he was going to lose his family as a child; the resulting fear and anxiety stay with him even now, in the form of his need to protect. He knew all sorts of battles, knew how to embrace them with a fist or a few choice words. Then he met Frankie. A love so strong and powerful, made Brock realize that everything he thought he knew about what defines strength, paled in comparison to the emotional pain that went with it. The fire of his depression and anxiety was slowly diminishing but was not yet put out. A tiny blaze remains and Brock knows that even a single grain of rice will tip the scales of balance he has fought so hard to gain. As he turns from the front desk clerk with _six_ keys in hand, Brock is certain the small fire will turn into an inferno. If that is going to be the case, he decides then and there as he walks back to the group, that this time will be his last. A wall forms, shoving all emotions down into a chest. He needs to be able to do this and he can't if he lets his emotions rule. He doesn't want to feel anything anymore and yet his body trembles and he feels pale, the closer he gets. He needs to do this. He doesn't want to.

"Rooms are ready. We're on the third floor," Brock says as neutral as he can make it. He begins passing out keys, putting Ray and Christa next to him at the end of the hall. He saves Frankie for last and he's fairly certain he's going to puke the moment he offers him the key.

"I need you to remember I love you and that we are not done and never will be. But you hurt me, deeply. And I'm not ready yet to share a bed with you," Brock says shakily, room key in hand. The chest of emotions he's trying to keep shut inside begins to rattle violently.

Frank stares at the key for a moment. He looks up at Brock and blinks. This isn't real. _This is a bad dream_. He must be dreaming and he'll wake up next to Brock and this is just make believe. He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales before speaking, "Understood." Frank can't force anything more out of his mouth without risking tears from falling. The blood drains from his face and lands heavily in his stomach. His heart clenches in his chest when he opens his eyes and looks at Brock's face. He wants to cuss and yell. Shove him or pick a fight but he can't. Instead, he nods at Brock before he forces his legs to move, he moves past Brock without touching him. He's taking the stairs, he can't risk talking to anyone in the band. Truly if he didn't need a shower, he'd sleep on the bus. Fuck, he might as well. He shoves the door open, the clacking sound of it echoing loudly in the barren space. He barely makes it to the second floor before he has to sit. Tears streaming down his face as a sob echoes through the space like the cry of a banshee. 

For a solid moment, Brock stares, confused and uncomprehending, at the retreating form of his husband. Then, slowly as if the flow of information was down to a trickle, realization occurs and the chest of emotions bursts open as panic fills him. Frankie was leaving him. In an instant, everything he had tried to push away, drowns him and a panic attack hits him hard. He's going to be sick. He can't breathe. He can't see or think or feel anything other than pain. He can't do this. A sob escapes and he tries to call him back. "Frankie! Wait! Please!" 

"Brock honey," Christa says, touching his hand, "You need to take a full breath." 

Bob looks to Gerard and Mike who's expressions are filled with actual fear, much like his own. His eyes stare Brock down. 

"This isn't– this isn't–" Brock sobs.

"This isn't you breaking my friend's heart? Or isn't what it looks like?" Mike asks with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Take a minute to get composure then tell us what the fuck is going on," Bob says with a wrinkled forehead. Gerard nods at Bob then turns his gaze to Ray. He's had a hand in this. 

"Okay… okay. I just–" Brock pauses and pales, turning light green. "I'm going to be sick." He turns and runs to the nearest bathroom, barely making it into the toilet.

Christa sighs, "We should take this daytime TV drama upstairs in a room. I have to pee and I think the staff might hate us. Ray, go and get Brock."

She manages to get them moving and to the rooms with little trouble. Powers of being preggo, she supposes.

Frank lets himself be vulnerable for a few moments before wiping his eyes. The shake in his chest is still there as he sniffles. This isn't the place for this. It's too open and he runs the risk of exposure. He picks up his bag and room key. This explains the day drinking. And why Christa is here, as a distraction. He's a fool to not think that the _inevitable_ is coming. He needs to be prepared. He rises to his feet and finishes climbing to the right floor. He enters the main hallway to find Brock and the Toros opening their doors. He sucks it up and finds his room on the opposite side of the hall closer to the elevator.

Brock is still shaking violently and pale, tears continually streaming down his face. 

"Why don't you sit in the chair?" Christa says before taking a seat among the band mates piled in Brock's room, specifically on his bed.

She watches Ray hand Brock a bottle of water.

"Take a drink." Ray encourages Brock.

Brock sits and buries his face in his hands, still crying for a moment before he takes a drink. He tries to wipe his face but to no avail. His head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton. His chest hurts. Everything hurts.

"So what's going on?" Lindsey asks gently. The band sits quietly and waits for the reply. A collective fear runs through them.

"I need a break." Brock's voice is broken. He's broken. This birthday is ruined. There's no light at the end of the tunnel anymore. He can't see it. He broke them. 

"A break as in..." Gerard asks. The silence in the room aside from Brock's cries was making his skin crawl.

"Are you breaking up with us too?" Mike asks.

Brock turns even more hysterical. "No! That's not it at all! I'm not- we're not- I'm not breaking up with anyone. This isn't going right. This isn't how it was supposed to be."

"What's it supposed to be?" Bob asks.

Brock has to fully calm down before he can be able to speak in a more rational way. He takes several breaths and drinks more of the water to help ease his pounding headache. "He hurt me. Again. He deliberately put his life at risk, knowing he shouldn't. Knowing how I felt. Knowing how scared I am he's going to–" Brock cries again. 

"Die." Lindsey finishes his sentence. Brock nods as he sobs.

"Okay so he hurt you by disobey and being careless, so what then? It's not a breakup but a…?" Bob encourages Brock to answer. 

"He isn't going to die," Lindsey says low. Christa taps her and shakes her head no.

"Just a break. This isn't over between us and I don't want it to be either. But this isn't something an apology can fix either. This isn't the first time or even the third time he's done something like this. He apologizes and does it again. We just need a little space between us to work on the issue. A step back to keep from dragging each other down. Sleeping apart is not meant to be the end of the world. I don't want this to end us."

Lindsey raises her hand and waits to be called on. 

Brock nods for her to go ahead. He wipes his face again and tries to regain composure.

"He knows that you aren't going to punish him by withholding affection as the next step, right? Because as we all know that awful little creature used to do that to him all the time." Lindsey asks.

"I was going to talk about it but then he just ran off," Brock says. 

"Oh." Lindsey and Gee say quietly.

"So, what now?" Mike asks, "How can we help?" 

"I know what he thinks," Brock whispers. "I'm scared of it too. I need him to understand. This isn't the end. Not if he's willing to put in the work. I can't and will not continue being head of security for the band. I've already made my decision on that. I can't keep worrying about him or any one of your’s safety. It terrified me when you jumped off that stage, Lindsey. It terrified me when the doctor specifically said Frankie was not to do anything reckless until he heals. Another concussion could kill him. And he did it anyway. He chose to play with his life. I cannot keep living that every single show. So, I'm going to trust venue security to take care of you guys."

"So it's just sleeping apart, I think that he can settle down and be reasonable." Bob nods. 

"Do you know what your expectations of him are?" Christa asks.

Brock glances at Ray. This was Sunshine's idea. He agrees with it, on some level. He's going along with it, too. But he doesn't really know how to explain it.

"What we had talked about was getting Frank to understand how his actions truly make Brock feel. He needs to be more responsible for his actions in general. Take Brock's feelings into account before doing anything. Respect the rules that Brock had laid out, they are there for a reason and they make sense, even Gerard follows them and he's fuckin stubborn as hell. He needs not just apologize and do the same thing again. Figure out his role in their relationship and fix himself to be the best version of himself." Ray says with a nod at Brock.

"So, you are asking him to change himself wholly?" Lindsey asks. 

"No. Just on this. My sanity can't take it anymore. I have nightmares nightly of him falling off the stage because he does his thing and hits his head and doesn't wake up. I'm not okay because he won't stop and think for a moment about how I feel. He does what he wants with no regard for others and then apologizes only when he thinks I'm going to leave him. That's not a relationship. That's manipulation." Brock is surprised at the anger that reared its ugly head but it was the truth.

"Ok. So, I am on your side with this." Mike says. He disagrees on Frank's intention but isn't going to spark that fire.

"Frank isn't–" Gerard goes to defend Frank but is cut off.

"I know it's not on purpose. Not saying that. But that's what it feels like to me. He also says that he doesn't want to hurt me and yet he made a conscious choice to do just that." Brock sighs. 

Gerard's phone buzzes in his pocket, it's a text from Frank. "I need to step out and take this, I'll be right back. Sorry." He rises from the bed and steps into the hall and moves towards Frank's room.

~~

He needs a shower. _Should have fucked Brock once more before being dumped or pre-dumped_ , Frank thinks. He drops his bag on the bed. He's gonna find a laundromat so he can have fresh clothes after he showers. He sends a text to Gerard to bum two smokes from him and to meet him in the hall. He's officially on vacation from giving a shit. If he tries, he won't be able to stop the tears from coming.

"Frankie. You ok?" Gee asks as he steps out.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm going to find a tattoo parlor. I need to do laundry and most importantly, I need a fuckin' drink." Frank says taking the cigarettes from Gee.

"But he isn't leaving you, so it's not the end." Gerard tried to offer, "I think that if you maybe talk to him, maybe it would make sense."

"Why? This is just the next step in the fifty ways to leave your lover." Frank shrugs, "I'll pull cash out and get you new smokes."

"Actually I was gonna offer you the rest of the pack." 

Frank pats Gerard's arm, "I'm good. I'll see you at soundcheck." He moves for the stairs and finds himself outside smoking. Alone, apparently, h/ this is the new normal. Once he's done smoking he enters the hotel. His eyes land on the bar. It's a bit swanky but fuck it. Maybe it will help him not feel anything. He strolls in and sits at the small bar, "Double Seven and Seven." 

Frank chats up the pretty bartender, Eliza. Her cocoa-colored skin highlighted her perfectly painted red lips. It's the curve of her cheeks when she smiled, it was pure joy in her face. 

"You look like you've been dumped. Is that why you're day drinking?" She asks.

"Not dumped. Not yet anyway." Frank snorts. 

"What do you mean? You're either dumped or not," she grins.

"My partner and I have been on the road together for months. I fucked up and was reckless. So, I've been grounded to sleep alone in my own room." Frank explains, "Another please?"

"Sure. But to me, it just sounds like your partner just needs space. Maybe to breathe and process how they feel without you being all in their business." Eliza says with a glint in her eyes as she pushes his refill to him.

"Isn’t that just a step closer to GTFO? I can't imagine that being alone will fix this," He questions.

"It might but then again it might not. Have you tried actually talking to them?" She asks. 

"No. I didn't want to breakdown."

"So you're just giving up?" Her voice seems to challenge him.

"No, but if he doesn't want me–" he starts.

"Sounds like he never said that." Eliza smirks, "Want my opinion?" 

"Sure."

"Finish that drink. Then go talk to him. Cry. Shout. Get whatever is in your head out and see where you end up." Eliza says confidently, "If it ends badly, the next drink’s on me."

"If it ends bad, I'll buy you dinner." Frank smiles at her, "If it's good, I'll send you roses." 

"I'm Eliza. I'm here Monday through Thursday." She smiles.

"Frank. I'm here performing a concert tonight."

"So, Frank. Finish that drink and go talk to him." Eliza says with a nod, "As much as I hate to say this, I hope I don't see you again even if I want to."

Frank tosses back his drink, "At least I know we are on the same page." He puts a fifty down, "Keep the change. Thank you, Eliza." 

Frank makes his way back to the elevator and takes a breath as he pushes the call button. _You can do this_. He steps into the elevator and presses the 3. 

He steps off the elevator and heads right for Brock's door. With a balled-up fist, he bangs on the door, "We gotta talk _Commander_..." His tone has a trace of bitterness as he speaks down loudly. He bangs again. 

Brock jumps a little at the sound and Frankie's voice. He quickly gets up and goes to it. This is great, that Frankie wants to talk to him. He needs his husband back. With a hard yank, he opens the door, ready to pull his love into his arms.

Frank inhales as the door opens, he sees how miserable Brock looks, and the fire dampens slightly. "We need to talk. If you want out. Tell me," his voice shakes a little. He'd rehearsed this in the elevator but drops it the second he sees him. _Please tell me you still want me…_

Brock grabs him and pulls him into a hard, desperate kiss, wrapping his arms around him and picking him up. He didn't think Frankie would come back. His arms tighten around the smaller man, afraid that if he lets go, everything will fall apart. He manages to speak in between frantic kisses and more tears. "Not leaving you. Never. I love you." 

Frank's fingers curl into Brock's shirt. This was not the reaction he was expecting. He kisses him back like it was the first time. He doesn't realize that he's crying until he opens his eyes after Brock speaks. "But. Why am I not allowed to sleep next to you? Why is Ray replacing me? I can't be him…," Frank's voice shakes as he sniffles.

"What?! Seriously… I'm not a fucking replacement. Jesus!" Ray huffs, "I am not interested in men, I think this proves it!" His hands wave over Christa's belly. He rolls his eyes, "Tacos not sausage…" 

Brock can't help the snort-laugh that escapes into the kiss and he turns to look at his brother. He carries Frankie into the room. "Thank you. I needed that." 

Pouting, Ray crosses his arms over his chest. Christa kisses his cheek and makes him smile a little.

The rest of the band quietly snickers but settles quickly. 

Brock clings to Frank tight, knowing that for this talk, he will probably need to not sit with him. Maybe. He doesn't know anything anymore. He's never been more unsure about anything until now. Every decision feels like it's the wrong one. So as much as he hates it, he gently sets Frankie down on the bed, kisses him again, and returns to the chair. "I'm not breaking up with you. We are not over unless you decide, either through your words or actions, we are. But we do need to talk about what happened yesterday."

"I don't want to be done. But ok… let's talk." Frank glances at the room full of people. His stomach turns a little, "We do need to talk." 

"I've told the others that I am stepping down from security. I've told them why. I've explained to them my decision is for my own mental and emotional health and that I've got no intention of leaving you or the band."

"Ok. I just… wanna make this right." Frank's eyes stay fixed on Brock. He wants to plead with him. But that won't help. He feels like Brock's made his mind up.

"That's good. So do I. But I'm not ready to forgive you yet for what happened last night. There needs to be a change." Brock tries to keep himself strong enough to keep going. This needs to be done. It's going to make them better in the future.

"I can change." Frank nods quickly. He's willing to do whatever it takes to keep Brock in his life, "I will change." 

"You have to mean it, Frank," Ray says a little colder than he should.

"No," Brock corrects with a small shake of his head. He's so tired and drained of all energy. "I know he means it. He has to prove it. You have to take responsibility and realize your actions have consequences."

Frank can feel a growing frustration in his stomach. "Okay. I can _do_ that. I can be more considerate and responsible. I can be better. What else?" He's mentally telling himself to stay calm and not get an attitude. An echo of a conversation rolls into his memory that causes his eyebrow to raise, "What else?" 

"I need you to understand that by not sharing a bed, it's not a punishment. Not really. I still love you. I still want to marry you. But like I said, what happened on that stage, hurt me. And I need some distance between us to be able to work through that. We both have to do some growing. I cannot lose myself in you, does that make sense? If you had died, so would I. And that isn't what a healthy relationship should be like."

"I understand, even if it feels like it's punishment. But it's what my goddamned mother said." Frank replies with a bite to his words.

The band sits quietly and listens to the exchange except for Ray. He snorts at the comment about Frank's mom. 

Frank shoots a look that could kill at Ray. He can't contain it. He keeps the words in and clenches his fists tight. He can't fight Ray.

"Are you even sorry you hurt me? Do you even understand _how_ you hurt me? You apologized for not listening to me, but I need to know if you understand why I'm upset," Brock asks as gently as he can. He's not trying to accuse or imply anything; he just needs Frankie to understand the gravity of the situation.

"I'm not a fucking child Brock. I know that my actions scared you. I know that I am too reckless and that scares you. And I never want to hurt you, the fact you ask me…" Frank stops himself. His next words were rude and would be bad.

"What? Finish it. The fact that I ask you _what_?" Brock sets his jaw and tenses. 

"If I'm sorry for it. What the fuck do you think? Actually, I know what you think, I think you're being fed what to think… that what you wanna hear? I am sorry for hurting you yes I fucking am, Jesus fucking Christ."

"Leave my brother out of this. Ray only has our best interests at heart. And if I didn't agree with him, I wouldn't be doing this. You only apologized for not _listening_ to me. Do you realize that? Not that you understood why I was upset and promise to make an effort of following through with actions. No, you basically told me that you only feel bad because you got into trouble. Had I not acted differently or said something you would have ignored it. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

' _Fuck,'_ he thinks, "You're not wrong… I didn't. It's not." He can't form a full sentence, his heads filling with too many thoughts.

"And that is why I need some space between us. That is what needs to change. You only care about my feelings after the fact and even then, only if you are in trouble. You only apologize if you think I'm going to run but don't make the changes. Sorry means you stop doing the things."

"I didn't realize I was making you miserable. I never meant to. I mean that, and I can understand _why_ you don't want to be near me."

"Oh, don't misunderstand. I want nothing more than to pick you up and hold you and be with you. I can still do that, and I will, but this isn't something that can be brushed away under a rug again. It's taking everything I've got not to break down for the fourth time in two days and keep us on track. This needs to happen. I hate it. I don't want this any more than you do, but it's not healthy for me or you to let this continue." Brock pauses and his face softens. "It will be okay. We will get through this. I love you so much, _tesoro_. You are still my best boy. My love, my life. This is a rough patch we both need to work on and we'll come out better together for it."

Frank nods. It still feels like punishment, it still feels like Brock's one foot in and one foot out. His eyes have found their way to the floor again, "Ok. I didn't mean to barge in here. I was looking for a fight and I _interrupted_ your band meeting." 

"Wasn't a band meeting. It was more like they demanded to know what happened and I needed to sit down. I'm glad you are here. We needed to talk and I didn't want you to go to soundcheck knowing a false truth. I want us to work, baby. I do."

_And you think I don't?_ Frank nods, "Ok." 

"That means you have to actually take the steps to change. Not just fake it." Ray says firmly.

"I'm not a fucking moron Ray. Stop treating me like one." Frank hisses.

The reaction from Frank causes Gerard to slightly gasp. Mike smirks slightly. Ray's intervention in this feels off and MIke’s happy Frank's not taking the abuse.

"I know it seems like I am a child because I am younger but shocking fact is, I'm not stupid and I might be smarter than you, asshole," Frank snaps.

Brock just closes his eyes and puts his hands on his knees, face in hands. Why can't his people just get along? Why can't everything just be okay? He just wants a nice birthday with his fucking ducklings and everyone be happy and healthy. An inaudible "Stop" escapes his lips.

"Sorry, Ray. That was uncalled for." Frank retracts his words, "You're an easy target. And I'm taking it out on you." 

"I'm to blame too, Frank. I need to watch my tone." Ray replies with a small nod, "You're ok, Frank." 

"I'm sorry Brock that I didn't keep my word. I'm going to actively fix this. I don't want to lose you if there's something I can do to fix it." Frank looks at Brock, _who isn't looking up._

"Please don't fight," Brock says miserably and muffled from behind his hands. "I need my husband and brother to get along. You both mean the world to me. All of my boys mean the world to me."

"B, we stopped. We both apologized. It's all good. We're both just tense. I won't hold it against him." Ray assures him.

"Just lashing out cause I felt a little cornered. That's all. I’m working on my responses," Frank replies. He feels like he's fucking up no matter what he's doing.

Hands drag down his face. He's completely done. All of his spoons for the day and the next week have been tossed out the window. He gives them a tired smile, "Okay good because tomorrow is supposed to be a happy day. Nothing fake either, nothing bottled up and hidden in the hopes things will just poof away. But truly happy. Whatever it is we need to work out, do it tonight."

"I need to get up. He's killing me by stretching in my ribs." Christa says easing up to her feet. "Continue. I need to move." 

"So, aside from taking responsibility for my actions. Not taking you for granted and being more considerate, what else am I not doing or where can I improve? This isn't me being snide, I mean it. I'll only keep fucking up if I don't get help." Frank says rubbing his neck then looking around the room.

"Nothing. At least, for me." Brock can't think properly right now. He's sure there's something else but he's forgotten. A stray thought enters his head. He wants to go home. He can't tell if that's a bad thought or not. What did Linda call them? Insidious?

The room stays silent.

"Is the briefing for operation _Lonely is the Night_ done?" Frank asks dryly.

"Isn't that a song?" Gerard asks.

"It's the only thing I could think of." Frank shrugs, "Dancing with myself is not appropriate and All by Myself is rude so yeah..."

Gerard snorts.

"I'm feeding the preggo," Lindsey says softly as she stands.

"Yes, please. Preggo is hungry." Christa says from the bathroom, "What about Zachariah?"

"Yeah, we're done with the constructive criticism," Brock sighs. He hates how Frankie feels like he's being attacked. He can't do anything to make this better. But damn if he's not going to try. He stands and goes over to Frankie. "Zachariah is cute." 

Frank looks up at him. A touch of fear washes down his back for some reason. His instinct is to take Brock's hand and before he can stop himself he's done it. 

Brock pulls him up into standing so he can hug him tight and kiss him. He needs him to feel that he's still loved, still cherished, still cared for. The kiss turns deeper as he pours more love into it.

Frank tenses for a moment but quickly melts away. He kisses Brock back. He just wants to hold onto him. There's a part of him that is terrified. Scared he's not going to be good enough, he pushes that down and stays present.

The girls make their way to the door. "We'll see you guys in a bit," Lindsey says as her hand pulls the door open.

"Do you two want privacy?" Mike asks.

"How much time do we have until soundcheck?" Brock asks, not looking away from Frankie.

"45 minutes," Gerard says quietly.

"Good amount of cuddle time, I think. You guys can stay or go, I'm good with either." Brock pulls Frankie into his arms and lap as he sits on the bed. "If you guys stay we could talk plans about tomorrow or dinner or something mundane."

"So what is the plan tomorrow?" Gerard asks.

Frank curls into Brock. He doesn't want to move or leave him.

"Magic Kingdom. All the rides. Eat all the junk food. Maybe check out Animal Kingdom too. I just want to ride all the cool things. Not sure how many are nephew safe though," Brock says, nuzzling into Frankie's neck.

Frank lets out a content sigh. He doesn't want this to stop. "What's the animal kingdom?" He asks in a whisper. His eyes stay shut, relishing the moment.

"It's a kingdom. With animals in it." Brock snickers.

"Thanks for the vivid description, love." Frank snorts then smiles.

"What time are we heading out for this birthday adventure?" Bob asks.

"Dawn!" Brock says far too chipper. His excitement about tomorrow is returning.

"Mmm, I do have a present for you," Mike says "but I wanna give it to you today cause we won't be home tomorrow much. Is that ok?"

"Okay. I like birthday presents." Brock grins.

"Okay! I'll be right back!" Mike bounces out of the room.

"I wanna be there as soon as they open so we can do all the rides that are popular first. I read online that sometimes you have to wait over an hour for a ride. And it's too hot for that here. We'd melt."

"Makes sense. What are we doing for dinner tonight?" Gerard asks.

"Not sure. Any ideas? Maybe we should ask Christa what Baby Floof can handle. I don't want her to get sick. And nothing Frankie can't eat either." Brock kisses his love's cheek.

"We'll figure it out." Ray chuckles.

"Hey B?" Bob asks.

"Hmm?" 

"Would you wanna join us after the show for a drink?" 

"As long as it's just one, sure. Dawn comes very early, Rabbit. Very very early. Though I should check how long it would take us to drive there and park. We might not have to get up at dawn," Brock comments as he grabs for his phone to check. 

Mike returns with a quiet knock. Ray opens the door. Mike comes in and sets a large basket on the bed. "Happy birthday, Brock from me and Kris." 

"Next year you're gonna give me a Baby Sprinkle, right?" Brock jokes. 

"If baby Emo doesn't come first." Gerard snorts.

Brock lights up and squeezes Frankie out of sheer excitement. "Baby Emo?!?" 

"Linds and I have been talking…"

"I need Baby Emo now," Brock nods before turning to the basket and checking out the contents. He's ecstatic at the large amounts of Godiva chocolates. "Oh my god! Thank you Mike-n-Ike! I love it!" 

"Happy birthday!" Mike grins wide. 

"Looks like you have enough candy to last you a week." Frank giggles. He kisses Brock's chest. He doesn't want to let go of him.

"At least a few days, depending on my emo moments. Think I'm one of the band now?" Brock asks with a giggle.

"Told you that we'd make you one of us." Ray jokes.

"You even have the shirts, proving your one of us," Frank smirks. He leans up and kisses Brock. 

"Great. Am I going to have to wear eyeliner now? Only go out at night? Drink blood?" 

"Who told him about the blood-drinking? And the mandatory eyeliner?" Gerard jokes.

"Also no more garlic," Ray adds.

"Wait, isn't that for vampires? Not the Emos?" Brock asks with a head tilt.

"Potato, pot _a_ to." Ray laughs.

"Potatoes are nightshades," Brock adds unhelpfully.

"They make Frank's sick." Frank nods and traces circles into Brock's skin. 

The time seems to go too quickly. Sooner than they expected, they were being driven to soundcheck. The boys had left but the girls hadn't. Lindsey knocks on Brock's door with a grin and a bottle of wine and soda for preggo.

Sliding out of bed, Brock goes over in his boxers to check the peephole before opening the door. Seeing Lindsey, he smiles and lets her in.

"Hi. You busy?" Lindsey asks, she hands over the wine and smiles, "Oh."

She can't help but check him out. 

"Hey, hot stuff. She bought you fancy wine…" Christa grins.

"Oh well, come in, ladies. How are my two favorite girls since the boys fluttered away?" Brock asks as he lets them in. Once the door is shut, he moves to the laptop and shuts down one of the websites, switching it to Disney World.

"Wanna have a glass? Talk?" Lindsey holds up glasses.

"I'll have a coke." Christa snorts.

"Actually, I read that women can have one glass of wine while pregnant. I think it's red wine. And I'm fine with talking. Maybe a little woman lovin' for the baby." Brock grins as he sits on the bed and curls up a little.

"Woman loving sounds… well porny." Christa snickers, "I sit anywhere near that bed you're gonna have a passed out pregnant girl in your bed."

"I don't mind. Only select women are allowed in my bed, and you are the top ladies. Come here cutie and let me rub your toes." Brock motions for her to sit. "I'm proving that a gay boyfriend is better than a husband."

She goes to open her mouth but stops. She nearly spilled beans. "Fine by me. You can see my cankles." 

Lindsey pours a glass of red for each of them, "Yeah, every preggo girl needs a little love." 

"All the girls need some tender loving care and I'm all about that. Taking care of people, my people is a need for me. To not be able to… I think I would lose my sense of self." Brock speaks softly as he moves and helps Christa sit upon the headboard so he can massage her ankles and calves.

"That is what I've… please don't stop." Christa quickly switches gears as he works on her foot.

Lindsey takes a big drink of wine, "So, how are you doing?" 

"What's the scale we are using here?" He replies, massaging deeper with both of his hands around one of Christa's calves.

"One to ten." The two girls reply.

"I'm stressed, depressed, and nearly undressed. I would say maybe an eight," Brock murmurs, working his hands like he was kneading dough. In fact, it was so reminiscent of the time in Lindsey's kitchen, he feels himself calm and begins to process things.

"Talk to mommas. How can we help?" Lindsey says. Christa moans a little then covers her mouth and flushes.

"Not sure. But making dough is helping," Brock says softly with a little glance and smile at Christa.

"I'm so sorry." She says through her hands, "This feels amazing." 

"Don't be. Let's me know I'm doing a good job. And I like making people feel good. I don't want to hurt you or Baby Floof."

"Oh, you couldn't hurt a fly," Christa says softly.

"I can't wait to meet him." Lindsey sighs.

"What about your own little baby emo?" Christa asks.

"Damn him." Lindsey sighs, "We have been talking babies." 

Brock moves and begins to knead her other calf. He speaks softly. "I want Baby Emo. And Baby Sprinkle." 

"Too bad we can't get a baby Italiano," Lindsey smirks.

"Baby Godiva?" Christa asks 

"Baby Brank?" Lindsey suggests.

He chuckles softly. "I could adopt but honestly I prefer babysitting than raising my own."

"You'd be a DILF at the school drop-off line." Linds raises her eyebrows and sticks her tongue out.

"I'm okay with that, I suppose." 

"You absolutely couldn't. You squirm when women hit on you." Lindsey grins.

"What? Really?" Christa asks.

"Totally. I've seen it." 

"It makes me uncomfortable. It's something I'm working on," Brock flushes.

"My favorite has been when they touch him and say something and he turns cherry red." Lindsey grins, "I think you are adorable."

"You are pretty damn cute, Brock." Christa grins.

"Thanks, but I see what you two are doing here," he grins before leaning over to kiss the baby bump. "You be nicer to Momma, little man. Take it easy on your kicking. I know what it's like to be in tight spaces. You just need to wait it out until you are done growing. Be patient. Let her sleep too, okay? Good boy. Uncle Brock loves you."

Lindsey snorts at the tight places, "Frank doesn’t count." 

Christa gives Brock googly eyes, "He's been in my damn ribs." 

Brock pulls back and gives her a serious and slightly haunted look. "No. It doesn't." 

"Hot dog down a hallway?" Lindsey snorts again.

"Sure, let's go with that," Brock shakes his head and drinks some of his wine before sitting back up and returning to Chrissy. He carefully and gently begins to massage her stomach. His eyes dart up to check if this is okay.

Christa is leaning back with eyes closed and a smile, "I'm thinking a January wedding for us." Christa sighs then opens her eyes.

"I don't like the cold," he replies without thinking.

"Me either." Christa smiles, "Eloping?" 

"No need. You can just keep me and Sunshine," Brock chuckles. "I am the King of the Wives Club."

"That is true," Christa says with a smile. She leans forward and kisses Brock's forehead, "Love you, Brock." 

"Love you, too. Love all my ladies. Love my nephew too." 

"Can I ask you something?" Linds asks, "And it stays between us."

"Always," he replies. "If it's something I'm not ready to divulge, I'll let you know but I'll always be honest."

"Is sleeping apart something you want to do?" She asks in a whisper.

"No. Not really. But there's a purpose behind it. And it's something I have to do."

"I support you. I just know how miserable you are and I hate it." Lindsey frowns.

Brock nods. He chooses to keep his face focused on Christa instead. "I don't think this is something that will be fixed overnight. I'm going to be miserable for a while. But, it's worth it. Frankie's worth it."

"Okay." 

Christa squirms. She stares at Brock. She's not good at secrets. 

"So let's talk about nursery things. I have a list of things I want to get Baby Floof." Brock takes another drink of his wine before laying down next to Christa on his back.

"Alright, gimme the list, B." Christa chuckles.

~~

Frank knocks on Brock's door minutes before he's supposed to leave with the band. He's a little anxious about Brock not going. 

Brock opens the door looking a little disheveled from his nap he was taking. He isn't fully awake so he opens the door with his gun in hand just in case.

"Uh, don't shoot me. You aren't on my life insurance policy yet." Frank says with a flat tone, "We do a thing before the show." 

Brock rubs his eyes and yawns. "No drunk kickball, please. Hi baby." 

"No drunk kickball. Hi, my love." Frank smiles, "Kiss me and you can go back to your nap."

"What's it you wanted to say?" Brock bends down and kisses him softly.

"I love you. I'll be good." Frank says as he nods. He feels weird, "I'll see you after the show, right? "

"Of course, after you shower hopefully. I don't want your sweaty self on my freshly cleaned body. I'm going to shower for our after-party group drink. We are still doing that, yes?" Brock pulls him into a hug. He nuzzles his hair and kisses his neck.

"Yes, I will be clean and nicely dressed." Frank wraps his arms around Brock, "I love you."

"I love you more, baby. My perfect treasure."

"Don't drink too much wine." He gives him a playful smile, "Also red or green shirt tonight think about it. Text me. I gotta go!" He leans up to kiss him one more time. He gives him a smile before hurrying to the elevator.

Brock takes ten minutes to himself to get situated and ready as best as he can be before he pulls his cell phone out and texts Christa. 

_Brock: Hey. Where are you?_

_Christa: crying over a car commercial. Why?_

_Christa: what's up?_

_Brock: In your room, yes? I wanted to ask you for help._

_Christa: Gimme a minute and I'll waddle over_

_Brock: No worries, penguin. I'll come to you._

Brock laughs as he puts away his phone and goes next door, knocking lightly. 

Christa answers in a sports bra and sweats, "Welcome to my crying spot." 

"I might need to make use of that later before the boys return. Got about twenty or thirty minutes to spare from your spot?" Brock leans on the door frame and gives her a tired smile.

"You can come in. I only nibble." Christa snickers.

"Haha. Actually, I was thinking you'd come out. Take a walk with me to the bus. I would like your help packing."

"Ok! Sounds good to me! Let me get a shirt on. No one needs to see all this." She says rubbing her belly with a smile. She throws one of Ray's shirts on and follows him, "You are doing the right thing." 

"So your husband tells me. It doesn't feel like it. Not even a little. In fact, it feels quite the opposite."

"It's the not telling him huh?" She asks, "I left Ray twice. Once for a month."

"He mentioned that. But not the twice part. How did you do it? I feel like part of me is dying. Every decision I make is the wrong one. Everything's falling apart and I don't see how this will get better," says Brock. He keeps his eyes focused on the floor.

"Well, first of all, I'm a firm believer in you gotta make it happen. If this is going to work, it's going to work. No room for doubt. But," she says taking a deep breath, "The first time I left Ray was because he was taking me for granted. He expected me to always be the one who handles it. Cook, clean, and when he fucks up, that flowers will work. No, not the case. I dumped him for a month. Worst month of my life. He did some digging. I did some. We got back together then just before he proposed, he got all weird. Secretive and borderline suspicious of me, I left for a week. We have been working every day to keep our marriage happy and strong. He's truly the love of my life."

"Let me tell you, the day he came to my job site and literally swept me off my feet, then popped the question with flowers and a bunch of pink balloons. Not the most romantic but I wouldn't want it any other way."

"That's adorable and totally Sunshine. I haven't put a single thought into what I'm going to say or do for Frankie. And at this point, I'm scared I won't get the chance." Brock opens the door for her as they exit the hotel and head for the bus.

"In a dream world where everything is perfect and there are no restrictions, what would you want to do. You're still going to have Frank after this, I have no doubt about that," Christa asks.

"I don't have very many restrictions, now. It's not a money issue. And once my family meets him, it won't even be that issue. But, I've never thought about it. Sad, I know. But I didn't ever think that I would find someone to marry." Brock opens the bus door and helps her up the stairs.

"I know you. You're gonna be extra." Christa grins, "Like a hot air balloon at sunset over Tuscany. Rent a castle. Something big." 

"I could buy the castle and everybody in the band and their families could stay there like one big family?" He grins at her.

"See, start big and then fine-tune it to you and Frankie." Christa smiles, "So what are you needing my help with?" 

"You could buy a castle?!" She backtracks.

He leads her to the back of the bus. "Did baby hormones make you forget the car ride from your house during the break? Where I kinda said how much I'm worth? Yes. I can buy a castle. I need help with what to bring and what I won't need while I'm staying with you."

"Well, clothes are a good start." She grins.

"Funny, very funny," Brock smirks at her. "I mean, besides the obvious." 

"What are you thinking about bringing?" Christa snickers, "Phone charger, weapons, maybe clothes that you can get dirty cause I might put you to work. Also your heavy blanket." 

"Okay so extra clothing for more than a few days. Just to work on your house. I did tell Sunshine that I was going to do all of his honey-do lists and completely change his house. And the nursery." Brock gets out his duffle and begins to roll his clothing up in tiny little balls.

"Why are you changing the nursery?" Christa laughs.

"Well last time I saw it, it wasn't finished. And I only meant that I was going to add in all of my stuff I bought him."

"Oh! Gotcha! I thought you were gonna change the theme or something." Christa smiles, "Anything you think you wanna take but are unsure about. Also, what are you wearing tonight?"

"Wait. The theme is still sheep, right?" 

"Yup. My little lamb." She rubs her belly.

"Okay. Good. As for tonight…" Brock looks around at his pile of clothing. "Casual, semi-casual, or formal?" 

"Casual for sure." Christa nods. 

"Tee and jeans then. Maybe shorts, because this state is fucking humid as hell." He finishes rolling up underwear and starts to do the same with shirts.

"I feel bad for the boys. Performing. In this humidity. No thank you." Christa shakes her head, "He's been moving since earlier. A lot. I think he likes your voice."

"And the room massage," he chuckles. He scoots over and pats the bed so she can sit. "I hope he likes my voice. I want him to love me like I love and cherish him."

"He's gonna love his uncle Brock. You're gonna make him feel like the only little boy on the east coast." Christa takes a seat and sits cross-legged.

"He is in my eyes." He leans over and gets super close to the baby. "Hi, little prince Baby Floof. It's close to bedtime okay? It's time to go to sleep in there. Give your Momma some rest."

"Oh no. He'll be active the second he hears his dad too. So you know. Rest is like gold these days." She chuckles, "I showed him the thing where you can see him moving my skin. It was fun to watch him squirm a little."

"I'm sorry, the what that does what?" Brock asks with his eyebrows skyrocketing. It sounded like something from a horror movie.

"Do you wanna see it?" 

Brock finishes putting away his clothing in a duffle before packing extra weapons and a few things to entertain himself. "I feel like I kind of do but also I'm worried it'll be too freaky. So, yes. I wanna see it."

She grabs a pillow and puts it under her back. She lies back and pulls her shirt up. "I gotta pick on him, so don't panic." She pushes her fingers into her stomach hard.

"Don't hurt Baby Floof," Brock nearly eeks.

"Nah, just annoying him. Okay, so watch this." Christa pulls her fingers away and waits for him to push back.

"Oh, that's fucking messed up. It's like some weird Alien thing." Brock does a whole body shake before leaning over and whispering to him, "This little bugging is your punishment for making Momma tired all the time. Let her sleep tonight." 

"I can make him flip." 

"Again, discerning but rather fascinating. Spin the baby?" Brock giggles.

"I'm gonna need your help. You gotta rub the sides of my belly kinda rough." She grins, "If we are lucky, he'll push his butt out." 

"I'm beginning to think you are a little sadistic. I'm not sure I feel comfortable squeezing Baby Floof." His expression matches his words. But he doesn't move from his position.

"You can't hurt him. I promise." Chris smiles, "I fell down the stairs a couple of weeks ago and he's fine."

"What?!" Brock screeches loudly.

"Before you turn into a nuclear bomb, it was three outside stairs and I'm fine. DO NOT TELL RAY!" Christa points at Brock, "He will make me have a chaperone until I pop him out." 

"I volunteer as tribute," he exclaims with his hands on his hips. "Did you get checked out? Don't make me wrap you in bubble wrap, Missy. I will."

"I called my doctor. Does that count?" She asks with a little shrug. She takes both hands and rubs and moves her belly. "Ah! Look, his butt." She pokes her belly.

Brock makes a grossed-out face. He places his hands on Baby Floof and grins. He can't bring himself to squish the precious. "I wanna feel him. Do it again?" 

"Ok!" She grins wide, "He's going to kick the crap out of me but it's worth it." Her hands rub her belly hard to make him move.

"Well maybe not? I don't wanna- okay." Brock cuts himself off at the feeling of the baby moving under what felt like such a thin membrane. It's both alien and surreal. He's not sure how he feels about it.

"Ray gets mad when I pick on him." She giggles.

"This is why he kicks you, you do realize that yes? He's getting revenge," he chuckles. His hands begin to gently rub to hopefully calm the baby.

"I think his hands in my ribs are revenge. The kicks are nothing." She smiles and rubs her belly, "He is my little world." 

Sliding off the bed and helping her sit up, he turns back to packing, quickly zippering up the bag. 

"Where are you gonna hide this duffle?" 

"Your room? Just in case we have any more band meetings in mine. The only thing I'm missing is the heavy blanket. I need that every night. Even with one person with me."

"Ok sounds good to me. We should probably hurry. They should be doing encore now." Christa offers her hand to get up.

Helping her stand, he grabs the duffle and follows after her as they exit the bus. "You should leave a present in Sunshine's bunk one day. Something nice for him to find later."

"You gonna do that for Frank before you leave?" She asks, passing by the fridge, " That pic of you and him is cute." 

"I wouldn't know what to put that won't be accidentally misunderstood. Anything can be thought of as a breakup token. I know him and how he thinks. He'll be a wreck." An idea occurs to him as they quickly make their way back up to the rooms. It might not be the right thing to do, but it seems okay. "I know what I want. I need a bear. A stuffed teddy that's at least half Frankie's chest size. Something that he can hold onto and cuddle with at night. Not sure where the hell I'm going to get one on such short notice though."

"I can help." She says with a nod, "We are going to a place where they are guaranteed to have big stuffed animals."

He nods. "That's perfect. If anyone asks, you can just say it's for the baby. I'll just slip it into his bunk just before we go. And spray it with my cologne."

"Perfect."

After stashing the duffle in the Toro's room, the pair part ways to get ready for the evening. Christa is dressed cute and in comfortable shoes by the time the band arrives back at the hotel. 

Each band member showers quickly and changes into less disgusting clothes. Frank makes sure to shower and smell fantastic. Since Brock never got back to him on what to wear he improvises with dark skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a thin red cardigan with matching converse.

Ray can't keep his hands off Christa. She smells delicious and looks even better.

"You need to get dressed. Your phone is buzzing, mister Toro." Christa giggles and slips away from his grasp.

"Party pooper." Ray sighs and grabs his phone, "I can't help it that you are perfect." He opens his messages and smiles wide.

_Jack: Hello hello. How's things going?_

_Ray: Hi! It's good! How are you?!_

_Jack: Jet-lagged. Sorry I'm late. Heading to the hotel now. Brock okay? Anything I need to be stressed about before showing up and surprising him?_

_Ray: Brock's ok… he's uh, well taking a break and leaving Frank after we celebrate his birthday._

_Ray: No one knows. Except me and Christa. And you._

_Jack: Define "leaving"_

_Jack: Am I going to lose a brother?_

_Ray: long story short- no you're not losing Frank. They just need to take a break so he is going home with Christa and leaving the road for a week to start._

_Ray: he and Frank still love each other_

_Jack: I see. And when will Frank be informed?_

_Ray: the day he leaves, we think it's best since Brock is already shaky on leaving…_ 😬

_Jack: That will not end well. I'm assuming you have a plan to handle the fallout?_

_Ray: well. Kinda._

_Jack: He's going to be devastated and you don't exactly sound too confident, brother._

_Ray: Brock has baby Floof and Chris keeping him busy. Frank is gonna be on a bus… headed to Shreveport. Yeah, I got nothing for Frank._

_Jack: Well brother. Hate to state the obvious, but you are totally fucked. I know Brock will be fine. I can't say the same about Frank._

_Ray: Frank is going to be worse than Brock. We'll figure him out. We'll take his phone away._

_Jack: Not sure how that will work but alright. I'm going to trust you. When is the best time to magically appear? I'm assuming you are finished with the show, yes?_

_Ray: we are grabbing drinks in a few minutes. I'll leave a key at the front desk for you._

_Ray: then we can surprise him_

_Jack: Sounds perfect. Make sure the entire band returns. Trust me when I say they'll love what I have in store. Well… at least you and Frank will outside of Brock._ 😉

_Ray: too bad we can't get you into Brock's room…_

_Jack: That would be even better but we'll make do. If you can come up with a better solution, I'm all ears. My gift is rather large so I'm going to need space to put it. And it's something video-worthy. Maybe._

_Ray: the key for his room will be at the front desk. He's in 314._

"Baby, will you go steal Brock's room key?" Ray asks her. 

"Okay! Give me a second." Christa waddles out of the room and moves for Brock's door. She knocks three times, "Brock, can I have a key to your room?" 

Opening the door in a light gray tee over light blue jeans and a belt, Brock grins when he sees Christa. "Well damn. You look stunning, beautiful. If I wasn't into hot dogs…." He winks at her and smirks. "I only got one key, _pinguino_ and I want to be able to come back here and sleep tonight. You can borrow it, I suppose?"

"First of all you're are fucking hot yourself, you walking sex dream. Borrow is fine, it's for a surprise that Raymond has set up," Christa grins and puts a handout.

"Oh? Interesting," Brock's smirk deepens as he hands over his room key. 

"Your room will be safe and sound." She nods and leans up to kiss his cheek, "Wanna come over?" 

"For you and him, always. Let me finish getting ready and I'll be right there."

"Door will be open." She grins. She's a little concerned that he isn't going to see Frank but doesn't question it. She turns and heads back to her room. Hands the key to Ray and smiles, "Just have to ask. He'll oblige cause he's a good man."

"I–" Ray starts.

"And he's coming over but not seeing Frank." She says, a little hesitant.

"He's starting to distance himself?" 

"Maybe. Still weird." 

"It is. I feel bad already." Ray sighs, "Ok I’ll go drop this with the Front desk. Be back." He leaves moving quickly. 

~~

Frank paces in his room a little. He looks stupid. He should just change. "It's not gonna matter. You're not getting lucky. .. he's gonna be too busy behind the Belle of the ball." He murmurs to himself, "Fucking idiot."

He debates on just changing into a band shirt and shorts. He hates this stupid room. For not being punished, this feels like punishment. He texts Gerard and sends a photo of himself asking for approval. Lindsey sends thumbs-up emoji.

Brock quickly finishes getting ready, adding some hair gel and nice cologne. He debates on adding a jacket before he realizes he would only be doing it for fashion and not for functionality. He adds it anyway with the rationale that he can carry extra protection. He wore his leather jacket in hotter temps than this. He'll survive. After making sure that everything is secured and that he's got all that he'll need, he turns off some of the lights out of habit and heads next door. He knocks before entering.

"Hello hello." 

"Hi!" Christa says cheerfully. "Ray should be back shortly." 

"Ah, okay. Cool. This means I get you all to myself," Brock grins and tries to do an evil villain laugh.

"Or… it means you're stuck with a boring preggo…" she grins wide.

"That's okay. I have Baby Floof to keep me entertained. He still beating up on your ribs?" Brock sits on the bed.

"No. I think he's napping. He's been doing two on two off kinda thing." 

"Well shit, let's just keep him awake and see if he'll crash hard like… Well… like a baby. Maybe then you'll get more sleep. Have you tried herbal stuff like melatonin? I feel like that could help." 

"I have a sleepy tea. They don't recommend melatonin to be used often." Christa sighs.

"Oh. Well, that sucks. I'm sorry. Do you know where we are headed?" Brock asks. He wonders if Frankie is ready to go. What's he dressed like? The hole in his chest burns. It was easy to hang out with his friends because they were his friends. But he always assumed that he would have Frankie to return to. The loss feeling gets stronger and he isn't sure if he's allowed to go see him now. He's supposed to be slowly cutting the ties. He sucks at it.

"We are going to a bar a block away. Apparently, it's pretty swanky and red." Christa says with a grin.

"Hello?" Ray says, popping into the room, "I brought a stray with me. Bob snagged me in the hall." 

"Well, Rabbits do tend to need someone to look after them. Especially strays. You should give him lettuce. Hello, Rabbit," Brock grins at Bob. 

"Yo! You look pretty handsome, there Brock." Bob grins, "I do need a sitter most days.

"No on the lettuce, though." Bob snorts.

"Rabbits eat lettuce and carrots. Veggies are important for little thumpers." Brock's eyes widen and his grin gets wider. 

"I don't need veggies. I'm a warrior. I need meat." Bob smirks.

"Baby Thumper," Brock coos absently, totally no longer caring about veggies.

"I don't have a girlfriend, so no babies." Bob rolls his eyes.

"Oh come on! You would be a cute dad." Ray teases.

"That can be arranged," Brock smirks. "I can get you a girlfriend." 

"You can't buy me a girlfriend." Bob jokes.

"No, because that would be human trafficking and therefore illegal. And also you don't want to buy a Worker lady. Just not safe. No, I meant I could match you up with a woman. See if you like her."

"Yeah… true!" Bob says thoughtfully, "if you find a girl you think is worthy of me..." 

"I'll send her your way. " Brock nods before standing and making his way to the door. "I'm ready to leave and the other boys are taking too long. I'm going to wake them up and get their asses moving."

"Agreed." Christa follows him.

Brock leaves their room and goes to the Way's rooms and bangs on their doors hard. "Hurry up!" He moves to Frankie's and knocks softly.

Frank steps out of the bathroom and pulls the door open, "Can I– hi baby!" Frank starts grumpy and turns warm.

Warmth floods him as he sees Frank and how handsome he looks. Brock pulls him into a tight hug before he kisses him deep.

Frank slides his hands under Brock's shirt as he hugs him tight, "You are a sight for sore eyes." 

"Mmmm, so are you. How was the show?" Brock murmurs as he steps into the room. His foot kicks out and closes the door behind him. He breaks the kiss to greet Scorpio and make him a little red.

"It went really well." Frank sighs. His fingers curl into Brock's skin, "I missed you." 

"I missed you too." Brock kisses him again.

"I'm excited to go out with you. We haven't done this in a long time." Frank grins, "You smell amazing."

"Thanks. So do you."

"Are you trying to get me alone?" Frank smirks before kissing him again.

"Mmm, that's later." Brock kisses him, hands roaming over his body and cupping his ass.

"Oh later sounds good… but I'm a needy little thing..." Frank moans softly under Brock's hands on his skin.

"Needy baby has to wait until after drinks. Come on, let's go, _tesoro_." Brock kisses him again before taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

"Fine..." Frank pretends to be annoyed but he has a huge smile across his face, "Wonder which bar are we going to?" 

The group is waiting in the hall, chatting and laughing quietly when Brock and Frank emerge from his room.

"We weren't expecting to see you two looking still put together." Ray jokes.

"Frank is a little flushed." Lindsey grins. 

"Let's go have some fun!" Mike says with a smile, "And I plan to just have a coke, Brock."

"I'd like to have some _cock_." Frank murmurs.

"Good boy, Mike-n-Ike. I'm proud of you." Brock pulls him into a dude hug.

"Thank you! This is a test for sure. But I got this." Mike grins as he presses the call button.

"Yes, you do. Are we eating bar food?" he asks.

"Oh mozzarella sticks!" Christa beams up at Ray as they board the elevator.

"We will get you some." Ray chuckles.

"I'll take that as a yes." Lindsey's voice is a little raspy.

Ray gives Brock a wide smile as the elevator door

"I can go for mozzarella sticks. Jalapeño poppers. Pizza."

"You are always up for pizza baby." Frank grins.

"I just want all the fried foods." Christa says with a dreamy voice, "Someone doesn't like them and gives mommy heartburn."

As the elevator doors open, Brock gets yanked away from Frank by Ray, "Walk with me for a moment." 

"Okay," Brock eeps quietly. He was going to tell Christa not to eat fried foods but okay he'll go this direction. "What's up, buttercup?" 

"So, he was good at the show. He moved around a little but he wasn't crazy." Ray says softly. "He did look backstage a couple of times but I think it's a habit." 

"Oh." Brock lets this information sink in a bit before he grins wide. "Sunshine, I could kiss you. Thank you. I appreciate it." 

"Did you want me to email you or call you the report when you are on vacation?" Ray asks. He caught a glimpse of short curly hair at the front desk. Panicking he needed a distraction, just in case.

"I guess email in case he looks at your phone? Text will be fine, I guess. I'll miss your voice though. I'll leave it up to you, how's that," Brock says.

"I do have one question," Ray asks.

"Shoot." 

"How do I help Frank? During the break?" 

"Reassurances. Patience. And don't let him bottle shit up. Make him talk about it and call his mom. Make him take his meds. Get the band involved. Don't let him drown." With each passing second and word that left his lips, Brock's worry increased. Was he really doing the right thing? Was it really a good idea to abandon his husband? The thought makes his stomach churns and his heart ache. It feels like a sword was plunged into his chest.

"We'll take care of him. One day to be outright sad and torn up then he's gotta get up and move forward." Ray says with a nod, "He's gonna be just fine. He's in good hands, just like you are gonna be."

"I'm praying you are right, brother," Brock whispers with worry and fear in his eyes.

"I know I'm right. If you need to call it off early that is okay too. Just a little time apart will help." Ray pats Brock's back. He steers him to meet the group again.

Gerard loops his arm with Frank and squeezes Lindsey's hand, "You look nice, Frankie." 

"Thanks. I wanted to look nice for Brock." Frank grins at them as they reach the outside. 

"Well, you look pretty damn handsome," Linds says with a smile.

"Hopefully he notices how nice I clean up," Frank says, trying to not sound desperate. His head is still filled with ideas that make him feel sick.

"Well, if he doesn't notice, you can come over and play with us." Lindsey winks with a playful grin.

"Yeah cause that will work out so well!" Frank snorts, he watches Ray and Brock rejoin the group. He watches their body language and feels a pit in his stomach. He plasters a smile on his face as Brock looks at him. 

Brock goes over and buries his face in Frankie's neck, kissing the flesh there and inhaling deeply. He needs his own form of comfort after that conversation.

"Hi, baby." Frank purrs at the touch.

"Hi baby. God, you smell good." 

"It's a new cologne. I'm glad you like it." Frank grins.

The group makes their way to the bar and enters. The music is loud and it's clearly a popular spot. Immediately, Frank grabs Brock's hand and squeezes. He knows that Brock's anxiety is going to skyrocket. He says in his ear, "I'm ok, you're ok." 

What the fuck is this place that it is this crowded? Shit. He squeezes Frankie's hand harder and steps back unconsciously. This place screams unsafe. He tries to locate a spot that isn't too bad.

Frank points to a spot that is in the corner with a seat for Brock to keep his back to the wall. He already knows that Brock is about to put his arm around Frank's waist and pull him as close as he can until they reach the table. The band follows The two of them to the seat. Ray helps Christa into one of the tall seats.

Brock is torn for a moment. He needs the wall to be able to see any incoming threats and be able to fight them off. But he also doesn't want to leave Chrissy and Baby Floof unprotected. He's not sure where he should sit. Against his training, he moves so his back is to the crowd. First line of defense. He can feel the shift in him, moving him into tactical headspace.

Frank pauses watching Brock take a seat he never would. He takes the seat next to Brock, "I'll go get a drink for us, what would you like, love?" He strokes Brock’s arm.

"Vodka. Please," Brock says, eyes looking at him and beyond to check out the people behind him. 

"Okay, baby." Frank tries to be as comforting as he can. He can feel the stress pouring from Brock's pores. He kisses his cheek and heads up to the bar. Frank orders Brock four shots and a Seven and Seven for himself. He squirms at the touch of a stranger's hand on his low back. He can see Gerard and Ray just down the bar as a bigger hand grabs his ass. He spins around to see a larger man with a shark-like smile on his face. "Hands off Goliath, I'm taken." Frank snaps pushing him back. He doesn't want to draw much attention to himself, Brock doesn't need to stress _more_. 

"Thought you were someone else." The big man grins as he speaks loudly, "No need to be so rude."

"Well I am, so back off," Frank shouts at him. He glares as the man invades his space. His heart thumps in his chest. 

"I can't help if you have a nice ass." He grins. His hands run down Frank's sides.

"Then I can't help it when my husband breaks your fucking nose." Frank snaps and pushes him away. He's praying that Brock is distracted.

"Let me buy you a drink… we can talk about how you'll fit nicely on my cock." The man growls as he leans into Frank and tries to either whisper something in his ear or kiss him. 

He decides he's done being nice and shoves him hard, "Back the fuck off me. I said no. You touch me again and my husband won't step in." 

"Oh, you're feisty… I like ‘em with a little spirit. It's fun to watch them try to fight back." He grins at Frank and grabs his chin, "They don't fight back when they can't use their hands." 

Frank tries to shove him back but he only gets the guy to move a step back and soon the man is even closer now. He's in over his head and Brock isn't able to see him. His memory reminds him of what Brock's drilled into him. Soft sensitive spots are a good place to hit. His knee goes up and tries for a crotch hit but he can't with the confined space restricting his movement.

"Let's go to my table." The man wraps a big hand around Frank's wrist as he begins to pull him away from the bar.

"No! Not happening!" Frank shouts as the big muscle man takes his other wrist tightly. He feels his feet moving even as he digs his heels in. Is this even happening? He looks for Ray. Or Gerard. He shouts for Brock but the music is too loud. 

Brock wonders what's taking so long. His knee bounces under the table with nervousness. He can't take it. He has to look. His Frankie-sense is tingling. With a twist of his body, he turns in his seat.

"What is it?" Christa asks with a shout.

In a flash Brock is out of his seat and forcing his way through the crowd, uncaring about who he shoves. 

Without hesitation Gerard, Ray and Bob follow, Brock's body language and change of his facial expression are loud beacons for something is wrong. Even if they are just crowd control, whatever it is Brock isn't doing this alone.

Brock shoves bodies, adrenaline coursing through him. He crosses the bar quickly as he can and reaches the asshole who dares to lay hands on his husband.

The man had gotten him across the floor and towards the exit or corner. Frank can't get him to stop, no matter how much he fights and uses dead weight to stop it. "Let go of me!" 

"Stop fighting and just give in..." The man growls at Frank and yanks him closer to his chest.

"Hands off my husband," Brock shout-growls.

Relief washes over Frank at the sound of Brock's voice, "Brock!" Frank squirms and tries to pull away, "Let go of me now!" 

The boys fan out and provide a little protective cover for Brock. "We got your back," Ray shouts.

Brock doesn't care about the consequences of his actions when he throws a hard right punch into the asshole's ribs. It's a good thing they are near a wall. He might just slam the guy into the wall by his throat. Repeatedly.

Frank falls back into Ray who hooks his arms around, he hears words from Ray they are supposed to reassure him but his concern is focused on Brock. The man folds slightly and stands. He throws a lazy punch in Brock's direction. He moves into his husband's space and shouts, "He hit on me, not my fault your husband is a whore!"

Brock's hand snaps up like a snake and wraps around the man's throat. He squeezes and brings the man close to his face. "Bull-fucking-shit. You are very lucky I do not beat the shit out of you for touching him. I suggest you leave before I change my mind."

"What do you think you can do old man? I'll snap you in half…" the man wheezes out. 

"And I'll snap your neck without a second thought."

Frank watches as the man stupidly strikes Brock in the side.

Brock doesn't even flinch. He just squeezes harder. "Do you want to keep trying my patience or do you want to be able to continue breathing?"

"Fuck you!"

Gerard sees the bouncers wading through the people and shouts, "Brock, let go. We will leave!" 

Frank shouts, "He's not worth it!" 

Brock lets the man go and shoves him back, hard.

A bouncer reaches Brock and the man then gets between them. He's shouting for both of them to get back. Frank clings to Brock's side and holds on tight. Once the rest of the bouncers arrive they pull each party outside and away from each other.

Brock takes a deep breath the moment he steps outside, thankful that he's away from the claustrophobic crowd and too loud music. He keeps one hand around Frankie's waist as they spill out into the parking lot.

The bouncers begin asking questions, 'What happened?', 'Do you know that man?', 'Did you want to go with him?', 'Did you tell him no?' and each question makes Frank's neck get hot. Why would he make a scene if it was consensual? He rubs his wrists a little and tries to answer the questions one by one.

"I don't think the abrasions on my wrist really shout 'willing participant'…" Frank rolls his eyes. He pulls his sleeve up and shows Brock. The ladies cling to their men, while Bob and Mike stand close to the group. Each of them watch people closely. 

A man close to the same age as Brock appears from the bar. He's obviously the bar owner. He pulls Brock to the side, "I want to apologize for this incident. The head bouncer has informed me that your partner was accosted. All drinks are comped, we are also offering a private room. Your evening is free of charge if you're interested?" 

"The private room is more than exceptional customer service and we will accept your offers. Thank you." Brock nods.

"I'll make sure that you get whatever you need. We want your visit to be exceptional aside from the hiccup. So, let's get you in through the side door. Katarina and Alex will be your servers. They are my kids so they better treat you like family." He offers his hand to Brock with a smile.

"We appreciate it, thank you." 

The man escorts the group inside the bar and to a room set away from the chaos and noise. They are handed menus and waters. The young woman looked no older than 21, she gives Frank a soft flirty smile as she takes a drink order from him. Her soft smile grows larger when she helps Brock. Christa orders mozzarella sticks with a huge smile. 

"How's your side?" Frank's fingers touch him softly where he'd been hit, "Did he hurt you?" 

"I'm fine. Didn't even notice actually," Brock says as he snags a mozzarella stick from Chrissy's plate.

"Good!" Frank replies, kissing his shoulders. He takes a drink and exhales and lets himself relax.

"Gets your filthy paws off my sticks, Rumlow." Christa jokes.

"But I like the sticks," Brock playfully pouts with a wink.

"I'll let it slide but only cause you're so cute." She points a stick at him.

"He is pretty damn cute," Frank says grinning up at him.

"So, if Brock was a video game character what would he be?" Ray asks the table.

"Depends on the video game," Brock comments.

"If someone doesn't say Guile from Street Fighter I will upturn this table," Mike says with a smile.

"I'm assuming they are talking like fighting games." Christa comments, "The easy one is Mario… " 

"Which makes Frank Peach?" Gerard asks. 

"Mmhmm." She grins at him. 

"He's not a round plumber. He's just Italian." Frank sounds offended.

The single drink turned into three. The table was filled with laughs and stupid jokes and stories. With appetizers being passed around, everyone was buzzed and fed with big smiles on their faces. Ray pushes the group to the exit.

_Ray: Jack! We are headed back!_

_Ray: some crazy shit happened but we are coming!_

_Jack: Ok cool. I'm just here… twiddling my thumbs_

_Ray: I'm sorry! Don't be mad!_

"Who are you texting? You gotta girlfriend?" Lindsey asks, "All the important people are here..."

"What?! No one!" Ray says, sounding guilty.

"He knows that he can't get any better than me..." Christa grins up at him. She glances over at Brock, "Besides, Brock would beat him if he even thought about it, huh gay boyfriend?"

"Damn right. I'm the only gay boyfriend allowed," Brock smirks.

"Pshh. We know that I don't have enough game to have a girlfriend and a hot wife… maybe a gay boyfriend." Ray snorts, "It's uh, an email?"

"Brock is a good boyfriend. You'd be very happy." Frank smiles at both Brock and Christa, "Though it'd be a sexless relationship." 

Gerard pulls the door for the hotel entrance door open for the group. He smacks Lindsey's butt as she passes by him. 

"We need to meet in Brock's room… no bed yet," Ray says with a smile.

"Why are we meeting in Brock's room?" Frank asks, his hand slides under his love's shirt. The feeling of soft skin under his fingertips is exactly what he needs. 

"Because I said so," Ray says firmly.

_'There goes my chance of getting lucky,'_ Frank thinks with a pout.

_Ray: We're in the elevator, Jack! Be ready!_

_Jack: Lights are off for Uber surprise_ 😁

"But that's not–" Brock starts, confused.

"It's happening, Rumlow! Don't fight me. You can bang Frank in his room." Ray puts a hand up as if to block a reply.

"Oh my god! Ray!" Frank shouts covering his face with his palm.

"Okay." Brock nods and shrugs.

The elevator door chimes as it opens and the group spills out into the hallway, they are loud as they approach Brock’s room.

_Ray: Jack! pop the door. Dummy doesn’t have a key!_

Cursing softly to himself, Jack makes his way over to the door in the dark and opens it just a little, still giving it the appearance that it remains closed. He uses one of his shoes to keep it there, satisfied that no light filtered through. He then runs back to his hiding spot and texts Ray.

_Jack: Done. My shoe is there so don't trip. Ready and waiting!_

"Brock. You go after me." Ray says waving him forward. He pushes his room key in and pretends to unlock the door but pushes it open then forces Brock into the dark room.

"What the hell, Sunshine?!" Brock exclaims at the push. He stumbles a little when the sole of his boot catches on the carpet. He flips the light switch. "It's too dark." 

"Surprise!" came not one, but _three_ voices.

Standing in the room, was Jack with his mother and sister at his sides. 

Brock's mouth dropped before he ran to his mom and gave her a huge hug. He does the same with Brooke, tears just streaming down his face before he hugs Jack. 

"I can't– how– when? Oh my god," Brock rambles.

"By plane, tonight, and you’re welcome. Ray helped," Jack says with a wide grin at his Floof brother. "Happy birthday."

"Yes, Happy birthday, my son," says Maria, pulling him into another tight hug. She pulls back to wipe his tears and kiss his cheeks and forehead. She's wearing a white off-the-shoulder blouse with little pink flowers on it and a long flowy skirt. Her pure white and thick hair is braided down to the center of her back.

"Happy birthday, little brother," Brooke says as she rubs his back and hugs him again. She's dressed in a dark red sundress, shoulder-length brunette hair pinned back with a crystal barrette.

Frank leans against the desk and watches the family reunion. He can't help but grin wide. All four of them are God damn models. He looks to the other band members who have the same expression on their face that Frank hopes he did. He doesn't intrude, he waits for Brock or maybe Jack to introduce them. Or at least until there is a window. Fuck, what if they hate him?! What if they take one look and say no Brock? He smiles wider nervously. He can feel the sweat accumulating.

This was not what Ray was expecting at all. This was so much better. He squeezes Christa and whispers how much he loves her. Mike and Bob press against the wall and try not to be noticed. Gerard and Lindsey are relaxing into a wall.

Maria breaks from the group, her bare polished feet making no noise on the carpet as she gracefully walks over to Frank. She smiles at him before pulling him into a warm hug. "Hello, Frank. It is wonderful to meet you in person."

"It is great to finally meet you too, Maria!" Frank carefully squeezes her. She smells good, "How are you? You are gorgeous!" 

"Thank you. I'm doing well. Very well. How are you?" 

"Very good ma'am. I am so happy you're here!" He gives her a little hug and releases her. Is he being weird? Is he hugging her too much?

Jack goes over and hugs Ray hard, "Missed your mug, brother. How's it been?"

"I have been great! How are you? I missed you!" Ray squeezes him.

"It's Mom or Maria, not a ma'am unless you are my son and in trouble," Maria laughs.

Brock drags his sister over to meet Frankie. "Brooke, this is Frankie." 

"Hi, Brooke! I am so happy to meet you!" Frank opens his arms not wanting to make an advance without her being receptive to it.

Maria goes to meet Ray. "So, you are my newest adoption. It's good to know I still pick the cute ones. And the good ones. Hello, Raymond." She hugs him.

"It is wonderful to meet you, Maria. I just hope I can make you proud as your newest son." Ray hugs her. She is perfect.

Brooke grins before hugging Frankie tight, kissing both of his cheeks. "It's nice to put a face to the name. Thanks for putting up with my brothers."

"They are not that bad. The taller one’s a handful but I wouldn't want them any other way." Frank grins wide at her, "Though I will say, I missed out on the prettier twin."

"From what my boys tell me, you already have made me very proud, my son. Now, introduce me to this beautiful woman and babe,” Maria tells Ray.

"This is my wife, Christa. Christa, this is Maria." Ray reaches for her arm and pulls her closer.

"It's nice to meet you! You are beautiful! I see where Brock gets his beautiful skin from." Christa hugs Maria, bending slightly to not attack her with her belly.

"Holy moly, Chrissy. Are you sure you aren't past your due date? You're huge, no offense," Jack grins and snickers before side hugging her. 

"Oh I feel like it but no, baby Floof is just big and not happy at the moment. His hands are in my ribs again, probably 'cause Brock bothered him earlier." Christa grins and winks at Brock.

Brock whipped his head around so fast at the sound of her words, "Only because you told me to!" 

Maria and Jack laugh at Brock's indignation before making their way to say hello to the others in the band, Brooke eventually joining them. Maria greets each of them by name and introduces her daughter before eventually settling down in the chairs and bed.

Brock and Brooke sit on the bed, side by side, while Jack just lays there on his back, all tuckered out. Maria sits in a chair near the bed and chats with the band.

Frank stands for a moment, awkwardly. He doesn't know what to do or where to sit. Does he sit with Brock? He cannot believe that Brock's mom and sister were here. He was able to finally meet them and prove that he's worthy of Brock. He paints an easy smile on his face even though his head is shouting he's being weird. 

"How long are you in town, Maria and Brooke?" Lindsey asks with soft eyes.

"A few days, maybe longer," Brooke replies. 

"We heard there was a trip to Disney involved so naturally, we had to come," Maria laughs.

Brock tilts his head. "Wait. How?" They had, after all just decided they were going to Disney World just a few days ago.

Ray's head drops slightly in guilt with a shit-eating grin. 

"That would be me." Jack raises his hand. "Why do you think you are scheduled for such a gap in the tour? I had checked on your tour schedule so conveniently given to me by Lauren. Then I texted Ray about moving your birthday party up a week and had him help me out in getting your hotel info and rooms, and here we are. I did not tell Ray I was bringing guests."

"Yeah. I was happily surprised to see these lovely ladies with that ugly mug." Ray winks at Jack. 

"I can't believe that so far your entire family is gorgeous," Christa says pushing on her stomach.

"How's Dad doing?" Brock asks, reaching out for Frankie.

"That stubborn old man is using a walker now," Maria grins at him. 

Frank offers his hand to Brock with a big lovey smile. He replies to Maria with a quiet voice, "I'm glad he's doing better." 

"Isn't it too soon though?" Brock asks, pulling Frankie into his lap and cuddling him close.

"It is but only by a few weeks," Brooke responds, scooting over a little so Frankie can sit comfortably. "If you think Brock is stubborn…." 

"I've heard that it's a family trait." Frank says as he curls his fingers around Brock's arm, "Sorry to pry but did they just set the ankle, or did he have to get pins? I had a friend who broke his ankle and had to have pins placed." 

Maria nods. "It was pins, which is why it's taking so long. The doctors are saying that he's making wonderful progress so we are very blessed about that. Making the villa wheelchair safe, however, a nightmare." 

"Yeah, her ankle didn't want to heal for months so it's a blessing for sure!" Frank gives her a nod. He is curious to know how Mr. Rumlow feels being home alone. He snuggles into Brock a little more. 

"It's too bad you ladies weren't here a day earlier. You could have come to the show." Ray says. 

"Or just a few hours," Jack says, sticking his tongue out at Ray.

Brooke reaches over and slaps Jack smack in the middle of the chest and laughs when he wheezes and curls up. "Don't you dare insinuate that it was because of us that we were not here earlier! It's your fault, mister because _someone_ forgot to pack last night. Or would that be this morning? Jet lag is a bitch."

Jack just wheezes in response. His chest stings too much to reply right now. He does, however glare at Brock, who is dying with laughter.

"He was probably primping too late to pack." Frank snickers, "He's gotta look pretty for the flight, sis." 

"Hey, you be nice to my curl bro, shrimp." Ray teases. 

Frank sticks his tongue out playfully.

Brock and Brooke both laugh at the same time and it's nearly identical. Brooke nods at Frankie, "He takes nearly as much time in the mirror as I do and that's _with_ me doing hair and make-up and freshening up. All he has to do is slap some deodorant and hair gel in and be done. I'm not sure what he does with the rest of his time and I don't want to know."

"We all know that Brock takes two times longer than you, Mr. Pretty Boy over there." Ray jokes.

"I do not!" Brock protests.

"You totally do!" Ray laughs.

"Don't forget the outfit changes too." Frank quietly adds.

"When it comes to getting ready before an event, all three of them take far too long, rather equally. Don't let them point fingers. All three of you are terrible," Maria laughs. "Took me forever to get them dressed for school in the morning. Or running errands. No matter the reason, it was always at least thirty to forty minutes before they were simply _dressed_."

"Mom," Brock whines a little, face tinting with pink.

"He's still like that to this day. Shortest showers known to man but he's gotta be perfectly matched down to his sunglasses. It's absolutely adorable." Frank beams up at Brock. He genuinely means it too.

"Not everyone is a little street rat there Aladdin… sometimes you gotta try harder and look pretty." Ray jokes. 

Frank turns a little red at being called a street rat.

"Oh, that blush is quite adorable. I bet you love that, Brock," Maria grins and winks.

"Fifty shades of red," he replies, kissing him.

Brooke leans over and kisses Frankie's cheek harder than before. When she pulls away, there's a near-perfect red lipstick mark on his cheek. "Much better." 

Frank blushes a little redder, his voice a little shaky at first then gets a little strong as he responds, "Brock loves to find new ways to make me blush."

Brock nuzzles his love. "That I do, _tesoro_."

Brooke's eyes and face soften at watching her brother and his boyfriend together. They are so cute. "Awww." 

"So, my birthday present isn't over for you two," Jack pipes up now that he can breathe again. 

"What do you mean?" The twins ask in sync.

"I've booked all of us hotel rooms at one of the resorts on the Magic Kingdom property. And asked the nice lady down in reception to cancel your rooms for the next two days, while giving us a room here for the night. Also, do you know how much money Disney makes in a day?" Jack grins as he stares up at the popcorn ceiling.

"A metric fuck ton," Gerard replies with a snort.

"Jack! You didn't have to do it for all of us. B and Brooke yeah." Ray says a little shocked.

"One park in one day easily over three hundred thousand dollars, maybe more. The representative I spoke to said a bunch of words I didn't care about and I stopped listening. I just wanted to write a check," Jack sighs.

"Do you do this often, Jack?" Bob teases, "This is how you're gonna wind up married with an insta family."

"Yes and no," Jack chuckles.

"Why did you want to write a check to Disney?" Brock asks, frowning.

"To buy a day at the park without anyone else there."

"Jack you didn't…" Christa says shocked 

"That's how I know you are related to Brock." Mike chuckles.

Gerard stays silent with Lindsey snickering.

Frank leans up and kisses Brock's cheek.

"Too bad it didn't work. Bastards. Actually, they were all for it. But they wanted more than what I was willing to pay and then bitched that it was hours in advance and they couldn't just close the park down that soon," Jack grumbles. 

"Thanks for trying, Jack," Brock reaches over and pats him.

"Instead they are going to close the park early and let us play uninterrupted for the last four hours." Jack grins like a little shit.

"Oh my god! Jack!" Frank exclaims in shock.

"You're fuckin with us, right?" Christa asks.

The band is silent in shock. Brooke pulls up the bank finances and checks the validity of her brother's statement. "He is not. And that's far more than three hundred, Jack."

"And it's rude to look at the price of a birthday gift. So bite me," Jack retorts. 

Well, now he has to see so Brock leans over and takes a peek. Yeah, that's more like triple what Jack quoted. He raises his eyebrows. "Disney played greedily?" 

"Eh, you know corporate assholes usually do. Whatever."

Brock leans over and very carefully gives Jack an awkward hug. "Thank you, Jack."

"Love you, guys. Even when you two gang up on me." 

Brooke adjusts herself so she can kiss Jack on the forehead and murmur to him in Italian that makes him smile. She pats his arm before sitting back. "When will we be leaving out in the morning?"

"I feel like maybe we shouldn't sleep. Because Jet Lag," Jack offers. "Park opens at 9 am. We are good to turn in the keys for the room no earlier than 7 am. We can drive to the parks then, check into the hotel, crash and then do the park in the early afternoon until close."

"Pull an all-nighter?" Ray questions.

"We've done it before," Frank says quietly to Brock.

"I'll be lucky if I make it another hour. Little Rocky here has stopped fighting my insides." Christa chuckles. 

Mike and Bob quietly talk to each other near the wall. Glancing over at the twins and conversation. As Lindsey reaches over and rubs the baby bump.

Frank leans up and whispers to Brock, "Are you gonna stay up with them?" 

"I don't know. This kinda changes my plans tonight," Brock whispers back before kissing his cheek.

"I kinda figured. But it's a good change." Frank kisses him. They are probably not having any sexy time tonight. Guess there's no pre-birthday birthday sex.

"What floor are your rooms on?" Lindsey asks.

"We are just down the hall, next corridor over. Jack got us as close as possible while you kids were at the bar," Maria answers with a smile. 

"Oh, nice! Nice and close for Brock!" Bob smiles and nods.

She nods. "Yes. I haven't seen my son in nearly a year. It's good to not wait until Christmas. And what better way to see America for the first time than to visit for an early birthday for my kids. When she was a little girl, Brooke also wanted to visit the Magic Kingdom. We just never got around to making the trip."

"We had a very busy childhood and other things to see and do, Mama. It was a phase and something I do not regret," says Brooke softly, placing her hand over her mother's.

"I think it's a perfect time to visit!" Christa says with a little wobble in her voice with watery eyes.

"Well, if we are going to stay up all night and have a slumber party, I think I need to slip into something more comfortable," Brooke says, sliding off the bed and grabbing her shoes where she had stashed them by the dresser. She turns to her mother and brother, "Coming?" 

"I do like the sound of that. As long as the slumber party does not turn into a sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll type of party. No orgies allowed until after there is more alcohol involved. And less family in the same room." Maria stands and follows her daughter.

Frank's mouth drops open slightly as his cheeks flush again. He looks at Brock with wide eyes. Brock just shrugs. 

Lindsey and Gerard snicker. 

"Hell yes, mama." Ray chuckles, "I do think I need to put baby momma to bed."

"I'm not sleepy." She yawns.

"Come on baby bump," Ray says patting her shoulder.

Maria and Brooke slip out, heading to their room. Jack doesn't move from his spot on the mattress, sleep slowly overtaking him. The Toros slip out of the room quietly. The Ways following them with Bob in tow.

"Did you want me to go?" Frank asks gently.

"I'm happy with whatever you want to do," Brock says, nuzzling his husband. He's in the mode for at least some bed-time cuddles. 

"I shouldn't be allowed to have a say… you know what I want." Frank says with a little smile, "You could maybe go with me..." 

"Mom and Brooke are coming back. Not sure about the others but they are at least. Not sure that's truly an option tonight baby. "

"Do you want me here? I can go to my own room because I know I won't make it all night and I don't want to overstay my welcome." Frank speaks plainly, his stomach knots at the words.

"Or I could kick them out," Brock snickers. 

"I mean I wouldn't tell you no. It's your mom. Not mine." Frank grins, he leans up and kisses him softly and sweetly. He doesn't want to go. He hates being alone now. He hates that he's clingy. He just needs to be good. He's got to learn to be better. More submissive and less obstinate.

Brock thinks. He knows that he doesn't have a whole lot of time left. He also knows what he wants. He wouldn't feel comfortable having sex while staying at a hotel with children possibly able to overhear. If it's going to happen before he leaves, it would have to be tonight. Perhaps he can entertain his family for a little bit longer before kicking them out? They would understand. Or they could just not come back but then again they are here for him. Brock sighs.

"How tired are you really?" Brock nibbles on Frankie's shoulder, working his way up to his throat and jawline.

"I'm not tired yet. I just know that I can't last all night." Frank's hand cups the back of Brock's head softly, "If I'm entertained I could be up for a very long time." 

"So you _can_ last all night," Brock grins against his neck. 

"I can hear you two weirdos," Jack mumbles without opening his eyes.

"You are quite entertaining…" Frank replies to Brock but ignores Jack, "I think you could _fill_ my time up nicely." 

Brock kisses up the shell of Frankie's ear, whispering, "That's the plan."

Frank lets off a small sound that fell somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He swallows hard to gain composure, "Oh there's a plan huh? Is it to get your boy a little tipsy and bend him to your will?" 

"There will be bending, yes," Brock whispers before moving to the other side of Frankie's neck.

"A little stretching too?" Frank asks softly.

"Do you want me to tell Mom and Brooke to not come back? And break their hearts so you two can bang," Jack says sarcastically, playfully curling his lip in disgust.

"No?" There's no other answer here and Brock knows it. 

"He's right." Frank whispers, "As much as I wanna wrap my mouth around your cock, your present is more important." 

"They'll understand, right? It's our cuddle time." Brock tries for reason but even he knows that was weak. "Maybe after some time, they'll… leave." 

"We can always wait until the new hotel. Or tomorrow night… I'll be quiet–"

"Yes but will Brock?" Jack cackles.

"If you smothered him with a pillow I would pretend I saw nothing…" Frank whispers, god damn cockblock with his logic and reality-based thinking.

Brock wrinkles his nose. "I don't feel comfortable doing that at a family hotel where there are children in nearly every hotel room. It feels kinda like sacrilege." 

"Ok. That's fair."

"I love how you guys _plan_ to have sex. Typical Brock. Always planning and working and controlling," Jack laughs.

Frank snorts and frowns as he thinks. _We usually don't but I'm grounded and banished from his room._ "It's okay. I'll surprise attack him later." Frank smirks, "We've got time."

"Have you guys _ever_ been spontaneous or has Brock always planned it out?"

"Well, there was the time he fucked me at the zoo. Or the time that I sucked his cock in the car on the freeway…"

"I kinda planned the zoo." 

"What? Really?" Frank asked.

"I mean, it's not like I woke up and thought about how I could fuck you in a bathroom. But after the penguins, I started planning and had it worked out before we even got to the bathroom. Not sure if that counts?" Brock grimaces.

"Aw, I forgot about our little jealous penguin friend." Frank coos with a silly smile, "So spontaneity isn't our thing…" 

Frank kisses Brock softly, "We could work on that." 

Brock nods and smiles. He is controlling. And it is something he needs to work on. Another reason why he is leaving. He needs to break his need to control Frankie. "I do need to not plan so much. Relax a little more."

Frank scans his face and for a microsecond, he sees a flash of something in Brock's eyes that makes him concerned. He drops it, it's probably the little gremlins. "I get all tingly when you take control..." Frank replies and raises his eyebrow, "You're the dominant one, I trust you and your planning." 

"You do. In most things, yes, you do." Brock smiles at him lovingly before kissing him, "Until my little hellcat comes out to play, that is." 

Jack makes a pretend gagging noise.

"I'll work on keeping that under control too." Frank speaks softly, "I'll be a good kitten."

A knock at the door signals the women's return. Jack grumbles as he sleepily rolls over and gets up to answer it. Brooke enters first, wearing a sleep set of small shorts and a tank top that only highlights her tight frame. Behind her, Maria enters with fuzzy sleep pants with woolly sheep dancing in the pattern, giant black sheep slippers, and a tee with a sheep drinking beer.

"Did we miss the slumber party?" Brooke asks. She steals Jack's spot on the bed. Jack grumbles and lays on her anyway.

"No ma'am," Frank says with a smile.

"Mom, I need to buy that set for Christa. Baby Floof is a lamb and that is perfect," Brock beams at her and is fascinated by the giant sheep slippers.

"I got this in Ireland. I'm sure we can find one for her. Does the baby have a name yet?" Maria also joins the bed, sitting next to Brock in Brooke's spot from earlier.

"They are debating. They still have a few months left. Though Baby Floof is sticking and I'm never calling him anything else," Brock says.

"She seemed set on Zachariah," Frank says, crawling off Brock's lap. A little voice in his head says it's probably not the most appropriate thing to do right next to your potential mother in law. Though she's heard him getting fucked by her son. "Those are really cute slippers." 

Maria gives her feet a wiggle, grinning wide. "Thank you, Frank." 

"Baby, I'm going to go change into something more comfortable, is that ok? Or is it rude?" Frank whispers. 

"It's fine, _amore mio_. Just make sure you come back."

"Yes. You must come back. And perhaps bring snacks. Can't have a proper slumber party without snacks," Maria adds.

"Mom, we can order room service?" Brock offers.

"Nonsense. Snacks are junk food. Chips, candy, ice cream, random fried foods? Bunch of boys on a bus probably has stashes of snacks," she replies, giving Frank a raised eyebrow and a humorous knowing look.

"Brock does have a big basket full of chocolate." Frank adds nodding to the basket, "But I'll see what I can scrounge up for you. I'll be back." 

He kisses Brock softly before standing up and heading for the door. His ears pick up on a slight moan from next door and can't help but feel a little jealous. He's on a mission to get snacks for the Rumlows. He knows that the hotel has a little shop, he'll hit that up first then go change.

"Nobody touches my chocolate basket," Brock says before Frankie is all the way out of the door.

"Wouldn't even dare." Brooke raises her hands.

“Damn right, I don’t even let Frankie eat my chocolate,” Brock snorts.

“He is rather endearing,” Maria comments. 

“I love him, Mom. I don’t want to let him go. He’s who I want for the rest of my life. We’ve both been stressing over me taking him home for Christmas. I want Dad to like him. I need him to give the green light so I can propose.”

“So. He is The One. It’s my understanding that he is aware of who and what we are. How does he feel about that?” Maria asks.

“He knows and I think he has already decided to move with me back home once we are married,” Brock nods but is unsure about Frankie moving. It’s a big move to make and it would isolate Frankie from all of his friends and family. Brock isn’t sure he wants to do that to his husband.

“It’s cute and adorable. Those two already call each other husband,” Jack adds.

“That is rather cute,” Maria agrees with a nod. “From the phone call we had, I can tell he is more than just enamored with you. You two have been through some tough and dark times. Those things test a person to see what they are truly made of. Love isn’t enough, no matter what the fairytales say. And while I still reserve judgment, I do like him, from what I know and have witnessed. Tell him to relax, though. I am too old and fun for him to walk on eggshells around.”

Brock nods, unsure what to add to that. “Okay.”

“If he can survive the next two days with us at the theme parks, I’m sure he can take on anything,” Brooke laughs.

“If he can survive the next week and a half, I’ll marry him myself to keep him in the family,” Jack says with less enthusiasm than his sister.

“What?” Brock’s eyes widen. How did he know?

“Ray told me. I told them.”

“Perhaps you could come home for a few days. The last half of your week could be spent with your father and your siblings. I would like that. I know you would enjoy being back home. Your father misses you. You could even speak to him about Frankie and your intentions. This will be good for you. It’s healthy to step away.” Maria pulls her son into her arms and hugs him tightly.

“ _I’m scared, Mama. I’m scared he won’t want me back. He won’t forgive me. He will realize I’m not healthy for him; I’m broken._ ” Brock despairs in his native tongue into his mother’s embrace and a few tears are shed.

“If he runs away from this then perhaps, he is not ready to take the next steps. It is not the end until someone says it is the end. A break is not a break-up. It is a time for growth and change in such a way that allows some freedom in a safe place. You will be just fine, my son,” Maria kisses Brock on the forehead and runs her hand through his hair, raking nails across his scalp. 

Brock holds her a little longer before nodding and pulling away to wipe away the few tears that had escaped. He takes a few deep breaths. “Thanks.”

“Always, my _patatino_.”

Frank gives a soft small knock on Brock’s door before he itches his nose. He's not put together like the Rumlow ladies in his basketball shorts and an old t-shirt with bats on it but at least his colors match. He's got a bag full of snacks and a bottle of water. He takes a deep breath and nods, "I got this." 

"You sure as shit do. And you're not doing it alone." Mike says patting his back. "I think Ray and Chris are coming back once they are...done. but I know Gee and Linds passed out. Bob is asleep on my bed."

"Thank you for coming back. I appreciate it." Frank hugs his friend and feels a little weight off his shoulders, "Well, it's gonna be a long night. Hopefully, I don't fuck it up."

"Nah, just be your charming goofy self and the Rumlows will love you." Mike says with a confident nod, "Two of the five already do." 

Brooke opens the door and lets them in. "Welcome back boys." 

"Surprised you came back, Mike-n-Ike," Brock comments, clearly happy to see the man.

"Hey, Brock!!" Mike hugs him. "I brought soda and candy!" 

"Ray and Chris are coming back too."

"When she comes back, move, Jack. A woman in her condition needs her rest," Maria pokes her youngest.

"Ow! Okay. Gosh," he grumbles. He's sleepy. 

"Aww, poor Jack is a grumpy baby." Frank snickers, setting the grocery bag full of snacks down, "I was going to stop at the vending machine but I realize that I have no idea what you lovely ladies drink."

"I'll try anything once. This is so exciting." Maria reaches for a candy bar. She carefully reads it over. "Interesting. What is a Butterfinger?" 

"Ms. Brooke?" Frank asks.

She's too busy fascinated by the brightly yellow wrapper her mother has. "Why would Americans eat a finger covered in butter? With chocolate?"

"Oh. Well, a Butterfinger is peanut butter toffee that's been crushed and molded into the shape and dipped in chocolate. They are ok. But Reese’s is my favorite." Mike says with a nod, "And sour patch kids."

As Mike is about to sit down a knock at the door makes him spin around and head for it. He carefully opens the door and sees Ray and Chris grinning with a big bag of Cheetos and a box of Cheez-its, "We come bringing snacks and a speaker for music, figured we could play something soft for filler."

"Welcome to the party." Frank greets them.

"Thanks!" Christa grins wide.

Frank leans over and kisses Brock tenderly, "Do you want a coke and a water?" He strokes his cheek with a smile. 

"Just a Coke, thank you, baby." Brock kisses Frank.

"What is a Reese's?" Brooke asks. Maria hands her the bitten Butterfinger and she takes a smaller bite. 

He moves around the bed and pokes Jack's forehead before bending over him, "What do you want brother?" 

"Pepsi. Chips?" Jack cracks open one eye. He wants to go to bed. 

"Don't fall asleep or I'll draw a penis on your forehead." Frank says before kissing him on it, "I got the chips you like. Dork." 

"We just flew eight hours. And I'm tired. Bite me," Jack grumbles. He makes grabby hands for the bag of Spicy Doritos.

"Here you go." He opened his hands and had Mike toss the bag at him, "I'll be back." He boops Jack's nose twice before heading out for drinks.

Brock hands Brooke one of the Reese's peanut butter cups. "Peanut butter and chocolate. Better than Butterfinger."

"He is absolutely right, Brooke." Ray chuckles.

"Almond joys." Christa says, opening the Cheetos, "Usually anyways, my little lamb really loves cheese and hates red meat."

"When I was pregnant, I couldn't stomach spaghetti. And, I discovered the hard way, one would love a food and the other would kick me if they hated it. They were a nightmare," Maria playfully glares at her kids 

"I imagine Brock was the eater and Brooke was the kicker." Ray chuckles, "She was probably trying to kick her brother." 

"We'll never know," Maria laughs.

"This is why you love me more 'cause you didn't have to go through all the hard work of birth and stuff," Jack mutters.

"Being pregnant was great for the first five months. Now he just takes revenge on me. He's trying to do flips or something, ever since we messed with him." Christa says looking at Brock. 

"Hey, maybe we shouldn't have messed with him? Now he thinks he's a gymnast or something!" Brock snickers.

"Pretty sure he was kicking her earlier cause I swear it was a foot." Ray grins as he rubs her belly.

"Any words of advice Momma Rumlow?" Christa asks.

"Wine. And finding things to soothe the restlessness. Music helps. Herbal teas. I found taking a walk and rubbing them calmed them both when I couldn't sleep. Babies can hear quite a bit in the womb. They loved the sea sounds. Once they settled, I slept."

"He likes when I am at preggo water aerobics. Brock suggested wine. I'm gonna have to try it." Christa grins at Ray.

Frank’s arms are full of drinks as he approaches the door for what he hopes is the last time, he uses two fingers to tap on the door, "Help?" 

"Maria, do you know that your son is tryin’ to get all the band members to have babies…" Mike smiles warmly, "Even giving our kids names; baby Floof, baby Sprinkle, baby Emo and baby Thumper, I assume would be Bobs."

Maria and Brooke both laugh. Maria recovers first, patting Brock on the back, "You've got the baby fever, eh? Poor child."

"Keep telling him that he could have his own," Ray says with a wink.

Frank turns his back and kicks the door and grumbles, "I'll go grab the drinks. Sure I'll stand in the hallway like a weirdo at four in the morning…" 

"Jack, get the door," Brock nudges him with a foot.

"You were supposed to let her sit in your spot," Maria adds, lightly smacking him. "Christa, join us on the bed." 

"You sure?" Chris asks. 

"Yeah, you're the one cooking a kid. You should be comfortable." Mike nods. 

"Plus, you know uncle Brock wants to be close to him. Huh, B?" Ray chuckles.

"Damn right. Gimme baby," Brock makes grabby hands.

Jack yawns as he makes his way over to the door and opens it. "Need some help?" 

"Yes, please. I'm freezing." Frank sighs. He lifts his arms for Jack to take sodas, "I looked like a ghetto scrawny soda Santa hanging out in the hall at 4 am."

"Soda Santa is here!" Mike snorts.

"Why are you freezing though? It's like eighty degrees outside." Jack grabs more bags before shutting the door.

"I am always cold for one and I packed these in my arms like babies before I got a bag." Frank gives Jack a look, "I even got you a big Pepsi…" he pulls it out and hands it to him. He passes Brock a coke, he offers Maria her choice, "What looks good Maria and Ms. Brooke?" 

"Sprite is a good choice. So is Diet Pepsi." Christa says casually. 

"I prefer Coke over Pepsi actually, thank you," Maria says. 

Brooke takes a Sprite. "We actually have these back home. And please, Frank. It's just Brooke. Relax. Thank you. This… Reese's was such an interesting flavor. I liked the chocolate but I expected the butter to be… different."

"First time I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I was hooked on the stuff. Americans are awesome in their junk food department. You gotta try a Twinkie or Ding Dong," Brock offers. He tries hard to keep a straight face at the mention of the Hostess confections.

Frank smirks at Brock. He takes a seat and crosses his legs then folds himself over. He notices a look that Ray is giving him then looks away. 

"I'm sorry, a _what_?" Brooke asks with a little jaw drop.

"Ding dong." 

"Sounds _dirty_. Let me have one,” Maria sasses with an eyebrow waggle.

"Brock likes twinkies," Ray says looking at him with a smile. 

"Does this have to do with Brock's size kink," Maria asks. She grins devilishly at Brock. 

Frank's face turns cherry red as Mike and Ray snort and laugh. He takes a drink of soda and tries to cool himself down. Maria really is like his mom. He decides if they want him relaxed, that's what they're getting. He recovers with a casual smile, "Absolutely does." 

"And a cake. Which is why it's funny. It really is good cake. We don't have that back home," Brock nods. He turns to Mikey. "Do you have any?"

"Pssh, do I have any..." He digs through his bag then tosses Twinkies at Brock as well as ding dongs.

"What do you _not_ have? I feel like you stole Mary Poppins' bag and have a junk food portal with you everywhere we go." Brock picks up a Twinkie and a Ding Dong, opening them both. 

Brooke scoots closer, curious. 

Maria also shows interest but decides to use the opportunity to ask Frankie a few questions. "So Frank. What are your career aspirations? I'm going to assume you wish to continue your music career."

"I would like to but it's not something that will last forever. I can always find a way to do something musically as a producer, writer, or something." Frank says with a thoughtful pause, "Or go back and get a degree and be a real boy." 

"Why not both? Are there not musical degrees?"

"There are. And I could, I might. I did a couple of quarters in college to get a degree in psychology. But honestly, it depends on where my life goes." Frank says.

“Psychology? Now that is something fascinating. I can think of several places where such a skill would come in handy,” Brooke gives a wry smile.

"I have always thought the human mind is interesting. How easily it can be broken and then rebuilt. Also being able to help someone would be rewarding." Frank shrugs and snickers, "But who knows, maybe I'll be a mailman when this music thing goes away."

“You are in no way becoming a mailman,” Brock laughs and nuzzles his husband’s neck, kissing him.

"Why not! I would be a cute mailman." Frank giggles before stopping to grin at Brock, "Until I get mugged by youths on the street..." 

Jack sniggers until Brock throws a piece of candy at his brother’s face. It smacks him dead in one eyeball. Jack yelps, laughs and launches it back. Brock nearly catches it, picks it up, and eats the candy.

“Well, let’s keep you off the streets, shall we?” Maria smirks. 

"Okay, that's fair." Frank nods.

“What other skills do you have besides playing the guitar? How are you under pressure?” Brooke asks, gently taking a small bite of a twinkie. 

"Depends on the pressure, but overall I'd like to think I can handle myself. Though lower stake things I tend to find myself overthinking but once I snap out of it I'm fine." Frank looks at Brooke with a confident smile, "Skills? I can cook, bake, clean, sew. Never had a speeding ticket."

_I can suck cock pretty well and take dick like a champ, does that count?_

“So basically you are a better man than both of my brothers, combined” Brooke chuckles. She eats a bit more of the twinkie before offering it to Maria. “This is very sweet. Almost too sweet for my tastes. The spongy texture feels weird but it complements the cream.”

"I'm by no means an _angel,_ but my mom wanted me to be able to survive on my own and be a well-rounded man for my future partner." Frank shrugs, "Besides who doesn't love having a surprise cake or pie once in a while.

"I'm scared of spiders. Bugs really but spiders are awful," Frank offers.

“Three cheers to Linda then,” Maria raises her can of soda. She mutters something to Brooke before turning back to Frank. “What sort of plan do you have for when my son passes? Should the two of you remain together for that long? Heaven forbid something tragic should happen between now and a natural cause. While I normally would not care that there is such an age difference between the two of you, Emilio and myself hold six years difference, the circumstances surrounding my son do give me pause.”

"Oh. Well. To be honest, ma'am as much as I don't want to think about it, it is a concern." Frank pauses. He really hates this topic, "Brock is my person and I can't imagine my life without him. I don't want to marry anyone other than him. I suppose he and I would sit down long before this and go over what he wants to have done. Other than that I'd have to learn to live my life without him." 

“Well now that we have that rather morbid question out of the way, have you ever gotten into any fights, Frank? Can you hold your own or are you the one getting bruised and bloody?” Brooke asks. 

Brock leans forward and whispers in Frankie’s ear, “These questions are not what they seem, _tesoro_. Look beyond the surface.”

Frank blinks at Brock and opens his mouth before tracking his eyes to Brooke, "Well, I'd rather not fight. If there is a civil way to handle a dispute, then that's how I'd rather go. But, I also know when talking is no longer an effective way of handling the situation. I'm not afraid to get into a fight but it's got to be for the right reason."

"Frankie is scrappy when he needs to be." Mike nods at him. 

"He's just overprotective of the ones he loves." Christa lightly replies before throwing a Cheeto at Mike.

“It’s the street rat in him. Fights everything that affronts him. Like a tiny chihuahua,” Jack jokes. 

“Do you come from low income or poverty, Frank? If you don’t mind me asking?” inquires Brooke.

"Middle class. My mom's a nurse. Dad's a mildly successful musician." Frank is unfazed by this, "We never went without but we were taught how to handle money and not be wasteful." 

“You have a good business sense then?” 

"I suppose. I know that my previous predicament with my old manager doesn't paint me in the best light but in my defense, I was young and hungry for more. We all were. So kinda sold our souls for this career but we have renegotiations coming up soon and we are all planning on changing our terms." Frank has no idea if that helped him or hurt him. 

“The street rat thing is a joke, sis,” Jack adds. “It was Ray’s at first but now it’s more meaning the movie Aladdin. Brock is Jasmine. Frank is the poor kid.”

“Jack’s my tiger,” Brock chimes in.

"He's the Rajah!"

"We always joked and called him our greasy Jersey street rat. King rat… not exactly sure why but he's our little street urchin." Ray tries to explain.

“Ah. That is rather endearing actually. And you are right, Brock is a princess,” Brooke giggles.

"He looks nice in teal, too." Frank grins and bites his lip. 

“Maybe we can deck him out in princess attire tomorrow,” Brooke smirks at Frank. 

“Ohh, I’ll get in on that. Don’t they have those… little shops where you dress up your kid? I think I saw that once on a commercial.” Jack high-fives Brooke.

"Yes, I’m in. Say no more." Frank laughs.

*He'd look nice in a tiara," Christa adds.

"Be nice you four little hellions," Ray laughs.

“Thank you, Sunshine. I appreciate that.” Brock glares at his siblings. Maria just laughs and shakes her head at her kids.

"We all know that Brock would look best in Belle's gold dress." Ray continues with a smile.

“You asshole! Traitor!” Brock yells, throwing the first bag he can find on the bed and chucking it at him. He laughs, “You are supposed to be on my side, brother!”

"Better than being put in the seashell bra and fins, Brock." Mike snickers. The idea is highly entertaining.

“Okay, I hate you all. I’m going to make sure we are all on the same ride and I’m gonna find a way to puke all over each of you. Heathens.”

Before too long 7 am came creeping up, Christa and Frank both barely make it, struggling to stay awake as they pack their bags. The band trudges to the front desk. They pile into cars and make their way to the Magic Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B: Still love my mom???  
> F: yes but OH MY GOD


	23. The Magic Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock spends a day at Disney. Storm clouds are brewing and looming over Brock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in Florida and have visited Walt Disney World so many times, I didn't need any references on creating the experiences for our boys and co. Some rides/attractions are no longer around today, as this fic is set in years past. Hope you feel like you had a magical day at the theme parks as our boys did. Only better because you are within the comforts of A/C. Enjoy!  
> ~Winterscribe.
> 
> As usual, this is a work of fiction, only the places the boys visit are real. We make no money from this nor do we own anything or anyone. Winter owns Maria Rumlow and Brooke Rumlow as OCs.

Brock never thought what he is now officially calling the “ride before the rides” would be so extensive and kinda cool. After arriving at the hotel and crashing hard for several hours, the large group made their way down a few floors to the loading zone for the Monorail. It’s a tight fit for their number but they manage. They chat about the things they want to see most and the things they are willing to miss out on. Frank is the shortest so he has to stand up and hold onto the poles while the train travels some 100 feet above the trees, across a lake, and finally to the station at the park gates.

After boarding and slowly working their way down a two-level steep incline, they make their way to bag check and turn in their tickets. At the urging of Ray, Brock, and Maria, Christa gets an electric scooter so she won’t have to walk the twenty-seven thousand-yard park. Once she’s situated and comfortable, they begin the walk down Main Street, USA. They walk past shops of all sorts, the penultimate tourist trap, and a Disney hoarder’s dream. There are a few food shops that Brock thinks he might try on the way out of the park but honestly, he’s only here for the rides. He did his research online and found a few insider tips from a blog. He knows which of the most popular rides he needs to accomplish first or not at all. As they walk down the street, passing by street vendors selling overly large balloons, food and drink carts, and light-up trinkets, the giant castle of Cinderella looms over them. Nearly every tourist stopped to take a photo as it was the most iconic part of Magic Kingdom. It was pretty.

Frank's eyes are dancing along each bright colored thing as they pass by them. He slows a little to look at the Walt and Mickey statue before hurrying to stay in tow with Brock. He looks around to the left just a little at the sound of his name but is pulled back to Cinderella's castle by slaps to his chest, a little harder than he was expecting. He catches Jack's expression of distaste for being needlessly hit over a castle. It brings a smile to Frank's face to know he's not the only one getting abused.

There is an employee offering photos of families and Brock nudges his friends and family. "Castle. Castle. Castle. Picture. Now. Gimme." Each word is punctuated by a hit, both of his arms flailing out. 

"We can get a picture!" Frank encourages.

"I'm not sitting in this damn chair," Christa says climbing out.

"Okay, but will you stop hitting me?" Jack shoves Brock a little. "I get it. You want a picture. Cool your jets, dude."

Brock is excited and he punches Jack on the arm again. "This is gonna be so cool! We're gonna have a picture!"

"Mom, tell your son to stop hitting me," Jack protests.

"Brock, behave." 

"Just beat him," Lindsey replies with a playful smirk as everyone begins to line up.

"My children know they are not too old to get a switching. Nor am I too old to give one," Maria smirks and pulls her brood into the family photo. 

Jack moves to the back of the group because he's the tallest. Just to give a little payback for being a punching bag, he decides to rest his chin on top of Brock's head. "Too bad Dad isn't here. Then this would be a true family photo." 

"We'll just Photoshop him in," Brooke laughs, standing next to Brock.

Photo captured and put onto a little card. Brock grins wide dragging the group to the left of the park, and towards the space theme. He needs to ride the indoor coaster first.

The group stays close together and follows Brock into the first place he wants to head. Christa turns to Maria and touches her shoulder, "If your feet get tired, I'm more than willing to give it up to you."

Maria smiles down at her newest daughter-in-law and places a gentle hand on her back. "Thank you, sweet girl. I want to say that I'll be fine, but I may have to take you up on that offer later tonight. Walking several miles doesn't bother me, but I have a feeling that we will be doing more than just a few miles today."

Jack has his nose buried in the park map and nearly runs into people several times as he tries to read the descriptions and warnings for the rides that are in their area. His head pops up and points out Buzz Light-year. "Brock, look. We can shoot space aliens and save the planet in the fight against Zurg. I don't know what any of that means other than shooting things in Toy Story."

"After we ride the roller coaster," Brock calls back over his shoulder.

"I'll hold things while you guys ride this coaster." Christa smiles. 

Jack turns to Christa, "There's a place where you could do child-swap? You can basically come in with us and wait in line and then go chill in the waiting area. That way you aren't in the heat."

"Sweet that's exactly what I'm gonna do! My personal tumor already makes me hot, the sun isn't helping either. Thank you, Jack!" Christa grins up at him.

Frank slips an arm around Brock's waist and looks up at him, the giant goofy grin hasn't left his face. "I love you, happy birthday, baby." 

"I love you too. Are you going to be okay to ride this?" Brock asks as they enter the giant white dome. It feels like he entered NASA. Everywhere was blinking lights, beeps, astronaut stuff. They truly put the theme in theme park.

"I feel ok. Did you want me to sit this one out?" Frank asks. He reminds himself to be good.

"Well, you didn't like a lot of the coasters in Six Flags. This is in the dark. Are you going to be okay with that?" 

"I'm a vampire… I am excellent in the dark. I should be fine as long as this doesn't throw me straight up in the air or have loop after loop." Frank nods, "I'll be good. Thank you for asking!"

"I thought you were an emo? Not in the vampires or goth clubs. 'Cause you know, there's some random difference," Brock snickers and teases.

"I'm what the kids call a goth emo vampire rat hybrid… very rare." Frank chuckles as they move closer to the ride, "It makes it so I can be in the sunlight without melting..." 

"Right, okay," Brock nods. "Must be the rat powers. Because all the other stuff pretty much burns in the sun. And you probably will today. Did we bring sunscreen?"

"Yes, baby. Sunscreen is in Lindsey's bag. Those pale Emos need it more than I do." Frank snickers looking over at Lindsey and Gerard, "I'll just turn pink like a piglet, remember?" 

"I thought you were Tigger?" Brock giggles.

"He could be the pink panther," Bob offers.

"Come along Eeyore…" Frank laces his fingers with Brock.

"Does this make me an Owl?" Maria chuckles. "I should get a senior citizen's discount." 

"Mom, it's from a cartoon. But you aren't wrong. You are the oldest one here," Brock teases with a large grin. Maria tries to swat him but he dodges with a cackle. "And the wisest! That comes with age! It's a good thing!"

Maria laughs as she threatens, "I'm going to get you back, just you wait." 

"Ooohh your mommas gonna beat you!" Frank teases.

"Damn right. I can. I will. And I will do it in front of a crowd. Watch your words, boy. Birthday or not," she warns him with a pointed finger. She's grinning to take the sting out of her words. She knows her boy is playing.

Brooke mutters, "This is why I'm the good twin." 

"Be nice to your mom. We like her better than you." Ray teases as he glances back. 

"Rude! I'm the birthday boy. You're supposed to love me more," Brock pokes Ray in the arm. 

"Yeah, it's also Brooke's..." Frank raises an eyebrow.

"Thank you, Frank. I appreciate that. He can't help it. Brock's the drama queen and loves being the center of attention. I like to think it's the gay but I'm probably wrong." Brooke grins at them both as she leans against the railing. 

"Which is why you're _the_ actual queen. And he's a princess." Frank nods.

"I am the oldest," she muses.

"Five minutes! By five freaking minutes," Brock objects with a little hiss and a laugh.

"Congratulations. You can tell time," Brooke retorts with a giggle.

Frank laughs but quickly covers his mouth, "The sass… it warms my bones."

"I'm here all day, brother. All. Day," Brooke smirks at Brock. 

"Oh, hell," Brock grumbles a bit more before the line moves and they reach the loading area.

Christa zooms her scooter with the basket full of all of their loose things that might come out on the ride over to the waiting area. An attendant sorts them into rows of three with Brock having to share the last rocket with two strangers behind him. Once they're seated in the rocket-shaped car and their lap bars are tested to be sure they are locked into place, they begin to ride, a sudden drop causing someone to yelp before climbing upwards. The G-Forces push them all back and Brock wonders if anyone has fallen out. It's pitch black in here and only the "stars" are visible. Any more of his thoughts are stripped away as they begin to drop, picking up speed and soaring around curves, drops and spirals. It's freaking awesome and it might just be Brock's new favorite ride. It's over in a matter of minutes and when they jerk to a halt, Brock is certain he has wind-blown hair. It takes them all a bit to figure out how to get out of the log-style seating with space legs but they manage to pile out and greet Christa.

"How was that?" She greets them with a huge smile. 

"Fun as hell!" Frank grins at Jack then looks to Brock. 

"Awesome! I wanna do it again!" Brock is excited. He giggles at Ray, who's floof has a massive windblown look.

"No, we're going to shoot space aliens," Jack pouts.

"Aliens!" Ray nods with Jack.

"What did they do to you?" Christa laughs at the sight of Ray.

Frank's fingers tickle Brock's palm as they head for the next ride. "That wind made your hair somehow better?" 

Brock shakes his head like a woman. He brushes imaginary hair over his shoulder. "I'm a L'Oreal woman." 

"You're much hotter than any model," Frank grins.

"Thanks, baby." Brock grins and kisses him before glancing smugly at his sister. 

"He's biased. He's supposed to say that to your face," Brooke smirks and winks at Frank.

"Nah. I mean it. Look at his cute face." Frank says with a slight baby voice. 

"Maria. Is there anything you want to do in the states besides Disney?" Gerard asks softly. He can't help but want to be near her. She reminds him of his grandma. She was lovely and lively and spunky just like Maria.

"When's Jack's birthday?" Frank asks quietly to Brock.

"I bet he's a Cancer." Lindsey says wrapping her arm around Brock's free one, "My boyfriend is in love with your mom." 

"Well, sweet child, I am doing it. I am spending time with my family and new friends. I am eager to try all sorts of new things. This is a very different experience than my island," Maria laughs and grins at Gerard.

"Jack's birthday has already passed. Or coming up, depending on how you want to look at it. His birthday is in February," Brock says. He glances at Gerard and his mom and smiles at the two of them. 

"Fantastic. So we can throw him a party. And embarrass him." Frank says with a small nod.

"I am glad you came. Brock talks about you a lot so it's nice to finally meet the best mom ever…" Gerard says with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sure I have plenty of failings. After all, I'm human. I've made my share of mistakes and I'm sure I'll continue to make more. I've just learned to acknowledge and accept my failures but don't give them power over me. They are the past and I'd rather not dwell there. I am proud of my children. And if they are even a little better than me, I've done my job."

Brooke moves with Jack and finds interest in Ray. She's curious as to the man her siblings call brother. She speaks softly with Jack about lunch options. Turning to Christa, she asks, "What are you able to stomach the most, and what would you like to eat for lunch? It seems this place holds several dining-in options which would be good for getting out of the sun. We don't need you faint."

"I am fairly simple. He likes fried food. Really anywhere with AC and milkshakes and I'm sold." Christa smiles up at Brooke. She feels a small pang of jealousy, Brook looks like a damn model and her own body feels like a worn-out sock.

"A little man after my own heart," Brooke chuckles.

"There's a place around the corner that you can get soft serve. Should see it when we exit Buzz. And I think it's near the bathroom," Jack says, squinting at the map in the bright sun. He mutters to himself, "Should've worn my sunglasses." 

"They sell some here." Frank says with a smile. His eyes catching Brock's sunglasses and a giddy feeling washes over him.

"Yeah but I have prescription ones. I just didn't bring them like an idiot. I doubt they have ones that will go over my frames." Jack ducks into the safety of the shade as they near the entrance to Buzz Light-year. Thankfully it's only a five minute wait and they'll be able to just walk in. He's already sweating in the heat. He wipes his forehead on his shirt and folds up the map.

"We could get you a visor to block the sun out and complete the look with a fanny pack?" Ray teases.

"He's not wearing enough floral print for that. And he needs a camera around his neck," Brooke laughs.

"He's also missing the tall socks with sandals…" Ray sighs, "Guess you can't play the role of tourist dad just yet."

"That's Brock's job," replies Jack.

"No, that's daddy, not dad," Frank replies without thinking then claps his hand over his mouth. _Jesus Christ, Frank._

Jack and Brock both crack up laughing. The Rumlow ladies only raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

"That was meant to be thought not actual words." Frank said with a red face.

The group gets in line behind young girls and their mother, all of which are chatting and laughing but grow quiet when someone elbows their friend and nods to the group.

A tall brunette with heavy eye makeup turns to Gerard and pauses as she quietly speaks, "Your name wouldn't possibly happen to be Gerard Way?" 

"No. My name's Alex. Who's Gerard?" Gerard wrinkles his nose.

"Oh you look like a singer from a band." Her eyes dance along the rest of the band, "Huh… sorry to bother you, Alex."

Gerard gives Brock a look like, _Is that ok?_

Brock nods and winks. He was surprised that the girl actually dropped it. Especially considering the other band members are right there in front of her. But hey, he's happy they aren't being mobbed. 

The girls keep looking back with skeptical faces as Gerard turns to Jack, "So our next ride is?" 

"I am just along for the ride. So I am following along." Frank chuckles.

Jack peers at the map as they make zig-zags through the queue. "There's an interactive comedy show next door. We could do that. Or grab a snack or lunch and make our way to Fantasyland."

"Oh, that sounds like a plan. Food then Fantasyland." Ray says stroking Christa's hair, "Does that work for you, muffin?" 

"Yeah. That sounds good, I do have to find a bathroom once we're done here. This little monster thinks mom's bladder is fun to kick." 

As the group reaches the inside of the ride, the sounds of mechanical whirrs, beeps, and chirps bounce off the walls and blend with the voice of the crowd. A life-size Buzz Light-year explains the mission to save toys from an Emperor. The black lights overhead bring out the luminescence in every color it shines on. An attendant loads the cars up, putting Frank and Mike together while putting the brothers in their own car and sends them down a black tunnel. The move was intentional. Frank knows that both of those boys are competitive and would do their damnedest to get a high score. Frank elbows Mike and gives him a huge smile. 

"We gotta try to _outdo_ them," Frank smirks. 

"We can try but you know they won't be topped..." Mike grins and nods.

The noise swells and for a moment feels overwhelming as the car spills into the main part of the ride. The shooting of blasters, actor voice-overs, the patrons shouting and laughing overtake the space as the ride moves along. The final battle is filled with Jack and Brock shouting at one another to keep firing until the ride comes to an end. Frank leans over to see a score of 797,832. 

Afterwards they check out the ride photos, to which Brock buys himself one copy of each so he can put them in a college when he gets home. Maria does the same thing for the villa. After ride photos, Christa waddles to the bathroom before they make the trek to Fantasyland. They head over to Pinocchio Haus for lunch. Afterward, they join the line for Peter Pan. 

It could be the post meal bliss or the heat but as they stood in line, Ray could feel himself getting heavy. He needed a nap. He glares at the Ways who stayed in bed. _Fuckers, pretty boy singer needed his sleep_. He leans into Christa's little buggy thing and kisses the top of her head. He watches Jack, Brock and Brooke interact. 

"He looks happy." She says softly. 

"He is. He misses them a lot." Ray nods.

"Where's Frank and Mike?" Christa whispers.

"I'm not their keeper..." Ray chuckles, for once it wasn't him wandering off. "But don't point it out, yet."

Christa nods, her eyes watching the surrounding area. It takes a few minutes but she finally finds the two wayward idiots, looking at all the details of the decorations leading up to the ride.

Frank joins the group talking with Mike about how he's never seen or read anything Winnie the Pooh which gets him a shocked and disgusted look. 

"You weren't hugged or loved as a child." Mike snorts as they join the others, "Maybe Maria will read you Winnie the Pooh before bedtime…"

"You've never heard of Winnie the Pooh?" Brock asks Frankie. He always thought that was a staple for kid's childhoods.

"I've heard of Winnie but never had it read to me..." Frank shrugs.

Brock turns to Maria and hollers loud enough for the whole group to hear him. "Mom!"

She looks over where she was speaking with Brooke and gives him a questioning look. 

"Mommy will you read Winnie the Pooh to us at bedtime tonight," Brock asks with the faux cuteness of a child. He even adds a grin.

Frank curls his fingers into Brock's shirt and tries to shush him as the people around them turn to look.

"Frank's never heard of Winnie the Pooh," Mike adds and enjoys the reddening of his cheeks.

Maria waits a beat before smiling and nodding, "Sure." 

"I hate you, Way," Frank mumbles before hiding his face into Brock.

Brock giggles quietly. "Bedtime story. This is gonna be awesome. We're gonna have PBJ's and milk."

"I love you." Frank grins up at him. 

"I love you too, _tesoro_." Brock leans down and kisses him.

"I'm glad I fell for a momma's boy." Frank smiles up at him, "It's actually pretty damn cute." 

"My mom is awesome. How can I not be?" 

"Your mom is awesome." Frank nods before turning to the side as the line moves. 

"So… I hate to be a party pooper and don't hate me… but I think we are gonna take a nap after this…" Christa says with a little wince, " You guys can keep on without us."

"I can go for that. Not like we don't have the time later. Sounds good to me," Brock nods. 

"God, yes a nap sounds fantastic. And maybe a shower." Frank says softly.

Brock addresses the ducklings and family, "What do you guys think about getting out of the sun, maybe shower and nap back at the hotel for a few hours before coming back?"

"I'm interested in that," Jack agrees. "A cold shower sounds great. As well as more caffeine." 

"I can't remember the last time I had a nap… it was at least before kids," Maria laughs. 

"It's the heat and I didn't run this morning." 

"Does the hotel have a pool? I think I want to go swimming. Perhaps a water ride when we return?" asks Brooke, as she pulls her hair into a bun.

Jack checks the map. "One ride. Splash Mountain. We could sit in the front and get soaked. But it's in Frontier Land."

"Sounds like fun," Brooke replies.

"I'm in!" Frank says with a nod.

"We can entertain ourselves while you guys relax," Gerard says looking at Lindsey with a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

"I don't mind a little nap…" Bob chuckles as he watches the cute attendant.

"I'm just here for whatever," Mike says, glancing to Frank and giving him a nod. He could actually sleep the rest of the day, if given the option.

"Pooh Bear next and naps after,” Brock nods. 

The group winds and weaves through the line before getting onto the moving walkway to board a pirate ship. The track is above them and as Brock scoots in with Frankie and wraps an arm around him, he's hoping his love won't panic from what he suspects is a suspended ride. It's definitely a gentle ride as there is no lap bar or seat belts to hold them in place. The ship moves into the tunnel that fades into the children's bedroom with Peter Pan leading them out to fly. The floor fades away and they hang over each major scene from the movie, with realistic figures brightly painted beneath them. It takes a few seconds for Brock to realize that they are again under a black light when the ship in front makes a turn and he sees the glowing white. He nudges Frankie and gives him a glowing smile to which they both burst into giggles. The ship makes a sudden drop and sharp but smooth turn while Wendy is walking the plank, and Brock holds onto Frankie a little tighter. Around the bend Hook and Peter fight and the young boy in tights saves the day. They fly over the city of London at night, which fascinates Brock as he wonders how true it was in likeness, returning to the Darling's home. Once the ride is over, they exit and make their way over to the Winnie the Pooh.

Brock is quickly discovering that half of the attraction is the waiting in the lines and he's getting an understanding that the theme parts of the line was supposed to somehow keep you entertained while standing in high heat with hundreds of sweaty and stinky bodies. And people flocked to this place every day. The park is now reaching overcrowdedness and the realization that any one of his boys can get lost, makes Brock nervous. Ducklings were cute and all but they also liked shiny things. It's a good thing they are leaving after this. The thought only gives him a small consolation because they are in the back of the park and they have to walk to the front still. A sound to his right pulls him out of his musings. The line diverges into two where guests can play with giant toys and then rejoin their party. He's certain it's for kids. He doesn't care. The popping thing looks interesting and before he knows it, he's got Brooke and Jack to follow him into play. They spin wheels and try to see who can send the little balls up the fastest, making the sound of popping corn. Jack is the first to leave, finding interest in some weird variant of Wack-a-mole. Brock practically skips over to a drum set and bangs on it. 

"Rabbit! Look!" Brock shouts gleefully. He bangs on the drums again. They're terrible sounding but that wasn't the point. The point was they were drums and Rabbit was here.

"Oh you're worse than my nieces and nephews!" Bob laughs and shakes his head. He leans over and rubs Brock's hair.

"I'm gonna have your job with how awesome I am," Brock teases, still playing with the drums.

Brooke wanders a little before getting a wicked idea. They were in a space that didn't have small humans to squish and no sharp edges, which is perfect. While her brother is pretending to be good at the drums, she sneaks up behind him, running a little and jumping onto his back in a pounce.

Brock will not admit he screeched like a little girl. But he will admit that she scared the shit out of him. He scrambles to hold onto Brooke lest she rip his head off with her fat arms. "Ge'off! Ack! I'm choking."

"Not my fault you suck at sneak attacks. What was your rank in the military again? Something like a boot licker, maggot, Private?" Brooke grins as she taunts.

Frank giggles at the siblings before he's pulled away.

"I'll show you maggot," Brock growls as he finishes the rest of his sentence in Italian. He shifts and holds her properly before throwing her off of him by rolling to the ground. They bicker, slipping fully into Italian, and wrestle, Jack laughing while recording it. It's not until Maria realizes that other guests are getting concerned that they are play fighting and security could be called.

" _That's enough, you two. Return to the line and behave. You can do this later where we will not run the risk of security_ ," She shouts firmly at them in her native tongue. " _Jack, quit your recording and get over here, young man."_

There's a little chorus of the three of them saying, "Yes Mom." As they trudge back into the line. No matter how old you are, Mom always wins.

Frank offers his hand to Brock, "Are you being bullied by your siblings, love?" 

Taking it, Brock grins but nods. "Brooke's mean." 

"I am not!"

"Are too!" Brock sticks his tongue out in a display of immaturity.

"Poor baby! That mean sister!" Frank kisses his cheek. He winks at Brooke before chuckling. He follows the group further inside the ride. 

The ride is a blur to Frank. He remembers the bouncy music and the bright colors that seemed brighter under the black light. The large circus looking pig and the other animals feel more like Fantasia than what he imagined Winnie the Pooh being. He cuddles into Brock and tries to not focus on the strangeness of it.

The group makes their way to the Monorail again. The ride isn't as crowded but it is full. Frank and Gerard chat quietly but Frank's eyes watch Brock as he talks and laughs with his siblings in Italian. He's never seen this side of him, sure they had their happy moments but this was _different_. He made his heart flutter a little but also ache. Brock needs his family and Frank's been consuming his time. He pushes the thought down, this is about Brock having the best day ever. He gives his love a huge sleepy smile as the Monorail stops and the car begins to spill out.

The group quietly chats in the lobby for a few minutes as they set up their plans for later. Frank follows Brock into the elevator that quickly fills with hotel guests. The car stops on their floor and the group breaks apart going to their own rooms. Frank follows Brock to the door and immediately sits in the chair.

"Florida heat sucks. It, like, saps all your energy for itself and leaves you like a zombie," Brock grumbles before face-planting onto the bed. "Humidity sucks." 

"It really does! Omg it's almost oppressive." Frank sighs and enjoys the cool air. He's a little scared to ask but he forces himself to, "Did you want to shower?"

"Yeah, we probably should. I feel like I reek of other people's sweat and grime. I'm fairly certain this one dude next to me while we were waiting for the Monorail, either farted on me or had serious b.o. Could have also been one of the many kids. So. Much. Screaming. This, this right here should be a requirement for couples who want kids. All they need to do is come here for a day and it'll either make or break them. This is why I don't want kids. I'm the babysitter. I return to sender."

"It's not that bad. In a confined space like that tram yeah but most of the noise is happy. But I agree. It should be a requirement for parenthood." Frank chuckles, "You first?"

"Yeah I guess. I am quicker. I didn't realize how tired I was until just now." Brock yawns and pushes himself up and off the bed. He heads into the bathroom. "Slumber party was totally worth it though."

"it was fun. I really do love your family." Frank says softly 

"Just think about how much easier Christmas is gonna be now! It's so awesome they are here."

"It really is. I can't believe how cool your mom is. And I love seeing you so happy with them." Frank says before yawning. He's not gonna make it to shower if he's not careful.

The shower clicks on and Brock has to holler over the sound. "I still can't believe you've never heard of Winnie the Pooh. Mom's gonna blow your mind tonight. It's a nice story."

"I don't know how I never got it read to me as a baby." Frank shouts. "Is she actually going to read to us?"

"Dunno. Maybe. She would. She's pretty good about doing what she says," Brock turns off the water and begins to towel off 

"She doesn't have to on my account. But it is sweet." Frank sighs with a smile, "This means I gotta get up."

His eyes scan up Brock's wet body and a dirty smile crawls across his lips. He knows Brock is not interested but his mind has ideas.

"Yes. This means you have to get up so you can get clean and we can nap," Brock finishes drying and climbs into the bed, nude. He's too sleepy to get dressed right now. He turns and looks at Frankie, "The water felt really nice. Maybe Brooke has the right idea. The weather is great for the water."

Frank sighs as he slowly rises to his feet but keeps his eyes on Brock, "I think she is absolutely on to something." He strips down and walks into the bathroom. He showers quickly, not Brock quick but still. He exits the bathroom and pulls thin undies on and lies on the bed. He doesn't lie close to Brock even though he wants to badly.

Brock is already half asleep when Frankie slides into the bed and he reaches out, wrapping his arms around his husband and pulls him in tight. He misses him in his arms. Today and last night has been so great for him, a good distraction from the inevitable that will happen in a few days. He doesn't want to think about that. He wants to just spend time with his love and hold him as close as possible. He needs Frankie to know and feel that he is loved. He needs him to be okay. Nuzzling Frankie's neck, he sighs and presses soft kisses there. 

"I love you, _tesoro_. To the moon and back." 

"I love you more." Frank whispers before lifting a hand and kissing the palm on his husband's hand, "I miss this." 

"Me too," he whispers back.

"I can't wait to have you back." Frank sighs.

"You never lost me," Brock says softly. "I'm always yours, now and forever. No matter the circumstances."

"Promise?" Frank lies there with his eyes open and enjoys the feeling of being held tightly. He knows Brock love's him but something in his head tells him to make sure.

"Promise. No matter what, we're in this crazy life together. I love you. I'm certain Mom loves you. We are gonna get married. I'm never leaving our relationship until the day I die. Until death do us part." Brock forces Frank to look at him. "I am yours."

"I wanna be better. I'm sorry I've taken you for granted. I'm making sure of that everyday." Frank says with a small nod, "I miss your singing in the morning." 

"You hate my singing, remember? Called it off-key," Brock chuckles.

"Off key, yes. But I miss it. Especially a certain song, you'd sing it when you went to the gym or we had a good day." Frank sighs. His lips press to Brock's skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. 

Brock presses soft kisses everywhere he can reach, whispering sweet nothings and sentiments in his love's ear before he slips off to sleep.

Frank lies there and enjoys everything about this moment. He strokes Brocks arm before he lets himself relax and fall asleep. The bad dreams rock him from his sleep. He doesn't know how long he was out but he lies in bed just enjoying the quiet and feeling protected by Brock's arms.

After naps and some relaxation, the group again makes the trek back into the park. They make their way to the left of the castle this time, entering Adventure Land. Jack points out Aladdin's magic carpet ride on the map to Frank, who practically drags them there.

“You sure you wanna ride this ride?” Frank asks Brock. He is trying to keep his little grin from his face.

"Are you asking me because it's a kid's ride?" Brock smirks at him.

“Yes.”

"I feel like we kinda have to. It's our thing. I mean, how bad can it be?"

“It is our thing. Its a silly ride but I'm weirdly excited.” Frank beams up at him. 

Jack throws both of his arms around them. "So. How does it feel knowing you will be the only adults without a child on this ride in the history of the ride? To save yourself embarrassment, will you pretend Frank is, in fact, your son?"

“Why would he need to do that when _we_ have our special son, Jack, with us?” Frank smirks at him.

"I'm not going with you. No, I'm going to record you and put it on YouTube."

“Honey, this ride isn't scary. I promise, it's gentle. Easy like you need.” Frank says loudly as he pats Jack's back.

"The only thing I need is a drink," Jack mutters, pulling away from them and joining the group. "Have fun!" 

“Ass.” Frank snorts before taking Brock's hand. The line moves them closer to the front, "So… you know how you want to have a tiger. I have an idea?" 

As Christa and Ray move past the carpet ride, her eye catches something that she has to have.

"Baby… can we go there?" She asks softly, taking his hand before pointing to the Aloha Isle. 

"Okay?"

"It's dole whip..." She bats her lashes.

"Alright, let's go." Ray chuckles and let's her go first. He pauses as they move but he stops to tell Jack where they are going. Before he can get a word out, a stream of water slaps him in the face. He frowns as Christa laughs hard. 

"Laugh it up, chuckles." Ray grumbles as he wipes his face.

"I wish Jack got _that_ on video!" She cackles.

"I'm going to eat all the cheese sticks the next time you order them, miss." Ray threatens.

"That's not a threat. Godfather won't let you be mean to mini Floofster." She grins up at him before leaving him in the dust to join the line for the sweet victory treat.

"Yes, I want a tiger. Do tell," Brock says as he puts an arm around Frank. He makes them go up and down as they fly in circles.

"So hear me out, what if we sponsor a tiger… at a sanctuary?" Frank says with a nod, "We can go visit him, make sure that he's cared for and enriched. It's like owning a horse but boarding it at a stable…"

"Can I pet the tiger though?"

"If you don't want a hand."

Brock considers this for all of a second. "Hmm… do I really need a hand?"

"Yes, dork!" Frank laughs before elbowing Brock gently, "I'm not showing you the world with a missing hand." 

"But I can have a cool metal hand like in Star Wars," he giggles.

"I mean… that would be kinda cool." Frank leans up and kisses him, "But I like your warm hands on my body." 

"I can heat the metal hand up like over a fire or put it in super hot water before putting it on your body. Like a hot stone massage." Brock laughs and continues to play with the control stick.

Putting his hand up to his face like a phone and tries to keep a giggle in, "Hello doctor, yes my husband just gave me third degree burns with his sweet metal hand."

Brock cracks up before falling into silence. He leaves the control stick alone for a moment and just lets them fly up high. It was kind of boring. "Does this feel like NASCAR to you?" With a giggle, he puts on his best announcer voice and shouts, "Left turn! And we're making _another_ left turn! Carpet One goes up! It goes down! Carpet Two is trying to take the lead! Will it _ever_ get any better than this, folks? No!"

"I think they are pulling the checkered flag… carpet one is leading the pack?" Frank tries with a scrunched nose and a shrug, "Go sports?" He offers a grin.

"Are we Carpet One?" Brock cackles.

"That's right baby, if you're not _first_. You're _last_." He winks at Brock, doing his best southern drawl, which is actually awful. 

Brock laughs harder, grateful that the ride was starting to slow down. He wipes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. He can't help but giggle, "Oh god. I'm starting to get dizzy. I don't wanna be in the world's slowest human blender anymore. I just wanna fly off into the sunset with my husband and maybe make a right turn. Or a loopy-loop. Loopdy? Loopty? Loopdy-loop."

"I think you need to kiss your husband and stop making mouth sounds." Frank chuckles.

"You know that a loopy-loop is just a left turn but on its side," Brock snickers and makes the circular hand motion. With one last laugh, he leans over and kisses him.

The ride slows and comes to a rest, Frank turns and walks backward a little as he talks with Brock, "I have some suggestions for management on how to improve this ride…"

"Oh? Do tell."

"It's crazy… but right turns." Frank grins.

Brock finds this far more hilarious than it needs to be for some reason and he dissolves into laughter. It's so much that he's having a hard time walking back to the group but when he sees the amused and confused faces of his ducklings and family, he only laughs more. 

"What the hell happened up there, Frank?" Jack asks, staring at Brock amused.

"Left turns!" Brock blurts out before laughing again.

"Left turns." Frank snickers. He loops his arm around Brock's and moves him along with the group, "Where to next, Jack?" 

"This might be right up Brock's alley. Jungle River Cruise. Up here on the left. Safe for baby and bad for our ears. Totally perfect."

"Are we going to need ear plugs then?" Brooke tries to peer at the map but Jack yanks it away and hides it.

"I'm the navigator. My map. No you don't need ear plugs. It was a joke." He sticks his tongue out at her. Brooke grins and thumps her little brother on his forehead. Rubbing the skin a little, he pushes up his glasses and stalks away to the front of the group, leading them down a ramp where a river was located. 

Christa parks her scooter and they get loaded in first, the group sitting up at the front of the boat, near the tour guide. They spread out a little, to keep the weight relatively evenly distributed. Once they are settled, the remainder of the boat is quickly filled and the tour begins.

"Wow. That was a three hour bore, if I ever saw one," Brock grins as they carefully get off the boat and back on the dock. He grins at the others to see if they got it.

"Did you really just make a Gilligans island joke?" Bob snorts.

"He apparently did get all the dad outta him." Lindsey snickers before giving him a side hug. 

"Not gonna lie. Some of the puns were golden." Christa says, looking to Maria and offering the cart to her.

"So we are at the third level of dad transformation for Brock?" Ray teases.

"Don't listen to 'em baby, I love your dad puns and so did the tour guide." Frank says rubbing his back. 

"I'm glad _somebody_ appreciates it," Brock beams at Frank.

"Maybe you could retire and work here as a tour guide. You'd fit right in," Brooke smirks, putting an arm around Brock's shoulders.

"He is a Disney Princess," Jack nods. 

Maria shakes her head no at Christa's offer. "I'm well rested thanks to our break. Thank you dear. Did you enjoy your frozen treat? What was it?"

"It's called a dole whip. It's soft serve ice cream blended with pineapples." Chris replies, "It was good. 

"Interesting. I think I would like to try one. Can you imagine a pineapple milkshake?!"

"That sounds disgusting, Mom." Brooke makes a face at the idea. Only certain fruit belonged in a milkshake in her opinion.

"Pineapple milkshakes are good, Brooke. Have you always been this broken? I thought you were the normal one… " Frank replies with a 

grin.

"You know what, small-fry? I can shove you in a nice trash can for the shit that came out of your mouth," Brooke smirks.

"I wouldn't want to invade your space and start a turf war..." Frank raises an eyebrow, "I mean with that garbage opinion and all, it only seems fitting."

"Turf war?" Brock asks with a head tilt. Why would they have a turf war? "There's no turf here. I'm pretty sure everything is real grass." 

Sighing, Frank shakes his head, "You and I need to sit down and watch Grease and West Side story..." 

Gerard snickers softly.

Brooke grins at them both. "Guess he wasn't out of his dad jokes after all. It's a good thing you are cute." She shakes her head before throwing an arm around Brock's neck and kissing his cheek. "Come on. I hear screaming. I'm hoping it's that water ride. Jack?"

"We're a little far from Splash Mountain but sure, we can do that. It's dark and getting soaked isn't ideal so while you sit in the front, I'm going to sit in the back and cross my fingers." Jack crosses himself just for good measure, too. 

"Yeah, don't want the curls to get outta control." Ray jokes as he tosses an arm over Jack's shoulder.

Jack snorts playfully. "You were thinking curls, I was thinking soaked jeans are terrible to walk in. My tiny curls will survive. Yours on the other hand…"

"Will result in 'fro city. But I might disagree on soaked jeans, while it does suck, slightly damp jeans are worse. Cause it's like a little mocking reminder that you truly don't know how to do laundry…" Ray chuckles.

"Must be a road story because your ass doesn't do laundry at home, sir." Christa replies with an exaggerated frown.

"Oh. The truth comes out." Mike chuckles as he glances around.

"Why would I wanna mess with the laundry when you always seem to do it perfectly. I'm just an idiot who barely can feed himself most days." Ray says with a wide smile.

"I don't," Bob starts but decides that this is gonna be fun to watch unravel. He can feel Brock brimming with the need to comment.

"Uh oh, did you have to say that?" Frank glances at Ray then Brock. 

Brooke and Maria glance at each other, then at Jack. Jack just grins; He knows what's going on and finds it hilarious.

Brock turns to Sunshine with a concerned and slightly panicked look. "See, this is why I make you guys eat on a schedule and not just junk food. You guys would starve without me. You're just as bad as Frankie, Sunshine. You probably wouldn't eat at all, probably forget. Just snack on chips and red bull or something. It's not healthy. You can get sick not eating or not eating right. That's not good for you or Baby Floof. I need you okay, brother. I need all my ducklings okay."

Ray chuckles, "I'll rephrase. If it wasn't for Brock. I'd forget to eat." 

Frank gives Brock a squeeze before Ray and Mike join in, stopping him in his tracks.

"Thank you mother goose!" Mike says with a big dumb smile.

Brock hugs them back, hard. He kisses Mike-n-Ike on the forehead and Ray on the cheek. He murmurs to them both how much he loves them, how much he only wants the best for them. He's worried now. He's worried about what will happen when he is gone for the week. What will happen to his boys? Will they get hurt? Will they remember to go to bed on time? Will they remember to eat real food and not junk? Will Frankie be okay and not get hurt? He can't- he can't leave them.

Frank can feel a shift in Brock. He looks at his face and frowns. "How far is it to the water mountain?" Frank asks as he squeezes Brock's hand.

"Not too far. Around the corner. Once Brock is done fretting over you guys, we can go. He's probably going to force feed you guys dinner tonight. So thanks for that, curl bro," Jack sasses with a shake of his head.

"Get outta my head," Brock grumbles. His brother's not wrong though. He is totally going to give them a big meal when they leave.

"Yeah. I don't need your crazy. I got my own, bro. Come on… let the kittens go. Let's get wet."

Reluctantly, Brock lets them go, stepping back a little and clinging tightly to Frankie. He holds his hand tight as they continue on. 

Frank pulls his shirt a little to get him to bend down so he can kiss him before trying to reassure him, "Relax baby, he was only teasing. You have done a great job of making us self-sufficient. Stop fretting, my love."

Grumbling under his breath, Brock nods, letting it go. He doesn't believe for a second that his boys are truly self-sufficient. He's seen what his wayward kittens are capable of! He's still making a sour puss face as they walk around, the theme slowly changing to the old west. 

"How can you make that face in the literal happiest place on earth?" Frank asks with a playful voice.

"Clearly that's just a catch phrase made by someone who has never seen a screaming child," he replies.

" _Polpetto_ , what's wrong? You are sour grapes and I don't like it. Talk to your lil Frankenstein…" Frank slows his pace to make Brock slow with him.

Brock snorts softly, face softening into a small smile at the nickname. "You _are_ my lil Frankenstein, aren't you _tesoro_?" 

"You're damn right I am." Frank swings himself to face Brock, "How can I help? I love you and if I have to hit a child, I am willing to make that sacrifice." 

Brock chuckles, "Please don't hit a kid. I'm just being morose over my kittens. You know I worry about you guys. Will you guys be okay if you run off and play in the great big, empty, dark theme park without me to tell you not to do stupid stuff? Will you guys actually eat dinner tonight? Will we drown in the next ride? Just stuff in my head."

"Okay silly goose, first of all, yes we will eat food even if you don't say anything to us. We are guys. We love to eat. Second, no one is going to drown. Third, define stupid. I think it's kinda stupid to pay thirty five dollars for a stuffed mouse but that's just me. No one is going to do anything to get hurt, aside from maybe sore feet and knees. Baby, please relax. It's your birthday and by the birthday laws, you're not allowed to _not_ have fun…" Frank explains with a serious face, "It's a serious crime. It's harsh punishment."

"Oh? What's the punishment?" Brock asks with a head tilt. He glances at the others in the group. 

"Well, see the first infraction comes with the penalty of double the birthday serving of cake. Second offense, public singing of happy birthday, off key of course. And the last one well, that one's a bit harsher." Frank grins, "It's not for the faint of heart." 

Brock fights a smile at his husband being a dork. "What's the third?" 

"Double the birthday spankings..." Frank sighs overdramatically, "It's harsh. I know but laws are laws."

"Excuse you! I don't get birthday spankings!" Brock shouts in playful outrage.

Frank clicks his tongue and shrugs, "Thems the rules. I just have to enforce them..." A huge grin spreads on his face.

"Bullshit. Don't you dare, _gattino_ ," Brock warns. He knows Frank will try. Frank always has to try. 

"Don't let it happen again..." Frank winks. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Brock rolls his eyes dramatically before grinning at him. He intertwines their fingers again and hurries to catch up to the group who is already joining the queue for the ride. Jerks.

Gerard watches Brock and Frank rejoin the group. He raises an eyebrow then gives them a smile, "Glad you're back! Thought we might have lost you in a heated moment." 

"Oh leave 'em alone." Bob taps his arm softly.

"Nah, just me and my worry brain. You know me. Gotta worry about my kittens," Brock grins. 

"Oh don't worry about your brood. We'll be fine. Now let's get you all wet." Bob pats his shoulder.

"You know, someone's gotta worry about you while you worry about us." Lindsey says taking Brock's other hand and beaming up at him.

"Isn't that what we're for?" Brooke asks, smiling. "And the Wives club, yes?" 

"Yes! Exactly! You know about that wives club?!" Lindsey grins wide.

"I do," she nods, smiling.

"Chris, can Brooke be an honorary member of the club?" Lindsey asks 

"If she wants to be." Christa shrugs before kissing Ray."I'm sitting out. Demon spawn has discovered a new organ he wants to play with." 

Ray leans over and kisses her belly, "Be nice to mommy, you little shit." 

"Mmm. He doesn't understand that language. He only knows torture and pain." Christa chuckles. 

"I think I'll sit this one out and join you, dear," Maria says, placing a hand on Christa's shoulder.

Mike is the first in the ride. He picks a safe middle seat. Brooke happily hops into the front. Jack joins Brooke in the front behind her. Brock doesn't want to get too wet so he follows Mike-n-Ike in the middle area. Frank sits behind Brock with a smile, he's got a man shield. Gerard and Bob take the last seat with a shared grumble between them. The ride begins and sends them through the tunnel with small splashes of water to start everyone off right.

Christa turns to Maria, "How are you doing, Maria?" 

She sits on a low wall facing the five foot drop that signals the end of the ride, to watch for her family. She's hoping to get a video at least of her kids screaming. She gets comfy before turning back to Christa. "I'm doing well. A little tired but still going strong. How are you feeling? Since you said you were getting beaten up inside."

"I am good, he's settled thankfully. I didn't think I would have as much fun being this big but I am." Christa smiles at him.

"It's a very tight feeling," Maria agrees with a nod.

"Yeah, two months to go." Christa sighs. 

Maria chuckles softly. "I was ready to kick out my kids somewhere around the fifth or sixth month."

"He's a big baby too. I can't imagine twins." Christa smiles.

"Ruined my modeling career. In a good way of course. The last three months were the worst. I was bedridden."

"I mean it's worth it but ugh." She smiles at Maria.

"It is. Still thankful I adopted Jack though," she laughs. "My body couldn't go through that hell again. Two was enough."

"I bet." She pats her belly.

"But you are tired of being a boarding house for a miniature gymnast?"

"God yes! I've served him an eviction notice but he doesn't seem to be making an exit." Chris laughs, "But, Brock is excited for him. So I _guess_ he can stay for a bit longer."

Laughing, Maria nods before leaning in as if she's telling a secret. "Brock was the most excited when I brought Jack home. Brooke didn't want a new baby brother. She wanted nothing to do with him at first. She was more interested in playing outside with her friends and getting into mud or play-fights. Brock was my little helper. He was nearly always by my side or by Jack's. He doted on his little brother. I had to teach him how to change a diaper, after I found him one night trying to do it himself. He had heard Jack cry and had beaten me to him."

"Must be a sister thing. Mine tried to give me to the neighbor when I was about a year." Chris replies, "Ray's told me that Brock and Jack are super close. So that makes sense."

"Well thankfully my daughter hasn't tried to do that, at least as far as I am aware of anyway," Maria laughs. "It took her a little bit to come around. Eventually she realized the baby was staying. Later, she pitched in but she didn't really have the parental instinct. She's expressed disinterest in having children now."

"I wish Brock would have kids. Or a kid. Frank told me how sweet he was with Frank's niece Emma. Made my heart ache." 

"Awww, that is cute. Yeah, Brock would make a great father. He's already doing the work with the band. He just has that need to take care of others. Even if he won't give me a grandchild, you know he will love and care for that little boy inside you as if he was his own. He told me you named him Godfather."

"We did. You know your son's threatened to take me to Italy for the rest of my pregnancy." She smiles and sighs.

"That's not a bad idea…" She pauses, checking on the group of riders coming out of the top of the tunnel to see if it was her brood, phone at the ready. It's not and so she turns her focus back to Christa. "He's also informed me of what's happening in the next two days. Word gets around with these boys. It's my understanding Ray told Jack who told us and Brock confirmed. I did suggest that after he spent a few days with you, to come home. You are welcome to join him."

"Oh. Yeah word gets around but I would feel bad going with Brock before Frank does… unless he's not going to get a chance?" Chris asks.

"Brock?"

"Frank." 

"As it stands, I'm expecting them both at Christmas." Maria smiles.

"Ok. I would ask Frank but _that_ 's not an option. I would also feel bad for being a burden."

"Have you met my son? He needs someone to take care of. He's probably not going to leave your side while staying with you. The moment he comes home, he will either mope or glue himself to his father. For Emilio's sanity, I might have to throw Jack or Brooke at him to keep him away." She laughs a little, imagining the look on her husband's face while Brock dotes on him.

"So, it would be doing the family a favor? What's Emilio like?" Christa asks.

"Hard-working. Stern, but fair. Assertive in the way that he knows the things he knows. He's earned his place in life. He's a good father, a strong leader, a good businessman. He's the love of my life but also stubborn as hell. He's gotten better over the years but, eh. At eighty-seven, you just stop caring about the opinions of others. They are like assholes; everyone has one."

"He sounds like an interesting man. He's helped raise some pretty good kids too. But we both know it's strong women who make them great." Christa nods. 

"Oh, amen to that, dearest. The job of a mother is great and never done. And you will be great." Grinning wide, she watches as another boat comes down, splashing hard and soaking it's occupants. "They should be on the next one." 

"Good. I'm excited to see them soaked. Especially Raymond." Christa grins. 

"I'm hoping to get a video. Emilio will enjoy watching them. Especially hearing them scream."

"I hope so too!" 

Maria stands and makes her way over to the fence to wait for them, phone at the ready to start recording.

Christa stands and joins Maria. She watches the boat with the group barrel into the water and drenching the car, a small giggle bubbles in her throat. Minutes later the group arrives from inside the ride, smiling and talking with huge smiles. Each of them wet, from drenched to just splashed.

Maria sees how soaked her kids are and can't help but laugh. She takes a few photos of them with a snicker at how they are walking. Turning to Christa she laughs quietly, "They are all going to be so chaffed later!" 

"Oh I know." She snickers and gives Maria a small hug, "You know they are gonna complain..." 

"I told you the best spot is behind the big ones." Frank says to Mike with a big grin, "Only a little damp."

Brock inches closer to Frank and removes his soaking wet shirt. He overheard his little hellcat; the shithead. He spins his shirt and quickly wrings it out over Frankie's head. "How's this for a _little damp_?" 

Frank lets out a little gasp and a small squeak, "Brock!" 

Mike lets a huge laugh out, "Serves you right Iero!" 

"This is why we don't brag." Bob reminds Frank as he pats his shoulder.

"That was pretty rotten." Frank wraps an arm around Brock, "Though, the outcome is quite nice." 

Lindsey and Gerard chuckle before holding hands and joining Christa and Maria. Both of them were drenched to some degree. "What would you lovely ladies like to do next?" Lindsey asks with a smile.

"I wouldn't mind checking out the shopping. We could do supper as well. Maybe see a show. Are you kids going to go play on your favorites?" Maria asks them.

Jack checks over the map before speaking. "I hate to say this but, there's only a few things left that we haven't seen. Sure we can do those, but that's not going to take up our whole four hours of freedom. We could either leave or just ride the best ones again. I know I wouldn't mind riding Buzz Light-year again. See about beating a certain score…"

"I liked Space Mountain a lot. I do want to ride that a few more times before we go, but I'll go with you shopping," Brock says to his mom.

"A few more times?" Bob chuckles.

"I wouldn't mind another trip in the Haunted Mansion." Lindsey says with Gerard nodding.

"No one wants to ride the teacups?" Mike smirks.

"I'd be down for a spin." Frank says with a straight face, "But I think food is important." 

"So good where are we thinking? There's a few places we passed that looked amazing." Ray says before kissing the top of Christa's head.

"I can throw a knife at Jack's little map and wherever it lands, we'll eat there?" Brock offers.

"Hey!" Jack protests with a pout. He pushes up his glasses and whines, "My map." 

"My favorite is when they bicker." Frank says softly to Brooke, "I think birthday boy gets to pick..."

"Yeah you're right. Maybe we can go somewhere where they'll sing to him." Gerard smiles. 

"What about me? I'm the birthday girl," Brooke smirks in playful protest.

"That's right! Don't forget about the better twin." Christa says with a grin.

"Did you have a place you wanted to go, Brooke?" Frank asks.

"No, I'm pretty much happy now that we got wet." She laughs.

"That's one twisted sister." Ray snorts and congratulates himself.

Brock finally catches on to what Christa said. His brows draw in tight. "Hey! I thought I was your favorite!" 

"Oh don't feel bad, Brock. It's not your fault I'm cuter than you. And an actual Disney princess. Where is your tiara again?"

"You're much hotter than _any_ princess. And I guarantee that you're hotter in a crown." Frank says looking up at Brock.

"That's not what he said before," Jack says with an impish grin.

"Not helping, _Jackie_." Frank grumbles, "What do the _twins_ want to do for dinner?" 

"Oh thems fighting words Iero." Ray says with a stupid grin on his face.

Gerard looks to Bob and Mike confused. He receives a confused shrug back.

The twins move as one away from Jack and Frank to stand with Christa and their mother. Brock gives Frankie an apologetic look and mouths, "I'm sorry."

"Don't. Call. Me. Jackie," Jack growls before picking Frank up and tossing him over one shoulder.

"Jack! Don't hurt me! I'm small! Jack! No!" Frank shouts before he gets a good swat on Jack's ass. 

The band holds in the laugh as Frank's fate is being determined. 

"Don't break him, Jack. Maybe just dent him." Christa adds.

"Don't listen to her, Jack. You warned him. He's gotta suffer the consequences now," Brock calls after him.

"Brock?!"

Jack walks away, mildly struggling to hold Frank but determined to see this through. He locates a large, open, and thankfully freshly cleaned trash can and dumps Frank into it. Satisfied, he walks away back to the group. It's the best he can do in a family theme park.

"I'm not a dumpster cat!" Frank says, struggling to push himself up, "I'm a street rat, Jack!" 

Brock can't help but laugh helplessly at his brother and his husband. Brooke and his mother quickly follow suit.

Frank uses his upper body strength to get out of the can. "Some people can't take a little teasing. Sheesh." 

"Be thankful it's all he did, _gattino_." Brock wraps his arms around Frank and kisses his forehead. A little giggle escapes.

"I don't smell like a garbage pail kid right?" 

"No. But I'd still love you even if you did, _tesoro_."

"Ok good. I really need to learn self defense." Frank chuckles, " I love you too."

"I won't play so nicely next time, Frank," Jack warns him. 

"I'm sorry Jack. I pressed a button and I knew it was a bad one." Frank says with a sigh. 

Jack goes over and shoves Brock out of the way, hugging Frank. "Thanks, bärchen. I still love you, kid." 

Frank gives him a squeeze.

"Okay family, what are we eating?" Lindsey asks with a smile. 

"Casey's?" Ray suggests.

"What about the Cinderella place or the Be Our Guest?" Lindsey suggests as she peers at Jack's map.

"Oh, those could both be fun!" Christa says with a big grin. 

"So what are we thinking, Belle or Cinderella?" Frank asks his husband then looks to Brooke.

Brooke smirks, "Well one of us is the beauty and the other is the beast…"

Brock scowls at his sister and tries not to resort to violence. He'll get her back later. Jack peers at the map and tries hard not to smirk at his brother's face. 

"But Brock wanted to be serenaded by the Disney princesses. The Be Our Guest Restaurant doesn't have character dining," Jack adds.

"Oh well then we have to go to Cinderella's," Brooke replies with a nod. She's all for making Brock embarrassed.

"He _has_ been going on about a tiara," Maria adds with a snicker.

"Cinder _fella_ it is." Frank nods. He follows along with his husband and the band towards the promise of food. 

"I hope they make him stand," Ray chuckles. 

"And wear a princess crown," Bob adds.

"Y'all are mean. I hope he gets to just have a nice dessert with off key singing… but that the waitress hits on him. The entire time," Mike chuckles.

Frank watches as Gerard and Lindsey wander into a shop quickly. He makes note of it and says nothing. 

"You know Mike-n-Ike, I _was_ going to thank you for being the nice one… until you spouted off the rest of your sentence. Jerk." Brock snorts to himself before exasperation sets in. "And hey, why isn't anyone making fun of my sister? It's her birthday too!"

"It's because she's a lady. And we are good boys." Mike replies with a grin. 

"And if we don't bother and pick on you, brother, we don't like you…" Ray adds.

"Not to mention, you look pretty in red." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek.

Brock grumbles. All of those were fair points. His boys were good boys. He knows it's all in good fun. The inner child in him however wanted to pout and scream that it wasn't fair. He glares slightly at his sister before just accepting that he was going to be the best birthday prince(ss) ever.

"I'll buy you something shiny, baby." 

"I don't want shiny." 

"What do you want?" 

"Tiger."

"Brock." 

He sniggers in reply, wrapping one arm around Frankie and pulling him close. He looks up at the multi-colored castle and smiles. It's really pretty at night. "How about a castle?" 

"I'll buy you a castle." Frank agrees, "Where do you wanna live in our castle?"

"I hear Scotland has some pretty awesome castles." 

"Deal. Do you wanna crown to wear in the castle, since you'll be the king of the castle?" Frank says with an image in his head that is _quite_ pleasing.

"Brock does not need a crown," Maria snorts work humour. "Let's not make his ego worse."

"Don't listen to them. You're perfect." 

As they enter the large castle, the high vaulted ceilings with warm wood and golden hued walls colors give the place a friendly glow. The decor gives the feel of a real Disney castle as the hostess dressed in red and royal blue costume leads them to a private area usually reserved for parties that Maria insisted they had to have. 

The Ways take up the rear and slip in after everyone else. Brock glances at Gerard and Lindsey as they sit, curious as to why they were dragging their feet. He can't help but stick out his tongue to Lindsey playfully.

She gives him a huge grin and sits a little antsy in her seat. She waits until the table orders drinks before she feels like she is going to explode. 

"So. I know that it's silly and you probably won't like them but it's your birthdays and I just had to." She pulls two bags out and hands one to Brock and one to Brooke, "So happy birthday!" 

Brooke grins, taking the bag and peering inside. "Aww, you didn't have to! Thanks so much Lindsey" 

Brock doesn't even respond, he just opens the bag, eager to see what he got.

Lindsey grins wide. She can't wait to see their faces.

Frank leans into Brock and watches him open his bag. His hand rests politely on the top of his thigh. 

Brock is the first to open his, pulling out a Mickey Mouse headband with rainbow ears. He laughs happily before he sees there's a second hat. It, too, has mouse ears with confetti on the ears, a multi-tiered cake in the center with Mickey's colors and the words "Best Birthday Ever" embroidered across the dome. Brock grins wide before looking at Brooke to see her holding the same hat but with a rose gold headband with a glittery bow in the center of the ears. 

"Thank you Lindsey," they shout happily. They both slide the dome hat on, adjusting the elastic under their chins.

"I'm glad you like them!" Lindsey grins even bigger, "I was torn between them. So I decided why not both." 

Frank gives both of them a huge grin, "They look fantastic!" 

"I love that they both are big kids." Christa says with a soft smile, "God I miss soft cheese and wine. And good meat."

"So ordering the Charcuterie is probably not a good idea for you," Jack asks.

"Get it, I'll harass Ray about how good it is!" She says with a huge grin.

"What are you thinking about getting to eat, Brock?" Frank asks him softly, "I was thinking the chickpea thing or chicken?"

"Mmmm beef tips," Mike teases.

"Can it, Way," Frank grumbles.

"I was also thinking about the pan roasted chicken. But I do love me some thick meat," Brock smirks.

"Oh you do?" Frank asks with a wide smile, "I haven't had _thick_ meat in a while." 

"You two…" Mike laughs.

"What? This is our life. Get used to it. Get Way used to it." Brock smirks.

"Oh I know. I find you two rather entertaining." Mike says before giving him a wink. 

"At least we are entertaining." Frank snorts.

"All joking aside, I think you would do well with the protein bowl. Probably not 100% vegan but at least vegetarian. Chickpeas are high in protein and fiber. You can try my chicken if you want."

"You are vegan?" Maria leans over and asks Frank.

"No. I can't eat red meats, they make me sick. There is only so much chicken and turkey I can eat before I feel like I am going to start growing feathers." Frank replies softly.

"Perhaps the catch of the day then? Brooke and I were considering such a dish," she replies. She makes a mental note to ask him more in depth about what and why certain foods make him sick. She wants to be able to serve him properly when he comes over for Christmas.

"I'm not a huge fish fan. Brock's warmed me up to certain fish. But it depends." Frank smiles with his answer, "I can usually make due with a salad. Or fake meat." 

"Our first year on the road with Frank was miserable for him. Not only were we poor but many times the food was not even remotely healthy." Gerard comments. 

"Oh that's terrible!" Brooke says.

"Lots of fast food bean burritos or cheap protein bars." Frank nods, "I am thankful that this album took off and we got a pretty great manager to make sure we are not being starved." 

"Not a bad trade off for $60 jeans, huh?" Brock leans over and kisses him lightly. 

"It was a pretty good investment on your part." Frank grins up at him, "I think I'll try the chickpea panisse." In his head he giggles cause it sounds dangerously close to penis and he's mentally five.

A snicker cuts through the chatter and Jack puts a hand over his mouth to hide the giggle threatening to escape. "Sorry." 

"Amateur," Brooke snorts and shakes her head at her brother.

Ray snickers. 

"A gay not being able to eat meat is like a kitten not being able to drink milk," Maria comments casually as she reads the menu.

The band erupts into laughter. Even though his face is a bright pink, Frank laughs. Brooke buries her face in her hands, silently dying with laughter. 

"So thankful we are the only ones here, mother," she says behind her hands.

"Agreed. Though, Frankie's not gay," Brock says.

"Oh? Must be a fan of fish tacos then." Maria smirks and fights to keep a straight face. 

"A little column a and column b." Frank says with a wide grin, "Italian sausage is exactly what I need." Frank drops his hand to Brock's leg again. His fingers stroke his thigh.

"Yeah the last fish taco ended up coming back to bite him…" Ray snorts.

"Like a shark," Jack grimaces. That bitch left a bad taste in his mouth.

Maria glances at Jack with a thoughtful look and a raised eyebrow. She turns to Frank, "You have been in a relationship before? With a woman?" 

"Yes ma'am." Frank nods, "A few before I was comfortable with my sexuality. One was long term."

"And why did that fail?" 

"It was a bad relationship. And I was given the chance to escape it, so I took it and do not regret it." Frank says keeping his answers cloaked a little. He doesn't want to admit that he was abused.

Maria looks at him, holding her gaze steady, as if staring beyond his words. Slowly she nods, accepting his explanation.

"Don't worry, mom. She's out of the picture for good," Brock says, holding Frankie's hands under the table. He gives it a reassuring squeeze.

The waitress approaches the table with a large smile, "Have we decided?" 

The table orders their meals as the appetizers arrive at the table with more drinks to follow. The table fills with more conversation and laughs until the food arrives. The silence from the band creates a noticeable silence as they eat.

Christa picks things off Ray's plate to eat quietly. 

"Maria, Brock and Jack told us that you are a phenomenal cook. What is your favorite meal to make or eat?" Bob asks her.

"I'm fairly certain my boys are biased. They'll eat anything as long as they don't have to cook it or clean. I do enjoy cooking though, and I have been known to throw together some things from the pantry and make it a meal. My favorite dish though, doesn't even come from Italy."

"This is really good, I'm surprised by the hazelnuts in this." Frank says to Brock softly before taking a sip of his wine, "Did you wanna try it?" 

"Sure. Want some of mine?" 

"Yeah, I'll try it. Is it good?" 

"It's seared chicken. You can't go wrong on chicken, love. Not as long as it's cooked all the way." Brock cuts a small chunk off and holds out his fork for him to eat.

Frank takes the bite and nods with an appreciative hum following it. He pushes his plate towards Brock. His food is a little harder to cut and serve.

"False. Ask Gerard about the time he made anniversary chicken?" Lindsey snorts, "What's your favorite dish, Maria?" 

"Well, I traveled to Spain one year for Emilio's birthday and we went to a restaurant that had the most exquisite lobster. It was lobster parmentier with black trumpets. Small dish but so rich. I had never had such mushrooms with a smoky flavor before and it was wonderful. The potatoes really complimented the lobster."

"That sounds amazing." Lindsey and Christa say in unison.

"Anniversary chicken? Gerard, what did you do?" Brock chastises as he tries Frankie's food. Frank wrinkles his nose at the mention of mushrooms but stays quiet.

"Well. First of all, I'm not a cook. But I tried to debone the chicken but missed some bones…" Gerard shrugs, "I didn't cook the chicken long enough and i put too much lemon in it…" 

Lindsey lets out a small giggle. "It was god awful. And his cooking has not improved much but he tries and I love it." 

"Hey at least he tries, right? I'm sure I can teach you a few things, Gerard. Something to jazz up your next date night," Brock offers.

"You gotta deal! She can't be the only one who cooks. Not all of us can have a Brank in their lives." Gerard says with a wink and smile.

"How you managed to not kill me as a kid with your bad cooking astonishes me." Mike comments his eyes focus on a young woman dressed as Cinderella slips into the room. 

"I can teach you how to make Tiramisu? I haven't had that in forever and a day. Not sure, but I'm fairly certain I heard that ladies love it. Or Panna Cotta. That one is usually a winner too," Brock winks back at Gerard and Lindsey.

"Honestly, anything he cooks is fantastic." 

"You should try Zabaione. It's simple to make and quick. Nearly impossible to ruin." Maria nods to Brock before taking a sip of her Moscato.

"What is that?" Frank asks.

"A dessert that is made with wine, sugar, and egg whites. You whip it together and eat it with either cake or biscuits. And drink more wine in the process."

"Sounds like an even more delicious meringue." Frank comments. 

Cinderella flutters around the table checking in to see how everyone was doing, complimenting the birthday hats, "Looks like we have a birthday party in here! Oh I do so love parties! Why, this is positively perfect!" Her voice is so cheerful it might be painful to do.

Frank smirks and watches as another young lady dressed as Ariel in a bubblegum pink dress joins her and touches her colleagues arm before speaking softly, "Oh, Cinderella, look, he appears as if he's a prince from a faraway land! So handsome. Do you think he likes singing?"

Brock's eyes widen as the women target him. He hopes they won't make him sing. He doesn't want to sing. This was a great idea and he was on board with it, but now that he has two women in the flesh, and not cartoon, in his face, he feels like a trapped animal. His face heats up and he forces himself to not hide. He whispers, "No. I don't want to sing." 

Frank eyes Jasmine entering the room and quickly joining the other ladies this time she's on his side, "Hello there, it looks like we have two birthday babes here?" She gives a warm smile to Brooke and then Brock. Her hand rests on his shoulder.

Brock covers one half of his face with a hand. "Uh, hi. Um- yeah, yes. Our birthday." 

"Don't be afraid. We don't bite." Cinderella says touching his other shoulder.

"Are you siblings?" 

"Twins, yes." Brooke smiles up at the ladies, calm and collected, unlike her brother who appears to be on the verge of melting.

"I have several sisters myself but not twins! How exciting!" Ariel says with exaggerated hand motions.

"You should join us in singing your sister happy birthday!" Jasmine says with a smile as Snow White and Aurora join the room. 

"Oh there's more of you," Brock mutters, highly uncomfortable now.

"Yes Brock. You should. You've been Belle of the Ball all day. Sing to me," Brooke grins.

"I can't sing. You know that." 

"Sing it in Italian." Frank encourages him. He squeezes Brock's knee. He loves this family. 

Brock tries to shrink into the chair. He doesn't want to sing. He feels weird with all the ladies around him. There's a hand on him and he's not sure what to think about it. Are they flirting with him? Oh god he doesn't know what to do! "Uh… um… okay. But. Wouldn't be fair to the ladies if I did it in Italian."

"I suppose you're right, love." Frank says with a gentle smile, "You don't have to sing. I was just kidding." 

"I'm not. Sing, brother," encourages Brooke.

"Sing it out, loud and proud," adds Jack with a snicker.

"Why don't _both_ of you sing?" Snow White asks.

"That's a great idea!" Ray says with a big smile. 

Brock tries one more time to protest and get the spotlight _off of him_. "You guys are the singers. We're the birthday kids. You should be singing to us!"

"I believe you've said that we don't sing that it's closer to shrieking monkeys in a blender?" Gerards tone is flat with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll take it back?" Brock offers.

"No," Brooke cuts off anyone who wants to speak. Her face softens, "Please?" 

He melts and sighs. He really can't deny his sister. "Okay." 

Bob leans back and crosses his arms over his chest with a huge smile.

"Anything for your sister." Jasmine says with a warm voice. Two servers enter the room with two plates in hand. Each one sits a plate in front of each twin. A chocolate slipper with a candle.

"Pretty much," he concedes. Best get this over and some with quickly. He wants dessert. He begins to sing, "Happy birthday…."

"To you," Jack joins in.

"Happy birthday to you," Maria lends her voice to the song. The princesses join in. The band follows soon after to finish the song.

"Happy birthday Brooke and Brock. Happy birthday to you."

The table gives a polite golf clap as the twins blow out their candles. 

As the princesses filter out, the waitress returns and takes plates before getting dessert orders and refilling wine. 

"You sounded just fine, baby." Frank says quietly. 

"Yeah, birds didn't attack the windows in protest. I think we're good, brother." Ray chuckles.

"Thanks. They are much better in cartoons. Didn't expect… this." Brock sits forward, more confident now that the women are gone.

"You were adorable." Christa giggles.

"He gets all squishy and weird when random women give him attention. And I love it." Frank grins.

"He's always been like that. He used to freeze," Brooke smiles as she drinks a peach bellini.

"Why Brock? You do know you're handsome right?" Lindsey chuckles. 

"He's oblivious to strangers hitting on him, most of the time." Frank chuckles.

"If I looked like you Brock, I would eat it up." Mike chuckles.

Frank picks up his wine glass and takes a sip as the desserts arrive to the table. The room hums with approval after the first bite. 

"So now what?" Brock asks the room.

"That's a good question." Gerard comments, "Do we wanna go back out and spend the last hour left on rides?"

"I'm open for whatever." Frank comments. He's got something on his mind but it could be the wine talking.

"I mean we've hit this part of the Magic Kingdom up… unless someone else had something special in mind?" Ray asks. 

"Are we doing the water park tomorrow?" Christa asks.

"Water park? I thought we were going to Animal kingdom tomorrow?" Jack asks. 

"I remember Brooke mentioning water. I'm just asking." Chris puts her hands up.

"Why are you so defensive then?" Jack grins. 

"Cause I don't wanna have to fight you and _win_ in front of your mom…" Christa grins wide.

Jack maturely blows a raspberry at her and goes back to eating his dessert. "You wouldn't win unless I let you. Lucky you are carrying my nephew, Missy. I won't hurt the baby."

"You could beat my husband…" she grins wide, "He'll take it." 

"Uh no." Ray shakes his head.

"Anyway, what _are_ we doing tomorrow? What does everyone want?" Jack deflects back to the topic at hand.

"I wouldn't mind animals but I can be swayed easily." Frank adds.

"Typical of a bi," Jack smirks.

"You're not wrong," Frank laughs, winks and puts a finger gun up.

"I vote water park. A day of laziness and Mai Tais sound good to me." Mike says with a nod.

"Disney doesn't serve anything harder than beer at the water parks, sorry man," Jack says. "I already checked, because Brock."

"Bastards," Mike sighs.

"What about you Brock?" Ray asks.

"I'm torn, because Animal Kingdom has tigers. And awesome rides. But I miss the water. Actually I miss the sea. I love animals and there's a safari. But sunbathing and swimming with you guys is fun sounding too. Argh, I can't decide. Sorry," Brock laughs.

"I'm voting water." Gerard says, "Florida is hot and any chance to cool off, I am all for." 

Brooke gins, "You guys already know my vote. Christa, you want to sunbathe with me and Mom? Or we can book those private umbrella things…. Cabana?" 

"Okay! I'm in. Just don't be _too_ impressed with my attractive physique." Christa snorts, "I'll be wearing a nice mom one piece."

"You gotta be nice to yourself ma'am. You are beautiful!" Lindsey says throwing her napkin at Chris.

Brock throws his napkin at her, too. "No self-loathing. Didn't I already tell you to stop that? Stoppit."

"What?! I look like a coal filled sock with stretch marks." Christa chuckles.

"Don't hide my nephew. I wanna see you wearing a sexy two-piece tomorrow. You rock that baby like a fashion accessory, sister," Brock throws another napkin at her.

"It seems to me, Brock has decided," Maria smiles. 

"So, is that the plan?" Frank grinning. _Do I have trunks?_

"I guess it is." Brock smiles and drinks the rest of his wine, feeling his face flush from the alcohol. And maybe because of the very naughty thought that entered his head.

"So we never answered the question of, what now?" Lindsey chuckles. 

"I think we should call it a night," Brock offers. "Start early tomorrow."

Frank and Ray nod with similar smiles. Jack gets the check and pays while the rest of the band begin to move slowly to the door. 

Frank slips his fingers between Brock's. The wine makes him feel all fuzzy and floaty. The whole group seemed to be feeling the same way as they boarded the tram. The ride seems to fly by. He spent the tram ride fighting the urge to kiss Brock. The next thing he realizes is that they were walking into the hotel and towards the elevator. The doors open and it fills with the group and with the chatter that follows them. Once the doors to their floor open, Frank glances at the others. He gives Lindsey a little smile as he follows Brock into their room. He turns his back to the closed door and grins at Brock. 

"Hi baby." Frank says softly.

"Hi yourself," Brock breathes before kissing him hard, pushing him up against the door. His hands go to Frankie's waist, holding him tightly.

Frank lets out a little moan as his hands rest on Brock's chest. He pushes himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him a little deeper. He feels the butterflies in his chest stirring awake. His hand releases the shirt and slides around Brock's neck. He does a little jump and wraps his legs around Brock's waist before he holds onto his neck then goes back to kissing Brock. 

"You should take me to bed." Frank whispers before kissing him again.

Brock doesn't respond, just moves, walking them to the bed and laying Frankie down gently. He quickly strips down before blanketing his husband's body with his own. His hands caress the pale body, needing to feel every inch of skin against his own. 

Frank's hands slide from Brock's side to his own hips. His thumbs hook into his jeans as his hips sway slightly to get them down. His own skin aching to be touched. The short separation felt like an eternity that needed to be made up for. He lifts his head and places kisses on Brock's neck before whispering, "I love you." 

After a little work his hips were free of his jeans. Brock's warm hands help to push his shirt off his chest and over his head. He leans up and kisses Brock deeply.

"I love you too," he whispers back. 

~~

Frank woke to the feeling of kisses on tight and warm skin. He shifts his body a little and turns to face Brock. The sensation of the sheets on his skin made him jump slightly. 

His husband was wearing a big sleepy smile that made his warm brown eyes even more dreamy.

"Mornin'." He yawns as he stretches a little and pushes his belly into Brock before relaxing back into his arms, "I'm a little pink today."

"You're about to get red. You ready for that?" Brock asks, half asleep still. He nuzzles Frank, burying his nose right under his earlobe.

"Mmmhmm." Frank replies softly as he strokes Brock's hair, "Do you have something to swim in? Cause I feel like your birthday suit isn't accepted here." 

"I don't know. If I did, it would be buried in a duffle. I'll just buy something from a gift shop. Goes with the touristy look."

"That was my plan honestly." Frank yawns again, "And more sunscreen. Your poor mother probably got annoyed with me and asking her to help keep me from being a small lobster."

"Nah. But yes, you and the other pales need sunscreen," Brock says with a yawn.

"Other pales." Frank snickers, "Are you having a good birthday, so far?" 

"I am. Today is going to be great." Brock refuses to think about _tomorrow_. He's only going to live in the moment today.

"I think so too! It will be nice to do the minimum amount of effort and have the most amount of fun." Frank kisses his cheek, "We should shower and get breakfast. And coffee."

"Let's skip a shower. Why get clean when we are going to get hot and wet later? Come on, I want to eat and go play." Brock grins against Frankie's neck, kissing him before sliding out of the bed and throwing on a tee and shorts, minus underwear.

Frank sits up and moves a little slower out of the bed. He makes the decision to check his body in the mirror after grabbing clothing, "Think they have aloe here?" He checks for his sunburn and love bites. Only the scorpion was truly bruised. He slips into old black skinny jeans that had been cut into long shorts and a red tank top. He's gonna be like his love and match his sunglasses to his outfit pulling out red checker print glasses before stepping out, "I'm ready to go raise a little _hell_." 

Brock grins at him. He offers his hand to hold. "Come on my sexy little hellcat." 

_'At least I'm not being called a pink little pig,'_ he thinks, taking Brock's hand and following him out of the room. "Should we wake the others?" 

"Sure." Brock opens the door for Frankie and goes into the hall.

"Ding ding and ditch?" Frank offers with an evil grin.

Brock snickers before nodding. "Bang on all the doors at once and run into the stairwell?" He moves in between Sunshine and Chris's room and Jack's 

Frank nods with a smile as he steps in front of Gerard and Lindsey's room, "This is another reason I'm marrying you." 

"Because I'm secretly five inside?" Brock giggles.

Frank winks, "Exactly. On three?"

"On three." 

Frank counts down and bangs on both doors shouting _housekeeping_ in time with Brock. He moves quickly to Mike and Bob's door and bangs loudly on it before jogging to the stairs after Brock. 

"Rise and shine!" Brock screams down the hallway as he runs, banging on all the doors. They snicker like teenagers as they run down the stairs before slowing to a walk, entering the lobby with matching giggles.

"I feel like we need to do more of this." Frank says with an exhale. 

"Running?" 

"Pranks on the others. Harmless of course."

"I'm down with that," he replies, taking his hand.

"But no pranks on each other." Frank nods as he glances around the lobby, his brain always on guard for fans.

"Agreed." Brock nods as they move around a bit. His eyes catch a familiar head of white hair in a braid and he groans. He nudges Frankie and points the entire group out. Seems their prank backfired.

"Bastards." Frank chuckles, "We'll get 'em next time."

"Totally," he responds as they approach the group. 

"Good morning, my son," Maria greets him with a warm smile and an even warmer hug. "Did you sleep well? Are you hungry?" 

"Yes and yes, Mama," Brock says, returning the hug. He pulls back so Frank can get hugged too.

"Good morning, Maria." Frank gives her a squeeze, "You look lovely this morning!" 

He glances at the other ladies, "Actually, all of you ladies look gorgeous today." 

"I am starving." Christa says with a little whine.

"Me too," Brock nods. "Did you guys decide on what you wanted?" 

"Something quick and easy. But mostly coffee." Lindsey says with a nod. "A lot of us just wanna beat the crowds to the best spots." 

"Sounds great to me. We need to either check out the gift shop here or at the park to purchase swimsuits. Are we eating here?" Brock asks.

"We can check the shop here and grab food here too. But honestly I'm flexible." Ray comments. 

"Oh I've been wanting to check the shop out here cause my mom wants me to bring her home something," Bob grins wide.

"Alright that's the plan! Let's do this!" Gerard says with a nod.

Frank takes Brock's hand and follows along with the group. After some debate, they decide on doing breakfast at the Grand Floridian Café on the first floor and then check out the shops before taking the Monorail to the Ticket and Transport Center.

Entering the café, Brock swears his mouth watered at the smell of fresh bacon being cooked. God, he's been in America for too long to have some sort of Pavlovian response to bacon. Or maybe he was just really hungry. They sit and read over the menus, chatting about what they want to eat and do in the park.

"Why would anyone want to order shrimp cocktail as an appetizer?" Brock asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Ew." Frank wrinkles his nose.

"Same reason why there's a specialty drink list. Some people never go to sleep or have been awake far too long that this is lunch for them," Maria offers as an explanation. 

"The mimosa and bloody Mary make sense but I think breakfast isn't the place for hard drinking." Lindsey snorts.

"I would kill for a mimosa." Christa sighs.

"Speaking of, now is your chance Michael to indulge in anything other than beer," Brooke smiles at the young man.

Brock suddenly reaches out and smacks Ray's arm several times. "Sunshine. Look, look, look. They got a drink named after you! Not just a whole state! You should get it!"

"Ow. Why are you hitting me?!" Ray laughs.

"Nah, I don't think I should drink," Mike sighs. 

"Maybe, Disney is just creating alcoholics." Frank snorts, "I think waffles sound good." 

"I feel like that is not wrong." Mike snorts, "Mickey Waffles?" 

"Yup." Frank grins.

"Once this child is out of me, we need to go out and get crazy." Christa looks at Lindsey, as the waiter takes the table's order and returns with drinks.

"Looks like you got a lil sun, Frankie," Lindsey says softly.

"Yeah. I gotta make sure I reapply sunscreen," Frank shrugs.

"All us Emos got a little sun. Just not the piggie pink results you did," Bob snickers.

"Shuttup," Frank grumbles.

"Hey now, you leave the bubblegum pink baby flamingo alone," Brock laughs. 

"Brock!" Frank playfully slaps his arm, "You're not helping!" 

"Bubblegum baby flamingo!" Mike cackles. 

Frank groans, "You just wait, I'll get all tan and sexy." 

"Or turn into magenta," Lindsey snorts.

"As in Blue's Clues magenta?" Frank groans. 

"I like you pale. Let's not get you any redder," Brock says, leaning over and smooching his cheek.

"He does tan but he's gotta burn and I mean burn." Ray comments, "Poor thing got burned bad last summer."

"Went to the ER because I got sun sick." Frank shrugs.

"Oh I remember that. We tried to get..." Christa trails off.

"Tried to get _what_?" Brock asks, warily.

"A hold of Jamia and her answer was harsh." Christa finishes.

"What? I never knew this…" Frank says, scanning his friend's faces.

"Yeah." Gerard says softly. 

"Who's this?" Maria asks, taking a drink.

"My ex girlfriend." Frank replies, "She came out for a few shows but apparently didn't give a shit that I got sun sick. I never knew this." 

"Yeah, she said oh that sucks. Make sure he drinks water." Ray snorts, "Callous bitch."

" _Thank God she's a dead bitch_ ," Brock mutters in Italian. If she weren't already dead, he would want to hunt her down and kill her himself. He switches back to English, "Good thing I'm here instead." 

" _So she was the assignment you placed a few months ago_ ," Brooke comments in Italian.

Brock nods. " _She abused him. She put his life and the band at risk. My only regret was that I couldn't do it myself."_ Maria takes Brock's hand and gives him a squeeze. He smiles at her. No words were needed.

"The stories that the wives club has, would shock you Frankie." Lindsey says softly, "But those are for another time with less classy company." 

"Huh," Frank says, a little embarrassed by the attention. He worries this will look bad for him. Is Maria going to think he's too weak to be with Brock?

The server arrives with plates of food for the table and begins to deliver them. Frank's never been more thankful for the distraction. The table eats quietly until Ray perks up, "Did you guys know that the band is banned from Orange County, California?"

"Good heavens, why?" Maria asks.

The boys snicker collectively and share glances.

"Probably because of their emo punk death metal music," Brock mutters none too quietly.

"No. Well, not really." Gerard chuckles.

"Then what?" Brooke asks lightly with a little laugh.

"Cussing," Ray snickers.

"They said that using swear words in our music, we were trying to invite a riot." Frank says between bites.

"Well _fuck_ 'em then," Brock grins proudly. He stabs his eggs and happily eats them.

"Wow. That's surprising." Bob chuckles. Frank grins wide up at Brock. 

"Oh, yeah we all got threatened to be arrested and fined too." Ray says before taking a drink of coffee. 

"So, water park. Is it just a pool with slides?" Mike asks Jack.

Jack scoffs and gives him a look. "Disney is the one of the biggest entertainers in the world. They have more than just slides, my dude. They have a wave pool. Big one, too."

"Oh? That's cool!" Mike grins wide, the simple fact that Jack was borderline offended was amusing.

"And I hear they have snorkeling," Brock pipes up.

"Snorkeling?" Ray asks, "With like fish?" 

"Fish. And sharks."

"Sharks? That's rad!" Frank grins wide.

"They're like baby sharks, though? Right?" Brooke asks. "They would have to be. Or sharks without… teeth?"

"Probably docile sharks. But baby sharks are adorable!" Lindsey grins wide, "They can be very nice creatures."

"Docile sharks? That's… a thing? I thought they were always… big and white," Brooke uses her hands to indicate a large shark.

Jack messes around on his phone, doing a little bit of research. "They have the largest surf pool in North America, according to their website. 6ft waves. No tubes of course, but we can bodysurf. So that's awesome. But yeah, it's mostly slides."

"Tubes?" Frank asks.

"Inter-tubes. For the sides."

"Why did I think it was like surfer terms?" Frank chuckles, "Like the inside of a wave being a tube… nevermind."

"Don't mind him, he's an idiot." Mike jokes.

"Totally tubular, dude," Jack says in a mock surfer accent. 

"We should go snorkeling together, Brooke!" Lindsey says with a smile.

"Does it say what kind of sharks are in the tank, or pool, or whatever, Jack?" She bites her lip, unsure about the sharks. She wants to go snorkeling but the idea of large predators with teeth that eat people makes her uneasy. Did the sharks have something to keep them from attacking the guests? Are baby sharks toothless?

"They are trained to be around people. They are well fed sharks." Frank says looking up from his phone, "They won't hurt you. Worst thing that might happen is they bonk you with their snouts." 

Brooke leans over a little, "What… What do they look like? Sharks?"

"Fish-shaped with razor teeth and longer fins. They usually eat seals or other fish," Brock offers. 

Maria sips on her latte, paying close attention to the mention of sharks. She's not sure how she feels about her kids getting into water with something that might be dangerous. Though, she also trusts the Disney company to keep them and other children safe. She'll reserve judgment over these water animals later.

"Perhaps then they think we are the seals?" Maria questions.

"Oh I wish they were seals!" Frank says with a dreamy tone to his voice.

"Or dolphins." Gerard comments.

"Does it show a picture of the sharks, Frankie?" Brock asks. He finishes his plate and slowly sips on his magical cocktail drink.

"They do!" He hands the phone to Brock. He finishes his coffee and takes a breath then leans a little into Brock.

"Oh these are cute. Tiny ones. You'll be fine, Brooke." Brock turns the phone to his sister so she can see what a shark looks like. He can't deny he felt the same when he saw his first shark.

Gerard glances around the table. He's ready to get into the water. 

Maria leans over and glances at the phone, also interested, as Brooke takes the device. She gives a curious little head tilt. "This… is a shark?" 

"Yes ma'am! They aren't all big scary monsters. Sometimes they are small and cute." Frank nods with a proud tone. 

"We don't have sharks in Italy." She gives him back the phone. "I heard they were much larger and with more teeth." 

"Some are. Quite a few but more times than not, sharks have no interest in humans. As long as they don't look like prey." Ray replies with a nod to Frankie.

"Yup. Jaws did a disservice to sharks."

"Not going to lie, the first time I saw a shark I was terrified to get into the ocean after. It took me a bit to realize it's actually unlikely to be attacked. And that there are small and harmless ones," adds Brock. 

"It's like dogs." Mike comments, "But usually the opposite, the big dogs look scary but are friendly and the little ones like chihuahuas are evil incarnate."

Maria chuckles, "Some children are like that as well."

As the plates are taken way, Lindsey rises to her feet. She casually approaches the waiter and hands him her card. She pays for the meal and tips generously, only asking that he doesn't say who paid for the meal. Returning she acts casually as she sits beside Gerard, who is discussing his side project. 

"I can't wait to go shopping. Hopefully they'll have some nice swimwear offered. And not a one-piece." Brock looks directly at Christa, a challenge in his eyes.

Her eyes drop to the table, he knew she was wearing a one piece but she wasn't sure how. Her sundress wasn't revealing. She gives him a playful smile and shrugs, "I think you'll look nice in a tankini." 

"Not for me, gorgeous."

"Yeah,you're a string bikini guy." Christa grins.

"Stop deflecting. You would look sexy in a bikini. Right Sunshine?" 

"Absolutely! You look stunning in anything. I don't know why you are so worried." Ray smiles and kisses her temple.

"Cause…" she stops herself, "I'm gonna find a nice bikini to wear."

"Is the waiter never coming back?" Frank asks. 

"Yeah. That's a good question." Ray says taking a sip of coffee.

"Yeah, I would like to get going." Brock signals the waiter and calls him over. "I'm sorry but we'd like the check, please."

"Oh, your bill has already been settled and paid. Would you like to add something?" 

"Already paid?" Brock asks.

"Yes sir," the waiter nods.

"That's weird." Frank comments.

"Who paid?" Ray asks.

"Was it the hotel?" Bob looks at the other members at the table.

"I've been asked to keep that information private. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day and your stay here at the Grand Floridian. Have a magical day." The waiter smiles and nods before moving on to his other tables.

Brock blinks a few times, feeling weird. "Uh, okay. So. You guys ready to leave?" 

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm ready to get wet." Lindsey says wanting to drop everything.

"That's what she said," Jack snickers.

"Y'all are children." Lindsey snorts.

"But you love us," Jack counters. He stands and it triggers his siblings to stand as well.

"Oh I do. But you're still dorks." Lindsey steps close and places a kiss on his cheek. 

The group follows the family to the door and out into the atrium. 

"Where to first?" Christa asks.

Brock points out a couple of shops with open fronts. "Let's stop into a few of these stores and see about getting swim supplies. Towels, sunscreen, swimwear. Shoes." 

“Let's go!" Gerard says happily.

"Okay but none of you Emos can wear black. Wear some color for once. Yes black is a color, let me just stop you right there, Gerard. But something light or bright. Be happy. Not sad or dead. No dead in Disney." 

"I'm wearing red!"

"Your skin being pink does not mean you are wearing red," Brock snorts.

"My tank top’s red, you jerk," Frank laughs.

"Okay yes, but like it's also the splash of color in your stage outfits. Because we all know it represents blood and totally goes with your death goth thing. But, like, wear some green or blue or purple."

"You know there's nothing wrong with black," Gerard frowns.

"Yes, Emo kitten. But you would look nice in a rich green or a navy blue with a splash of pale yellow. Baby blue. Teal. Light colors to go with your scurvy complexion."

"My scurvy complexion? That's rude and hilarious!" Gerard chuckles, "But color doesn't go with the aesthetic." 

"I will say I wouldn't mind a little color. Black in the sun is just sweaty." Bob chuckles.

"I wear color, for the record. Just not on stage." Frank says with a smile to Brooke.

"He does. He's a happy emo," Brock agrees before turning back to Gerard. "Your aesthetic today is Disney. Happy, magical, kinda gay, and overly brightly colors. Embrace the mouse. Be the mouse."

"Kinda gay is easy but the color is harder." Gerard chuckles, "but what if I find something mickey that _is_ black?"

"Don't make me dress you in sunshine yellow, luscious lavender, peony purple, or find the most obnoxious orange."

"Or worse," Jack says pointing to a very busy looking handbag near the entrance of a shop they were passing. "Something like that that has all of those colors."

"Yeah but then it's just rainbow," Brooke argues. "Ugly rainbow but still."

"Anything better than Hawaiian print dad shirts." Gerard chuckles, "I will do my best to not pick black." 

Maria loops her arm around Gerard's and holds him close. "You can help me find a swimsuit. And I will make sure you don't pick black. How's that?"

"That sounds perfect Maria!" Gerard grins wide. He is excited now. Even if it means no black.

They enter into the shop and disperse, the ladies and Gerard going for the women's section in the back and the men staying near the front. Brock wanders around, checking out the flip flops and beach towels.

Frank spies a pair of swim shorts that are black and struggles to keep walking, "Baby..." He keeps his tone buttery soft and sweet.

"What?" Brock knows Frank wants something he probably will say no to. He turns around to look.

"I know you said no black but it's black _and_ blue…" Frank says with a mischievous smile. He holds up the shorts.

The shorts were board shorts with the smallest amount of blue possible. They were a solid black with dark blue piping down the sides. The world's smallest embroidered blue Mickey shape sat on the left hip. "No." 

"They have color." 

"It's one percent blue. And it's barely noticeable. No."

"Fine. These?" Frank says pulling shorter shorts that are Hawaiian print with Mickey all over them.

"Sure. Let's hold onto these and check out some others. You should try those on though." Brock smirks, thinking of him showing off his legs.

"What's the face for?" Frank picks up a small and holds on to them, "I like the black ones you have." 

"Those are short shorts. Gonna show off those legs for me?"

"Why not? Maybe get them tan..." Frank winks at him.

He snorts and shakes his head, continuing on down the line of racks. He spots a navy blue pair of swim trunks with a lighter, more baby blue accent threads. A small, matching light blue Mickey head with shades is embroidered at the cuff of the left leg. He picks them up and shows Frankie. "I kinda like this." 

"Those are cute!" Frank nods, "And I like the color."

"We could match?" Brock chuckles, returning to the rack and pulling one out in his size.

"I think we are already disgustingly cute. Let's not take it too far." Frank chuckles.

Brock laughs, pulling out his new shorts and pretends to be affronted. "How dare you call our love disgustingly cute."

"Sickeningly sweet?" Frank offers with a playful smile.

"Rude. Just for that, I'm going to make you try on a kid's pair of swim _briefs_."

"You just wanna see my dick." Frank whispers as he gets very close to Brock to grab a pair of trunks.

"Always," he whispers back.

"If I didn't think we'd get kicked out, I'd invite you in…" Frank says with a raised eyebrow.

"I love you but I'm not sure it's totally worth it."

"Yeah. No, I agree." Frank kisses his cheek, "Which do you like. Black and white stripe or ridiculous Mickey print?" He holds up the two children's board shorts.

"I think I need to see you in those to determine…."

"I'll try them on. If you wanna wait outside the door." Frank smiles wide. 

"What if I need to check for proper fit? Hands on style?" 

"I mean, proper fit is _very_ important. So, maybe you're just gonna have to _come_ in."

"Yeah that's a good idea. Let's do that." Brock drags him over to the dressing room and shoves him in.

Frank lets out a small giggle as he steps to the back of the dressing room. He grins up at Brock before leaning up and kissing him. 

"Maybe you need to get the shorts with the bigger legs… then I can swim under and slide my hand.. right.. up.. there," Brock whispers, mimicking the motion with his hand on Frankie's jeans, trailing up to his crotch.

"That… that might be a good idea." Frank's voice has a small shake as he grins up at Brock.

Brock's voice lowers and he leans down, pressing his cheek against Frankie's and whispers even quieter, "On the other hand… a tight fit does give me the opportunity to have you sit right in front of me on the slides and feel my cock up against your ass. Or carry you under the water and rub you against me. Just to tease."

"You're a lil feisty today. I like the up the shorts option." Frank grins wide.

A light knock on the door has Brock jumping hard and back away from Frankie, his heart pounding in his chest. Jack's voice came, in his gruff German, " **We can hear you. So can the staff. Flirt later or get kicked out.** "

"Yeah, okay. Sorry," Brock rattles off quickly. He can feel his face heat up from embarrassment. Apparently it was too quiet in the store or he was louder than he realized. Dammit.

"No big deal, baby. We just have to actually try things on." Frank whispers softly. He leans up and places a kiss on Brock's cheek. He pulls on the first pair of kids shorts, "These?" 

Brock kneels down and decides to check the elasticity of the swim shorts, running both of his hands up his legs and just barely reaching his husband’s cock. “No, as cute as they are. They just don’t _fit_.”

"Darn. Which one next?"

“Let’s try the others.” Brock offers. He reaches up and eases the kid’s shorts down over his husband’s hips. He ghosts his lips over the soft flesh of the doves.

Frank watches him close as his fingers move naturally to touch his hair, his skin rises with goosebumps, "Ok...which. Which one?" 

"Mmm… you pick. Hand a pair to me." 

He hands him the blue pair but doesn't look away. His head questions why this was so hot in but he quickly brushes it away.

Brock lowers the trunks down so that Frankie can step into them one foot at a time. Then he slowly slides them up Frankie's legs, maintaining eye contact with his husband.

"Verdict?" Frank asks softly. He strokes the side of Brock's face with his fingertips.

"These are cuter on you." He kisses Frankie's fingers and palm. He slides his hands up and finds they have just enough of a give that he can reach his goods. "I think these are a winner." 

"Perfect." Frank nods with a soft smile, "Did you want to try yours on?" 

"Nah. I'm good." Brock stands and kisses Frank. He hands him his pants before grabbing the rejected shorts. "I'm going to put these back. Meet you outside, okay?" 

"Okay, baby." Frank grabs his shirt and pulls him back to kiss him again.

"I love you. And I'm still _in love_ with you since the day we met," he murmurs against Frankie's lips before winking at him and slipping out of the dressing room.

Frank tilts his head slightly but smiles. He strips out of the shorts and back into his jeans. He takes a moment and sits on the bench to get some composure before exiting the dressing room. 

He steps out and looks around. He sees Bob looking at the dark colored shorts. Frank says softly, "I wouldn't if I were you." 

"Grey isn't black..." Bob points out. 

"He's gonna argue on that." Frank snickers. 

"Did you get felt up?" Bob snickers softly. 

His cheeks betray him as they flush. "I don't know what you're talking about..." 

"I'm getting these grey ones. He can't say no…" Bob grins.

"I can go get him…" Frank offers before wandering to the front register. He pulls his phone out and texts Brock that he's going to shop across the way from the clothing store.

"Would you like me to go into the dressing room and help you?" asks Brooke.

Christa blushes, "If you want. I feel like I'm going to look… silly."

"No you won't. I promise." Brooke smiles as she ushers Christa into the dressing room.

Brock hears his sister and makes his way over, letting an eye out for all the kittens. He feels his phone vibrate and smiles at the text. He looks for the other boys.

"I could just wear a big dress..." She picks up an extra large men's shirt with a playful smile.

"Holy woman, you are stubborn. Get inside!" Brooke laughs.

"Okay, fine." Christa chuckles. She grabs the three suits and the pink dress and goes in, "You'll see that I look like I ate someone's child whole."

"Do I have to model it?"

"Yes!" Lindsey replies happily. She turns to Brooke, "You don't think I count as an emo, right?" 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

"Do you think black and white _polka_ _dots_ count?" She asks, holding up a bikini up. 

"Maybe? That one might be kind of iffy."

"Okay. I'm coming out. Tell me if I look like Shamu's cousin." Christa says pushing the door open and stepping out in the long pink dress.

"More like a mermaid with a bubblegum tail. While beautiful on you, I'm wondering, why are you wearing a dress?" Brooke asks, confused.

"If we go to a nice dinner later, maybe I could wear this?" She suggests with a little twirl, "I have cute pink and pearl sandals I can wear with it. Since Brock has made it clear heels are a no go." 

"I do love it. It will be perfect for tonight's dinner. That color nearly matches the bathing suit you were _supposed_ to be trying on." Brooke gives her a raised eyebrow before stepping into the dressing room and pulling her in.

Christa makes an eep as she gets pulled in.

Brock wanders over to his brothers and shoves his face in next to Jack, resting his chin on his shoulder. "Hi. Whatcha doin'?" 

Christa fixes her boob in the bikini top, "And you're sure… I trust you but..." her hand waves over the baby bump.

"There is no but. You either trust me or don't," Brooke grins. She adjusts a few straps, tightening the top for better support. She steps back and smiles.

"You're like a young, hot lady yoda." Christa smiles, "I trust you."

"I'm older than you by at least thirty years," she gently reminds her.

"I need to drink the water in Capri. Cause you look my age."

"I blame my parents' great genetics. I'd offer to show you my younger days but I don't want to seem like I'm bragging. You are beautiful. Inside and out."

"If Brock does 'kidnap' me, I would love to see you and Brock as wee babes." Christa whispers, "Can I hug you?"

"Of course. We're sisters now." Brooke grins and pulls Christa into a tight hug.

Christa squeezes her. Brooke pulls away but keeps one arm around her. "Are you ready to show the boys?" 

"Yeah, let's do it." Christa nods.

"Brock! _Bring your brothers over here and come tell our new sister how gorgeous she is_ ," Brooke hollers while in the dressing room.

Pulling away from Jack, pinching him in the process, Brock goes to find his Sunshine. Jack grumbles under his breath as he makes his way to the dressing room, joining his mother and Gerard.

Ray pulls out hot pink shorts and shows them to Mike, "Not bright enough?" 

"You would look good in hot pink. But then, with your skin tone, you could probably rock any color," Brock approaches with a smile.

"Well, it's not black so… you can't grumble." Ray elbows him with a chuckle, "What's up buttercup?"

"Come see your wife. She's trying on swim stuff. Brooke said you need to tell her she's gorgeous."

"But she knows I think she's stunning." Ray says with a smile. He folds the shorts over his arm and nods.

Brock puts an arm around Sunshine and walks with him to the dressing room, speaking softly. "Let me tell you a little secret. Never ever pass up the opportunity to tell her that she's beautiful. Yes, she knows. But ladies, and guys, but mostly ladies, love and need to be told often they are gorgeous. You can pick whatever adverb you want, but never not tell her this. Especially now, when she's insecure about her body shape. Okay?"

"Ok." Ray smirks. He tells her that she is perfect and beautiful, "But she tells me I'm biased." 

"Doesn't mean she doesn't like to hear it. It makes them feel good." Brock pats his back as they approach the dressing room. "Okay, we're here. Bring out the real queen." 

"Queen of the cookies maybe." Christa chuckles as she steps out. Her hand covers her belly at first. She immediately feels her cheeks flush with all the eyes on her, "Scale of 1 to 10, how do I look?" 

"20. You look fantastic, baby!" 

Brock lightly wolf whistles at her. "Very nice. _Sei bella da impazzire_. _Bellissima_." 

"You look fantastic!" Gerard nods with a big smile.

"You just need a seashell crown and you're a mermaid princess!" Lindsey says with a smile, "I love it."

"Well with those reactions, I'd say we don't even need to try on the other sets." Brooke leans against the door frame, happy.

"Maybe we don't need to go to the pool..." Ray approaches and slips his arms around her, "You're perfect." 

Brooke smirks at her, very pleased that her predictions were correct. She moves and puts back the other swimsuits, keeping the gown. "Has everybody picked something?" 

"Yes ma'am." Mike says as he joins the group, "Damn Chris, you look gorgeous!" 

"Already purchased my shorts!" Bob says patting his bag, "Let's go get wet!"

Brock's eyes narrow. "What color are those?" 

"Not black." Bob grins and holds the handle a little tighter. He's regretting his choice.

"A slightly off-black that is barely discernible does not count, Rabbit. What is your color?" Brock's eyes narrow further.

Bob pulls out grey and white camo shorts, "It's not black." He gives Brock a little smile.

Brock sighs. He's not wrong. And the little cartoon Mickey stamped over them were rather flashy and nice. "Okay, Rabbit." 

"Yeah. Told Frank. Where is that little gremlin?" Bob says looking around the shop.

"He went across the courtyard to another store. Let's check out and get out of here. I want to swim," Brock replies.

"Yeah! We should get in the water!" Christa says with a smile.

"Maria found a gorgeous suit too. She's gonna be a knockout," Gerard says with a big grin.

"Not in front of my kids, Gerard. My husband might find out," Maria says saucily, wrapping an arm around him and kissing his cheek quickly.

Gerard wants to make a 'watch out I could be your new dad' joke but he likes his face the way it is, "She looks fantastic." He can't help but make big puppy dog eyes at Maria. He loves her.

"Don't break my singer, Mama. I need him in tact for the rest of the tour, so play nicely," Brock snickers.

"I dunno… she might have broken me, Brock." Gerard chuckles. Maria laughs and squeezes him again before ushering the group along and out the door.

Frank finds the mecca for gifts. He picks up a stuffed tiger for Brock. He's found Mickey and Minnie salt and pepper shakers for his sister. He feels satisfied once he finds a princess tiara for Emma. He texts Brock again and tells him he's dropping things off in the room. Once he is in the room, he pulls the price tag off and sprays his cologne on it. The little tiger is placed on Brock’s pillow. He changes into the shorts with flip flops and a black tank top cause he's a little rotten shit before heading back to the lobby. He smiles when he sees the back of Jack's head and the swarm of emos.

"Are we ready to get all wet?" Frank asks the group.

"Yes!" came the chorus of replies.

~~

"Brock, can I make a suggestion..." Frank says softly. He touches his husband's arm.

“Of course, _tesoro_.”

"Maybe you should leave your Ray's in the locker and wear mine. Or not." Frank shrugs.

Brock hums and thinks for a moment. It was probably a good idea. He’d hate to lose them in the water. He nods and takes off the shades and puts them in the rental locker with their outer clothing and towels. He’ll forgo the shades all together. Taking the sunscreen out, he offers it to Frankie. 

"Yes please." Frank grins, "I'm gonna crisp if I don't. Thanks babe." 

“Yes, let’s not make you a lobster. I like my pale emo kitten. Brings out all the pretty ink. Scorpio wouldn’t be so striking were he against red skin.” Brock grins wide. He can’t help but lean over to kiss Frankie and then his Scorpio.

"No one wants a pan seared scorpion." Frank leans into Brock a little, "Will you do my back, please?" 

“Mmm, I’ll do that and more,” Brock snickers, taking the bottle and squirting some on his palm, rubbing the lotion in.

"Thank you, baby." Frank says closing his eyes a little. 

“It puts the lotion on it’s skin or else it gets the hose again,” Jack hisses.

"Oh hush jolly green, or we'll have your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti." Frank throws back with a laugh.

Jack giggles, pulling off his shirt and outer shorts to shove into the locker. He doesn’t need sunscreen. He’s tan and spicy. Moving to annoy the others while the rest of the guys strip down to their swimwear, Jack jumps on his floof brother’s back to make him hurry up.

"Does this make me the beanstalk?" Ray asks as he shuts his locker door. 

“Brock’s nickname for Jack used to be String Bean,” Brooke says as she approaches from behind wearing her bikini.

"Oh I've heard the name calling before. It's quite enjoyable. I heard that you were just as bad as the boys… true or false?" Ray questions her.

"Am I covered?" Frank asks softly as Brock rubs his skin. 

“Oh, very true,” Brooke grins.

"The boys can't have all the fun." Christa says from behind Brooke. Her hair’s tied up in a bun with big ridiculous sunglasses on, "Why do you think I duct taped my brothers to chairs as a kid." 

“Oh you are a genius,” Brooke grins at her. “Wish I had thought of that.”

"You know… we can still do it. No one's gonna hurt mcPreggo here." Chris grins at Brooke, "That twin of yours can be a real shit sometimes. And I know Curly Sue isn't an angel either."

“Curly Sue?!” Jack screeches. “The hell, Chrissy? I thought we were friends? What about the Wives club? Brock is the queen of the Wives!”

"I touched a nerve… What's wrong with Curly Sue? And he's not the queen… I'm the original wife. The queen wife." Christa chuckles. 

“I’m _not_ a woman. And unlike my curl bro, I do not like my curls.” Jack grimaces and tries to flatten the tiny curves down.

"But they are so cute!" Christa says approaching with hands out to touch his hair.

Jack moves his head away from her hands. “No they aren’t.”

Brock dollops a bit of sunscreen on Frankie’s nose and purposely keeps his back to Jack. He gives him a small smile before stowing away the lotion. Then, he runs through a checklist of the things he has and might need. Something, anything to keep himself in check.

Frank rubs the lotion in and hands his sunglasses over to Brock. He knows his hubby would feel naked without his Ray's but his cheap glasses are disposable.

"I've been telling Jack his curly hair is perfect and I love it." Frank says with a nod, "But he doesn't listen." 

“I hate them,” bemoans Jack, a little hint of stress peaking through.

Brock shakes his head no at the offer of the shades and offers a smile instead. They need a subject change. 

"It's hot. I'm as big as an orca. Let's get Lady Killer Whale to the water." Christa says with a sigh before fanning herself.

“Sounds like a plan!” Brock says, far too chipper. “Beach and wave pool?”

“I like that idea.” Jack pushes away from the lockers and heads out into the bright sunlight, taking a turn towards the water.

Brock sighs and curses softly under his breath. His eyes meet Brooke’s and a look passes through them. He shakes his head. She tilts hers. He nods and sighs. The bathroom door opens and Maria steps out, in her one-piece. It was a vintage style, with a high-waisted design consisting of the Minnie symbol against a bright red background on the lower half. The upper was solid black and tied at the neck and back. She’s wearing brightly colored plastic shades to tie the look together, and her hair braided and bunned.

“How do I look? Not bad for an eighty-two year old?” Maria strikes a little pose.

"You look gorgeous, Maria." Frank says softly.

"Stunning, actually." Ray corrects him.

“Thank you boys,” she grins. Then she notices her youngest was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Jack?”

“He left. He’s gonna meet us at the beach,” informs Brooke. 

Maria’s eyes draw in a little at her daughter’s response. “What happened?”

“I’ll take care of it, Mama,” Brock pipes up.

“It was nothing, just him being moody,” Brooke finishes her brother’s sentence.

"We were teasing him lightly about his curls and he got upset." Christa says softly.

“Ah. I see.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Brock repeats. 

“You’d better,” Maria says with a slight edge to her tone. 

“Yes ma’am.” Brock moves and leaves the group, following after Jack.

After a moment of silence, Maria speaks again, “He hates the curls because they remind him he is adopted. They call him Nazi; those who he pisses off. It’s a visual reminder of a heritage he _usually_ is proud of. The hair is his one major insecurity. It crops up every now and then. We’re working on it.”

"I'm sorry to put salt into a wound. I should apologize. In a bit." Christa says with a small nod, "He's usually so confident. I didn't know. I, if you couldn't guess, like curly hair."

Frank offers his arm to Maria as the group starts moving towards the water. Gerard and Lindsey stay in rhythm with them. The group walks quietly until they reach the soft, white, sand of the beach line.

"We should have rented a cabana." Gerard comments to Lindsey.

"I could go do that." She offers but he squeezes her hand.

"No this is fine. Unless Maria wants it, then yes." Gerard gives her a big smile.

"That sounds like a splendid idea. A little privacy away from the crowds will be good," Maria nods her agreement.

In the shallow end of the wave pool, Brock and Jack are wading in knee deep water and speaking quietly. Suddenly Brock wraps one arm around his little brother's middle and shoves Jack down into the water, laughing as they begin to wrestle playfully. Jack's grin is wide and bright, all signs of the earlier shadows erased. 

"Looks like their talk worked," Brooke comments with a smile.

Brock turns and grins at her and the rest of the group. He's enjoying the sight of Frankie and his mom together. It gives him hope that she is loving his future husband. Should his dad not give his blessing, he's hoping that his mom will advocate for Frank. He's already decided that should his father not see that Frankie is his soulmate, Brock will marry him anyway. Not at first. Not without securing their future. It will hurt never seeing his family again but he just can't give up the love of his life.

A pair of arms wrap around him and yank Brock down into the water, snapping him out of his morose thoughts. He twists and swims away into the deeper end where he is just barely standing upright, laughing at Jack. He turns and waves at the others to join. "Frankie! Ducklings! Come on!" 

Frank grins wide as he sees the big smile on Brock's face. He turns to Brooke with a little grin, "I think you're right sis." 

Lindsey scurries back to the beach house to rent a cabana and leaves Maria with Frank. The other boys hurry into the water and leave them in the dust. 

"Did you wanna wait for the cabana or did you wanna get in the water?" Frank asks with a little grin.

"I'm going to the water. I bet it will feel amazing." Christa says with a dreamy sigh.

"I hear it's great for the baby and you. Anti-gravity should help with some pain. Wanna walk with me?" Brooke offers.

"Yes, I bet it will help with the pain! Let's go!" Chris grins wide, "I told Ray that I wanted to have a water birth and it freaked him out." 

"It's a great idea. Were I not a high-risk pregnancy, I would have myself," Maria comments.

Brock swims a little to shore, walking along the hard textured concrete beneath him. He never realized just how much he missed the water until just now. If he doesn't move back home, their house needs to have a pool. He's grinning wide as he greets his ducklings.

The boys swim out to meet Brock and Jack except Ray. He stays in the shallow area. He watches the boys splash around and waits for his wife and Brooke to join him. 

Sometimes Brock is an idiot. It takes him a moment of wondering why his Sunshine isn't joining them. At first he thinks that he's being a good husband and waiting for Chrissy. Then the lightbulb clicks on and Brock wants to slap himself for being stupid. He swims over until he can walk and approaches his favorite.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"Hi there." Ray smiles, "Enjoying the water you little fish?" 

"I was. Until I realized you weren't with me. Come with me," Brock offers, holding a hand out.

"Yeah, I didn't get a pool float." Ray says, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice, "I'm ok here..." 

"Are you really though? Are you okay here because of your fear or because you don't want to learn? You know I've got you. Always." Brock holds both of his hands out, palms up.

"Fear." 

"Then trust me. Trust and know I will keep you safe. We'll take it slow. I didn't let anything happen to you before and I won't now. Even if you just want to climb on my back, I'm okay with that too. I'll be your pool float."

"Don't let me drown." Ray says with a warning tone. He takes Brock's hands but keeps his feet firmly planted.

"I love you too much for that. My word that I will die before you. I'll just use my body to keep you afloat." Brock smirks.

"Okay, B. I trust you." Ray smiles, "How do you even learn how to swim? I thought it was something you knew how to do." 

"Eh, there's a few tricks. Kicking your feet. Holding your breath. Basically it's using your body to move you through the water." Brock holds onto Ray's hands tightly and steps back.

"What if I sink?" Ray asks, taking a small step forward.

"I won't let you. You will at first. But you'll find your buoyancy before that happens. I won't let you go under, brother. My word."

"Alright let's do this. If I die, you have to raise my kid." Ray teases.

"Okay. But that won't happen because I'm not going to let you die." 

"Yeah good, I like living." Ray says following Brock.

"I like you living too, Sunshine."

Frank leans into Maria's space a little, "I think Brock is going to teach Ray how to swim." 

Maria's eyes widen. "He doesn't know? Poor boy." 

"Nope. He never was taught." Frank nods.

Brock slowly backs up until the water is a little over Ray's waist before his hands get squeezed tightly. "Just breathe, brother." 

"Fine. Fine. Good. Water." Ray nods as he follows Brock's lead. His head screams _danger_! _danger_!

Brock stops, sensing the tension within Sunshine. The water is chest high now. "Take a deep breath. Look at me. Tell me what you are feeling." 

"I'm a 27 year old man. I should be able to swim. I feel like a moron. And a baby." Ray exhales and shakes his head, "I never thought I was going to need this skill." 

"And I am a 50 year old who both panics and desperately needs physical contact. Who used to panic when you gave me a hug. I felt like an idiot, a failure, weak, and yes, a baby because surely adults don't have this problem. I want you to know you are neither of those things. It's the lies we tell ourselves set by the expectations of a society who thinks they know everything. Well _fuck_ them. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You taught me that. And I'll fight anyone who tells you differently."

"Thank you Brock." Ray says, taking a deep breath, "Thank you for doing this." 

"You're my brother, my best friend, my Sunshine. I love you man, and I will do anything for you. I've got you. You're safe. The ground is still beneath you. Feel it. My hands anchor you. Focus on them; on me." Brock steps closer to Sunshine and to his side, putting one hand on his back and keeping the other in Ray's death grip. 

"How far we going?" 

"We're staying right here. But I'm going to lay you down and you are going to float on your back. My arms will be under you the entire time. I will not drop you."

"Ok. I just." Ray works himself into lying back. His head is screaming he's going to sink.

"I love you," Brock says before quickly flipping Ray into his back, his arms going around his brother and holding him in a tight cradle. He knows what it's like to be frozen in fear and sometimes, you just need a little push. Or in Sunshine's case, a flip.

"No! No! Danger!" Ray shouts and struggles in the water. His fingers press deep into Brock's skin.

"Ray! Ray! I've got you!" Brock shouts over him. His hold tightens, pulling him closer to his face, pressing their foreheads together, whispering the same words. It's the best comfort he can do. An alarm rings, signaling the beginning on the waves. Brock moves them back into more shallower water but still keeps his brother in his arms. 

"Don't wanna drown." Ray says quietly. 

"You are safe, little brother. Safe. I'm never letting you go. Just relax. You feel my arms under you?" Brock whispers, keeping their faces close. He wants Ray's eyes on him and nothing else.

"Yes." Ray can't tell if his face is red from the heat or the embarrassment.

"Okay. Focus on that. Okay? I want you to try and relax. Take some deep breaths. In for four, hold and out on three. Can you do that for me? Focus only on me and nothing else."

"You look like you're gonna smooch me." Ray chuckles nervously, "I'm ok. I swear. Just, warn a dude." 

Frank looks at Maria then back to Brock with Ray. The posture was... intimate. 

Brock snorts, then smiles mischievously. "I'll use that to get you to redirect focus on _not_ drowning then. I'd rather have you punch me then panic over me dropping you. So, relax your muscles and go boneless.""

"Fine. I'll try." Ray takes a breath and let's his body relax. He hates this. He hates water.

Brock stands upright and keeps ninety percent of his focus on Sunshine and the things his body was telling him. He can still feel some tension in his brother's back and shoulders. More than likely, Sunshine was unable to filter out the sounds of the people screaming, the waves getting choppier, or the sound of his own heart racing. He knew there was no way that Sunshine was going to learn in one go. This wasn't even really necessary to learning to swim. It was a _trust_ exercise. His brother needed to learn the feeling of being under the water and not associate it with drowning. He needed to trust him, trust Brock that he would keep him safe. Brock just holds him steady for several minutes, even lifting him higher when the waves reach full power. The water is strong enough, even with them in the shallow end, that Brock was having trouble bracing himself. He walks them slowly to shore.

"I'm going to help you stand up. Okay?" he asks Ray.

"Ok." Ray says taking a deep breath, "I. I don't think I know what happened. I don't think learning to swim happens through osmosis."

"Roma wasn't built in a day. And learning to swim takes more than one lesson. This is to just get you to relax. Floating is a good skill to learn but this lesson is more in trust and getting you used to the water than actually swimming." Brock tenses his muscles and gently sets him upright.

"Sorry you had to waste time." 

He pulls him into a tight hug before replying, "You are never a waste of my time. We aren't done, brother. But here is not the place to teach you. When we get back to the hotel tonight, we will go to the pool and continue this."

"Don't you wanna spend the last night with Frank?" Ray asks as he hugs Brock back.

"Please don't remind me," he says, miserably into the hug before pulling back. "It's not a date, dude. He can join us. I'm sure Brooke will at least. But seriously, I'm trying hard not to think about tomorrow. If I do, I'll break and panic. I can't do that, not tonight."

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to be a negative reminder. Don't panic. Let's plan for some pool time later during adult hours." Ray nods. 

"It's okay, Ray. And yes. We should."

"Maybe you should pull him out into the water. Though he's rather cute with your mom." Ray glances back. 

"He is. You going to be okay here?"

"Yup. Go get your boy and dunk him." Ray chuckles.

"Yessir," Brock grins. "Go be with your wife."

Brock wades in the water over to Frankie and his mom with a wide, happy, grin. 

"Hi baby!" 

"Hi baby," Brock grins as he approaches, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

"How was the swim lesson?" 

"I'm fairly certain I'll have his claw marks in my shoulder for a few days but at least he was able to relax in the cradle." 

"He looked a little touch and go for a moment," Frank nods. "Momma Maria and I were talking about when you first learned to swim. She's got some pretty great stories."

Brock nuzzles Frankie's neck, kissing Scorpio. "Benefits of being old. I've got a long history. Come swim with me?" 

"I would love to swim with you." Frank strokes the back of Brock's neck with soft fingers.

"Think you can keep up though?" He chuckles low.

"I think I can. I'm a pretty good swimmer. Take me away, handsome merman." Frank offers his hand.

Brock grins and walks him out to the others in the midzone before kicking himself up and onto his back. "Did mom tell you that I used to jump off the roof as a teen and dive into the sea behind my house?"

"She did. Colorfully." Frank replies with a big grin.

A bell chimes, signaling the end of the waves. The water slowly begins to die down to stillness. Brock swims backwards, further into the deep end. "You would like the water in Capri. And The Blue Grotto. I can't wait to take you."

"I can't wait to go. What's the Blue Grotto?" Frank replies following him.

"There's a group of rocks near my island that is hollow inside. It's a tight fit to get into but it's totally worth it. It's a tourist trap but eh, you'll be a tourist, at first. Anyway. The inside of the grotto _glows_ blue. There's three, blue, green, and white. But the blue is the biggest and easiest to get into. And the prettiest."

"Oh that sounds cool! I can't wait to see that." 

"Yep. It's something to do with the algae that grows inside. Bioluminescent something. I can't remember. It's pretty though."

"Oh there are beaches like that!" Frank says excitedly, "In _Mexico,_ maybe?" 

"Huh. That's cool." With a heavy sigh, he flips onto his back and floats, enjoying the sun. "What's the longest you can hold your breath under water?"

"I've never timed it before. Have you?" Frank grins.

"No, not really but I know I'm good for at least a few minutes. I'm strong enough of a swimmer that I would be okay, should the waves start up again. They were pretty strong earlier. The swells are bigger than I expected."

"I'm not as athletic as you but I've swam in the ocean and never drowned. And this is not instilling confidence in my ability, huh?" Frank says treading water.

"Do you see the different colored tiles beneath us? That line?" 

"Yeah. I see it."

"Do you know what it's for?"

"No pants zone?"

Brock cracks up, "No you doof. It's the line of safety. Only the strongest swimmers can go past the line. Anyone else can be swept under during the waves and possibly be unable to come back up. That's why there's a lifeguard on each side of the pool."

"You'd like me to stay behind the line, huh?" Frank asks as he struggles to hide his smile.

"I'd be worried about quite a few of the emos, actually. You guys are rather short and as stupid as it is, I'd feel safer if you guys were back further so you don't accidentally get swept under and trapped. Sunshine's fears here are actually warranted and so I'm not worried about him. Chrissy won't go too deep because of the baby. Brooke and Jack are just as comfortable in the water as I am. And Mom is currently tanning."

"I'll move back." Frank swims closer to Brock and kisses him.

"No need now. Just when the waves start, okay, _gattino_?"

"Yes sir." He smiles. 

"Good boy. Think I can get away with playing shark?"

"Shark?" Frank tilts his head.

Well now he has to at least give it a try. With a grin he flips over. "Watch."

Brock takes a large deep breath before forcing himself down to the pool floor and swimming along it. He guestimates that the band is above him. A quick glance upwards tells him he was off by a little and he redirects his course. Once he's under Mikey and Gerard, Brock pushes up and grabs an ankle before kicking hard and pulling its owner down before releasing and surfacing.

Gerard came up sputtering and wiping his hair out of his face. He splashes Brock. "The hell?! Where'd you come from?" 

Mike laughs loudly and falls back into the water slightly. 

"Gotta be alert twinkle toes." Lindsey cackles as she approaches, "I got us two cabanas for momma and Chris." 

"Sweet. I left Frankie in the deep end. I was showing him Shark. And you were just my unlucky victim," Brock grins mischievously at Gerard.

"He probably deserves it." Mike snorts.

"To be left in the deep end?" Brock asks, lost.

"No, Gerard to be drowned." Mike shakes his head, "Go get your Frank before he gets hit on by the circling women."

"Oh three. He's out numbered for sure." Lindsey snickers.

Brock's eyebrows draw in and he turns his head towards his husband. There were three women near Frank and he can't tell if his husband needs rescuing or not. They are literally circling him but that could easily be played off as them trying to keep afloat... Still. It makes him uneasy. With a nod of thanks to Mike and the band, Brock dives back under, swimming hard and fast underneath several hundred kicking toes.

Once he reaches them, he reaches up and taps Frank's leg to tell him he was there. He breaks the surface right in front of Frankie, effectively cutting off one of the women. "Hi, baby." 

"Hi love!" Frank grins wide. He mouths thank you. 

"Did you see me grab Gerard and pull him under?" He's ignoring the women.

"I did! I saw Gee go under. You're a very good shark." Frank rests his forearms on Brock's shoulders. He leans in and kisses him, "A sexy shark." 

"This is Gina and Amy." Frank says looking to the side but finding the women gone.

"Hello Gina and Amy." Brock says into the empty air. "I leave you alone for five minutes and suddenly you've got not one but two imaginary girlfriends?"

"Mmmm, three but they didn't introduce me to the third. I'm just a hot commodity." Frank grins.

"Oh, you're a hot something alright," Brock replies, wrapping his arms around Frank's waist and pulling him into a kiss. 

Frank wraps his legs around Brock. He pulls back slightly, "Did you know when I was a little kid, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer."

Blinking for a moment, he grins,"Eeee-e eee ee?" 

"What was that?" 

"My best dolphin impression," Brock chortles.

"It sounded more like you were calling seagulls." Frank snickers and kisses Brock, "Or bats."

A deep bellowing sound triggers the crowd around them to erupt in shouts and squeals. Frank looks around and focuses back on Brock. A moment of confusion crosses over his face before he realizes what it means. 

"Love you. Be safe." He kisses Brock once more before rushing back to the safe area. He turns back in time to see the blue waters rising and head straight for Brock. His instinct is to get Brock to come with him but he knows that Brock should be fine. He searches the water for the others. Gerard and Lindsey were on the shore. Mike was less than a foot away from him and Bob was… missing. 

Frank watches as the wave slams into Brock and moves him. The water rushes for him and pulls him along with the tide. 

The waves crash hard against Brock's back and push him to the shore. An errant thought enters his mind about surfing but he's too focused on trying to account for all of his ducklings to pay it any mind. He's never been worried about his siblings' safety. It's hard but he can make out two emo kittens on the shore with Sunshine. The hair tells him it's Lindsey so Gerard must be there as well. He sees Mike-n-Ike, and Frankie. He doesn't spot Rabbit. The waves are reaching their peak height now and it's getting harder to fight them. The point of the pool was to body surf, letting the waves push you back towards shore. But Brock can't enjoy them until he knows Rabbit is safe. He can't find Chrissy either. A turn of his head results in bad timing with a wave and he gets a mouthful of gross pool water. He coughs and forces himself to relax, letting the water move him closer to the safety line. When he can breathe again, he searches once more for Rabbit.

Bob laughs and high fives Jack, "This makes me miss home. And surfing. God. I miss it. Have you gone surfing before, Jack?" 

"Nah. We don't have much of a beach back home. The island is mostly rocks and cliffs. Sea water doesn't have the pull from the ocean to make waves higher than a few feet. It's really gentle if you even get waves in the first place. I've never been to the beaches in New York. You surfed?"

"Yeah back in California when I was younger I did. Even tried my hand at competition but I sucked. So I tried drumming. I can't imagine the beaches in New York being… good?" Bob comments as he treads water.

"Exactly why I haven't been!" Jack laughs. His arms backstroke to keep him mostly stationary. He suddenly knows that Brock is looking for them. A quick glance and seeing his older brother's face full of concern, confirms his instinct. "Hey, let's go see Brock. He appears to be constipated."

"Is he being a worry wart?" 

"When is he not?" Taking a breath, Jack dives, not wanting to fight waves. 

Bob doesn't think about going under the water. He fights the waves as he moves to Brock. He shouts as he lazily swims, "Brock!" 

Rabbit's voice makes relief course through his veins and he swims towards the sound with a grin. "Rabbit! Wasn't sure bunnies like you were okay in the deep end. I made all of the other ducklings move behind the safety line. Couldn't find you and I got worried."

"Why? I'm a good swimmer. I was horsing around with Jack. Relax my dude, I'm not your spindly little spider Frankie."

"He's not-" Brock's words are cut off with Jack surfacing next to them and spitting a mouthful of water right in Brock's face. He sputters and wipes his face. "Gross!" 

Bob lets out a huge laugh at the glare that Brock shot towards Jack who only replies with a huge shit eating grin.

"I don't want your germs in me, dude! That's gross! Fucker," Brock protests and grumbles, wiping his face again. 

"You're worried about a little spit when we've shared blood? You need to get your priorities a little less curved, brother. 'sides, I saw you playing Shark earlier. This is just my way of payback. On Gerard's honor."

"Bullshit. You just wanted an excuse to spit water in my face." 

Jack snickers and wisely moves back a little. "Okay maybe." 

Bob snorts, "So glad I had sisters." 

"Brooke would do the same," both boys say in near-sync.

"That's because she is the lady version of you, Brock." Bob laughs.

"Very funny." Brock shakes his head and begins to swim to shore. 

The boys follow and they snag Frank and Mikey along the way. Treading water as they walk up the concrete hill, Brock shakes his head in a poor attempt to feel less like a drowned rat. He wraps his arm around Frankie and after some debate, the group decides to check out the Cabanas before moving onto the next wet attraction.

"I forgot to thank you, Lindsey," Brock says as they enter the private space. "This is nice. Thank you." 

"Yes, thank you," Maria adds. She sits in one of the lounge chairs with a happy sigh.

"Yeah, I figured we all needed some privacy away from the crowds. And chairs are way better than sitting on the sand." Lindsey grins wide.

"I wanna try the slides." Mike says with a child-like grin.

"I'm down for that!" Jack matches Mike's grin.

"I was thinking us girls could check out the lazy river. Or did you want to try a slide, Chrissy?" Brooke asks her.

"Sunshine, there's a ride here that I saw on the way in, it has a raft thing. How do you think you'd do on that?"

"I could do the lazy river." Christa and Ray say in unison. They grin wide at one another.

"So it's decided. Lazy river then slide?" Mike nods.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Brock nods.

The group leaves their cabana and stroll along the park, leisurely enjoying each other's company as they make their way to Castaway Creek. The wade into the water and grab inner tubes, some managing to hop up in one try and others… not so much.

"Can someone help me?" Christa sighs.

"I will just hang out here… I'll help you get in though baby." Ray says kissing her forehead

"I'll help you Sunshine," Brock says, as he grabs a floatie for Frankie. "They're safe and will keep you from falling in, promise."

"Yeah, man, they're easy once you get the hang of it." Jack maneuvers himself quickly into position in one go and is carried away by the current. He waves bye to them.

Brooke kneels down in the water, swimming up into her chosen inner tube from below. Once it's around her waist, she presses it down and gives a little hop so she's sitting on the edge. She raises her legs up to put on top of the ring and loses her balance, the ring flipping her over and under the water with a yelp. She resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.

"I don't. I don't trust it,” Ray says rubbing his neck and sighing.

"We won't let you sink, Ray," Lindsey tries to reassure him before being flipped.

"She's right, Sunshine." Brock gives Frankie a concerned look before mouthing him to wait. He walks over to Ray and Christa, the need to help, fix, burning through him. "Look at the water, brother. You can stand in the river. It comes to your chest. Once you are in the tube, you will be safe from flipping. If you do fall in, just stand up. We will all be here to help you. I want you to have fun, Sunshine. I promise I'll be right near you. Just like in Cali. Okay?"

"In Cali?" Christa questions. 

"Okay. I trust you, Brock." Ray says over riding Christa.

"Let's get Chrissy and Baby set up, then you. Me and Frank will follow you? Okay?"

"Okay but then you're gonna stop fussing over me…" Ray says a little firmly.

"I can't. You're one of my kittens. Can't say duckling here because ducklings can swim. And if Lindsey flips again, I'm gonna fuss over her too." Brock snickers over the Ducklings and checks on Mikey and Gerard.

"I got this. I can stay on." Lindaey says stubbornly.

"Right. Sure. You fall in again, and I'm demoting you from duckling to kitten too." Brock crosses his arms and juts a hip out.

"I got this!" Lindsey huffs and hops back on. She stays steady and sticks her tongue out at Brock, "I should be promoted to something more than duckling..." 

"Goose." Brock turns and notices his mother helping Gerard onto his tube and he smiles. He wanders to Mike-n-Ike. "You okay?*

"Oh yeah. Long legs and arms make it easy to stay on these bastards." Mike grins.

"Good." Brock goes to check on Rabbit and finds him happily on the tube and already on the river. He grins and wonders if Rabbit's nickname should be Fish instead. He goes back to Frankie and gives him a smile. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers to his husband.

"You don't have to apologize." Frank gives him a smile and leans up to kiss him.

He kisses him lightly- got to keep things chaste for the kiddos running around- before pulling back. "Yes, I do. I should be spending my time with you and not running around tending to the ducklings and the one kitten who can't swim. Today you are a duckling because you _can_ swim. But, I can't help it. I worry about them. And I'm extra worried about Sunshine not having fun and his fear over the water and I'm trying to help and I don't wanna neglect you and I'm sorry, baby."

"You aren't neglecting me." Frank slips an arm around Brock's waist briefly, "We're still here together and I know that I get you at the end of the day. And tomorrow. And if I play my cards right, forever."

"No matter what happens, you already have me forever. That's never going to change. I've already decided that come what may, I'm marrying you, regardless." Brock buries his face in Frankie's neck so he can't see the sadness and pain he knows is in his eyes. He kisses along his neck, nuzzling for both comfort and to buy time. He needs to shove it down, pack it up. He can't let them see. Conceal, don't feel.

"Baby. It's gonna work out. It always does. I'm your boy!" Frank strokes the back of his neck, "I keep telling you, hell or high water." 

"Well according to Sunshine, this is hell _and_ high water," Brock snickers. He pulls back, grinning like a loon at his joke. "You want to get on your tube while I get them set up? Or do you mind holding his float while I get on, then you? I kinda promised we four would stick together. Keep him from drowning."

"I'll hold the tube. I don't mind helping out." Frank nods and grabs the inner tube, "You know Mr. Rumlow, you're a very good man." 

"Only to my friends and family," Brock says with a little embarrassed smile, which quickly turns into a smirk. "You won't like me angry." 

"I'll take your word for it and keep you happy and deliciously tan." Frank gives him a little wink to Brock before turning to Chrissy, "Alright madam, let's get you on." 

"Frank and I can hold the tube if you wanna try hopping on? Or Sunshine and Frankie can hold it and I'll lift you up," Brock offers.

"I'll hop. And if that doesn't work, then can you help me?" Christa asks.

"Sure, love." Brock takes one half of the float and holds onto it tightly.

"Ready. Set. Go!" Christa gives a tiny jump. And barely makes it on. She grins a little then shimmies until she is seated perfect. 

Frank turns to Ray, "Alright you, hop on." He grabs the inner tube and looks at Brock with a little smile.

"Yes. You are going to hop up and sit. Just like Chrissy did. Okay?" Brock holds his tube too.

"Ok. I got this." Ray nods at Brock before taking a big breath in. He does a weird hop and makes it but barely.

"You got it, Sunshine! You got it." Brock is super excited for his brother and gives him a side hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You good?" 

"I'm surprisingly good. I'm ready to ride this." 

"Sweet!" Brock can't stop grinning and now that all of his ducklings and one kitten are settled in, his worry dissipates and excitement sets in. He flops in the water to grab a tube for himself and another for Frank.

"Okay, so one of us has to hold the Toro's or they'll float without us. Frank, hop on and then I'll follow quickly," Brock grins with a little bounce in his toes. He's excited like a kid.

Frank jumps on the tube and steadies himself. He watches Brock and makes sure he is good to go. "Ready, love?" 

"Yes, okay. So. Gonna let you guys go. And," Brock releases the three tubes, watching as they join the flow of the river. He quickly walks into the flow, snags an empty one and throws it over his head and under his arms. He'll adjust once he catches up.

"Baby!" Frank shouts.

"I'm coming!" Brock kicks his feet and propels him after his family. A wide, goofy grin is plastered on his face and he's fairly certain he looks crazy but he doesn't give a shit what the other people think about him. 

Frank puts his arm out to offer as an anchor for Brock. He enjoys the feeling of floating. 

Brock makes a little noise of success when he grabs a hold of Frankie's outstretched hand. He exhales hard and laughs, "Whew! Oh, this is so much fun. Where are the others?"

"Up ahead. This is fun!" Frank smiles wide. 

"This is enjoyable. I don't feel like I am going to die." Ray chuckles.

"Maybe you should've let me teach you to swim, silly panda." Christa teases him.

Adjusting so he's more on his stomach, Brock essentially doggie paddles as he floats., doing his best to keep pace with the others. He wants to be on his toes, literally in case Sunshine _does_ fall in. An incident that is highly unlikely but he wouldn't put it past it happening if someone accidentally bumps them and his brother panics. 

"I'm happy to teach him," he comments, still holding onto Frankie's hand.

"Stubborn ass here doesn't want help." Christa says with a big grin as she splashes him.

"He's just a scaredy cat." Frank smiles, "It's okay. Brock wouldn't let anything happen.

"This is very true," Brock nods his agreement. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to any one of his boys if he could. Especially his brother and husband. If he could, he would protect them from the world. Bigger question was, could he protect them from himself? Could he protect _Frankie_ from himself?

"I'm not a scaredy cat, ma'am. I don't know how to swim, big difference. Keep it up and next time there is a spider in the house, I'll conveniently be too busy to save you," Ray says splashing her. 

Sunshine's voice pulls Brock from his mind but only enough to focus on his words. He gives a soft smile. "I think he's very brave for allowing me to help. Overcoming fear is hard. I'm grateful I can repay him."

"Well he should know I'm teasing. I am happy he's in the water." Chris offers her hand to him.

"I'm not scared of water. I'm scared of drowning." Ray sighs and shakes his head but stops when the tube moves. 

"Hmm, fair. If you were scared of water, you would never bathe," Brock points out softly.

"Exactly!" Ray says, "I am just thankful that Brock's been kind enough to include me on this water adventure."

"No man left behind, or forgotten," Brock says quietly. 

Frank squeezes Brock's hand, "If i didn't run the risk of falling into the water, I'd kiss you."

Brock scoots his tube closer and behind Frankie, kissing him awkwardly but managing. "I'm already in the water. And will catch you if you fall." He turns to Chrissy and Sunshine. "All of you."

"You're all squishy today and I kinda love it." Frank strokes his face. 

"I was kinda hoping that we could go out for a nice dinner tonight, for your birthday." Christa says softly.

"Okay," Brock replies, equally soft.

"No one with the last name Rumlow or Rollins pays." Ray adds.

"Okay."

"Baby? You ok?" Frank asks quietly.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Brock forces a smile. He takes a breath and shoves the thoughts and whispers in his head.

"Brock." Frank says before turning his tube to face his husband, "What is it? Let me help." 

"Eh, just got lost in my head again. Gremlins are being a bitch."

"This is a gremlin free zone." Frank nods, "But just remember they lie and I love you. We all do." 

He smiles, knowing that Frank spoke the truth. However, in this case, with the doom of tomorrow looming over him, he really didn't think that the gremlins were lying this time. He knows his boyfriend, his husband-to-be, his Frankie. And he knows that hell on Earth is coming for them both. The dread makes his stomach twist in knots and panic flutter in his chest. He shoves it all back down again. Tomorrow has enough worries on its own. He doesn't need to ruin today by adding to it. He gives another smile, this one lighter.

He kisses Frank again. "I love you, too." 

"After this, slides then maybe we can relax in the cabana?" He asks Brock batting his lashes at his husband.

"I love the sound of that. Sunshine, are you going to be able to do any of the slides? There's usually a pool of water you slide into at the end. Again, you can stand up in them. Just remember to hold your breath when you see a light at the end of the tunnel. Or, I think I saw a kids area to splash around in…"

"I'm not playing in the kids pool. I don't need to be _that_ weird guy." Ray snorts.

"Why not? I'm gonna. It's huge. I saw adults there earlier. I think. Anyway, who cares? It's fun."

"He doesn't want people to think he's a predator." 

"Okay, true but with the awesome pregnant wife you've got, I doubt that will be the case. It's worth a look, at least."

"Fair enough." Ray with a smile, "I was thinking that I could get us drinks too while you kids were playing." 

Brock wants to retract his comment. Sunshine's response made him feel like a heel. He's too controlling. He needs to let things go. This is why Frankie acts out. He shouldn't be dictating how Sunshine enjoyed his time. He needs to let things go.

"Sounds like a good idea. Check out what they have for lunch options too?"

"Yeah I can do that. I do wanna check out the slide." Ray says with a smile. "See what everyone was raving about when they talk about water slides being fun."

"I've seen at least three different ones so far. This place is huge. I feel like we could get lost easily." Brock snickers before looking around for any other member of their group.

"Let's not leave me anywhere..." Ray says nervously before cackling.

"I will never leave you." Brock waits a beat before saying quietly, "Again." 

"That was partially my fault." Ray grins.

"You just wander. I've left him so many times." Christa laughs.

"That's terrible!" Brock laughs and covers his face. 

"I left him at a Costco in another city! He just disappears."

"I'm going to implant GPS trackers in you all," Brock grumbles and shakes his head helplessly. He's teasing, of course, but he can't deny he hasn't thought about it already.

"I'll go halfsies." Christa laughs.

"I just get distracted." Ray says with a shrug.

"It's a good thing you are a cute duckling or else we wouldn't be joking about this."

"He's not wrong. If you weren't adorable, I wouldn't be married to you." Christa says as she rests her hands on her belly, "He's been moving like crazy since we got in the water."

"He's practicing his swimming techniques. Just like his dad will be, later," Brock huffs a grin.

"Hell yes he will. We are gonna get you swimming like a duck in no time." Frank says with a nod.

"We’ll see about that."

"Hmm, I seem to recall you agreeing to finish our lesson in the hotel pool later tonight. I'm holding you to that, Sunshine."

"I will keep that but I don't know about the no time part." Ray says patting Brock on the arm.

"You're a smart kitten. You'll be fine." 

"If we have the chance, I wanna nap. I am gonna be pooped once we get done." Ray chuckles.

"You'd think he was the one carrying an extra 25 pounds on his front by the fact that he is so tired." Christa shakes her head.

"Well stress and panic will do that to you," Brock comments. He sighs and lays his head down on the tube. He's actually getting tired himself. "So what kind of dinner are we doing? How nice?" 

"Maybe not five star but something nice. Were we dress nice, maybe?" Christa suggests.

"Black tie kinda thing or business casual?" Brock asks, mentally doing a clothing check in his head.

"Business casual." She nods.

"That's doable. I think I can throw something together." Frank nods.

"We don't have to eat at Disney either. I just wanna have a nice family dinner." Christa says. She realizes she almost screwed up.

"I like the sound of that. Maybe after we do the slides and rest, maybe we play a little extra before going back to the hotel? I'm okay not spending the entire day here. A relaxing evening sounds amazing. Dinner. Pool time with drinks and family. Cuddles and a movie?"

"I think that is a good plan!" Christa grins. She shifts slightly and feels the tube give way before she can do anything to stop it. She hits the water with an 'eep' then surfaces with a riotous laugh.

"You okay baby?" Ray asks. He turns his head and sees her in the water.

Frank grabs Ray's float and stops him from going on. He slips out of his own and into the unexpectedly deep water. It's probably not that deep he's just short.

A whistle cuts through the air and a lifeguard calls at them, "Inner tubes must be used at all times!" 

"We're working on that!" Brock calls back, mild panic in his voice. He slips his own tube and slips it over Frankie before walking after Christa's lost tube, retrieving it and putting it over her head. He gives a defiant look to the lifeguard before grabbing another empty tube and wearing it as well.

"I think we're done..." He huffs.

"What's your name you little shit?" Frank hisses at the lifeguard.

"She needs help, she's pregnant. Ass." Ray hisses at the lifeguard.

"Hang on… I got it. You two hold the tube between you." Brock lifts her tube back off of her and places it between the two boys. He's hoping this new idea will work.

They hold on to the raft and watch Brock. Frank shoots a glare at the little jerk with the whistle. 

"Sorry, Brock." Christa says softly.

"Not as sorry as I am gonna be in like two seconds. So I'm sorry and please don't scream or panic," Brock says just before he bends down under the water and picks her up in a cradle. He stands and holds her above his head like a weight lifter before carefully placing her on the tube, her limbs supporting her with her butt in the water. 

"Oh." Is the only word that comes out of her mouth. She wasn't expecting this. Her brain makes googly eyes at Brock over the show of strength before snapping out of it, "Thank you. Are you ok?" 

"Uh, yeah," he replies a little breathless. And he is okay, but it was just not something he's ever done in water before. He still needs to find him a tube now. Maybe he can share with Frankie?

"Do you think…" Frank starts but stops himself. _Behave, we'll get kicked out…_

"Think what?" He responds a little absently. There's always some random tube floating around. Why can't he find any _now_? He looks around, basically walking in the river to keep up with his family. As they go around a bend, another lifeguard spots him tubeless and calls him out for it. He spots an empty one near the lifeguard and points at it. "I fell out and lost mine, can I have that one?"

The lifeguard gives an annoyed look but tosses him the tube anyway. He swims to catch it and slips on over his head. He lays his head down on the tube and floats.

"So much for a magical time!" Frank shouts at the teenager.

"How much longer?" Ray asks. 

"We're just about done. I can see the exit. I think it's an exit. I hope so, I have to pee." Christa says.

"Just pee in the water," Brock grumbles by accident.

"Oh someone gotta sugar drop." Christa snorts, "We'll get you an ice cream shaped like Mickey, honey." 

"Excuse me?" He looks at her, brows drawn in and lips tight. He's rather incredulous at her condescendingness. It's not something he expected from her but there is no way she's going to treat him like a child. "I don't need an ice cream. It's not a sugar drop."

Christa rolls her eyes, "Relax, Brock."

"What the fuck? I just helped you and now you're giving me bullshit because I'm pissed off about the fucking lifeguard? I'm so sorry I bothered you with my presence, your majesty."

"Cool it, Rumlow." Rays growls at Brock, he's never spoken to Brock like this but that's his wife.

"You're right, cause somehow this is my fault," Brock snaps back. 

"Lose the attitude, Brock."

"Just because you are pregnant doesn't mean you get to be a bitch to everyone, especially those who are only trying to help. I wasn't even mad at you, and you had no right to treat me like a misbehaving child throwing a temper tantrum with _your_ attitude. I don't appreciate what you said and I don't appreciate being ganged up on."

"Nope you were just moping and _now_ you're throwing the tantr-" Christa hisses but is cut off.

"Enough! Both of you!" Frank shouts, "Chris, you were out of line. And Brock, don't call her a bitch. That's rude. You both are hot and need to get out of the sun. And probably some water. Apologize to each other please."

An entire rant runs through his mind before Brock just gives up and slumps in the tube. He's always the one who has to make things right. He whispers, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you such a vile thing. It was disrespectful and out of line. As a lady and pregnant, I am supposed to treat you with the utmost respect no matter what and I failed. I'm sorry Ray for being a bad brother and friend by insulting your wife's honor. I beg you both to please forgive me."

"I'm sorry for being bitchy to you. I need to be more understanding of your feelings and be respectful of them." Christa says softly, "I acted like a jerk. Once my fat ass is off this I'm going to give you an apology hug." 

"You aren't fat," Brock argues quietly.

"Meh. Thick?" 

"Please don't insult yourself." Brock continues to mope a little, tiredness hitting him. He sighs before wrinkling his nose. "I have a sudden urge to give myself several lashings for my transgressions. And say at least ten Hail Marys. I don't even like the Pope."

"Nope. McPreggo is coming to her grumpy bear and putting her bingo wings on you." Christa says as they reach the exit spot.

Brock's face scrunches up in confusion. What are bingo wings? Do they have anything to do with Crazy Carolyn and her Angels? Is he the grumpy bear? "I don't think any of that made sense but okay?"

"I want to hug you with my chunky arms." Christa laughs, "You're cute when you're confused." 

"Oh. I'm glad it isn't angels." Brock slips his tube and resurfaces, shaking his head and grabbing the Toros.

"But _Brock!_ The Angels!" Ray and Frank cry out in unison before dying of laughter.

He turns and gives them the most unamused expression he can before pulling them towards the exit. He's going to ignore the angels comments. "Frankie, hop out and push them." 

Frank hops off and pushes preggo and Ray to the exit. He is still snickering. 

Once they are out of the flow and in the shallow end, Brock holds the tube steady for Sunshine to hop out. He stands behind his brother, keeping an arm around his chest. "Pull your feet in and stand up. I'm going to hold you so this doesn't flip and you don't go head under. I've got you. Okay?"

Ray nods. He follows the instructions and touches the bottom. He takes a breath and smiles at Brock.

"Good job," he beams at his brother. He pats the overly hairy chest before giving a small smile and moving to Christa.

"This way, Ray." Frank points to the exit of the lazy river. He grabs her tube and holds tighter.

Brock takes both of Christa's hands and pulls her up and out of the tube, holding her tightly. 

"If you wanted to get this close, all you had to do was ask." Christa says softly.

"I do miss having a Toro at my back..." He teases with a grin. Snickering, he hugs her, kissing her cheek. "I am sorry. Truly." 

"Me too. I was a jerk. I love you Brock and you're an amazing man and I sometimes take that for granted." Christa says before kissing his cheek. She puts her feet on the ground and gives him a big squeeze.

"I was once called a _sensitive sally_. Guess that's mostly true, after all." He hugs her back tightly before pulling away and searching for the rest of the kittens.

The kittens are with Jack and Brooke in a shaded overhang waiting for them. Ray and Christa quickly join hands and the group quietly. Frank walks beside Brock as they meet up with the others.

"About time you two showed up." Mike grins as they join.

"Brock made sure that I didn't drown. You know… me and water… " Ray gives the group a fake shudder.

"Alright! Is the whole gang here? We should move on to the next thing." Lindsey says with a nod.

"We're going to the slides now, right?" Brock asks, holding Frankie tight around the waist.

"I wanna ride the slides!" Frank grins up at Brock. 

"Slides it is!" Lindsey says with a huge smile, "Are you coming Maria?" 

"I'm going to sunbathe," Christa grins.

"Yes, I am ready to be thrilled," Maria grins back at Lindsey.

"It's going to be awesome!" says Brooke.

"Yeah it will!" Mike says happily.

"Let's go! There's gonna be a crazy line." Gerard says taking Lindsey's hand 

Brock nods. "Are we still doing the Snorkeling thing?" 

"I'm still up for it." Bob replies looking back at Brock as they head for the first slide line.

"I'm cool with that. Be pretty awesome to see sharks," Jack says, falling in line with Brock and Frank.

"Debatable," Brooke snorts softly.

"I think it will be good! You'll see that sharks are friendly." Frank comments with a soft smile.

She turns and gives him a wry smile, "Says the vegan..." 

"Vegetarian." He corrects her.

"Whatever," she teases. "It's still anti-animal and so of course you think sharks are friendly. Even though they can kill you. I bet you would think a bear or wolf is friendly just the same. Probably even try to pet them?"

"Wolves are just big dogs… bears are like big... _tank_ dogs. Yeah I would totally pet both of them." Frank laughs. 

"You are crazy. I guess this is how you will die. Death by 'ooh pretty, lemme pet it' syndrome," she laughs, teasingly.

"If not that, then 'Dance until I crash and burn' disease," Brock snickers.

"The 'Oh Pretty' syndrome is how I snagged your brother." Frank grins up at him, "I'm not that bad, I can be calm on stage." 

"It will be the 'I'm stressed, so I have no appetite' that will kill him," Gerard says with a head shake.

"Oh bite me! Yeah I do that sometimes but I always eat at some point." Frank says defensively, "I haven't stressed _that_ much in a while." 

Jack cuts in with an arm around Frankie's neck. "Can we not talk about what's going to kill my brother and instead decide which slide to ride first?"

"I second and third that. What are the options?" Frank asks with a big dumb smile.

"Something fast," Ray grins.

"Let's find the park map and check things out. Also, drinks because I'm dying here," Brock says. He turns and points out the giant fixture of a boat shipwrecked on top of a mountain. "But I agree on the fast. The giant boat thing is either a ride or just decor. I'm curious to know which it is."

"We should get one of those water cameras. Take some family photos. Be real tourists," Jack offers with a wide and goofy grin.

"Oh I can take the photos!" Ray volunteers.

"Yeah! I think it's just decor but let's go!" Mike grins.

"It looks like there might be some drink stands up there too!" Gerard grins.

"Sweet." Jack detours over to the nearest stand boasting all sorts of towels, swimwear, Mickey themed drinkware, and light snacks. He holds up a light tan plastic mug with a sleeve. The sleeve is a dark brown and has the words Disney's Typhoon Lagoon stitched into it. He grins at them, "Want a souvenir?" 

"Yes." Chris says excited.

"Christa had an idea about dinner." Frank comments, "Something nice. Like dressy ish." 

"Oh?" Jack raises an eyebrow. "You mean I have to get out of my half-nakedness and put on clothes? Gross but that's cool, I guess." He moves further into the shop, looking over towels and tee shirts.

"A nice dinner to end Brock's birthday," Chris comments.

"She just wanted to get dressed up," Lindsey grins wide at her. 

"Damn right i do and plus the entire Rumrollins clan are fucking gorgeous. So I wanna see them dressed up." Christa nods, "Look at Brooke and Maria… I have girl crushes." " 

"Rumrollins?" Brock asks. 

"That's a cute moniker. I kinda like that," Jack grins wide. 

"Of course you do, it's got your name in it, little brother," Brooke says, ruffling Jack's hair.

"Psh, yeah cause I'm awesome," Jack retorts, lightly shoving his sister away. "Go look at the shiny flip flops or the tacky jewelry. I'm sure they'll have something that will fit you."

Brooke sticks her tongue out before grinning and walking away, looking at the smaller souvenirs rack of stationary and keychains. Maria joins her soon after, picking up a cute keychain. 

"That and the Rollins rolls off the tongue." Christa grins wide.

Frank feels a little excitement bubble in his chest at the idea of becoming a Rumlow. He knows there is no reason why the family or the Five wouldn't let this happen. He's been working on this. 

After they splurge on a few trinkets, the group spends several hours enjoying the slides, sunbathing, and the quiet cabana until hunger strikes. Eleven tired bodies make their way out of the water park, clamour onto a bus and head back to the hotel, discussing where to eat. After a small debate, the group decides to make reservations at Vito's Chophouse. 

Back at the hotel, freshly showered and sharply dressed in an off blue suit with a waistcoat, Brock pours all of his focus on his appearance and security to keep from having to think about the mental timer in his head doing a slow countdown. Right now it was a barely-held-together cardboard box of fear and despair in his head with a bomb waiting to happen. He was afraid that if he poked at it or looked at it too much, everything would collapse and he would break. Sitting on the bed, he loses himself while staring at a set of knives. He's supposed to be ready already but he can't decide if he should bring both knives or just one. A heavy sigh escapes and the ache in his chest pulses. After a moment, he pockets one and sheathes the other in an ankle sheath. 

"Baby?" Frank says softly from the bathroom.

"Yes, _tesoro_?" he replies.

"Did you disappear?" Frank steps out of the bathroom and leans against the wall with a slight tilt of his head.

Brock sighs and gives him a warm smile. "Yes, _tesoro_. I'm sorry, my love." 

"You left a tie on the counter and I asked if you wanted it," he slowly approaches his husband. The tie folded neatly in his hand.

Taking the fabric, he nods and smiles. "Thank you baby. I'm sorry for disappearing. I love you."

"You're not okay. I'm not gonna push but I am always willing to listen if you need me." Frank strokes his cheek before kissing his forehead.

Standing, he pulls him close, nosing his neck for comfort. "It's one of the many, many things I love about you. You look ravishing in your suit by the way."

Frank blushes a little. "Thank you, baby. You look too good to let you out in public. I was thinking tomorrow, when we get to Charleston, of getting a tattoo. Wanna go with me?"

"A tattoo? Of what?" Brock wrinkles his nose, curious as to what his husband wants to get inked now. He quickly puts on his tie, tucking it under his matching waistcoat and checks himself once more, adjusting the cuff links. He turns and notices Frankie's tie is a little loose and cockeyed. Grabbing the silky soft fabric, he tugs Frankie close, salacious thoughts of using ties in bed. Maybe even choking him while he fucks him hard. Nimble hands quickly adjust the knot and tighten it up before Brock steps away a little to make sure it's even. His boy really does look dashing in a suit and tie. He's going to miss him.

"Either a snake or spider." 

He chuckles, "Ew, why? Is it for Scorpio to eat?" 

"No, silly. I was thinking the spider here," he taps his elbow, "or the snakes on my side.

"I'm waiting to get the bear for Scorpio until _after_ we get married. Remember?" Frank grins.

"No bear," Brock laments. Stepping back he offers his hand for Frank to take, heading to the door. "Why those two things?" 

"I have this idea for the spider to be bright and like old school American style. Or the snake 'cause snakes are cool?" Frank shrugs, "I could get bookworm on my fingers." 

"Like the words or an actual cartoon inch worm with little glasses and a book inching across your knuckles?" Brock grins as they head down to the lobby, where they were supposed to meet the others.

"Oh, the inch worm is adorable." 

"As much as I love ink in general, I don't necessarily love all ink. Snakes and spiders are just not my thing, in general. Not to say they aren't cool in their own right. Are you wanting to get your sides done from top to bottom or just the squishy parts?"

"Eventually, the whole thing. But I'm not totally sure yet. It was more of a whim. Who knows maybe I'll be cheesy and get flashart." Frank beams up at him. He acts on a whim and pulls Brock lower. He kisses him with a little passion behind it. Brock dressed up like this stoked a fire that had been brewing in him all day. His husband looked amazing in a suit. A hand slides around his side and softly bumps one of his guns. The other hand touches the other but moves away quickly. It sends a warning in the back of his head; Brock feels exposed. Vulnerable. He's gonna ask later, he pushes worried thoughts down. 

Brock crowds his husband until Frankie is up against the elevator wall and he's kissing hard and deep. A little moan rolls out of his chest as wicked thoughts creep up. He wants to lift Frankie up and rip off the suit, fucking him hard against the wall. Maybe the little bar will hold him up. Maybe not. Maybe they will get caught. Frank loves the thrill of a public setting. Before he can indulge himself any further, the elevator dings and the doors open. Brock steps back and has to adjust himself and the suit again. 

"Coming?" Brock asks, offering his hand again.

"Uh. Yeah." Frank answers flustered as he bites down on his lip. He takes Brock's hand and reminds himself to breathe. 

"Hello gentlemen!" Lindsey says as they step off the elevator. Her gold and white dress glimmers a little in the sun, "You both look fantastic." 

"So do you. Who knew us tattooed punk kids can clean up nicely." Frank grins at her. 

"Right! Nothin like proving em wrong." Lindsey grins and kisses his cheek, then goes to Brock and kisses his cheek.

"I can't wait to see the ladies all dressed up. The car should be here any minute." Gerard says with a smile as he offers a hand to Brock, "You look like Bond, my dude." 

Brock smiles wide as he shakes Gerard's hand. "Thank you. You look pretty great yourself. All you boys do." 

"Thanks! Maybe the next album will be something classier than this album." Gerard says softly. 

After subtly checking out each of the boys in their suits, Brock has to agree. They all look sharp and snazzy. The fans would eat this up. He nods, "Suits suit you guys. The ladies would emotionally combust into raging sex hormones. And some of the men too. Albums would fly off the shelves."

"Thanks Brock! It's kinda fun to play dress up." Mike grins.

The elevator opens again and Brooke steps out. Her dark brunette shoulder-length hair is curled and falls loose around her. She's wearing a form fitting black spaghetti strap cocktail dress that reaches just above her knees, with one side ruched up, revealing some thigh. She's got little black strappy heels and a clutch purse with smokey makeup to top everything off.

"Holy shit." Gerard says with a wide smile.

Frank gives her a whistle, "You look amazing sis." 

She smiles at him, "Thank you Frank. You look amazing yourself. But I am just the pre-show. Christa is the real bell."

"Really?" Gerard grins.

"Yeah. She is gonna blow you all away. Though she did tell me someone… won't let her wear heels." Lindsey says with a big grin looking at Brock.

"I don't want her breaking an ankle. Besides, the heels would hurt her when they swell. It's not about fashion, it's about comfort."

The elevator dings and the door slides open. Christa steps out in a soft dusty pink dress that glimmers a little in the light. The dress is fitted to her body, the deep V in the front highlights her breasts. The ruching on the side draws attention to her baby bump. She approaches the group with a shy smile. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail with newly cut bangs. "How do I look?" She asks with a confident smile.

"If I wasn't gay… Hell, you might make me jump ships, Chrissy," Brock grins and openly looks at her. He's not stupid enough to hug her just yet. He doesn't want to cut in line. Sunshine gets first dibs.

"Beautiful." Frank says softly.

"Yeah I don't think we should be going to dinner…" Ray says with a huge smile, "I can't let you go out looking _this_ good. Holy shit, mama you look amazing." He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead. 

"Thank you." She replies softly.

"Where's mama Maria?" Frank asks quietly.

The stairwell opens up and Maria exits wearing a black maxi dress that clings nicely. It's got a scoop neckline and short sleeves with shades of large blue flowers printed. Around her shoulders is a light teal wrap made from chiffon. Her white hair has been unbraided and coiffed around her face, the rest falling in a waterfall cascade to her waist. A pair of simple pumps and a diamond necklace with a dusting of green eyeshadow and pale pink lipstick tie all of it together.

"Maria!" Frank says with shock, "You are a vision! You look even more beautiful!"

Maria does a little twirl before approaching, beaming at the group. "Thank you Frank." 

"Maria, you look amazing!" Gerard grins wide. 

"You do! That color looks good on you," Mike says with a smile.

"I'm glad you like it. You boys are so handsome. Would one of you boys like to be my date for this evening? I can use some arm candy," Maria smiles wickedly.

"Absolutely, Maria. I would be honored." Mike says with a big smile. He offers his arm to her.

"I was gonna." Gerard pouts.

"You have Linds." Frank reminds him.

"I'll take Jack." Lindsey smiles

"Score one for me, since my friend is trying to be my new dad," Jack laughs as he walks up behind them in a navy blue pinstriped blazer with matching pants with a white shirt. 

"Beat it kid. I'll take the lady." Gerard says elbowing Mike.

"I still need a date," Brooke offers.

"Gerard, why are you poaching on my mother?" Brock laughs. 

"Have you seen her? She's perfect." 

"Miss Brooke, I would like the honor of being your date. If that's ok with you?" Bob asks.

"I would love that, thank you Robert," she replies with a warm smile.

Bob offers his arm. 

"Rabbit," Brock snickers as he watches Brooke take his arm.

"Yessir?" Bob asks grinning.

"You be nice to my sister." 

"Unlike the other heathens, I'ma gentleman. She's too beautiful to be mistreated."

"Heathen gentleman, perhaps," Brock grins and winks at him. "Just remember, she can kick your ass. She beat me in a fight, remember?"

Maria steps between Gerard and Mikey, putting her hands up and separating them. "Don't fight over me, boys. Gerard, child, go be with your woman. Michael will take good care of me, just fine."

"Yes ma'am." Gerard nods with a soft smile even though his head wants him to frown.

"I know she can kick my ass. It's kinda hot. Not gonna lie." Bob grins.

"Don't worry Robert, I only have one knife on me. It's not for you," Brooke purrs in his ear.

"I'm a lucky guy." Bob chuckles before whispering back, "I've got one concealed too." 

"Let's go eat. I'm famished," Jack announces. "Maybe I can pick up a lovely woman while I'm there." 

"I've been telling you. I can get you a girlfriend." Frank says with a smile.

"Yes! Feed me!" Mike grins.

"I don't want a girlfriend, but I do want steak. Let's go. I've got the car waiting for us outside."

"We could just get you a girl who molds into a girlfriend then wife." Frank says following along with Brock as they head towards the cars. 

"He likes blondes," Brock offers.

Jack groans and shakes his head at his brother. "Brock, can you not focus on my love life? Please?"

"But it's so much fun."

"I've been telling him I know plenty of pretty blondes who would love to date a dashing young man." Frank says quietly to Brock.

"I have a couple model friends who wouldn't mind a ride on that German Italian stallion." Lindsey comments with a big grin.

Jack snorts a protest. "Can we not talk about my sex life in front of my _mother_?"

"You had no problem showcasing ours." Frank says dryly, he opens the door for Brock.

"Thank you, baby." Brock gets into the car and sits before turning to his brother. "And he's right Jack."

"Of course." Frank sits and kisses Brock's cheek.

"You just need to meet a nice girl." Christa says softly as she strokes the top of Jack's hand, "A crazy one who isn't afraid of your weird extended family." 

"I like being untamed. Wild and free." 

"I used to feel that way too." Ray says softly, "But then I found my angel. I never wanna be without her for long. Your forever is out there Jack." His hand rubs her belly.

"He is awake and moving hard." Christa smiles, "Wanna feel?" 

"He's excited about food," Brock says as he leans over and places a hand on her stomach.

Christa feels a hard kick on Brock's hand and looks at him. "You feel that. He's in a mood." 

Brock grins. He loves feeling Baby Floof move around. He loves learning about this special baby and his preferences even before he was born. It amazes him. His creation, his little life, already so vibrant as he grows inside his sister. It makes him feel…Euphoric. His grin gets wider the more he feels the baby shift and move. "Hi Baby Floof. How's my favorite nephew? You're excited, huh? Happy baby. You are supposed to be nice to your mommy. No hard stretching okay?"

"He was moving around when I was getting ready. I think he knows mom's excited." Christa says softly as she leans into Ray.

"I love it when Brock gets all gooey over babies. It's adorable." Frank says quietly to Ray.

"Yeah. He does love babies." 

"He's just happy to hear his favorite Uncle Brock," he smirks at Christa.

"He does love his uncle." She sighs, "He's also taken a liking to auntie Brooke too." 

"I bet he'd love Jack too." Ray comments.

"Everyone loves Jack. Except those that don't." Brock snickers.

"No, Brock. Get it right. It's 'Everybody loves Raymond'. Not Jack," Jack laughs and elbows Ray.

"Not everyone. My sister does not like him." Christa laughs.

"She's a weirdo then. You'd have to be crazy not to love Sunshine."

The car erupts into laughter and Brock grins before falling silent, listening to the others chat and laugh. Mike-n-Ike makes a joke that starts another round of laughter. Suddenly Brock finds it nearly overwhelming to join in. Like a hood being ripped off, he was hypersensitive to the space in the car, the people and the time. He grins and forces laughter to pass his lips, quieter than the rest to not be noticed while inside he felt like he was being suffocated. Hazelnut eyes glance outside, hoping to find a distraction but the lights flying by only amplify the feeling of panic. He has to look away from the outside; he was starting to feel nauseated.

Like a godsend, their car comes to a stop in the parking lot of Vito's and they all spill out into the night. Brock waits until the others get out, choosing instead to sit still and hope that this will pass.

Frank offers a hand to Brock once the crowd has gone inside, "You okay, honey?" 

He shakes his head no. "I think I got some sort of car sick." 

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. You never get car sick, you should have said something." 

"Not sure what it is. Still working on not puking." He puts his head between his knees and focuses on keeping the edges of the panic attack at bay.

"Want me to quietly sit with you?" He asks.

"Dunno. Feelin' a little… tight. But if I move to get air, I'm not gonna make it. Just… gimme minute."

"Okay baby." Frank nods. 

Jack looks around as the others chat before going inside, and notices Frank still at the car. "Where's Brock?" 

"He's having a carsick moment." Frank says quietly, "He's never been sick like this."

Jack sneaks a glance at Ray, concern written all over his face. He doesn't think for a moment that Brock is truly car sick. Not really anyway. He might think it is but Jack can't help but wonder that this might have something to do with their plans for tomorrow. He moves closer to Frank. 

"I'm a little worried about him." Frank says softly to Jack.

"I can hear you," Brock mutters loud enough.

"Well, I am." Frank says without hesitation. 

"I'll be fine. I just need a few moments to breathe." 

Frank gives Jack a look. He doesn't understand what is going on. Brock zoning him out. The sad glassy look in his eyes. Not to mention the fact he nearly squeezed his fingers off. Is this him spiraling again? Everything had been so good. 

Maria frowns and joins her boys, touching Brooke in the process. "Everything alright?" 

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm fine." Brock takes several hard, deep breaths and forces his stomach to relax, his nerves to settle and he gets out of the car, on the opposite side. The moment he steps outside, he feels both better and worse. Less claustrophobic but also more nauseous. Perhaps he just needed to eat?

Frank steps to the outside of the group. He didn't want to get in the way of Brock's family. He glances towards the doors of the restaurant. 

He sees the other band members waiting patiently inside. 

Maria comes around the car and hugs Brock hard, kissing her son's cheeks. She whispers softly to him in Italian, soothing his raw nerves. After a few moments, he's able to calm himself again and pull out of the hug. He puts his arm around her and together they rejoin the group. Brock gravitates towards Frankie and wraps his arms around him, squeezing his eyes shut tight and nuzzling his husband's neck.

"I'm sorry. I love you, _tesoro_ ," he murmurs.

"It's okay, _polpetto_. I love you more," Frank speaks softly. His fingers brush into the hair on the back of his head. He doesn't want to mess with the perfect style up top.

"Not possible, _vita mia_." Brock kisses Frank hard before letting him go and offering his arm. "Shall we?" 

"Let's." Frank nods and takes his arm and follows along with Brock. His worry still brews in the back of his head. "Have you been told how incredibly handsome you look tonight?" 

"Yes, but I'm not amiss to hearing it again." Brock turns and gives him a sly look with a little tilt in his lips. 

"In that case, you look incredible. One might even go so far as to say, dashing." Frank says, raising an eyebrow.

"Dashing? Sounds like something I would say. From like two decades ago," Brock grins as they enter the restaurant with the others.

"Well, I have picked up a few new tricks." Frank strokes his arm with fingertips as they join the table. 

"Hey guys! Thought you got lost making out in the car." Gerard jokes.

Frank grins and plays it off, "You know me… greedy and needy." 

"We were looking at the wine list, Brock wanna peek?" Bob asks; he knows the answers yes.

"Of course," he replies, taking a seat after unbuttoning his blazer.

"So, the deal with dinner is, have whatever you want. It's on the band. No one with the last name Rollins or Rumlow nee Iero can pay." Christa says softly to the group.

“What if I want to order a bottle of wine that costs over four digits?” Brock teases, taking the extensive wine list and looking it over. 

"Oh that's where I come in. I gotchu and your fancy wine taste." Lindsey winks at Brock, "You drink that fancy ass wine, Birthday boy? No… birthday papi? Birthday Brock?"

"What would you want to drink, Brooke?" Bob asks her with a soft smile.

“I share my brother’s taste in fine wine, but on occasion I do like things a little more rougher. Drier.”

"Oh. Rougher is always fun." Bob grins wide.

“Dry martini? Or perhaps something whiskey? What do you want, Robert?” 

"Whiskey is always a fantastic choice. Though a good bourbon would be great right now," Bob glances at the drink menu.

“Rabbit,” Brock mutters under his breath.

Bob looks at him with a smile. 

Caught, he looks down and holds back a smile, trying hard to focus on the wine _book_. He has to admit that he hasn’t heard of several of these brands and he’s absolutely curious to try several. Okay, perhaps all of them. He shouldn’t get drunk. Hell, he shouldn’t even drink. He’s not stupid, he can feel himself backtracking. He can’t help it though. He needs to not feel for the next twelve hours.

"That one looks interesting," Frank says pointing to one of the wines.

“I think it’s French. Not one I recognize. The best wine is found when paired with the meal. The Chef will have a recommendation. I’ll probably accept it once we decide on what to eat. But I do want to see if they offer wine tasting.”

"Smart." Frank nods. He's got no clue when it comes to wine. He's thankful that Brock does.

"Gin and tonic sounds amazing," Lindsey comments with a smile.

"Oh that does." Frank nods, "I think I want one." 

“I like the idea of bourbon,” Jack comments, reading over the appetizers. 

"Bourbon is the way to go!" Bob grins wide.

“Oh, look Brock. Meatballs,” Jack snickers.

“Really?” Brock quickly switches from the wine list to the main menu, looking for his favorite dish.

"I'm so hungry I can't focus," Mike sighs.

“Are we sharing an appetizer or will Brock be hoarding food and force feeding his brood?” Maria quips. 

"He only does that after a show. But he does make us drink a metric ton of water." Ray chuckles.

"Appetizers could be good!" Christa says to Maria.

“Water is important, Sunshine!”

“I was thinking we could perhaps share the seafood tower,” Maria suggests. “Or perhaps the Mozzarella Malazon. The Portabella fondue sounds splendid as well. Thoughts?”

"The fondue sounds good to me!" Mike says looking up from his menus, "But I do love seafood." 

“Were we paying for our own dinner, I would suggest both but alas, we are not,” Brooke chuckles softly.

"Both it is!" Lindsey says excitedly.

"I think I'm going to do a salad." Frank says quietly.

Brock leans over and kisses his temple. He quickly realizes that most of the menu was either surf or turf or some combination of the two. “The wedge salad sounds pretty great. You think that or the caesar?”

"Caesar. Am I that predictable?" Frank chuckles, "I could do the _swordfish_." Frank wrinkles his nose at the thought.

"Oh the swordfish looks good." Christa says excitedly, "I can't have it but I want it." 

"Frank what are you gonna do when you go to Italy? Are you gonna starve?" Bob comments.

“Probably. _Tesoro_ , you have been doing rather well with the salmon. Perhaps you could try the Rigatoni Bolognese?”

“I would feed the poor child something he could eat, of course,” Maria counters.

"Thank you, Maria." Frank grins wide at her. He leans up and kisses Brock's cheek, "I'll try the rigatoni."

“Mascarpone is amazing. I think you’ll love it,” Brock smiles at him before kissing him.

"You two are so cute," Lindsey grins.

"Yeah, they are. Sometimes," Ray snickers.

The waitress approaches and gives Jack a warm smile, "Hi there. My name's Amy. I'll be your server. What can I get you guys started with?" 

“I’d like your single barrel bourbon, please,” Jack says with a smile.

"Excellent choice." She grins at him.

"I'm interested in the redemption bourbon, please," Bob gives her a nod which she returns.

"Gin and tonic." Frank smiles.

“I think I will have the Proprietary Flight, to start. Please,” Brock smiles up at her.

“I think I will have the Gary’s Cherry smoked cocktail,” Brooke says.

“I will start with the Mixberry Lemonade,” Maria nods.

"I think the unholy trippel." Gerard says with a nod.

"Water." Mike nods. 

"Four Graces." Ray gives her a big smile.

"All excellent choices!" Amy says as she pushes her blonde hair from her eyes, "Appetizers?" 

"Seafood tower and the mozzarella mazalon." Lindsey nods.

"Sounds good!" Amy places a soft hand on Jack's shoulder before smiling and disappearing into the back.

Jack can’t help but watch her walk away at the touch. She was cute. Not too petite that there wasn’t something he couldn’t enjoy. He mentally brushes it off. Waitresses were meant to flirt and touch. It was a great way to earn tips. 

Frank softly elbows Brock and nods to Jack. He raises an eyebrow. Brock nods and smiles, giving him a wink. He leans over a little to check out the waitress himself. “She’s cute.”

"Pretty smile too." Frank nods.

"Mmm, blonde too." Christa says with a wink.

Jack sighs and shakes his head. He knows exactly what they are up to and he doesn’t think it’s wise. “Guys, again. My love life is not a good topic of discussion.”

"Oh. You must have missed the memo..." Christa grins.

"Be charming! Talk her up. Get the digits." Frank says leaning in a little before sitting back and resting a hand on Brock's thigh.

“No. This isn’t about me, it’s about the twins and their birthday. Focus on them, please.” 

"Oh, I have my focus on one of the two." Frank smiles, "But it seems that you're the only one who is alone."

"I'm okay with that. Again, my love life is not important."

Amy returns with a tray of drinks. She places the drinks around the table but ends with Jack. "The appetizers should be here shortly." 

"Thank you, Amy," Jack smiles up at her.

"Have we decided on meals?" She asks with a twinkle in her eye.

"I think so," Christa nods.

"Yes ma'am," Brock agrees. 

Jack nods, "Yes, please. I am starving." 

"I'll start I guess, I'll take the rigatoni." Frank smiles.

"Meatball Pomodoro." Gerard adds.

"Oh, be careful Gerard. Brock might steal some. You know how much he loves… meat… balls." Jack smirks.

"That he does." Frank snickers.

"What would you like?" Amy asks Jack with a smirk.

Jack coughs a little before replying, "The pork chops. Two inches; with the giant baked potato, all the way."

"Nice. Good choice." She grins and moves around him. 

Lindsey orders the swordfish after a long debate. Then sneaks out to the bathroom. 

"Chicken parmigiana," Mike orders.

"Same actually," Bob grins at her.

"Best make that three," Brooke adds.

"I will take the Shrimp and Scallop scampi," Maria says.

"And I will do the eight ounce filet mignon, medium rare with the sauteéd broccoli, please. And the four of us," Brock points out his mother and siblings, "will be sharing your '94 Château Haut-Brion, First Growth with dinner. Though I am currently enjoying the Proprietary. It's lovely."

"Glad you're enjoying it. It is delicious." Amy grins, "Alright I'll put this in and I'll be back in a bit." 

Lindsey quietly returns to her seat looking a little paler than normal. She leans into Gerard and rests her head on his shoulder. "What did I miss?" 

"Oh nothing… Brock just ordered a hella expensive wine for the Rumrollins crew." Frank snickers.

"Hopefully that won't be a problem?" Brock asks her. He frowns at her paler state and gives her a look.

"If that's what you guys want," Lindsey smiles softly.

"It's French. High end. I'm looking forward to it," he replies with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Lindsey snorts and chuckles at the excitement in his face, "Bougie fucker." 

Brooke sips her bourbon, "It was either that or Spanish wine." 

"I would love to see you guys slum it for a week. Without money." Lindsey says leaning forward and taking a sip from her drink.

Brock takes a drink from the Chardonnay of his sampler, thinking about what life would be like. Considering all he has been through and will possibly go through he nods. "I could do it." 

Brooke gives it a quick consideration. She likes high class far too much. "No…. Nope. I could not." 

Frank makes a slight hissing sound, "Baby… I don't think you could. Living in my old apartment would ruin you."

"Yes but that's a different situation," he argues. "Nobody can live in that old apartment. That's not living, that is barely surviving. And besides, it's not the size of the apartment that was the issue. I like small spaces."

"That is part of being poor. Struggling. If you're poor you don't live in a fancy high rise. You live in a busted hole in the wall apartment," Frank says with a small smile.

"He doesn't even know about the room above the bar in Hoboken." Gerard sighs, "You know the creepy one."

Brock frowns. "No. No I do not. But now I'm curious. Please explain, _tesoro_." 

"Well, it was." Frank pauses for a moment to get the right words, "Small." 

"Understatement." 

"It was like a closet above a shitty bar." Frank says quietly, "I rented it from the bar owner." 

"How long ago was this?" Brock questions.

"Like six months before you and I met..." Frank shrugs, "It was very creepy. Shitty door. There was a weak floorboard that fell through to the bar. I swear it was haunted."

Brock visibility shudders. "No. No thank you."

"You should try it Brock." Lindsey says softly, "A week with $300 to live on."

"He couldn't," Maria laughs.

One of the wait staff brings out the appetizers on two trays. He sets down the seafood tower & sets it down in the middle. He smiles and leaves.

"Honestly, I think he could," Frank says stroking Brock's thigh.

"I actually know he couldn't., Ray says with a nod.

"So much for being on my side, brother."

"Oh I am. I just know that you wouldn't be able to do it." Ray chuckles, "No shade."

"I bet you he absolutely could. Brock is pretty low maintenance, all things considered." Frank snorts.

"He wouldn't be able to afford food," Brooke snickers. "Or wine." 

"I feel like a bet is happening." Christa says eyeing the seafood in front of her.

"There's no need, right?" Brock asks as he grabs a few of the crab legs and puts them on his plate.

"Yeah, we know you won't last a day." Ray says with a cheeky grin.

"Give my brother some credit," Jack counters while he snags some of the shrimp. "There are no riches while in the service. If you think frozen meals are bad, MREs are worse. In fact, I would say that being on a tour, would be akin to homelessness rather than just poor. Everything you own is in one bag on your back."

"And you have to take it everywhere you go or risk losing it. No showers. No cell phones or internet. No AC or heat. Heat only existed if you could get a fire going. You can't cook an MRE either. And after a certain time, you did not, under any circumstances, get up from your sleeping pack. You had to piss, you had an empty bottle. Moving about in the night was dangerous." Brock nods while eating a crab leg.

"Always needing to watch your back. Any sound could be someone trying to kill you," Jack adds.

"Hence why I know Brock could be poor." Frank nods.

"Okay fair. I suppose." Ray says with a nod.

"I _could_ do it. But I never want to experience it again. I don't have to and I'm thankful for that." He pauses, thinking about the others and the things that Lindsey said. Perhaps this was a way to tell him that he is too expensive. That his "bougie" tastes were going to hurt the band's finances. He suddenly regrets eating the crab. He doesn't want it anymore. As if by not eating, they wouldn't have to pay for it. It's stupid and he knows it. He'll find a way to cover the costs himself.

"Exactly." Frank nods.

"It's a good thing that we have rich friends." Lindsey says nodding. 

"Amen to that," Brock offers his drink in a toast before finishing off the wine sampler. He wasn't fond of the Cabernet but he drank it anyway. 

"Eat. We have a lot of food, Brock," Gerard says softly. 

"I've kinda wondered what an MRE tastes like." Bob comments. 

"You are alone in that sentiment." Mike snorts.

"Like shit. Ever eat a protein bar? And it tasted like ash and sad dreams?" Jack asks. "Kinda like that but the texture is just…. No. It's synthetic food. Actually it's not even that. It's fuel. The idea was that the military, and now the astronauts, needed a way to get all of the nutrients the body needed in extreme conditions and compact it into one dish. Nobody likes them but it's essential to survival."

"Good to know that it tastes like nightmares," Bob says with a nod before taking a bite. 

"I just can't. I have to have flavor and texture," Christa says with a shiver.

"I never thought that I would get to see Disney world. I'm excited that it happened for my baby's birthday!" Frank says with a nod.

"Saying it like that makes it sound like you have a baby," Brock snickers.

"I do." Frank says with a smile.

"Contrary to my recent behaviors as of late I am not, in fact, a baby," Brock counters with a smirk.

"You're always gonna be my baby." Frank smiles.

"Though you have been quite toddler-like in recent memory." Ray comments with a playful tone.

"Didn't I warn you when we first met, Frankie, that Brock was a giant baby when he's not feeling well?" Jack snickers as he leans past Mikey to see his shortest brother.

"You did and I've seen it first hand." Frank chuckles, "But if that's the worst, then I think I can handle him. Except… well you know, Jack."

"Yep," Jack nods. He knows this all too well.

"So, I know it's too early but Frank's got a birthday coming. What are we gonna do for that?" Gerard asks.

"What do you want to do Frankie?" Brock asks.

"When is your birthday, Frank?" Brooke asks.

"October thirty first." Frank smiles, "Maybe we could do like a haunted house or something seasonally appropriate. But I'm open to suggestions." 

"Where will you be on your tour?" Maria asks, eating shrimp.

"I think we are in Minnesota or Wisconsin." Frank says scrunching his nose as he tries to remember.

"Cow country. That's all that matters," Brock snickers.

"As you can tell, Brock's excited about being in the Midwest during the end of fall and start of Winter. Our last show is in Toronto the weekend before Thanksgiving. Which means snow. Snow. Snow." Frank grins.

"And more fucking snow," Brock grumbles.

"I'm gonna buy him wool socks and fuzzy warm gloves." Frank grins.

"I'm gonna need a personal heater and I'm never leaving the hotel."

"Oh it's not that bad," Ray says grinning, "Snow is fun! Snow angels. Snowball fights. All the good stuff. Sledding."

"Hot cocoa and marshmallows," Mike adds with a gleeful grin. 

Frank touches Brock's arm and gives him a look, trying to ask what's wrong.

"We've never seen snow. We don't get that cold in Capri," Brooke comments.

"Snow is fun. As long as you have the right gear. I'm a snowboarding kinda lady myself. So I may have a bias," Lindsey says softly.

"It's ice cold and wet and freezes you down to your bones. I hate the cold," Brock grumbles. He looks at his empty wine glasses and wonders when the server will bring more. And his food. He's hungry. For some reason he can't bring himself to eat the crab legs still on his plate. 

"Something wrong with the crab, Brock?" Ray asks after seeing Frank's desperate face.

"No. I just don't want it." 

"Uh-huh." Ray says skeptically. There's something wrong. He gives a nod to Frankie.

"Alright, out with it. What's going on? Pulling a wives club spill card." Lindsey says to Brock after glancing to Christa.

"Nothing. Just wanting my steak. I'm fine." It wasn't just the fact that now he's worrying about the cost of the bill, but also the fact that if he eats, it's closer to the end of the night. Closer to bed. Closer to dawn tomorrow.

"I think she's coming," Mike says as he watches Amy approaching with a tray.

"Hi guys! How's everything?" Amy asks as she begins placing food on the table, "Jennifer is bringing your wine. Is there anything else we can get for you?'

"No, I think this will be fine," Jack speaks for the table as he watches Amy deliver each plate. 

"Ok cool! Sounds good. Do we need refills?" Amy checks once more.

"Could I switch to tea?" Mike asks. 

"Of course!" She says cheerfully. She finds her way to Jack and leans in to take the empty plate, "Are we working on the seafood?"

"No. You can take it." Christa says looking at Brock suspiciously.

"Jenni, can you grab that?" Amy asks quietly and watches her lift and carry it away. Her hips softly bumping Jack, "I'm so sorry!" 

Jack instinctively reaches out and steadies her, hand at her waist. "It's alright. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I musta misstepped." She says softly resting her hand over Jack's. She gives him a very warm smile. He was very cute. And he passed a test.

Smiling at her, Jack withdraws his hand and notes how nice she smells. "I'm glad you are alright." 

"Thanks for catching me." She tried to not bat her lashes as him. But fails, "I'll be back."

"I look forward to it." Jack grins at her.

Frank hums the tune to 'So This is Love' with a huge smile. He raises an eyebrow at Jack.

Jack rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "It wouldn't work and we all know it. I'm not looking for love. So hush."

Like a silent signal made, all four of the Rumlows bowed their heads in prayer. Maria spoke low and quick in Italian, praising the Lord for the many blessings that had been bestowed upon her and her family. As one they said 'Amen' and crossed themselves before digging into their food.

"Not that it matters but more for curiosity. Do you guys attend church back home?" Lindsey asks softly as she covers her mouth.

"Oh, no. We attend online Mass services when we can, but physically attending service is difficult," replies Maria, sipping her cocktail.

"I've actually been excommunicated," Brock adds.

"The Pope and our family do not agree," Brooke comments dryly.

"What? Really?" Lindsey says softly.

"The Pope tends to turn a frowny face at killing people and being gay," Brock says with a straight face and dry tone.

"Oh." Frank's face softens, "That's it… well that's not so bad." 

"If it makes you feel better, we have all been called devil worshipping cult leaders," Gerard says with a shrug.

"Italy is not like here. More than ninety percent of the country are Roman Catholic and The Pope is like your president. He is very powerful and not exactly tolerant," says Brock, while cutting into his steak.

"That's just within the Vatican. We have our own president. But The Pope is head of all Catholicism and just as, if not more, powerful," Jack adds.

"It's so easy to forget just how different it is in other places compared to the States." Lindsey says with a nod as she takes a bite of her food. 

Frank knows they have talked about religion but his own belief was shaky. This just adds a little more to the negative. He stays silent, he can't add anything positive to the conversation.

The table goes quiet as everyone enjoys their food. Amy returns with tea for Mike and the bottle of wine for the Rumlows, she places the glasses next to Jack as she removes the cork and let's the wine breathe. "How is everything tasting?" She asks softly.

Frank gives her a big smile and nod. There's a general chorus of agreement and platitudes. 

"It's superb, _bellina_ ," Jack replies. "Please, give our compliments to the chef. And your manager, for you have been excellent tonight."

"Oh. Thank you! I will pass the praise on! I'll be back shortly to check on you and your guests." Amy grins wide. He was very cute. 

"Try the wine! How is it?" Lindsey says excitedly.

Jack takes a taste, swirling the wine in the glass before tasting it again. He licks his lips just a little before looking softly at Amy, "Perfection." 

Her cheeks flush before she quietly dismisses herself.

"Please or get her number. She literally just blushed." Mike says with a grin.

Jack waits until she's out of earshot. "No. There isn't much point. Not going to see her again. If anything it would be for a night, and I'm not going to do that _tonight_. Not even sure how that would work."

"Who knows. Life finds a way." Frank winks.

"I don't do phone numbers. I do 'Hey wanna come back to my place for the night, have a nice day'. And I'm not taking her back to the hotel. I could ask her if she wanted to hook up the next time I'm in Florida but that's unlikely."

"Just do it. Take her back to your hotel room," Ray encourages.

"I second this motion." Frank nods.

Jack snorts. "I'll consider it. I suppose you'll leave me here then? That would be a riot. 'Excuse me, ma'am. Would you like to go back to my hotel room, oh but you need to drive.' Yeah, that's a great way to start off a decent evening."

"No no no. What you do is stay behind and get a drink. Nurse that motherfucker. Then when she's off, offer her a drink. Then once you've woo'd her, get a cab or Uber then show her a _truly magical time"_ Christa says with a confident smile, "And it won't take much to woo her." 

Chuckling, Jack nods. "You people ain't going to let this go, huh?" 

"Nope. You might as well just accept it," Brock shakes his head. He knows his boys are rather relentless.

"We are quite persistent," Gerard comments.

"Fuckers," Jack replies lightly, grinning. "Alright. I'll do it." 

"Use a condom," Maria chirps brightly. 

Jack flushes a dark shade of red. He hisses at her, "Mother!" 

"Ha! Hell yeah, Maria!" Ray says happily 

"A toast to Maria for being the coolest mom." Lindsey says raising a glass.

Maria leans over and offers a fist bump to Ray, grinning wide. "No such thing as being too old to be cool." 

"You're damn right, mama!" Ray bumps her back with a wide smile.

"So, let's get you a girlfriend for the night, Jack." Christa says with a wicked smile.

Bob leans into Brooke, "I assume Jack gets hell like this a lot because he's the baby?"

"Oh yes, but also because he's so easy to tease," she replies, leaning into him.

"Yet you're still single? The men in Capri must be ogres then…" Bob smirks.

Brock turns and slowly looks at Rabbit. _What in the actual fuck do you think you are doing, Rabbit?_

"I just have very high standards. There is one, back home that has promise and has been vying for my attention. But I'm not currently ready to settle, much like Jack. Brock is the only one who has been dreaming of having a solid relationship and getting married since we were very young."

"Well, Brock is the soft hearted romantic one wrapped in a Rocky package. But any man who can capture your attention is one lucky son of a bitch." Bob grins wide. She was gorgeous. Beyond that she was smart and witty as hell.

"Don't insult your mother, Robert. It's rude," Brooke winks at him.

"Rabbit," Brock says automatically.

"I have been told I am quite lucky." Bob says, raising an eyebrow, "What do you do for fun Brooke?" 

"I don't have much time for personal enjoyment, however, I do enjoy spending time in and on the water. I occasionally dive, snorkel or take the yacht for a spin and sunbathe, nude. When I am not doing that, I practice martial arts or I visit the gun range."

"Gun range? What do you shoot with?" Bob turns to her.

"Smith and Wesson, .38"

"Do I propose now?" Bob grins wide, "Before I went on the road with the boys, I started paddle boarding. I'm a California boy so, sand and surf are ingrained in me."

Brock nearly chokes on a bite of his steak as soon as he hears Rabbit mention a proposal. There is no way in fucking hell he is going to allow Rabbit to marry his sister! Nobody was good enough for his sister! He coughs harder, taking a drink of his wine. 

Frank pats Brock's back, "You ok babe?" 

Brock nods, taking a deeper drink of his wine. It really was delicious wine. Clearing his throat, he takes a third drink. "Yes, love. I'm fine. A bit of the spice tickled my throat. It's a fantastic steak."

"Okay. It smells good." Frank smiles as he rubs Brock's back before turning back to his food. 

"Want a lick?" He offers weakly.

Frank bites his lips, the urge to be inappropriate was overwhelming. He gives his husband a little smile and a shake of his head. He'd love a lick of _something._

"Okay," Brock smiles softly before returning to his food. He tries to tune out the conversation between Rabbit and Brooke, not wanting to envision one of his friends sleeping with his sister, or worse, actually trying to propose.

Gerard grins and looks at Lindsey. He watches her rise to her feet and hurry away from the table. His grin falls then looks around the table.

"I got this." Christa says softly as she rises to her feet to follow.

Brock frowns and glances after both women. After a moment's decision, he too, rises and moves to follow. "I'll be back." 

Frank nods.

"She probably got too much sun and not enough water," Ray comments.

"Linds doesn't like it when I hover." Gerard explains, "Or anyone for that matter."

Brock makes his way to the bathrooms, nearly catching up to Christa. He knocks lightly before cracking the door and calling in, "Chrissy? Lindsey? Can I come in? Everything okay?"

"It's all clear." Chris says softly, "Come on in honey." 

Lindsey groans.

Brock steps in and heads towards his girls, concerned. "You okay, Lindsey-Love?" 

"I don't know what's wrong?" Lindsey whines a little.

"When did this start, hon?" he asks, joining them in the big stall.

"When we first got to Florida." 

"Stomach bug?" he offers.

"I felt ok earlier. Just got a whiff and felt bleh." Lindsey frowns.

"Any fever? Sometimes when you have the stomach flu, there's that?" He's just throwing out ideas, trying to narrow down the possibilities of what could be wrong.

"I don't think so. I mean. I'm a little crampy and I have a headache but that could be my period." Lindsey says with a shrug.

"Are you bleeding now or is it coming soon?" Brock asks.

"I. I think it's coming." Lindsey says softly, "I left my phone at the table. I'd be able to tell you better." 

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Maybe Florida doesn't agree with you. It's super hot compared to Jersey. Too much sun, perhaps. We could visit a clinic, see a doctor."

"In the morning, I'll go. I might just be overheating." Lindsey nods, "Also all the smells aren't helping." 

"Smells? Like, the smell of the food is what's making you sick? Just that? Nothing else?" He frowns in thought.

"This sounds weird but do you feel like you need to spit more?" Christa asks.

"Kinda. I figured it's 'cause I am drinking water." Lindsey says confused.

"So, just because you are a lady, I have to ask. When was the last time you had unprotected sex with Gerard?" Brock asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Last night." Lindsey replies unflinching.

"And before that? Actually, better question, do you guys regularly not use condoms or birth control?"

"We did before we started touring together. But it kinda just happens." Lindsey says tilting her head to the side, "I don't." 

"So, there's a chance you could be pregnant, then." Brock states as gently as he can. He knows some ladies aren't interested in the domestic life and would see a baby as an inconvenient interruption.

"Do not say a word to Gerard." She warns them, "It crossed my mind but I didn't think it would happen." 

"You have my word," he replies softly.

"I could just. Just have a stomach bug! Don't invest more until we know." Lindsey says quietly, "But. A baby would be so cool." 

"Babies are fun. Do you want this?" Christa asks quietly. 

Lindsey nods, "More than I realized." 

"Easy fix if it's not though. We just gotta knock Gerard into marrying you and giving me Baby Emo," Brock grins. 

"If he did knock me up, get me to a church." Lindsey grins.

Brock grins wide. "I hear there is a reason why they are called shotgun weddings. Wouldn't know myself of course. But I would be happy to provide the shotgun if he won't move his ass fast enough. Why hasn't he officially proposed is beyond me."

"I think he's waiting for the right time." Christa says softly.

"Bring your shotgun, Brock. We're taking me to the hitching post." Lindsey grins.

Brock cracks up before tipping an invisible cowboy hat, "Yes ma'am." 

"I think I can rejoin the party. Maybe your birthday dessert has come." Lindsey's smiles at Brock.

His eyebrows shoot up. Dessert? It was already time for dessert? No. It couldn't be. It felt like he had just started eating. Surely their meal wasn't already over? It couldn't be so late. He didn't want to leave.

"Still enough to get a little more alcohol in you before I let you loose on Frankie." Lindsey grins wider.

"Well, if you are trying to get me drunk, I would need more wine. And to not be in a women's bathroom. I should go. I don't want to be thrown out." He does a little bow before exiting the bathroom stall and slipping out of the bathroom. He sighs in relief at not being caught before going into the men's. It's thankfully empty and he occupies the stall, needing to be alone for a moment.

The girls return to the table and notice Brock isn't back yet, "I'm ok." Lindsey says softly.

Ray looks to Jack. He raises his eyebrows and nods. His floof brother should understand. Ray rises to his feet.

Jack waits a beat before downing the rest of his wine and rising to his feet. "Okay. I'm going to go see about a lady at the bar. Excuse me."

"Go get her tiger!" Frank smiles.

"Rawr," Jack responds as he walks away.

"Have fun, _tigrotto_!" Maria calls after him.

Ray slips into the bathroom. "Brock?" 

Brock stiffens and tries to muffle the sounds of his crying. He doesn't dare move in the stall, in case it's not just Ray coming to check on him. He can't deal with seeing Frankie right now. 

"What's going on bud?" Ray asks softly, "It's just me then Jack…"

Brock reaches over and unlocks the stall, letting Ray enter. "It's almost dessert." 

"But that's a good thing..." Ray says with a head tilt.

Brock pulls him into a tight hug and sobs. "No. No it's not. Because after dessert, we go to the hotel. Then sleep. Then the morning comes and I have to leave. I have _hours_ left with him, Sunshine. **Hours**. And I can't get it out of my head."

"Oh Brock. It's okay. It's not hours. It's being present in the moment. You're missing out on Frankie. Bob flirting with Brooke. All the silly things we take advantage of." Ray says hoping he's helping.

Brock just cries harder, as he realizes he's wasting precious seconds in the bathroom crying instead of trying to catch the time as it slips through his fingers like sand. He doesn't have time to panic and yet he can't help but panic at the lack of time. He's only got four hours, maybe five, before they wake up to his worst nightmare. His fingers dig into Ray's shirt, clinging tightly in need of comfort. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to go. He can't do it. He's not strong enough; not good enough.

The door opens again and Brock freezes, his entire body tensing at being caught so vulnerable. A hand goes to his gun. He feels open, exposed and he's on edge about the newcomer.

"Jack?" Ray asks softly as he squeezes Brock.

"Yeah," comes a whispered reply. Jack carefully shuts the door behind him and he walks over to the stall, pushing the door by open. "Am I interrupting a lover's moment?" he lightly teases over the way they were hugging. Until he sees the red rimmed eyes of his brother and his frozen posture, his gun hand hovering over a spot at his back. 

"Not this time." Ray says softly, he strokes the back of Brock's head. 

"Oh Brock," Jack whispers, voice full of empathy. He moves into the stall and wraps an arm around Brock from behind, joining in on the hug. "What's wrong, brother?" 

"I don't wanna go," he sobs.

Ray feels a pang of guilt. He's the root cause of this whole strife. The pain that was hurting his brother. He knew a break was what they needed. He hates seeing Brock like this. He's hated keeping secrets from the guys. Ray squeezes Brock tighter, "I'm sorry brother." 

Jack moves and hugs them both tightly. He speaks gently, "This is why you should go, brother. It's just a week apart. And it's destroying you. It's not the end. You're gonna come home. See Dad. Spend some time away from the stress of band life. It's gonna help you. I know it hurts, but it's gonna allow you two to be able to be apart and not _fall apart_. You know what I mean?"

"Exactly! Go to Italy! Take time for yourself. Come back when _you're_ ready." Ray says softly.

"Don't think of it as a break from the relationship. I mean, if it helps, I can just say something came up and you are needed to deal with it. I don't think Frankie would even blink at that."

"But that won't fix the behavior. This break is about growth. Not punishment." Ray replies quietly.

"I know. But if it's something that Brock can think like, at least until morning, it might be helpful. Or that's what we'll tell him until Brock is on a flight and then the truth. I don't know. I'm just throwing out ideas." Jack hugs them both tighter, brows pulled in from sympathetic concern.

"That's not a bad idea." Ray comments, "Can we do that Brock?"

He wants to. Oh how he wants to. It would be easier. But Brock knows there's a difference between what's easiest and what's right. Leaving Frankie under a lie would be easier, but it would be the coward's way out and not what's right. His tears flow harder now, for having to face this head on. He shakes his head no. "I can't. Lie. Not right." 

"You can go out there looking like a blubbering mess. Then he'll know something is up. We gotta get you up and going." Ray says a little firmly, "Would more wine help? Also you better fuck him tonight."

"Ray's right. We gotta get you calmed down and out of this spiral. I agree with more wine. We've got some expensive vintage out there that I know you would be all over if you didn't have this hanging over your head. Enjoy it. Don't get drunk because nobody likes drunk sex but at least buzzed."

"I think that's a smart idea. Go enjoy the wine. The company. I promise, this is the right choice."

Brock nods, his tears slowly stopping. There's only so much you can cry at one time. It didn't help the ache in his chest, which would have him bedridden if he allowed it. He still clings to Ray- his Sunshine. His Ray of hope- though one arm does reach out for Jack. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It's scary. You love him." Ray sighs and strokes his back.

“A lot of the things that are the scariest are built up in our own head,” Jack speaks quietly. “And I know your anxiety is just having a field day right now. But I want you to know that Ray and I are gonna be with you, grounding you through this. This mountain is frightening but once you climb it, you’ll be okay. You're not alone. I can postpone going back home…?”

"It's gonna be ok. Sounds crazy but I know it will be." Ray says hugging him tighter.

“I just can’t lose him,” Brock cries softly. “I know it will be okay but at the same time, I don’t and it hurts. I’m scared. What if I hurt him so much he doesn’t want me back? Or he’s angry and hurt and can’t forgive me and this is the end of us?”

“I won’t let him do that to either of you. He’ll see reason, after he calms down. I plan on flying back here once you are home to help him, unless Ray has it under control,” Jack offers.

"I am going to need your help for sure. Frank's gonna be the opposite of Brock. All fire." Ray says softly, "I know you have nothing to worry about, Frank is always going to want you." 

“Agreed,” Jack adds. He pulls back and goes to the sink, wetting a paper towel and bringing it back to Brock. “Here. Wipe your face. Clean up and I want you to solely focus on anything else but tomorrow. You wanna tease me about my hookups, sure. Anything is game tonight. I might even let you call me Jackie. But I don’t want to see you get lost in your head or get upset. Okay?”

Brock nods and takes the wet paper towel, wiping his burning eyes and aching head. The coolness is a relief against the head in his face. Reluctantly he pulls away out of the comforting hug of his brother and notices the wet spots on his shirt. It’s enough to capture his focus, and he tries to blot it out. He grimaces, “Ew. I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

"Don't be. You're going through something and that's what brothers do. They are there to help." Ray rubs his shoulder and rises to his feet.

“I love you guys,” Brock whispers, going to the sink to properly wash his face. “I would’ve drowned by now without you.”

“Probably,” Jack quips with a grin. “You are more emo than the Emos. It’s a good thing you’ve got an awesome pair of bros that are going to remind you when you are being a doofus. Doofus.”

He huffs a laugh in reply. He splashes water on his face and washes his hands. “Thank you? Dork.”

“Hmm… Takes one to know one,” Jack replies.

"I love you guys." Ray chuckles. “I'm gonna head back to not raise suspicion." 

“Longest shit ever,” Jack snickers. “They’ll probably think you just got lost looking at the shiny things.”

"That's an absolute possibility. I can't help that I'm distracted by shiny." Ray says with a small laugh. He pushes the door open and heads to the table.

Jack moves to Brock and rubs his back soothingly. “You are gonna be okay. Promise. Now, do you wanna go back to the table or do you need more time to gather your composure? You can always help me land the girl.”

“You don’t need my help getting laid, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“True but everyone always needs a good wingman. And you can have a laugh if I fail at smooth talking. I’ll buy you a shot at the bar. Then we can go back to our probably cold food. Come on,” Jack pats Brock’s back.

He sighs before nodding. Something stronger than wine was probably a good idea. And the more time away from Frankie will allow him to get himself under control and lose the red eyes. After drying his hands and face, he follows Jack out of the bathroom and does some deep breathing exercises as they approach the bar.

Frank gives Ray a concerned look. He receives a no. Frank replies with a nod. He watches Ray's body language. 

"Sorry about that. I think I got too much sun. I'm a pale emo kid." Lindsey jokes.

“Perhaps you should switch to water then,” Maria suggests. “You could be dehydrated. When we return to the hotel, we’ll relax indoors. No going to the pool, dear.”

"That's probably a great idea. I don't wanna push it." Lindsey nods. She glances to Christa with a knowing look and smile. "But I'm not gonna rain on the twins birthday parade."

“Nonsense, Lindsey. Your health is important. Just throw some glitter at Brock and he’ll be happy,” Brooke smirks.

"Especially if it's rainbow glitter." Ray adds. 

"Are we thinking of dessert?" Lindsey asks the table.

"I'm always a fan of sweets." Frank nods.

"Yes." Mike says with a huge grin.

“Whatever we pick, it needs to come with a candle for Brock and a song,” Brooke grins deviously. 

"It's too bad you guys have bougie taste. We could have gone to a family Mexican restaurant where they make you wear a sombrero and sing to you." Lindsey laughs, "it would be delicious."

"Can you be less devious to my hu- honey bunny…" Frank quickly rebounds from saying the words out loud. He didn't want to jinx anything.

"No, _cognato_. That would ruin half of the fun," Brooke smiles at him.

Frank gives her a huge smile. He remembers. _Brother-in-law_. "Yeah but he's a fragile flower. Like a rose." The nickname puts him at ease a little.

"Oh no, that's Brooke's nickname. _Fiorellina_ ," Maria counters. "Though Brock has been rather… off as of late." 

"Brock's just been sensitive. It's okay. I kinda love it about him." Frank says with a soft smile.

The table falls quiet as the meal concludes. Frank glances over the dessert menu. He knows exactly what to get Brock. He watches as Amy slowly strolls from the bar towards the table. "Creme Brulee or Chocolate cake?" He asks Brooke.

"I think I'd love to try the Cremé Brulee."

Jack and Brock join them, Brock laughing at a joke Jack told. He's a little pink in the face from embarrassment but he feels better than before his mess in the bathroom. He re-takes his spot next to Frankie and kisses his cheek.

"Hi baby I want chocolate cake." 

"Hi. I know _you_ do but sweet sister is different." Frank chuckles.

Brooke offers, "We can share the chocolate cake." 

"They have cannolis, too" Frank offers.

Well now he can't pick. He loves cannolis. He purses his lips in thought. Decisions. Decisions.

"Or. You can get cake and I can get cannolis then we can share?" Frank offers with a wide smile, "Or the Hannah Montana, if you will." 

Brock wrinkles his nose. "That's just… wrong. So very wrong." 

"It's the best of both worlds, perv." Frank playfully elbows Brock.

"There are other ways to say that, _tesoro_." Brock shakes his head before turning to Jack and barking at him in German.

Rolling his eyes a little, Jack turns to Amy and gives her a smile. "So my brother wants chocolate cake, cannolis for his date, and my sister gets the Cremé Brulee. And if you have _any_ of those obnoxious candles that don't go out, throw _all_ of them on his cake."

"I thought it was clever." Frank grumbles.

"I can absolutely do that." Amy says with a huge smile. 

"Great, thanks, bella. Anyone else want dessert?" Jack asks the table.

There is a small hum among the band members but the consensus is no. 

"I'll have a cappuccino though." Gerard says with a soft smile.

"Excellent!" Amy grins. 

"I will have the same," Maria says.

"I'm probably going to help my siblings eat theirs," Jack chuckles.

"You're a good brother." Amy smiles, "I'll be right back with your treats and coffee." Her hand grazes Jack's shoulder.

"Yes ma'am," he murmurs.

Amy walks away with a big grin on her face. 

The moments that Amy is out of earshot, Jack turns on Brock. He grumbles, "Don't you bark at me telling me to order for you. I hope your cake has so many candles on it it burns or melts or catches on fire. Jerk."

Brock snorts. "Hush up. I was trying to help you. You get to talk to the pretty lady. I get cake."

"You get fire. I'm gonna tell them to do _100_ candles," Jack cracks up.

"Asshole."

"I mean technically it will be 100 candles if we were to put the age on the cakes." Gerard points out.

"Nuh-uh," Jack interjects. "100 candles for the rude, old dude. My sister is perfect." 

"Thank you Jack."

"Of course, _stellina_." He leans over and pats her shoulder.

"Look at you, practicing your Italian. Is it for Amy? Working on that love language." Brock giggles.

"Aww he's gonna woo her!"

Slumping in his seat and crossing his arms, Jack playfully glares at Brock. He's happy to play martyr at the moment. Anything to keep his brother's focus on himself and not on his anxiety. He huffs and turns to the others. "I speak Italian just like they do! I just prefer to not use it. Okay? I'm not a novice."

"Touchy touchy." Ray grins wide.

“Sod off, Ray-Ray,” Jack says lightly. He gives him a wink to show he’s only teasing.

Frank shifts in his seat a little and leans into Brock, "Love you." His voice is a whisper. 

Ray grins wide at Jack, "I'm just saying. If we play the cards right, you'll be engaged by Easter. Married by new years. Just keep it up with the multilingual stuff…" 

“Oh, I’ll give you multilingual alright,” Jack starts before rattling off in German.

"I don't know if you just summoned a demon or if I need to say bless you." Ray laughs and shakes his head, "You know I love you Jack." 

Brock laughs at Jack before pulling Frankie into his lap, kissing him gently. He nuzzles his neck and sighs into the cuddle. “I love you, too, baby.”

"How's the wine?" Frank asks softly.

“Very nice. I might have to find myself a bottle of the same vintage for the wine cellar back home. Or the bus. Or.. okay everywhere. This is really good wine and I want more.” For added measure, Brock finishes the rest of his glass with an appreciative hum of approval.

Frank leans up and kisses him. "It tastes good," He grins at Brock, "If you like it, get a bottle." 

“I might.” He’s not sure if he can take wine on a plane. He mentally shudders at the thought of having to fly commercial, again. Perhaps he’ll just send a bottle with his family instead. “I might make a few calls and ask about the vineyard instead. Why have the one bottle when I can have the entire operation? Or at least stock.”

"Yeah that is smart." Frank smiles, "I'm excited for you to get your birthday gifts. I think you'll love them."

“You mean besides my plush tiger? There’s more?” Brock asks, a hint of excitement showing through.

"You like the tiger!?" Frank grins wider.

“Pfft. I love him and his name is Jack,” Brock snickers.

"Oh. Jack's a good name..." Frank grins, "There are three more things coming. I hope you love them." 

“Okay, maybe not Jack. I’m not sure what his name is just yet. I’m still tossing around ideas. And I'm sure that I will love whatever you got for me, just like I love you.” He kisses him again. “Got any ideas?”

"Hmmm… Harlan? Gene? Laddy?" Frank grins.

Laughing, he shakes his head, “We’ll work on that, later.”

Amy returns with a tray and a smile, "I have a creme Brulee, chocolate cake and cannolis. And two cappuccinos."

"Also, I got a complimentary ice cream for you." Amy says with a smile as she places it in front of Maria, "As the mother of these kids, you deserve an extra treat."

“Thank you, dear,” Maria gushes over the ice cream. 

“Yes, thank you, Amy,” Jack echoes quietly.

"Of course!" Amy grins, "Oh! Hold on!" She digs in her apron and pulls out candles and a lighter. She places them in the cake.

“Yes,” Jack encourages. “All of them in _his_ cake. Light ‘em up and make him feel old.”

“What if I want a birthday candle?” Brook smirks. “Should I not make a wish as well?”

“Well yeah…”

"I have a pink candle for you my dear." Amy smiles softly, "If you want it?"

Maria nods at Amy, “It’s her birthday as well. Jack is just being silly with his older siblings.”

Amy lights Brock's then smiles at Brooke, "Did you wanna crack it before I put the candle in?" 

Nodding, she picks up her spoon and taps the golden brown top enjoying the satisfying crackle. Amy put a candle in Brookes treat before lighting it. 

“Will the band lead us in song?” Jack smirks at Brock, knowing his brother hates this sort of attention. Brooke could care less because she’s awesome. Gerard starts singing with the others joining in quickly after.

“I hate you all,” Brock mutters as the song comes to a close and they clap. He snuggles Frankie closer in his lap, before leaning over to make a wish. His eyes close. _Please, God, let me survive this break. Let us all survive this break. Please don’t let Frankie get hurt or do something stupid. Protect him. Keep him safe, even if it’s from me. I love him. Please._ He blows out the candles.

Frank smiles before whispering to Brock, "Happy birthday lover." 

He kisses him softly, “Thank you baby. Want a bite of cake? Just one though.”

"Don't want to fatten me up." Frank snickers, "You first. It's your cake."

“It’s not that, _tesoro_. I just don’t like sharing chocolate cake.” 

"Or candy." 

“True. I like chocolate. Quite a bit.” He leans forward and whispers in Frankie’s ear, “I might dip you in chocolate later. Lick it off.”

Frank's cheeks flush at the words and whispers back, "Ok. I like the sound of this." 

As the bills were signed the group makes their way towards the front door. Ray glances back at Jack and gives him a nod. Christa grips his fingers and pulls him along.

“I’ll catch you guys later. Imma stay right here. Got something I need to take care of,” Jack calls after them with a wave and a salute to Ray. He mentally prays that Ray will take care of their brother and that things will be alright without him. He feels a pang of regret and isn’t entirely sure this is the right thing to do. Sure, he wants to spend the night with Amy but a part of him feels like he is rejecting his brother for it. He sighs as he watches his family and friends.

Frank holds Brock's hand tight as they make their way towards the car. He's excited to spend the rest of the night with his husband. The light feeling of the gin makes him feel extra flirty. He can't help but crawl into Brock lap and kiss him once the car door closes. But the ride goes by like a blink of an eye.

"Are you still giving Ray swimming lessons?" Frank whispers.

“Yes, baby. Did you want to join us? I hear the pool is outdoors. Though maybe we should try the indoor one. Whichever is more private.”

"I can. If you do the indoor one, there's a jacuzzi." Frank smiles, "Is it ok if I join you or do you want brother time?”

Brock glances at Ray and gives him a questioning look. “Up to you, Sunshine.”

"Don't take this the wrong way Frankie but I kinda wanna do it without an audience. I'm sorry," Ray says softly.

"No, it's okay. I understand." Frank nods, "I'll take a shower or mingle with the others. Brock needs brother time." 

“Mingling. Sounds posh.” Brock giggles to himself. He’s a _tiny_ bit tipsy.

"Everything I do is posh." Frank grins before kissing his husband. He slides out of the car and waits for Brock to join him. Once he does they hurry into the hotel and manage to snag an empty elevator. 

"If this is what I get to look forward to on our wedding day, I am one absolutely lucky man." Frank beams up at Brock. 

“What part? The family fun?” 

"I love your family but no." Frank grins, "I was thinking about unwrapping my wedding present." 

“It’s not nice to keep Sunshine waiting but I think we can have some fun, _unwrapping_ me.” Brock smiles and wraps his arms around Frankie’s wasit, pulling him close.

"If anything… I can always _help_ you get changed."

“Oh I think we can manage that. In fact, I’m looking forward to it,” His voice drops low, leaning in to kiss him, “very much.”

The elevator doors open and Brock takes Frankie’s hand, leading him back to their room. Once the door is shut behind them, he turns and stands in the center of the room, arms wide open. “Ready to unwrap me, _tesoro_? I’m all yours baby.”

Frank slides his own jacket off and tosses it on the chair, "I have been waiting all night." He leans up and his toes and pushes his jacket off Brock's shoulders. He lets it drop to the floor. Frank pulls on his tie to bring Brock down to his level for a kiss. He unbuttons the waistcoat then loosens his tie. 

"This might be easier if I were a little taller." Frank giggles.

He snickers in response before sitting down on the bed, grinning up at his husband. “Does this help? Or should I get you a step stool?”

"A ladder might be better." Frank says as he steps between Brock's knees and begins unbuttoning his shirt. He pushes the material off his torso. He leans forward and kisses the exposed skin. Frank crouches down and smiles at Brock. 

"Stand or lie back?" Frank asks.

“This is your gift unwrapping, love. You get to call the shots. I’m yours to do with as you please.”

"Up," He says, stepping back from Brock. He watches his husband rise, his fingers work to remove Brock's belt and then the button of his pants. His eyes track up Brock's chest and lock with warm brown eyes. Frank presses soft lips to Brock's stomach. His fingers curl into the elastic of Brock boxers.

Brock stares down at his husband and smiles, biting his lip. Both of his hands come up and rake his nails through Frankie’s hair, enjoying the way his boy’s eyes fluttered. He had some ideas but this was not what he was expecting and he’s finding it to be exciting. “So pretty,” he murmurs.

Frank kisses his stomach and pushes the boxers to the floor. He continues lower until he's kneeling in front of Brock. He kisses and sucks on the soft skin of his hip then moves to his thigh. He grins up at Brock before he kisses the head of his cock. The tip of his tongue runs over the slit. 

Brock sharply intakes a breath before giving a sigh that turns into a moan. His fingers tighten in Frankie’s hair. “Fuck baby.”

He goes for it and dives in. He swallows Brock down. His hand grips the base of his cock and eagerly follows his mouth. He moans a little before taking Brock as far as he can before he gag slightly. He pulls back.

“Holy fuck!” Brock shouts a moan, tipping his head back. He loves it so much when Frankie chokes around him. His fingers subconsciously tighten again as his breathing becomes slightly erratic. 

Frank goes back down and stays put no matter how much his brain tells him to pull back. He lasts as long as he physically can before he can't handle it. A hand slides between his husband's thighs and carefully fondles the balls. The sounds from Brock are encouraging, he wants to get Brock off. He wants to taste him. He picks up speed as he bobs his head on Brock's perfect cock.

He groans as he fights his instinct to buck his hips into the very warm and sexy mouth. A roll of pleasure cascades down his back, making him gasp and harden more the moment he feels hot hands grabbing and rolling his balls. Another moan tears through him, “God, baby. Your mouth is fucking amazing. Don’t stop, Frankie. Suchagood boy.”

Frank grins up at his husband as his hands work. He sucks the head of his cock before going all the way down. He stops just before his nose touches skin. His body panicking but quieting faster than before. He pulls back and bobs his head. He slides back to the head of his cock he sucks as he strokes him faster. Frank likes this, being in control but he's more impressed by the restraint Brock was showing, by now Brock would have a fist full of hair and be throat fucking him.

“Shit,” Brock whispers with a whine. He wants nothing more than to lose control and fuck into the perfect mouth that he still swears was made for his cock, but the doesn’t want to hurt his boy. He can feel the heat travelling all through his body with every bob of Frankie’s head. He’s gonna come soon. “Fuck, Frankie. I’m close baby. Don’t fucking stop. Don’t- fuck.”

He keeps working faster. He's got a goal in mind. He wants to make Brock come. Frank keeps going, he can feel Brock's hips stuttering as he keeps working. His own body is alive and buzzing with excitement. He could come from this. He isn't going to this time but he could. He moans before taking him deeper with a groan in his throat.

He can’t… He can’t. His perfect control snaps hard and his hands grip Frankie’s head tight before he bucks hard down his throat. His hips snapping hard and fast as he chases his high. “Oh God! Fuck! Gonna cum.”

Frank breathes out his nose and tries to relax his throat as Brock's cock slams into his throat. He grabs the thighs in front of him and focuses on breathing. He tries to moan but the sound is more of a gurgle. He hates the sound he makes with each thrust. In his head he's chanting for Brock to come down his throat. 

“That’s right baby, moan for me. Choke on my cock. Fuck, yes yes yes,” Brock rambles a litnay of praises, fluidly flowing between English and Italian before shoving his cock deep as he can and coming hard.

Frank digs his fingers into Brock's skin as he swallows down as much as he can. He groans around Brock's cock. He drops himself back and rises slightly under Brock's hold. His body is excited and aroused.

“God. Damn. Frankie,” Brock pants out, eyes blown wide with lust. He pulls him into a harsh kiss, needing to do something with his sudden burst of aggression.

Frank kisses him back. His hand resting on Brock's chest before his fingers dig into the skin slightly. Before anything more could happen hard and heavy bangs on the door pull them from the intimate moment. Frank jerks in Brock's arms at the sound.

"Brock! Let's go play!" Ray shouts.

A nervous giggle escapes at being _caught_ from Brock’s throat and he buries his face in Frankie’s neck. Memories of years past when another floof brother or sister would ruin a moment crop up in his mind. Trust one of his siblings to always be a cockblocker. He hollers, “Just a moment!” 

"Put your dicks away and come play with me in the pool!" Ray shouts and bangs on the door.

"I hate your floof brother." Frank growls.

“ _Tesoro_ , right now, I couldn’t agree more.” Brock gently pulls away, kissing him lightly. “But I did have an… appointment so to speak. I guess you could consider this a little test in edging again? I promise we’ll play when I return.”

Frank gives a small bratty groan and rolls his eyes but nods his head, "Okay." He sighs.

"I could plug you. Just enough to take the edge off but not enough to do much…. Or. Make you wear a vibe so you **do** cum in your cute little panties."

"I. But. You wouldn't." Frank tries to find the words, "You wouldn't get to be a part of the fun." 

"True. I won't get to watch. But you wearing a vibe, sitting with your band mates and trying to hold back, then soaking your pants _in front of them_ , is more for you. I wonder how many times you would cum while I was gone? How ruined and filthy would your underwear be?" Brock moves and slides on his swim trunks.

"Oh. That's… I mean that could be fine. I can hold off and not cum…" Frank struggles for words, his head spinning from the idea. Brock wouldn't do this, "I mean, you would have to prep me right…"

"I don't want you to hold back. I want you to debauch yourself, over and over." He moves back to Frankie and wraps his arms around him again, kissing him. He pulls back and whispers, "Okay, I might just do thisafter I get back so I _can_ watch. Force us to mingle and watch you cum in your pants. I think I like that more. Then take you back here and fuck you hard. Might have to gag you."

Frank's knee go a little weak. He swallows hard, "Ok. If that's what you want to do, I'm fine with it." He was absolutely into this. 

"Good. Because I want you to be thinking about it while I'm gone," Brock smirks, kissing him again before pulling away. He moves to the door. "Feel free to have a head start. Have fun with our friends. I'm going to try and not drown my Floof brother."

Frank bites his lip a little, "Head start?"

"You can cum as many times as you want between now and the time I fuck you. Only rule is it's in your panties. Don't take them off at any time."

"Oh. Ok." Frank says trying to not sound as shocked, he had ideas to jerk off while Brock was gone but that rule… could be bent, "Excellent, sounds good baby. Go have _fun_." 

He hesitates. The last few words from his husband's mouth, give him pause. He's fairly certain that his kitten is turning into his hellcat over this whole situation and about having to wait. He gives him a smile before leaving, shutting the door behind him softly with a click. He could consider this a miniature test. A bit of separation before he comes back. He'll always come back. He gives Sunshine a small smile in greeting.

"Hey B!" Ray smiles, "You ready to drown me." 

"I'm not going to drown you," he replies with a little roll of his eyes. "Come on. Give me a little more credit." 

“Oh I know. But it's fun to tease." Ray says with a smile, "I see Frank marked his territory." 

"Bit of a pre-show for later. You'll need headphones tonight, brother. Though I'm planning on gagging him so maybe the kiddies won't hear."

"Oh. You're gonna gag him. He is noisy." Ray chuckles.

"Didn't use to be. Fuckin' cunt of a whore," Brock grumbles under his breath. He hates that dead bitch. With a little grumble, he jabs his finger into the elevator call button.

"I imagine that the witch was pretty fucking terrible to him in ways I don't even know." Ray smiles.

"Yes," is all he says as he boards the elevator. He's thankful that it's an empty one.

"Good thing she's not going to be a problem any more." Ray says with a nod, "What all am I learning tonight?" 

"Basic swimming move. The doggy paddle. You'll be on your stomach. I'll hold you up and you are going to…. Flail." He snickers a little.

"This is so ridiculous. I'm almost 30. I should be able to swim like a big boy." Ray sighs, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. The only person bullying you is yourself. And you are a big boy," Brock snickers.

"You sure you don't mind?" 

"What can I say or do to convince you otherwise?" He leans against the wall next to him.

"I mean I believe you but I still feel bad. Not bad. Weird." Ray sighs as the elevator doors open and the sounds of the lobby fill the car. They exit together and head for the pool. Adult hours had just started so the kids should be clear from the water.

"Hopefully it's not crowded. Or has people. I know you don't want to do this with others watching. Or at all."

"I would rather no one be around but that's ok if they are." Ray says with a little nod.

"You don't have to lie, you can just admit you want me all to yourself," Brock teases with an easy grin.

"I totally don't but I know I should be able to at least doggy paddle." Ray sighs.

Brock gives him a look with a slight head tilt and one eyebrow raised. "Wow. You really are worried about this, huh? Didn't even blink at my joke. Do you want this? Full disclosure- I don't wanna force you into something you aren't ready for. Consent is sexy."

"I do want to do this. I'm just nervous." Ray says softly.

He reaches out and grasps the back of Sunshine's neck, in a comforting manner. "It's okay. It's alright to be nervous. Do you remember the first time I had a panic attack when I woke up and you were spooning me?"

"I do." Ray smirks. He swipes his card on the door and pulls the handle, "I know it's a learning thing. I trust you. I promise I'm just _worried_."

"I know. Just like I know there's nothing I can really help with. There's only so much another person can do to ease fear."

"I know you won't let me drown."

"Knowledge is one thing but your fear screams something else, right?" Brock says quietly.

"Yup. It's why I trust you. So let's get me wet." Ray grins.

"Kinky," he giggles in reply. He might still be a teensy bit tipsy. Or maybe that's his sex brain still not switching back to normal mode. He steps into the water up to his waist and waits for Sunshine.

"Don't you wish." 

"Only a little though. It's the floof," he snickers and holds his hands out. 

Ray hesitates but slowly enters the water. He takes Brock's hands and joins him, "As long as my feet can touch, I'm cool." 

"I won't take you into the deep end. Promise. Gonna start on your back, okay?"

"Ok! We got this! It's cool!" Ray says exhaling as he pulls his hair back into a ponytail.

"Yep. That's because you're badass." Brock moves to Ray's side and tips him back.

"Well I have a good teacher on badassery." Ray chuckles. He takes a breath the second the water touches his neck, "What next?" 

"Nothing. I just want to hold you for a moment. Get you used to the feeling of floating again. Then, I'll very carefully turn you on your stomach."

"Ok. I can do that. This is nothing." Ray exhales with a smile, "So, it felt weird leaving Jack behind." 

"It did. Hopefully it'll work out for him." 

"Jack is smooth. It will." Ray smirks, "He'll land it."

"Yeah he usually doesn't have a problem," he responds absently. He lowers Sunshine's legs into the water just a little.

"So. Not to open an old wound but you doing ok?" Ray asks quietly.

"No," he replies, quiet but blunt.

"Ok. Just checking on you." 

"I don't like thinking about it. Kick your feet." Brock shifts his hand so it's positioned under Sunshine's butt to keep him steady.

Ray kicks his feet slowly, "it's gonna be ok. It will work out." 

"You don't know that. You keep saying it but you don't know that." 

"With a negative mindset, you'll jinx it." Ray replies.

"It's not a negative mindset so much as it is me being practical. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst. It's about me not living in a false sense of security and acknowledging that bad things can happen."

"Do you want me to tell you that Frank will be pissed? That it's gonna hurt and that you're gonna be miserable? I don't like that. I don't want you to feel sad." Ray grumbles.

He sighs, taking a deep breath. He looks at the wall for a long moment, fighting to keep the emotions from rising. His eyes water a little. "I already am, Sunshine. I already am. Kick harder." 

"You sure you want to do it then? I know it will help but I don't think you're–" Ray stops himself before he says something rude. He kicks harder, "Would it help if you vented out everything going on in your head?"

"You don't think I'm _what_? Strong enough? Good enough?"

"Ready." Ray says with a sigh.

"How can anyone be ready to leave the love of their life?" Brock watches Ray's legs kick for a moment. He forces himself to focus on the lesson. "Can you feel the water moving beneath you? How it shifts around your legs?"

"Yeah, I can." Ray says softly, "I don't want you to be ready per say but have the mental _strength_ to be ready?"

"Well I don't. I know I don't. I've told you several times I can't do this." Brock's voice cracks a little and he makes the decision to stand Ray upright lest his emotions carry him away and he accidentally fails his mission and his brother.

"You can. I know you can." Ray says softly, "It will teach Frank a lesson and show him to respect you more. I know you don't believe me."

"You're wrong!" Brock hisses, anger rising. "I cannot do this on my own. I cannot. I don't want to do this! You're wrong. You're wrong." He turns and slaps the water before burying his hands in his hair and sitting on the steps.

"But you can do it. I know you can." Ray says confidently, "You have done harder and scarier things than this. You want changes; don't be a coward and do this then."

"Changes?! This whole thing is your idea! You are the one who wants change! This is your fault! Don't you fucking call me a coward, either." Brock stands abruptly and moves closer to him. He lowers his voice to an angry hiss, "Killing people is easier than this. This is personal. Torturing people is _easier_ than this. I've never felt before like if I do this, there's something in me that's not going to survive."

"And you believe it? Why wouldn't you survive? Because Frank isn't going to be hanging on everything you say?" Ray puts a hand on his hip, "You'll survive this. You will be stronger doing it. It's okay to be scared but don't let it paralyze you. This is how you break and let him walk all over you like you're spineless."

Were Sunshine any other man, Brock would have thrown a punch for that. He wants to, but he can't. He can't hurt his brother, no matter the fear fueled rage pumping through him. Sunshine didn't understand. He was already broken. It wasn't the break itself he feared; it was actually hurting Frankie in the process. Purposely doing an act that will hurt his husband is what makes him sick and frozen with fear. It didn't matter to the piece inside of him that this was healthy pain. The kind of pain that teaches a lesson and makes them stronger. Logically he knew that everything Sunshine has been saying is correct. He knows they will be a better couple. He knows they will be okay. He knows this and yet part of his soul screams and fights and begs him not to do this. He's already broken because he will have to kill the piece to make this work.

He stands there, hot tears slowly streaming down his cheeks, struggling to find the words to explain, to defend, to say something. And none of what he could say would make a difference. He wasn't sure he could explain it. He's not even sure if it even matters.

His voice is shaky and soft, but pliable, "Okay. You're right. I just need to figure out how to do this."

"Exactly. What are you going to say to him?" 

"I haven't given it any thought. Mainly because every time I do, I feel like I'm going to suffocate and panic myself to death." Brock slowly moves to his brother. He feels empty; drained. The swimming lesson is an easy distraction and he focuses on that.

"Well, start with what you want to accomplish with the vacation from the band… and him."

"Thank you," he whispers softly. He's thankful for the gentler wording. He thinks about what it is that he actually wants. "I want him to realize that his actions have consequences. That he needs to think before he acts– to not go against my wishes simply because he wants to. I want to be able to trust him and I can't when he's on the stage."

"Ok, that's a good thing. What else?" Ray asks.

"I have control issues. And I think that my controlling nature is the cause of at least some of his pushback and blatant disrespect. I'm aware that this will push me and my own boundaries. We need to be our own separate people within the couple."

"Yes! That's good! You should make sure that he knows you love him and that you want him. But that this important for your relationship," Ray says softly.

"Okay," he whispers. Sunshine's right. He can feel himself shrinking under the weight of the topic again. "Now what?" 

"You have a drink with me then spend the night with your boy. Do you know what you are going to do as far as the actual leaving part." Ray asks.

"Not a clue. Got something in mind? And do you still trust me not to drown you or is this lesson over?"

"Well, you have two options. Leave a note and slip out or have the talk then go. Are you going with Chrissy or home with Brooke?"

Brock is shaking his head before the words are barely out of Sunshine's mouth. "I can't leave a note. It wouldn't be right. I thought I was going home with Chrissy? They invited me to go to Italy so I might do that in a few days. I _do_ _want_ to go home."

"So you do it out loud. I just know that you miss your family. It's why I was asking, you can go home with Chris." Ray says softly. He moves closer to Brock and hugs him.

Brock melts into the hug, returning it hard. He's still so very frightened. He buries his face in Ray's neck as best as he can and tries to get his emotions back under control. He speaks into his brother's neck, not ready to give up his human teddy bear. "I love you, brother. You're family too. I'm gonna miss you. I'm sorry for yelling at you and getting angry. I know you are right and this is the right thing to do. There's just a part of me that's terrified. And it's an important part. It's the same part that prevents me from hurting you. And it's… screaming at me. It's in pain. Even though this is the right thing to do. It's hard. But it's a good thing. It's supposed to be hard. I'm sorry for being a coward and weak. I'm sorry for being a failure that you have to baby-sit me."

"Ok. We're leaving the sad train and hopping on the happy highway. This is a great way for you and Frank to rekindle anything that may have died out. You're not a failure. You're absolutely not a coward. And by no means would you ever be considered weak." Ray says softly.

Brock pulls away, nodding. His hands cup some of the pool water and he splashes his face a few times, cleaning the sad gunk off. When he feels his face is clean enough, he stands sideways and outstretches one arm. Ready and waiting. "Come." 

Ray moves closer to Brock, "Love you Brock." 

"Your safety is my priority, even when I'm compromised. I will never hurt you. Or in this case, drown you. I take care of my own. I want you to lay down on my hand, face first. You will hold your head up. You will take in water. You'll probably snort it or swallow it. That's okay. My hand will be on your chest by your heart and my other on your stomach. Doggy paddling depends on the strength in your arms and legs to propel you through the water and keep you upright. All of swimming relies on your limbs moving you through the water and you holding your breath."

"Sounds too easy. Let's do this."

"As you've seen with me, it's made harder because of the panic. Our bodies were not meant to swim. It's a skill. And like all skills, it takes time and practice. While I'm gone, I want you to practice holding your breath under water by taking a bath, every day. Start small and work your way up. A few seconds to a few minutes. Learning to slowly exhale and learning to train your lungs to hold more air, will prolong your time under."

"I kinda was thinking I would go and try floating with supervision too."

"You can absolutely do that. Holding your breath is more important of a skill because if you don't have the capability to hold it for a few minutes should something happen, it can mean life or death. You did wonderful in California. Did I ever tell you that?" He snorts. Thinking back to that stupid boat always irritates him.

"I don't think so. We had an evil witch to melt that took priority over me and my swimming." Ray says leaning forward a little. He's working himself into this.

Humming to himself, Brock raises his hand and places it in the middle of Ray's pectorals. He can feel his brother's heartbeat and it makes him smile. The feeling causes a sense memory to crop up of a time where he taught Jack how to swim. Unlike Sunshine who needed it slow and careful, Jack was more eager to dive before he even learned how to hold his breath. Brock had just tossed his brother into the pool and watched Jack figure it out on his own. Sink or swim with him. Should he have sunk, Brock would have saved him but it wasn't necessary as Jack quickly caught on. He doesn't think Sunshine would appreciate the same treatment.

"Well. I was impressed for how long you were able to hold your breath before I reached you, all things considered." Brock lowers his hand slowly into the water, his other already at the ready to lift Ray's lower half.

"Well, it's not my first time sinking." Ray snorts, "Thank you again for saving me. Let's paddle like a doggy."

With a snort of humor, Brock lifts Ray's lower half so that his brother was almost a straight line in the pool. "Why didn't you tell Chrissy?" 

"She is a lot like you. Protective and loving but also doesn't want me to do anything that would put myself in harm's way." Ray says softly, "Do I do that arm paddle thing?"

"This is why we get along. Yes. Have you ever seen a dog swim? They push the water underneath their bodies and the current is enough to keep them afloat. The force exerted will both keep you above water and propel you. Move your arms like you are pushing a bicycle with your hands and push the water towards your stomach. Kick your feet in the process."

Ray follows Brock's direction and feels a little sense of relief. The water maybe wasn't going to pull him under. Maybe he could do this after all.

"Perfect. Good boy," Brock says softly without thinking. He feels Sunshine's body working, and gently moves with the current his brother is creating, giving him the experience of swimming without the danger. Slowly and gradually, he lowers his hand that's pressed up against Ray's low abdomen, letting his legs and feet take on more responsibility. "How are you feeling? You're breathing a little heavy. Is that from exertion or panic? You need to take slow and controlled breaths, nice and easy."

"It's from working. No panic."

"Okay. That's good. Very good. I'm so proud of you right now. I want you to kick your legs a little wider– it creates a bigger current and you move faster. I want you to swim to the stairs, okay? Remember, you can stand up should you need to." Brock completely removes his hand away from Ray's low abdomen, and only holds him up by his chest. "I'm right here with you. You can do this." As soon as Ray nods, Brock lets him go completely.

Ray keeps his focus on his movement. As long as he is moving he's floating. He's moving through the water. He's not sinking. "Holy fuck I'm doin’ it." 

Brock walks through the water after him, keeping an eagle eye on his brother, just in case. Sunshine's joy is infectious and he wishes he had a camera to record this. He meets him at the stairs with a wide, proud grin. "Yes you fucking did. You're amazing. I'm so proud of you."

"I have a pretty great teacher." Ray smiles as he puts his feet on the ground. 

Still grinning, he wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight. "That's enough for tonight, unless you wanna do a few circles. Shit I wish I had my cell with me. You can go to the pool and work on your doggy paddle with close supervision. It's going to take a bit to get your strength up. I'm sure you're tired. Remember, swimming is a sport for a reason. Practice holding your breath. Next time we work on floating, we can work on you doing it unsupported. Don't be bummed if you can't– some of the best swimmers can't float. It's a good skill to have but it has something to do with muscle mass and center of gravity and not everyone has it."

"We should call it. I know I've got an antsy pregnant wife who is really wanting quality time before we part." Ray says squeezing Brock tight, "I do believe the boys were talking about getting a drink after my swim lesson, if you wanna join. Get Frankie then get some more wine in you before you gag him."

He can't keep giggles and snickers in as he walks up the stairs and heads for the towels. "Frankie… And wine… _in_ me!" 

"What, you'd be a cute bottom…Right?" Ray chuckles as he picks up a towel. Brock just cracks up louder and harder.

After drying off, both boys return to their rooms, ready for a hot shower. Brock promises he will text Sunshine his response should the drink- after he checks in with Frankie. He knocks lightly on his door and waits, while watching the wet rat that was his brother's hair disappear into the adjoining room.

Frank peers in the peephole then opens the door, "Didn't take your key?" 

"No. I didn't take anything but my trunks and I barely have that. I'm glad you are here though," Brock replies, stepping in and kissing his boy.

"Oh ok! Glad I'm here too I suppose. Plans got pushed back. Apparently, flirting with certain sisters and having relations with girlfriends is more important." Frank says with a playful eye roll.

"Oh. Did you have _personal fun_ while I was gone, though?" Brock reaches out and pulls Frankie closer before trailing his fingers down, checking to see if he can feel wetness.

Frank feels his hips naturally push into Brock at the touch of his hand. He'd had a little _fun_ but he was a little more than distracted. He wants to play with Brock. His husband, "I may have. I was working on a little more fun before a hot guy _came_ knocking."

Brock feels a thrill of excitement and lust spike through him and he presses his hand against Frank's crotch harder, cupping him. "Oh? Tell me. Did you cum for me?"

Frank can't help the sound that escapes his lips before he takes a breath, "I always cum for you." He looks up at Brock with a mischievous smile on his lips.

Brock moans low in response. This was one of his favorite kinks to play with and it always got him riled up. He pulls him into a hot and hard kiss.

Frank moans into the kiss. His hand cups Brock's neck. He love to please and this response was exactly what he needed as confirmation he was good.

"Good boy," Brock murmurs as he breaks the kiss and pulls away some. He has an idea. "Go get the Edge toy and some lube. Then get on the bed." 

Frank nods excitedly as he turns and pulls the toy box and lube out, he slips on the bed and waits eagerly.

"We're going to have a little fun. Well. I am anyway. You may or may not agree with this at first but I think you'll find it hot in the end." Brock grins and kneels on the bed, taking the lube first and slowly working Frankie's panties down.

His forehead wrinkles a little as he watches Brock pull his underwear down, "Ok. I'm all yours." He lifts his hips to help.

Carefully sliding the briefs off of Frankie, Brock takes a deep breath and shudders at the smell of sex and cum. It takes quite a bit of his self-control to not give in and lick both the underwear and his husband. Instead, he sets them gently aside and spreads Frankie's legs. He grabs the lube and coats his fingers before inserting two of them.

A moan comes out at the feeling of Brocks fingers inside of him. He wants more. He wants Brock to fuck him until he can't see straight. He leans up on his elbows to watch.

"God damn you are so fucking gorgeous. So tight around my fingers, I can't wait to feel you around my cock." Brock pumps his fingers in and out, stretching and prepping him.

Frank lets a little cry out as he pushes against Brock, "Please fuck me." He begs unashamed of his neediness, "I was a good boy." 

"You were and I will. But not yet. I want you to cream your underwear at least twice more first. I want to _watch_ you cum all over yourself." He surges forward and kisses Frank hard, burying one hand in his hair and gripping the locks tightly. Without breaking the kiss, he removes his fingers and slowly works the toy in.

Frank whines into Brock's mouth. The empty feeling was quickly replaced with the full feeling of the toy. "Oh god baby!" Frank whines against Brock's lips.

When he can feel the toy snug and flush against Frankie, Brock pulls away and carefully slides his underwear back on. "You are gonna wear this for at least an hour. We are going to go get a drink. And I am going to see how many times you can cum for me."

"Oh really! In front of everyone?" Frank asks curiously as his cheeks flush.

"Yes. I get to watch you ruin underwear and you get to play in public but still be secret about it. I'm going to be controlling the vibe. When the drinks are done, we're going to come back here and I'm going to fuck you." He moves off the bed and heads to the bathroom, grabbing his phone in the process.

"Oh. Ok. Are you gonna be mean or are you gonna be nice?" Frank smirks.

"You mean besides making you cum in public? Isn't that mean enough?" he asks as he takes a wet washcloth and wipes his face free of the chlorine.

"I mean buzz me in the middle of a conversation, mean. I already am going to struggle." Frank says slowly rising from the bed. He lets his body adjust to the feeling of the toy inside of him. 

"Maybe. It really all depends on your ability to get off. That's the goal. Preferably a minimum of twice."

"I know two times." Frank exhales and nods, "This isn't so bad. Hell, I can do this." 

He carefully walks to the bathroom door and leans against the doorframe, "You can shower, baby." 

"Should I? Are you going to be okay waiting a few minutes?" Brock asks, pausing in his washcloth bath.

"I'll wait as long as you need." 

"Thanks baby. You know I'll be quick. Go ahead and download the toy app on my phone for me?" Brock quickly strips off his swim trunks and gets into the shower. He doesn't bother shutting the door or shutting the curtain.

Frank smiles as he picks up Brock's phone and installs the app. He takes a breath and looks in the mirror. "Who's coming tonight? I know Bob and your sister will be there. Ray?"

"Not sure but yes Ray. He was the one who invited me," he replies as he turns on the water, soaking the cloth again and himself. Once he's wet, he turns off the water and begins to lather his hair and body.

"It will be fun. I'll send a message to the group." Frank's eyes glued to Brock's hands, "App is downloaded and logged under my email so you don't get spam."

"Good boy. Is it synced up and such?"

"Yes sir. I had to buzz myself in order to do so." Frank wrinkles his nose.

Glancing at Frank, he notices his husband's expression and tilts his head. "Did you not like it?" 

"It was one short buzz." Frank smiles.

Nodding, Brock focuses on cleaning his groin, stroking himself lightly while maintaining eye contact with Frank. He wants to make sure he's _very_ clean for his husband. Little waves of pleasure at the touch make his dick twitch in interest. Once he's covered from head to toe in soap bubbles, he stands there a moment longer, continuing to lightly run his thumb and forefinger over his dick.

Frank takes teeth over his lower lip as he watches, "I _definitely_ liked it but it was just a _tease_." He knows exactly what Brock's doing and he's here for it.

"Good." With a wink, he turns on the spray again and rises carefully to avoid getting the floor soaked. And to maybe draw things out. When he's done, he steps out and towels off, moving to Frankie and kissing him lightly. "Explore the buttons on there while I get dressed. Tell me which ones you like the most."

"What?" Frank blinks. He's already worked up. He's gonna come within the first three buzzes, "Me? Ok. I can do that."

"Good. Start slow. So I can watch." Brock towels off quickly before moving to grab his boxers and slip them on.

Frank makes a little soft noise that falls between a moan and sigh at Brock's words. A wash of goosebumps covers his skin as he picks up Brock's phone. He takes a breath before he opens the app and turns the first setting on. It's a low and slow rumble that causes his stomach to tense. Frank automatically knows he isn't going to get past the second setting at this rate as a soft moan comes out.

He leans against the dest in the room as the rumble builds pressure inside of him, "Fuck," he mutters.

"Which one did you do?" Brock asks, low and huskily. Watching the pleasure roll through Frankie's face was porn worthy and he's certain that will forever be unrefined ingrained in him. 

"Fireworks." Frank moans. He feels his entire body heating up. He takes a breath to compose himself. He's got to be able to act normal. His eyes meet Brock's as his cheek flush a brighter red, he whimpers slightly, "Next mode?" 

"Yeah baby," Brock whispers. Without taking his eyes off Frank, he blindly searches for a clean tee and pants. He quickly slides them on.

Frank drags his finger across the screen to the next mode which looks more like stairs with steep drop. He presses play and let's it roll across the screen. His body jumps at the sharp rises and fall of the vibration inside of him. He shifts and feels it hit against his prostate, "Holy fuck!" 

"Are you close, baby?" Brock asks softly. He's fully hard now, just from watching and _knowing_ what Frankie was going through. It was hot. 

"Fuck! 'm close!" Frank whimpers. His knees are shaking as he grips Brock's phone.

Brock quickly sits on the bed and spreads his legs. "Turn it off if you need to but come here and sit between my legs. I want to feel you come."

Frank pants and quickly sits between his husband's legs. He puts the phone in Brock's hand before he leans into Brock's chest. "I'm so close. Fuck, baby," he whines. He squirms a little as the need to come washes over him. As soon as the words escape his lips, the feeling hits him like a freight train and he's coming.

Brock cups Frankie's cock through the fabric and holds him tight against his chest. A low, deep moan escapes as he feels warmth hit his palm as Frankie comes in his underwear. His other hand fumbles for the phone, turning the device off. He fights the urge to roll his hips against his husband. This was hotter than he expected. 

"Holy shit baby," he pants in Frankie's ear. He wants to fuck him so bad. But he has other plans and he needs to wait.

Frank moans at the touch of Brock's hand. He turns his head and kisses Brock's jaw as his hips stutter. "Fuck me please?" He whispers softly before kissing his throat. 

"You have no idea how bad I want to baby. But not yet. Drinks first. Maybe this time, without the vibrations. Though I might turn it on the lowest setting just to keep you squirming. We really need to work on your stamina with the toy, especially since I want you to be able to wear it on stage one day."

Frank swallows hard. He nods his head and nuzzles Brock's neck. "I love you," he whispers. His hand finds Brock's thigh and rests there, "Leave it on." 

"I love you too, baby." He sighs, absently stroking Frankie, loving the feeling of cum soaked fabric. He turns the toy back on, setting it to the lowest pulse. "You going to be able to handle this? I don't want to overstimulate you."

"I can handle it. I'll be ok." Frank arches his back slightly.

"Okay. Think you can get dressed then?" 

"Mmhmm." Frank hums, "I. I need to wear dark jeans… I should do that." Frank stays seated between Brock's legs enjoying the touches from his husband. He leans up and kisses his neck again, Brock smells amazing. 

"Yes. Yes you should. I don't want them to actually be aware of our little game. Are you enjoying this?"

"Mmmhmm." Frank smiles as he hums his reply again, "Do you have preference on what I wear?" 

"No. Wear whatever you want that is comfortable," Brock says, patting Frankie to hop up and move.

Frank slowly rises to his feet and takes a breath. He can do this, bending down at his duffle and pulls his jeans out and a random shirt from Brock's boxing gym he'd bought at some point. Frank dresses slowly and slips into checkered Vans, "I'm ready." 

Brock stands and pulls him into his embrace. He rubs his hands over Frankie's body, reading the tension in it. Time for the serious stuff. "Good. I want you to be careful moving, all right? Pay attention to the toy and how it moves within you. Any pain or weird pressure, you stop and tell me immediately. Remember it's a plastic object pressed against soft, squishy, and easily breakable tissue. I'd hate to have you bend down the wrong way and it snaps and you get air-lifted to the ER. Or it punctures you and… okay I need to stop myself before I panic and cancel everything and shove you into a bubble wrap ball."

"I'll let you know if anything doesn't feel good. I don't want to be a boy in a plastic bubble." Frank says with a grin, "Text Ray. I'll message the other boys." 

"Okay," he replies, pecking him on the lips. He moves and sends a text to Ray, telling him that they were ready.

Frank sends a semi rude but funny message to the others about getting a drink and how their mom's a hoe if they don't join in, "How did Ray's swim go?" 

"Learned to doggy paddle," Brock grins proudly. "I'm so pissed at myself for not having my cell with me. I would've recorded it. It was amazing and such a milestone moment. I'm **so** fucking proud of him. He didn't panic too much either. Didn't sink so bonus on that. He's going to work on holding his breath underwater while taking a bath to get his lung power expanded."

"That's fantastic! You guys are gonna keep practicing right?" Frank grins wide, he loves seeing Brock gushing like this.

"Yeah of course. I want him to work on breath control first though. The longer he can hold air, the better his chances. Did you notice he didn't tell Christa what happened in California? I was surprised." Brock walks to the door, opening it for Frankie before following. They stand in the hall and wait for the others to join.

"I did catch that. But, I get it. She's like you." Frank says with a smile.

"Funny. He said the same thing when I questioned him about it. Told him that was why she and I got along so well. And probably why he and I get along too. He's used to dealing with people like us," laughs Brock.

"It's also why you love Chris too." Frank smiles as he laces his fingers with Brock, "She's quite protective." 

Mike steps out of his room and smiles wide at Brock, "Gentlemen." 

"Hey, Mike-n-Ike. Doing alright? Since like it's been so many hours since I've seen you last." 

"Peachy! I talked to my lady. Took a mini nap. Ready to have some fun." Mike replies, "You guys doing ok? Frankie you're a little flushed."

"We're alright. I just decided to work on my make out skills," Brock says smoothly.

"Yup," Frank says, turning and leaning into Brock.

Bob appears as he slips from Brooke's room with a smile. He turns and greets the boys with a wave.

"Hey Rabbit." 

"How's it going boys?" Bob puts his arm around Mike.

"Same shit different hour," Brock snickers.

Frank snorts. This is absolutely nothing 'same' about what's going on inside of him, "Brock taught Ray to swim." 

"Doggy paddle," he clarifies. "Basic survival skills and I couldn't be prouder. Going to buy him a drink tonight."

"Hell yeah! I think that is a fantastic idea!" Gerard says smiling as he appears out of his room.

"Of course, I say that like I don't plan on all of the drinks being on me tonight," Brock says with a grin. 

"So, what you're saying is we play pool and the winner pays all?" Mike grins.

"Yeah sure. Wanna add in darts too?" Brock grins; both of these things were right up his alley.

"Okay. Deal," Bob smiles with a nod. 

"What's a deal?" Ray asks as he closes his room door. 

"Also Frankie, my mother's not a hoe, you shit." Mike playfully punches his shoulder.

"Drinks are on me tonight since I'm going to wipe the floor with the losers in darts and pool," Brock smirks.

"Don't be so confident." Mike smirks, "I'm pretty great at darts B."

"Great. I like a challenge. Let's do that first. With shots. Each dart that scores higher, the loser takes a drink. Before the night's over, you'll be pissing yourself from the amount of water you'll be drinking."

"Deal. You're gonna eat your words. Hopefully you fucked Frankie cause you're not gonna be able to after I'm done with you," Mike winks.

"Are the ladies joining us? Or is it a guys only night out?" he asks, still grinning from Mike-n-Ike's challenge. He's excited to prove the little Milky Way twinkie wrong.

"I put Chris to bed," Ray nods.

"Lindsey is on the phone with her mom. And is in jammies." 

"Brooke's in bed," Bob grins.

It takes a bit before Brock is able to speak after having his brain short circuit from being unable to process this new information. Rabbit didn't….? Brooke wouldn't….? Surely they didn't….? No. No it can't possibly be a thing. Rabbit is just joking.

"Let's do this! Boys night out!" Gerard smiles wide.

Brock just can't let this go. He turns to Rabbit and frowns, "Yeah sure but what's that you said about my sister, Rabbit?"

"Brooke was in bed." Bob says with a smile as the guys walk to the elevator.

"And you sound like you know this first hand." Brock places one arm on his hip and doesn't budge. Frank eeps as he is stopped from moving forward with Brock's abrupt hesitation.

"I mean, I do. It's how I left her." Bob says with a shrug.

"How you… left..." Brock's voice trails off at his disbelief over the implications.

"A gentleman doesn't discuss the going on of his relationships, sir." Bob says looking back at a flabbergasted Brock.

"Relationship?" he says, voice hard. 

"Brock." Frank says softly. His fingers curl into his husband's shirt.

Visions of throwing Robert into a wall and threatening him fill Brock's head. This is his _sister_. There was no way in hell he was going to let this "relationship" exist. And if not him, he'll make damn sure his father ends it. No one touches his sister. No one.

The elevator doors ding on their floor as the doors open, the band gets on and waits for a moment. Frank waves them on with an easy smile and watches the doors close. He can feel Brock's grip on him tighten and not in a good way.

"Brock!" Frank says louder with a snap of his fingers. He twists to face his husband and the toy moves just right inside of him to make his knees buckle a little.

With a small jolt, Brock is snapped back to reality. Seeing Frankie's face and the way he could barely stand, switches him from the fire of his rage to calm coolness. He's still not okay with Rabbit and Brooke but it's not important right now. Right now they have drinks to get, a bet to lose, and Brock will get to watch Frankie struggle to keep a straight face while making a mess in his pants. With a quick glance at the elevator, he pulls Frank into a hug, supporting him.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"You're welcome." Frank whispers backs. His hands grip on to Brock like he's a life raft, "Can you change the pattern? Please?" 

With a smile, he pulls out his phone and turns it off. Pocketing it again, Brock can't help a little chuckle escape at Frank's sudden bonelessness of relief. Tightening his hold on his husband, he kisses Scorpio and nuzzles his neck. "Better?" 

"Yes. Thank you. I love you!" Frank says with a bright tone, "Also your sister's a grown, strong, independent, woman who could easily snap Bob's neck with her thighs. She is allowed to have fun too, baby."

"Not with my friends. Traitor," Brock growls softly at Rabbit. Not that he can hear them but that wasn't the point. 

"Baby. Do you really think, in your heart of hearts, that Brooke, the princess. The classy and noble woman you know would have any relations beyond childish making out? No. Brooke is…" Frank pauses as the words snobby come out because it wasn't totally true but no other words come to mind.

"Snobby? Did you just call her snobby?" Brock laughs. "What's that make me then?"

"No but yes. She's not _really_ snobby _snobby_. Just mildly. Cause you're snobby too then." Frank gives him a wink with a big toothy smile, "And even better, you're slumming it with me. A little street rat and a prince." 

"Let's go with posh then. Sounds better."

"Agreed. We should go join the boys." Frank smiles up at the love of his life, "They probably think we're fooling around or something." 

"Yeah, probably. And really, we kinda are." Brock smirks.

"True. True. You're gonna buzz me at the bar, aren't you?" Frank says offering his hand to Brock.

"You know it. That's the point. But you'll never know _when_ or for how long." He takes his hand and they enter the elevator.

"I'm in danger." Frank snickers with a big smile, "I gotta work on my poker face." 

"Yes you do." 

"I'm not that bad!" Frank laughs as he pushes the lobby button, "Right?"

"Yes you are," Brock snorts and smiles at him.

"It just means I'm a bad liar. That's all! It's a good thing." Frank says with a nod, "Though..." 

He stops his words as the doors open to the lobby and his eyes rest on Jack with the band. Talking and laughing amongst themselves.

"Jack?!" Brock shouts across the lobby. He grins excitedly. He wasn't expecting to see his brother before he left in the morning. Jack turns and matches his brother's grin with one of his own. They head over and Brock lets go of Frankie to envelope Jack in a bear hug.

"Hi Brock. Why are you squishing me?" Jack laughs into the hug, squeezing back as hard as he can.

"I didn't think I was gonna see you again."

"Like… dead? I think I can handle a pretty lady. Even if she was a serial killer or something crazy," says Jack, patting Brock on the back. He's still trapped in the bear hug.

"She isn't a praying mantis, Brock." Frank says with all the sass he could muster.

"We don't know that. She could've been!" 

"Yeah, again. I would be fine. Can you let me go now? I'd like to breathe." Jack pats Brock again.

Brock steps aside and takes Frankie's hand again. "Sorry." 

"Sorry you struck out, Jack." Frank offers with a sympathetic half smile.

Jack snorts and smirks. "No I didn't. I got a nice car ride." 

"Oh. I don't?" Frank tilts his head.

"He didn't strike out. He made it in the car." Gerard says as classy as he can.

Jack smirks and gives Frank a smug smile. "She dropped me after. I got my own taxi here. Works for me."

"Oh you sly dog." Frank smiles.

"You got used by the pretty lady." Ray teases as they get into the large SUV. The fit is tight but they all can fit into it.

"I mean considering…" Jack shrugs, "Not bothered by it. Now though, I'm here for drinks and a bar trip. Maybe I can get lucky twice tonight."

"Hell yes. That's a goal for me too." Gerard nods. Bob shakes his head in agreement with a smile.

Brock gives Gerard a look. "When are you going to marry Lindsey and stop cheating on her?" 

"I meant I was going to try to fuck my girl. I had an awakening when someone threatened to snap my neck." Gerard says defensively, "I was going to pop the question during her set next week. Her ring finally came in and Frankie's been holding on to it. Thank you very much."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't know. I mean when a big muscled old man threatens you to get your shit together, you listen." Gerard says as he leans forward to look at Brock, "So thank you for the wake up call." 

"Sometimes we have to go through hell to come out better on the other side. I knew you were better than the life you were living. And I'm proud of you for staying clean. Just like I'm proud of Mike-n-Ike for staying sober. You guys are my boys and I love you. I'll still kick your asses if you fuck up though."

"Yeah. We also have a pretty good guy to look up to. I know that you will keep me accountable." Gerard says with a nod as he opens the door and exits heading for the bowling alley.

"And I'll kick _his_ ass should he fuck up and keep him accountable." Jack smirks and playfully shoulder shoves Brock.

"Good I'm glad you got my back Jack." Frank grins as he follows Brock to the door.

"This better not be like the fucking pub we went to. I swear to God, I am not looking for a fight tonight," Mike warns. 

"No it will be good! I checked it out!" Bob pleads before he enters.

"I agree with Mike-n-Ike. No fights tonight. We keep to ourselves and do shots."

"So, what's the deal with the bet?" Jack inquires.

"Mike-n-Ike thinks he can beat me in darts. I told him that for every dart that scores higher, the loser takes a shot."

Without missing a beat, Jack turns to the bassist and says, "Yeah you're gonna lose Mikey. Sorry man."

"Oh no. I'm gonna win," Mike smirks. "You can't win everything."

"Trust me when I say, darts are not his weakness," Jack cautions.

"Alright. You'll be surprised my friend." Gerard smiles," My brother is weirdly good."

"He's got a weird talent for darts, baby," Frank says with a warning in his voice.

"Let's go then. Pitcher of water and… ah what the hell, I'll do top shelf vodka tonight." Brock motions them to go to the dart boards and pick one. "What else are you guys wanting?" 

"You're on old man." Mike grins wide and pulls the darts and hands them to Brock, "Age before beauty." 

He puts up a hand with a smile, "You challenged me. Show me what you got. Challenger first. And we need the shots set up."

"I got the water and shots." Ray says with a smile, "I'm excited to see the king unthroned." 

"Good luck boys." Frank smirks, "I'm going to get a drink, did you want anything else babe?" 

"Not right now, thanks, love."

Frank nods and disappears into the crowd of people. As he approaches the bar he smiles at Ray. "Hey!" 

"Hey kid! Whatcha drinking?" 

"Sticking with Gin." Frank nods. He glances around the bar and takes a deep breath. Part of him is thankful that Brock is distracted by the game and hasn't remembered their own game. He orders his drink and sighs and watches the bartender make his drink. 

"Mike's met his match," Frank says softly.

"I dunno. He's pretty fuckin' good," Ray says with a nod.

"But it's Brock. He can't be bested." Frank shrugs, "It'll be fun to watch."

No sooner than the thought crosses his mind, he feels the toy turn on and his body jumps slightly. His head snaps to Brock. 

"You good?" Ray asks.

"Yeah, just got a _chill_." Frank replies. The buzzing starts building a heavy weight behind his hips. He's never come in front of anyone besides Gerard. And even then it was different.

As the bartender passes the drinks across to both men, Frank takes a deep breath and holds his drink in his hand. He follows Ray back to the group and chooses to stand. If he sits, he may come and not be able to keep himself composed.

Mike stands and cracks his neck as he prepares to throw the first dart. He exhales and throws it landing in the ring just outside of the bull's-eye. He turns to Brock and smiles, "Next." 

Brock's eyebrows go up, clearly impressed. "Very nice Mike-n-Ike. Very nice." He takes his dart and takes aim, carefully taking slow and controlled breaths. On an exhale, he throws it with a little flip, and watches as it sinks directly into the center of the bull's eye. He turns to Mike-n-Ike and nods.

"Shit. Fine. It's fine." Mike hisses but shakes his head. He takes a shot and frowns a little, "Got this." He rolls his shoulders and takes a big breath in. He focuses his attention on the board before letting the dart go in landing in the middle next to Brock's dart. He hisses yes to himself and smiles, "Batter up." 

"How's your water tasting? Get ready for another," Brock says before taking aim and landing his second one right above Mike's.

"Oh it tastes better than the vodka you're gonna drink." Mike says with a smile. He knows he's got this. He's how the band would eat sometimes. He lines his shot and barely makes it in the bullseye. He exhales with a smile, "Hey Bob. Why do you smell like ladies CK eternity?" 

"How do you know what that smells like, Mike-n-Ike?" Brock asks without looking away from his target. He takes another shot, this time it lands next to his first dart, lower but still within the bull's eye.

"Kristen wears it." Mike smiles, "I know another _woman_ that wears it too…" 

Bob's face blushes a little. _Did he smell like perfume? Brock just might kill him if he smells like Brooke…_

Mike throws his dart lazily. He's willing to lose this one if he can throw Brock off. Even slightly. The dart barely misses the bull's-eye. It was getting crowded in the circle.

Frank wants to open his mouth but doesn't. His head flips the idea that their razzing could result in him getting the vibe turned up and coming quicker. He takes a slow sip of his drink as he tries to breathe deep.

"Mike, you do know that there are other games you can beat him at right?" Gerard says quietly in his brother's ear. 

"I know. I have plans." Mike smirks at Brock.

Jack leans against a table and can't help the knowing smile. "You guys do remember he was in special ops, right? He's gonna hit the bull's eye every time."

"Yeah. You realize that before the band made, like real money, I was the reason we had food?" Mike says with a confident nod. 

Jack points to Brock and says simply, "Sniper." 

"Yeah but he's old and probably blind in one eye…" Mike teases.

"Hey!" Frank cries out, "That's my husband." 

Brock gives Mike a look before striding over to the dart board, taking all of the darts out, and striding back to his mark. He's holding ten darts. After a moment of thought, he steps back two feet before rapidly throwing all ten darts in quick succession. Nine of the ten hit the bull's eye with the last one hitting the edge. After a glance at Mike-n-Ike, he takes a shot of vodka.

"I mean you both are very good at darts… maybe there's another game you can play? Like air hockey or skee ball?" Bob asks. 

"Only if Brock wants a change of scene." Mike says, taking a sip of his actual glass of water, "Unless he doesn't think he can compete." 

"I'm very good at aiming. Near-perfect precision. Skee-ball would have the same results. Pool too." Brock refills his shot glass and takes a second drink, just because. His hand slips into his pocket and runs his thumb over the screen.

A little sound escapes Frank's lips before he takes a drink. He leans against the table a little and tries to not make eye contact with anyone in the group. "Maybe bowling… it. Is harder to be so precise." His words come out a little ragged.

Ray gives him a look of confusion but Frank doesn't give him attention. He's trying to keep his breathing under control.

"What do you think, Mike-n-Ike? Bowling?" Brock asks causally.

"Let's do it. Two shots per low score. Top shelf and bottom shelf liquor." Mike smiles. He's intending to join in, he's not really wanting to drink but maybe this is an incentive to not lose.

Frank stands upright and moves a little. He can't sit still. He can't help but think about the building pressure that was pushing him to the edge of coming again.

"And what are you going to drink? Tap water and distilled? Sparkling? Tea?" Brock chuckles. He turns to Frankie, "Want a vodka shot, baby?" 

"Water and whatever bottom shelf is chosen." Mike says confidently. 

"Uh, I. Sure." Frank nods his heart is beating so loud it's hard to focus.

" _Come_ here then," Brock says as he pours a shot. Without looking up, he responds to Mike-n-Ike. "You can have a non-alcoholic drink. I'd rather not break your beautiful sobriety."

"But there are low stakes here. What can we do to make this interesting?" Mike says with a huff. 

Frank moves slowly and approaches Brock. His knees were a little wobbly as he touched Brock's arm. 

"What do you want then?" Brock hands Frankie the shot with a sly grin.

"Frank does a shot of bottom shelf every time I can't beat you?" Mike offers.

"Deal." He might lose on purpose just to get Frankie both buzzed and _buzzed_.

Frank looks at him. His forehead wrinkles and softens. His mouth falls slightly open for a moment before he takes a shot. He touches Brock's forearm and presses his fingers into the skin. He isn't gonna last long. 

"Deal. I'll get the bottom shelf." Mike smiles. He leaves the group and heads to the bar. 

"You okay with this Franklin?" Gerard asks. 

"Uh, umm. Yeah." Frank tries to use words but a half whimper comes out with them.

Gerard raises an eyebrow and looks at Brock. Something is _fishy._

Mike returns with a bottle of tequila. It looks cheap. Just the label is nasty looking, "This is your prize, Frankie." 

Frank wrinkles his nose then softens it as he holds on to Brock. 

"Thanks Mike." Brock still has his hand in one pocket, thumb pressing the screen anywhere to make the vibe increase. He wants to see Frankie fall apart, _now_. His eyes bore into his husband, waiting.

Frank makes a small gasp at the intensity. He feels every ounce of himself fall apart. He wants to moan so badly. Instead, his eyes close and his jaw softens behind his closed lips. A small sound escapes his throat. His knees soften a little as he cums. He needs to do something. Something inside of him snaps as he pulls Brock down and kisses him passionately. He moans into Brock's mouth as his hips jerk into his husband.

Gerards mouth falls open. He didn't. No. What's going on? He takes a drink of his beer and watches Frank. If he goes jelly, he totally did. 

Bob and Ray gather things up and move towards the bowling lanes. Jack disappears to the bar. Mike follows behind them leaving Gerard and the lovebirds behind.

"Good boy," Brock whisper chants in Frank's ear after breaking the kiss. He's more mouthing the words than speaking. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he clicks the vibe off to give his love a moment to breathe.

Frank presses his forehead into Brock's chest. He can't help the breathy moan that slips from his mouth. He knows he's gonna have to walk but he's not sure he has the bone density to do that. He murmurs an 'I love you' before looking up at his husband.

"You guys coming?" Gerard asks.

"Yes." Brock speaks without looking away from Frankie, instead he holds his husband tighter and nuzzling his neck.

"Yes. I am." Frank says with a shaky voice.

"Want me to get shoes for you, Brock?" Gerard asks.

"I would appreciate that, thank you, Gerard." 

"What size shoe?" He asks, watching Frank. He knows that little shit just came. He has to have. He's seen Frank come many times and that's his come down face.

"Ten and a half, please.

"Meet you over there." Gerard turns and walks towards the shoe counter. He's working out what he thinks might be going on. 

"I'm going to need new jeans after this." Frank says as soon as Gee is out of ear shot.

"I'll buy you new ones later," Brock murmurs in Frankie's neck. One of his hands ghost over the front of Frank's bulge. "Fuck this is so hot. So fucking hot." 

Frank softly whimpers at Brock's words. "I don't know if I can walk." 

"I'll help you. I'll keep an arm around you and hold you up enough to walk."

"Ok. I'm sorry." Frank says feeling his cheeks flush. Something in his head tells him this is bad and he shouldn't be enjoying it.

Brock kisses Frankie lightly, "Why are you apologizing, _tesoro_? I love you. I love this." 

"I'm not sure." Frank shakes his head. He leans up and kisses Brock again, "We should join the group. Are you going to be able to win?" 

"Of course, but I might lose, just to get you buzzed drunk. You can sit in the chair. Don't move… And work up another orgasm for me." Brock pulls back and wraps one arm around Frank's waist, holding him tight.

"Don't move?" He asks as they move back to the group, "You're gonna get me drunk." 

"No. I said I would get you buzzed and that's only if I felt like losing. Do you even like tequila?"

"It's fine. Not my choice but I don't hate it." Frank says with an uninterested tone of voice.

"Bout time you two joined us. You pre apologizing to Frank when I win?" Mike grins.

"No, we were just practicing our victory kiss for when he beats you." Frank quips with a smile as he carefully takes a seat. A small noise of pleasure and a little pain from being sensitive comes out.

"What's the terms with the bowling? Besides Frankie being your drinking surrogate?" Brock asks as he checks out the bowling balls and finds a dark blue one that fits his fingers. He hasn't bowled… ever.

"Lowest number after each round; drinks. And the end goal is to determine who pays the tab right?" Mike nods.

He considers this. Frankie might actually get drunk. "Sure. Except… there's just one thing." 

"What's that?" Mike asks.

He gives an apologetic look at Frankie before staring at the ball in his hands, pink in the face and trying hard not to look at the others. "How do you play?" 

"What?" Frank says shocked.

"It's easy. You hold the ball like this and approach the line then throw. Main goal is to keep it in the lane or on the wood floor and knock down as many pins as possible," Ray says with a smile.

"You took this bet and you don't know how to bowl?!" Frank says a little shocked as he watches Brock's face. _He’s trying to get drunk for fuckin sure._

"I figured it was something to do with hitting a target and I'm good at those?" He can't help a shrug.

"Brock!" Frank croaks, "You're so getting drunk tonight." 

"Nah. It'll be fine. Why did Gerard get me shoes though?"

"Cause you have to wear special shoes to not ruin the floor. It's a thing. I don't understand fully." Frank sighs. His sweet cinnamon roll of a husband was too precious for this world.

"Huh. Okay. Weird, but okay. Guess I better… put the ball down and change shoes." Brock does just that, carefully removing his knives first and passing them to Jack before unlacing his boots.

Jack holds the four knives and watches another player two lanes down. It seemed easy enough but until Brock got the hang of it, he was definitely taking some shots.

"You know what...I'll even go easy on you Brock. I'll bowl with my left hand." Mike smiles.

Frank's eyes widen. That was a challenge...

Jack stands and watches the other player's screen before turning back to Brock. "Ten pins. Inverted triangle. Ball moves easily forty mph. The screen over there gives a diagram and angle suggestions."

"What's the lane distance?" Brock asks.

"Somewhere about twenty feet. You'd need some pretty decent power behind your throw. At least fifty percent." 

Frank sighs. He shifts slightly in his seat and clenches his cheeks together to keep the toy from moving much. 

"How about we use the first round as a test run? Get you used to the game," Mike offers.

"You should have bumpers up too." Ray says, "Give him a fighting chance." 

"Bumpers? What are those?" Brock asks with a head tilt. 

"They keep your ball from falling in the gutter. Like a guard rail," Frank says before taking a drink. He won't mention they are mostly for old ladies and kids. 

"Sure. I'll try that. At least while I figure out how to throw the ball." Brock watches the same player from two lanes over. He monitors how he stands, how he walks, and the arm movement of how he throws the ball. It doesn't look that hard. He could totally do this.

"You ready?" Mike asks, "Pick a number between 1-25." 

"14." He's not sure what this is for but he'll go with it.

"21." Mike says, looking at Gerard.

"I picked 10. Brock goes first." Gerard says with a smile. He takes a sip of the beer he's nursing.

Weird loafers on, Brock stands and grabs his chosen ball. It takes him a bit to figure out how to hold it and to walk up to the lane. There's markings on the floor and he pauses, unsure what they mean. He turns back to the others. "Now what? I just...toss it?" 

"Yes baby." Frank slides off his chair carefully, "Do you see these dots right here? Stand here. Ok? Keep your eyes on the middle right arrows then take four or so steps to the foul line."

Frank pulls a ball from the rack, "Like the guy over there is doing, start with the ball up here by your ribs then drop it back and use the last step to keep your arm as straight as you can and release the ball. A lot of people who are professional have a stance where they kick their leg out behind them. For now, do what feels right. Okay?"

He hopes he explained it well enough. He also disobeyed Brock by not staying in his seat. Maybe he won't think about it or remember. Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, "You got this baby!" 

"Thanks. For the help and the support. I think I'll be okay. Have a seat and get comfy. You'll be drinking in a bit," Brock says, kissing Frankie lightly.

"Yeah ok. Suuure, I will, baby." Frank snorts.

Brock raises the ball to his chest and takes a few steps, launching the ball as he'd seen others do, with all of the finesse and grace of a duck. The ball spins and bounces off the bumpers several times before hitting into the 3rd and 4th pins, knocking them and the 7th, 8th and 2nd pin down.

He might suck at this after all.

"Baby, you have a second turn to get all the pins down." Frank says softly.

Brock blinks in confusion. He's actually rather fascinated by how the ball poofed away down with the pins, and how they get swept away, leaving the ones he didn't hit to remain. At Frankie's words, he turns to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the ball being puked up by the machine next to him. He's not sure how it works or how it got there. It's like magic! Cool!

"Right. Okay. That's cool," Brock says absently, peering into the hole that puked up his ball. Maybe it's not his ball. Maybe it just provides all the balls at random. A ball dispenser.

"So that means you go again..." Ray smiles at his brother and the wonder on his face.

"Does this thing puke balls all the time or just when I need a new one?" He asks as he points to the mouth. 

"Every time one gets swept up." Ray smiles.

"Cool. It's like a giant hungry hungry hippo. In reverse. So this is either it's mouth or it's ass…. Yeah; mouth is much nicer. Anyway," Brock takes his ball and steps up to the line again. He doesn't know what he did wrong last time to hit the rails but he figures it has something to do with his swing. So instead of standing in the middle, he takes one step to the left and launches the ball down. It still hits the bumper but less. He knocks down one pin.

Mike nods and steps up, he takes the ball in his left hand and gives it a throw down the lane. It takes half the pins down with ease. The second time wasn't as successful, as the first time as the ball slides right past the upright pins, "Motherfucker." 

"I got a 6. That's… not too terrible for a first time, right?" Brock asks the band.

"Not bad at all," Ray nods.

"You sucked but it was funny to watch you move like a fish outta water," Jack snickers. 

"Oh such loving words from your brother," Bob chuckles.

"You did good for your first time. Don't listen to Jacqueline over there." Frank winks at Jack with a smile.

Jack's eyes narrow and an eyebrow raises. "Don't." 

"I do suck. Hopefully I'll get better for the real game. Show me how you are with your right hand?" 

Mike nods and throws the ball knocking down all but one pin. "I'm alright." 

"We had very hobby driven childhoods." Gee says with a shrug, "I liked comics and music. He liked old man sports like bowling."

"Guess I should have stuck with darts then, huh." Brock picks up the ball again and tries to fix his swing. For some reason the ball keeps going left and he's not understanding why. He does a slow but smooth practise swing and sees that he's somehow curving over his body on the release. He does it again, focusing solely on correcting his arm, then time releasing it. The ball stays on the lane this time, though it still curves a little midway. There's not enough power in the swing, so the ball slows as it hits one pin, knocking down one other.

"At least you stayed in your lane this time," Jack offers.

"Don't overthink it baby." Frank says with a nod.

Brock doesn't answer as he mentally calculates how much power he would need to do for him to knock all the pins down, while staring at the ball dispenser while he waits for it to puke his ball up. Once it does, he moves back to his spot and again focuses on straightening his swing. It feels weird. On the upswing, he feels like he is going to bump his hip and his arm naturally wants to curve away and around it. Maybe he could stand a little off center? He shifts and tries it again....it's actually worse. He'll just have to get used to the hip checking. Once it's a part of his muscle memory, he won't even notice. He sends the ball down with a little more force, forcing his arm to stay straight and brush against his hip. It speeds down, straight but too fast and hits one pin so hard it bounces. Both the single pin and the ball get eaten.

"Maybe." Mike pauses as he picks his ball up, "Maybe you should play against Gerard so that it's fair." 

"I don't know who should be more insulted, myself or your brother," Brock says with a hand on a hip and a little smile.

"You cause I suck worse than you do!" Gerard chuckles. 

"It would be evenly matched," Mike offers.

"Ouch, now that really hurts. I'm learning, at least give me a few more shots to practice." Brock laughs as he takes a drink of Mike-n-Ike's water.

"Ok. Give it a few goes and then we'll play." 

"Oh and the more you drink the better you _think_ you are but the worse you play," Ray chuckles.

"How well do you play, Sunshine?" 

"I'm not terrible but I'm not like Mike." Ray chuckles.

"I went with my dad to bowling alley and horse races." Mike smiles, "I have some skills."

Frank sips his drink with a relaxed smile. Even with his undies a little soggy, he was feeling good. His body was used to the full feeling. He shifts in his seat ever so slightly and smiles at Bob. His gingery friend who was unaware that he'd just came in his pants.

"Ugh, horses," Brock shudders ever so slightly.

"Ok, I need to know what your deal with horses is?" Ray asks.

"Simple. I don't like them."

"But horses are just big dogs. They are nice." Frank says with a nod.

"Have you ever been around them?" Ray asks.

"No." Brock grabs his ball again and sends it down the lane. It knocks down seven pins. 

"Horses are good animals. We should go horseback riding." Ray says with a nod.

"They are huge fucking beasts, hell fucking no." Brock gives Sunshine an incredulous look. He takes his ball, and lines up the shot. He thinks he might actually have this. After careful measuring of distance he launches the ball, and knocks down the last three pins. He turns and gives the boys a triumphant grin.

"Hell yeah! Good job Brock!" Bob cheers.

"I promise they are nice." Ray says with a gentle voice.

"Good job baby!" Frank says with a happy smile.

"Thanks baby!" Brock turns to Sunshine, and says with all the sass he can muster, "Look, you don't like water. I don't like horses." 

"Ah yes but grasshopper. You're helping me overcome my fear. I can return the favor." Ray pats him on the shoulder.

"Those bowling shoes look snazzy on you darling." Frank smirks.

"Yes but unlike you I don't want to learn. And I hate these shoes."

"They are absolutely ugly." Frank smiles with his straw between his lips, "We should get you a pair." 

"Hell no." Brock sits down and motions for Mikey to sit at the computer. "Set us up for a real game. I will not be using the bumpers."

"You sure?" Mike double checks before he presses buttons to get the game ready. He grins wide and can't help but feel a little giddy.

Mike lowers the bumpers and gets it set for the first round, "Hope you're ready to stay only mildly sober Iero." Mike winks at him, "You're up, pops."

Brock scratches his nose in playful annoyance before grabbing his bowling ball and taking his mark. He swings his right arm back all the way extended and then launches the ball forward and slightly off centered of the main pin. It rolls down the center of the lane but gives a little wobble at the end striking the pins and knocking out the back row.

"Nice one babe." Frank cheers softly, he leans over to Jack. "What other American things has he not done, or you for that matter?"

"I'm not sure what you are classifying as 'American things', bärchen."

"Has he been to a hockey game? Eaten apple pie? Gone to the DMV? Have you taken him river floating?"

"He has a New York state driver's license. So, at some point he had to go to the DMV. I'm sure he's had apple pie. I doubt the hockey game. And I don't know what river floating is," Jack gives him a bemused look.

"You have never floated the river before?" Frank says a little shocked, "It should be warm enough to go still! It's fun and you get drunk while doing it." 

"We've floated in the sea before, why is a river any different? And what does river floating have to do with being drunk?"

"So, you go to a general store to pick up inner tubes, the cheaper the better. You get a disposable cooler. You find a long river, preferably one in the country so you have less human interaction. You struggle to get in and just float. Drinking beers or whatever alcohol you bring. You sometimes get pulled into the vegetation. It's bonding in the sun and water. It's more fun than it sounds I swear." Frank says with a smile, "We should go sometime. Especially in places like Washington or Idaho. There's one place that is this little hick town but I swear it was the most fun I have ever had on the water."

"Don't get me wrong, but I feel like we did something similar at the waterpark. I'm all for it though," Jack smiles.

"I knew about his aversion to horses and that he's never ridden a horse, have you?" Frank asks.

"Ridden horseback? Yes."

"Either of you ever been electrocuted by a fence?" Frank takes a sip with a smile. 

"Yes, but not by a fence," Jack's smile fades.

"What?! Why?! Oh my god! My poor boys!" Frank places his drink down and pulls Jack into a hug.

"Hey we survived," Jack says, rubbing Frankie's back.

"But it's not ok! My dumb ass tried to cow tip and got shocked. Not in some awful torture-esqe way."

Brock takes his second shot, knocking down the last three pins before turning to face the group. "Look at it this way. We both know we can withstand fifty thousand volts."

"Again, you shouldn't truly know that though. Just saying. My poor potato and pecan…" Frank trails off. He's given Jack the nickname pecan in his head before but not verbalized it cause he knows Jack hates nicknames.

"Pecan?" Jack asks.

"Yeah you didn't hear that… it was a figment of your imagination." Frank says softly.

Mike gets up and pats Brock on the shoulder. He picks up his ball and hucks it down the lane, taking down the middle pins only leaving three standing, "Fuck." 

Once the ball comes back he throws again and takes the pin on the far right but leaves two standing, "Drink Frank." 

"You might actually have a chance he keeps playing like this," Ray chuckles as he pats Brock's shoulder, "I'm getting more drinks, anyone want a refill?" 

Gerard and Bob lift their beers to him. Ray looks at Jack then Brock. "Gents?" 

“Sure,” Jack grins. “Get some more for Brock. As the birthday boy, he’s entitled to not play designated driver.”

“He’s just trying to get me to play worse than I already am,” Brock chuckles. 

"Alright. A couple purple nurples and cowboy blowjobs for Brock and what are you drinking Jack?" Ray smiles at Brock.

“Dealer’s choice, floof bro.”

"Alrighty. I'll be back." Ray pats Jack on the shoulder and disappears. 

Bob's eye catches on to something by the pool tables and keeps his gaze. Two pretty ladies attempting to play pool. He glances at the group who were talking amongst themselves and takes the opportunity to slip off across the bar to make _friends._

“No, really, why did you say Pecan? Did you give me a _nickname_?” Jack asks Frank.

"It's **not** a nickname cause you _hate_ them but more something I have called you before in my head, little pecan pie. Spicy pecan. It's dumb." Frank shrugs, "I have a lot of them in my head."

“But why that as compared to other nuts? And why me as a Pecan?” Jack was just flabbergasted and so confused.

"I dunno. It just came to me once when we went to that concert a while ago and pecan popped in my head."

Brock shakes his head and returns to the lane. The last ball went really well. He just needs to not let it wobble-spin or something halfway down the line. His brows furrow and he focuses. Letting it fly but twisting his wrist at the last second, sends the ball flying down the lane, straight-laced and smashing into the pins and knocking them all down. He does a little fist pump in victory.

"Holy shit Brock! Good job!" Frank says a little shocked.

“Told you I was learning.” Brock grins at Frankie and sits, watching Mikey stand up and take his shot.

Mike stands and throws. His intentions to win are no longer what they once were. A little part of him wants to get Frank drunk. He clips three pins and shrugs. He lines up his shot and takes four more pins out. He looks at Frank who grimaces a little and takes another shot.

Brock pats Frankie on the knee and rises, going back to the lane. Now that he knows what the exact combination he needs to get a strike, he copies his exact moves, and takes the shot. He grins again as it knocks all the pins down. He kinda likes this. He grins at Frankie again. 

"Like a very cute duck to water." Frank grins at him. The smile on his husband's face made the butterflies in his chest flutter. This is one of the reasons he loves Brock so very much. He's goofy. And perfect.

“Hey, you guys are the ducklings! Not me!” Brock laughs, plopping down in the seat. He takes out his phone and turns the vibe on. Frankie’s relaxed. Time to ramp him up. 

Frank twists a little in his seat. He moans ever so slightly. His eyes lock on to Brock as his mouth falls slightly open. 

Ray returns with a tray of shots and drinks for the boys, "I come bearing gifts." 

He hands the beers to the boys and then a Jack and Coke to Jack. He places a rainbow of colored shots in front of Brock. "Salut." 

Frank makes grabby hands for Brock. He needs to kiss Brock.

“You gave me the gayest drink ever, didn’t you, Sunshine?” He grins and winks at Frankie.

"That was the goal with a big blow job in the middle." 

Brock pauses in picking up the drink. He blinks in confusion, “Come again?” 

"A blowjob shot in the middle." Frank points to the one with whipped cream.

“Ah. Okay,” Brock nods his understanding. “Thanks for the clarification, _Frankie_.” He gives a little glare at Sunshine for not being more specific, cheeks a little pink. He’s curious to know what is in the drink though. But maybe he’ll just figure it out later. He downs the shot.

"Enjoy Brock." Ray pats his shoulder. He watches Frank squirm a little in his seat. 

"You're up Brock." Gerard says softly.

Frank can feel the tension building fast in his hips. He wants to moan and beg Brock for more. He grips the seat and swallows hard.

Brock stands and goes over to the ball dispenser and picks up his ball, tucking it under one arm while he pulls out his phone and switches the vibe to a hard and rapid beat with a long pulse at the end. In one stride, he walks over to the line, and bowls the ball down the lane, striking again. He turns and gives Mike a smirk before sitting next to Frankie, one hand very high up his thigh. He leans in, whispering, “Having fun?”

Frank makes a soft whimper at the feeling of Brock's breath on his cheek. "A...blast," He struggles to get the words out. He clenches his thighs and bites his lip. One hand grabs Brock's wrist and holds on tight at the extended pulsating part before it returns to the pattern, "Baby." 

"Yes," he whispers in Frank's ear. 

"I'm gonna…" Frank starts but has to stop before a loud moan comes out, "Please." 

Pulling away, Brock picks up another shot and turns the vibe down to the lowest setting. He doesn't need Frankie _announcing_ their game to the others. He downs the shot and relaxes as he watches Mike-n-Ike take his turn.

Frank breathes deep. He is still close to coming but the need isn't as urgent. He glances to Gerard who was giving him a look. His cheeks flush as he exhales and takes a shot. His body was already warming from the cheap tequila not to mention the pulsating inside of his ass.

"How are you good at this?" Mike asks, "You just learned."

"He does this. He's good at picking up things and mastering them." Frank says softly. His heartbeat was still fast but he was able to keep his cool.

“I have a near-perfect aim. Once I figured out the right amount of power I needed, the trajectory, and where to hit, it got easier. Once it’s committed to muscle memory, I’ll never miss again.” He smiles as he takes his last rainbow colored shot.

“Brock has to be excellent in math to be a sniper,” Jack says, sipping his drink.

"There's gotta be something you can't master..." Ray says with a mischievous smile.

“Well he’s scared of horses and the cold so do with that what you will,” Jack offers, ignoring the glare from his brother he received in return.

"Winter horseback races?" Mike offers. He taps Brock's shoulder and nods towards the bowling lanes.

"Having sex with a woman." Frank snickers.

“No,” Brock’s voice is hard as he stands up and makes his way to the lanes. 

"No to both?" Frank stage whispers to Ray with a devilish smile. A little part of him wants to push buttons and rile Brock up.

"That's kinda a given, I think," assess Jack, watching Brock.

"We'll find something." Ray smiles. 

Mike stands beside him and watches Brock as he gets ready to bowl.

Jack decides to do a little research online, hopefully he'll find something that they could do tonight that will totally embarrass or ruin his brother. Absolutely, he offers, "We could always try pool or go to a club and see how many phone numbers we could get for the end of the night- women only. And by we, I mean Mike and Brock."

"I would totally be up for that." Mike smiles, "I am sure we could tie." 

"We could do that." Gerard giggles at the idea of Brock hitting on women.

"No," Brock says simply, throwing his ball and striking again. He returns to his seat.

Frank exhales a little as he rolls through another wave of heat that hits him and makes his hips stutter. He struggled to keep himself from moving but that wave was strong.

"Brock gets embarrassed when people hit on him. It's one of my favorite things about him," Frank says, looking at his husband with starry eyes.

"Unless they are my type or I'm already interested. I'm used to being the flirter, not being flirted on? With?"

"With." Ray affirms.

"Grazi."

Gerard watches Frank's face. He looks to Brock then Frank again. 

"We have two rounds left, you gonna make it Frankie?" Mike asks as he returns to the group.

"Oh, he'll _come_ around soon enough. He'll be just fine." Brock leans over and kisses him. He whispers in his ear, "This is my new favorite game. I can't wait to fuck you as soon as we get back to the hotel."

Frank nods eagerly with a smile, "I'm good." His insides were fluttering with excitement at Brock's words. He wants Brock to fuck him so badly. The idea makes something inside of him snap and begin to crumble, he's on the edge. His eyes close as he bites his cheek. 

"After this, what's next?" Gerard asks.

"Well, sadly, I do have an early flight tomorrow so I can't stay out too late. I've never been super comfortable sleeping on the plane with my mom and sister," Jack says, finishing off his drink. "Maybe we should join Bob, he seems to be doing rather well at the pool tables."

"That's an excellent idea, Jack!" Ray grins seeing his friend hitting on two ladies.

"We could make it interesting. Perhaps with a monetary exchange involved? Or better yet, maybe we should go to a club. Loud music and dancing," Brock suggests quietly.

Frank tilts his head back and inhales sharply as he comes again. He curls his toes in his shoes and tries his hardest to regain composure. This orgasm was slow and left Frank's skin feeling like it was red. He's never been more thankful for sitting in a chair. He would have collapsed. His need to touch Brock was overwhelming.

"Good boy," Brock whispers, shutting the vibe off. He can't stop staring and watching Frankie's face.

Frank eyes open and focus on Brock. He cups his face and kisses him softly. His entire body was buzzing.

"I'm totally down for pool. Especially if we can win some money." Mike grins at his brother. 

"Chris might kill me if I go clubbing." Ray chuckles.

"B, tag." Mike says as he softly touches his friend's arm.

“Thanks. Sorry, I get a little handsy when I've had a few drinks,” Brock winks at Mike-n-Ike.

Frank grins, "I don't mind." 

"We know. You two are the lovebirds and we're the ducklings." Ray snickers then sighs.

“Aw, Sunshine. If you are feeling neglected, I've got extra loving to go around," Brock snickers.

"Oh I have a lot of loving back at the hotel waiting for me. I'm in no short supply, pumpkin. I'm just saying you guys are just so _close_ and it's kinda cute in a diabetic coma kinda way." Ray says with a coded smile.

“I’m not sure if I should apologize or boast that we’re cute,” Brock says, shaking his head and getting up to bowl his final strike.

"Motherfucker. I can't beat that." Mike says a little sad. He rises to his feet and bowls with his dominant hand. He gets all but one down. Cussing under his breath he goes again and misses, "I'm retired. I'm done. I got beat by a newbie. I'm getting too old for this." 

“I’m sorry? Maybe you can consider it beginner’s luck?” Brock offers before sitting back down with Frankie. He likes seeing all the little x’s on the computer screen. He didn’t think he would have ever got a perfect score with the way he practiced.

"Nah it was pretty awesome seeing you blossom. Good game, B." Mike offers his hand.

Frank stirs his ice a little as Gerard leans into his space.

"Did you just get off?" Gee whispers softly. Frank's face blushes and he shakes his head no violently. Frank's hand goes to Brock's knee and squeezes. 

“Thank you Milky Way,” Brock grins at Mike-n-Ike. “Do you guys want to go play some pool? I could challenge Bob at bowling and steal his money for touching my sister. Or go back to the hotel for the night?” He doesn’t want to go back to the hotel. He doesn’t want to go to bed. He just wants to draw this night out for a long as possible.

"Let's take Bob's money then call it a night. That away Jack isn't a zombie in the morning." Ray says with a nod. 

"Sounds good to me." Gerard says leaning back and watching Brock's face. He's unbothered by Frank's strange behavior. Maybe he was reading into it.

"I'm going to get something else to drink." Frank says shifting slightly and feeling the moisture between his legs. He slides off the seat and glances at Brock. He needs another drink and more water. 

“Drink some water. I don’t want you to get dehydrated,” Brock calls after him with a little smirk and a knowing look.

Frank rolls his eyes and approaches the bar. He should be a shit and not get water. Just get like a double gin and tonic. It was that brat side in him coming out. That side was getting impatient. He glances back and sees his love and his friends laughing and talking. He doesn't notice the blonde girl next to him with a smile. He gives her a smile and orders his drink. He chats her up while he waits for his drink. He glances to the side to check on Brock. He says goodbye then heads back to the table. He puts his drink down and sits beside Brock with a smile.

"What's the plan?" He asks the group but looks only at Brock.

“Pool. No, uh, I’m bowling against Bob.” Brock suppresses a yawn and sighs heavily. He needs another drink. Maybe with caffeine.

"Baby. Maybe we should call it a night?" Frank stokes Brock's cheek. He can see how tired Brock's gotten in the five minutes he's been gone.

He rubs his face and shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Just need another drink. We should save the two ladies Rabbit is with and bring him over.”

Frank purses his lips and gets a tone with his love. "Brock." 

“Frankie?” Brock tilts his head and scrunches up his nose. Are they playing some form of name game? “Sunshine? Rabbit? Mike-n-Ike… Elmo?”

"Babe, you're tired… exhausted. I know this because I know you." Frank says with a serious face, "I'll finish my drink, maybe Jack can call a car for us and Mike will pay the tab. Then we go back and rest."

"Frank's right. We should head back. It's been a long day." Ray says with an unexpected yawn.

"I'll go get mister player." Gerard says with a nod.

“No. No, we’re good. I’m good. Besides, I won fair-n-square. I’m supposed to pay the tab. I wanna play pool.” Brock stands and grabs someone’s glass and downs it. He grimaces and shudders at the taste before heading over to the pool hall area.

Frank looks at Jack. He feels like he's not being heard and he doesn't understand why. His drink’s gone just like his husband. 

“Brock, come on,” Jack calls after his brother. He follows him. “The guys are tired. Frank’s ready to go. They got a good idea; I don’t like sleeping on the plane with Mom and Brooke. I think it’s time we go back to the hotel and wind down.”

"Yeah. It is getting late Brock." Bob says hearing the tone of Jack's voice. Something is wrong with Brock.

Mike has made his way to pay for the drinks while Jack herds Brock. 

“I’m not ready to go back,” Brock responds. He can feel panic rising like acid in his throat. He’s not ready to go back to the hotel. To call it a night. He’s not okay with the night coming to an end. He’s not ready for tomorrow.

Jack’s face softens and he goes to his older brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go back. Maybe watch a movie or something if you aren’t ready for bed. But the others are, and it’s not fair to them to push them.”

Sighing hard and closing his eyes, Brock nods. His brother is right. Jack is usually always right; that was why he was the voice of reason and his keeper. Reluctantly, he follows Jack and Rabbit back to the group. When he reaches Frankie, he pulls him into a hug and nuzzles Scorpio.

Frank pushes fingers into Brock's hair, "I love you, baby." 

"Alright. We are paid for." Mike rejoins the group, "Car will be here in 10."

"Maybe we should get some fresh air?" Gerard says with a smile.

“I was supposed to pay Mike-n-Ike,” Brock grumbles as he takes Frankie’s hand and walks towards the exit. In his other hand is the atrocious bowling shoes. He rather enjoyed learning the new sport; if it’s even called that. Maybe in the future he could do this again but with better shoes. As they walk by the desk, Brock sets the shoes down on the counter and nods his thanks to the attendant before stepping out into the warm night air.

Frank squeezes Brock's hand. 

"It's all good Brock, it's my birthday present for you. Drunk." Mike grins and pats his shoulder.

The band chats quietly as the uber rolls up. Each member files into the large SUV before the driver hauls ass back to the hotel. The band unloads and trudges into the hotel. No one says more than good night as they enter their rooms. 

Frank pushes their door open for Brock to enter the room. He watches him sit on the bed. He approaches Brock and strokes his cheek, "I love you. You know that right?" 

Looking up at him, he smiles, “Yes. I love you too. How’s your underwear? Are they still wet?”

"Yeah. They are." Frank smiles before leaning down and kissing him, "I'm dying to get this thing out of me." 

“I’m dying to taste you. And get something better _in_ you,” Brock says huskily, reaching for Frankie’s pants button. “God watching you come was so fucking hot. God, I wanted nothing more than to pull you into the bathroom and fuck you. Watching you was amazing, perfect, sexy. Made me want to see more. I love you.”

"At first, it felt weird. Like I was doing something wrong but it's hot. Trying to keep myself from letting anyone know. I like this game." Frank pushes his hips forward as he runs fingers in Brock's hair, "But it was even sweeter knowing that I get you at the end of it."

“Good because I need us to do this again,” Brock replies, low and rough. “I loved it when you came in front of the others. It was sinful but delicious. Seeing you struggling to keep together was erotic. Knowing that each time your hips moved it was because you were cumming. I can't get enough. I love it. I love it when you cum in your underwear. ‘S so fucking hot.”

"I do aim to please." Frank moves closer as he straddles his lap. The need to pee hits him like a ton of bricks. He tries to push the feeling aside as long as possible. He kisses Brock deep.

He returns the kiss, burying one hand in Frankie’s hair and his other up against his ass, pushing him closer. A moan escapes and he pulls away to nip along his love’s jaw and suck hard on his throat. “I love you. Need you.”

Frank lets out a moan that's been dying to escape his mouth. It's louder than he expected. His own hands pull at his shirt. He wants to be touched badly, "I love you more…" 

He leans into Brock's body and pulls at the hem of Brock's shirt. He pulls the shirt off and places his own kisses into Brock's skin along the collarbone and neck until he reaches his ear, "I've been dying for you to fuck me like a good little whore." 

Moaning, Brock tries to get Frankie’s pants opened and off. He slides one hand down and into the waistband, cupping his perfect ass through the underwear. Frank whimpers into his ear. He rises a little for Brock. He uses a free hand to push his jeans down. 

"Baby..." Frank whispers before kissing Brock.

Brock moans at seeing the dark, wet, cum soaked patches on Frankie's underwear. His thumb swipes over the freshest wet spot and brings it to his mouth, licking the digit. He groans, needing more.

Frank moans at the touch and forgets for a moment his own needs. His hips push forward. Brock's mouth waters and he rises, turning them around and laying Frankie on the bed. He lowers down and licks across Frank's soaked underwear, latching on and sucking. God, he tastes so amazing.

He whimpers as his hips shake slightly as he watches Brock. He touches Brock's hair, his husband is fucking beautiful. 

Once most of the cum is licked and sucked up, Brock kisses up Frank's body, slotting himself between his legs and pressing their cocks together. His hips roll a little as he pins him down. He grabs his love and pulls him into a hard, needy, kiss. 

Frank returns the kiss with the same passion. He pushes back against Brock and moans, the feeling of his cock against Brocks was amazing. He pushes against Brock and the toy hits his prostate making him harder than he was before as he groans. He pulls back slightly, "Brock. I have to pee. I'm sorry!" 

His hips pause in their rutting and it takes a moment for Frankie's words to register. He doesn't want to stop. He sighs a little, not wanting this to end. He can feel the pull off exhaustion grabbing at him. "Really? Now? Can you wait until we're done?" 

"I'll be fast. I promise… I'm sorry I swear!" Frank begs a little. 

"But I don't want to get up," Brock grins evilly. He's got the image of Frank squirming beneath him as he tries to escape and it interests him greatly. He'll move of course, at some point. He wants to feel his trapped bird. This might be hotter than the discovery of the Magic Spot. This would be uncontrollable.

Frank bites his lip and pushes his lip ring. He doesn't want to move either. He wants Brock, but he needs to pee, "I'll squirm out..." He leans up and kisses Brock. He shifts slightly to get his body free. The toy moves in him and a little moan pushes out. His hips wiggle a little before pushing up into Brock. His husband was heavier than he remembered. He whimpers, "At least pull the edge out of me!" 

"Go on," Brock relents and smiles softly. Giving Frankie a quick kiss, he rolls off of his husband and lets go. His hands go to his pants and begin to remove his jeans and underwear. He'll strip down the rest of the way while waiting… 

"Oh my god! Thank you!" Frank says as he bolts off the bed and into the bathroom. He drops his undies at the door and tries to go but can't. He groans and contorts his body. He pulls at the base of the toy but it doesn't move. He's too tense. He sits on the toilet and the exhales before pulling the toy out of himself. The need to pee takes over and feels amazing. He leans back for a moment then sits forward. He flushes, drops the toy in the sink and washes his hands quickly. 

Frank returns to the room to find Brock starfished across the bed, naked and snoring, "Brock?" 

He waits for a moment but gets no reply. He shakes his head and goes back to the bathroom. He washes the toy off and lays it on a hand towel. He showers then joins Brock in bed. 

"You fought so hard that sleep whooped your ass, baby," Frank whispers, kissing his forehead before strong arms wrap around him and pull him under.


	24. The Highway to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road to hell is paved with good intentions... while darkness descends on our boys.

Frank wakes up covered in sweat with Brock holding him tighter than when he'd fallen asleep. It makes him wonder if he's having bad dreams. He kisses his husband's chest and snakes a hand between them. He'd been a good boy all last night. Now he wants to be a little devil. His hand finds Brock's cock and wraps around it. He makes long, slow strokes on him. He starts with kisses then lets them turn into nips along Brock's throat. The idea of waking his husband up like this is insanely hot.

Brock shifts and stirs with a groan. After a stretch, he pulls the hot body in his arms, closer, seeking out his favorite spot to hide and nuzzle. He's not fully awake yet, but he's aware of a hand on his dick and Frankie at his throat. He groans as he tries to wake up.

"Wake up and play with me," Frank whispers before continuing to kiss on his chest and neck.

"Whut timez it?" 

"Morning." Frank whispers with a smile against Brock’s skin as his hand kept moving, "Plenty of time to play." 

Another low groan escapes from Brock's chest. He's not up. He's not functional. He doesn't want morning. As childish as it is, there's a part of him that thinks that if he doesn't get up, he doesn't have to face the day. It's born of fear and irrational logic that is something akin to a child hiding under the covers from the monster in the closet. There's an ache in his chest again. Last night's bar party helped ease it but now it's back and with a vengeance. He kisses Frank's neck and hugs him, needing contact. "Not awake enough..." 

"I can stop," Frank says softly as he takes his hand from between them and strokes Brock's side.

"Who said anything about stopping? Just said I'm not awake enough." He does love the touch though. He arches into the touch. His touch starvation has eased a little but he still needs it.

"Oh." Frank smiles, "I half expect you to start purring." His legs push between Brock's knees. He kisses Brock's chest as his hands roam over his skin.

"Just imagine I am. I would but I don't have the vocal cords for it." He leans down and nuzzles Frank's face, seeking and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Frank kisses him back, "You fell asleep on me last night." He grins wide. One hand slides over the top of Brock's ass. 

"I'm sorry. Lemme make it up to you," he murmurs. He shifts again, arching his hips up and moving so he's properly in missionary position. He rolls and pushes up against Frank's cock, working them both to hardness.

A moan comes from Frank before he leans up and kisses Brock. "You wanna make it up to me?" He asks with a playful smile. His fingers run over Brock's back as he pushes against his husband.

He hums in agreement. "Got something in mind?" 

"I was told if I was good, that I'd be fucked properly." Frank says raising an eyebrow, "Good enough I need to be gagged I believe I was told."

Well shit, he was right. Brock did promise that. But that was also after his kink got hit several times enough to drive him wild enough to follow through with his promise. He's not anywhere near the right mood for that level of response. Last night, he would have. Hell, he wanted to. This morning though? Opposite end of the spectrum. Perhaps he can work himself up during the foreplay.

"But, I wouldn't mind soft and slow. I just want you." Frank says softly, pressing lips to Brock's arm.

"I want to give you what I promised. I'm just not worked up enough; last night was different. We can get me there with some foreplay." 

Frank nods and leans up to kiss Brock again. He's got an idea but he's not sure if it will work. He rolls his hips against Brock. "I don't need what you promised but..." Frank trails off thinking of how he should put his request. He looks up at Brock's big brown eyes and can't help but melt.

"But? Yes, we will have plenty of butt play. Can you be more specific?" Brock smirks and chuckles softly.

"Oh, that's cute. Very cute! You could suck me off..." 

"I do love being mouth-fucked," Brock agrees. 

"Exactly. What's better foreplay than that?" Frank kisses him. The wheels in his head were turning, "Or not. I could stroke you off." 

Frank wonders if this was a bad idea. Maybe they should just go back to sleep and wait until Charleston to do anything. Maybe Brock was still weirded out by fucking in a Disney hotel. His hand goes back to Brock's cock and starts the slow stroke that he'd done before.

"I'd rather choke on your dick and soak the sheets instead," Brock growls out, kissing Frank hard before shimmying down his body, kissing and nipping hard everywhere he can reach. He pauses at his hip, sucking harder and biting the dove there. He needs to leave a mark, a claiming one that will bruise and have teeth indented. His tongue swipes over the angry flesh, trying to soothe before he sucks again and worries at it. Glancing up at Frank's face, he growls, "You're mine." 

Frank lets out a hiss then a moan as his head rocks back, "I'm only yours." His words are louder than he expected. The possessive tone of Brock's voice sparks something inside of him that not only stokes the fire but also easily turns him into putty in Brock's hands. He regains focus and pushes fingers into Brock's hair, he's waiting for the right time to drop the second half of his idea.

"Gonna mark you up for the whole world to see. Fans at every show are gonna see your bruises." Brock growls before going back to lavishing attention on the dove. Once he's satisfied, he continues working his way down.

"No one's gonna see the little birdie, silly." He says with a playful voice. 

"Who said I was stopping there?" Brock kisses Frankie's inner thigh, just out of reach of his cock.

Frank whimpers a little at the touch, his cock aching the anticipation as he watches Brock. He sits forward a little more to get a better view, "You have… plans?" Frank manages to get out with only a soft moan in the middle.

Brock just gives him a sly grin before getting into the right spot he needs to get off.

"One thing," Frank says after a big exhale to steady himself.

"Oh?" Brock asks, nosing up his cock and licking across the head. God, he smells and tastes so damn addictive. 

The small touch sends goosebumps over his skin and a small noise to come out. Frank's gotta focus. He needs to get out what he needs to say, then enjoy.

"You can't cum until I say you can." Frank grins wickedly with a raised eyebrow. 

Brock considers this for a moment. Then nods, "Okay." 

"Good," Frank says with a nod.

Brock takes Frankie's cock in hand and licks along the length before swirling his tongue around the head and swallowing him down whole. He moans low in his chest.

"Oh fuck Brock!" Frank moans as he watches his cock disappear into his boyfriend's mouth. His fingers run through his hair then release. He wants to let Brock work first then go to town.

Brock pushes the hard length down his throat until his lips touch skin. Since being with Frankie, what little gag reflex he had before has slowly faded to nearly non-existent. He rests against Frankie's groin, just breathing through his nose and swallowing around the thickness in his throat.

Frank groans and cusses softly, his nails scrape his scalp. His hips stutter a little into Brock's throat. After a moan, he rests back on the bed and lets Brock pull back and suck on the head of his cock while a hand carefully rolls his balls in the palm.

Once the hand moves from his _family jewel_ s, he grips the hair on Brock's head and begins to thrust into his throat. Measured and steady thrusts. He enjoys the feeling of Brock's humming throat as he forces himself down deeper. "Your throat is amazing. Oh fuck!" 

With a deep groan, Brock pulls off, eyes blown wide and mouth drooling. He pants a little against Frankie's skin. "Throat fuck me? Please. Fuck me." 

Frank nods eagerly. He grips the hair on the back of Brock's head and doesn't start slow. His hips bucking into the perfect hot mouth. He moans louder as he pushes himself faster. He feels a sharp shift inside of him that tells him he is winding up faster. "Fuck, oh fuck baby!" Frank groans. 

With a tightened grip, Frank stills his hips and holds Brock down. His husband's hips were pushing and rolling into the mattress below them. It's an instinct that Brock is winding himself up. He feels his throat flexing and relaxing around him and it is heavenly. He pulls him off and grins down. He can see the need in Brock's eyes, "I love you so fucking much. Fuck your perfect." He grins at him then puts his beautiful mouth back to work. Each push of his hips makes him build and build until he can't handle it. He can feel himself crumbling with each final frantic thrust into Brock's throat. He breaks and cums with a cry.

His hand loosens its hold on his husband's hair as his hips slow. 

Whimpering, Brock eagerly swallows the perfect sweet and saltiness that was his husband's delicious cum. He loves the taste on his tongue and he tries to let it linger before pulling off. Another whine escapes as he forces himself to stop rutting into the mattress. Frankie said not to come. He looks up at him, pleadingly, "Please. Let me come, baby." 

"You wanna come?" Frank grins, "What if I say no?"

This is not what he expected and it throws Brock for a loop. "What?" 

"Yeah, I'm gonna say, no..." Frank smirks.

".... Why?"

Frank has no plan beyond no. His voice is a little shaky as he answers Brock, "Cause I said no." 

Brock frowns and tries to figure out this new side of Frankie. He doesn't exactly like being told no. But if this is his last time seeing Frankie for a while then maybe he should be a little more indulgent. He wants Frankie to feel loved and taken care of. He needs his husband to remember this time and care through the dark times that he knows will be happening. Except… he really doesn't submit well.

"Kiss me," Frank says low.

With a little growl, Brock surges forward and kisses him hard, one hand burying in Frank's hair and pulling, hard. Demandingly.

Frank moans into the kiss and pulls back, "Cum in my mouth." 

"Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Gag you. I'm not doing both," Brock growls.

"I don't. I just want you to cum." Frank caves under the growl from Brock.

"This is about you. Pick." 

His head spins at the idea of having to choose. "Fuck me." 

Brock kisses him hard again before moving to grab the lube. Returning quickly and blanketing Frankie's body with his own, he kisses him before attacking Scorpio, giving himself time to back away from the edge and Frankie to meet him halfway. His hands roam over and down Frank's sides, ghosting over the Magic Spot and toying with his nipples.

Frank moans and squirms, he loves the mixture of sensation. A hand slides up Brock's chest. His fingernails run over the skin slightly. He lets out a breathy moan, "I love you." 

"I love you more," he replies breathily into his husband's ear. He goes back to making Scorpio a dark angry red shade before making his way down to his collarbone and sucking a hickey there as well. Pulling away to coat himself and line up, he forgoes prep and pushes his way in.

Frank lets out a little cry. His fingers grip Brock's side. He loves the face Brock makes at the beginning of everything. The way his mouth falls slightly open and his eyes shut for just a moment. He hooks a leg around Brock and kisses his husband as he holds on.

Moaning deep, Brock has to take several deep breaths to get used to the tightness that was Frankie's perfect ass. How his love always felt tight enough to be a virgin, Brock will never know nor question it. One hand grips the stupid Mickey headboard tightly as the other puts Frankie's leg over his shoulder before pressing into the mattress near his love's head. His hips draw back, pulling his cock out until he feels the head catch on a ring of muscle then slams back in hard as he can. 

"Fuck," he cries out at the intense tight feeling. He repeats the motion.

Frank cries out. His fingers tighten their hold on Brock's skin. The hard slam from Brock's hips hardens him immediately. His back arches as he does his best to keep up with the pace. He moans out loudly, "Oh god! Brock! Feels..so fuckin good!" 

Frank pushes back against Brock, creating their rhythm between them. He leans forwards and kisses Brock's chest. He rakes his teeth on the skin after the kiss and pulls back.

"Fuck Frankie. Do it again, shit," he pants, hips rapidly slamming into him. 

Frank isn't sure what he did but repeats, improvising a little and biting this time instead of being careful. "Please baby, don't stop!" Frank begs. His forehead presses into Brock's chest.

Moaning, with his head tipped back, Brock speeds up, moving his hand from the headboard and placing it on the mattress for leverage. He can hear the headboard ramming into the wall and it only spurs him on.

Frank's pleas become incoherent moans and cries as he writhes underneath Brock. The speed of Brock's cock slamming inside of him tips him over the edge and soon the heavy coil in his stomach getting tighter and begins to crack. "I'm close!" Frank whines out.

"Gonna cum… need to… oh fuck…," Brock pants, "Need it. Need you. Please, come for me. Oh fuck." He can't stop now. He's so close. His entire body feels electrified as everything tightens. Just a little bit more.

Frank tightens around Brock's cock. "Mark me. Choke me. Don't stop. Please! Cum inside of me!" He can feel the panic in his body as the need to come again snaps. He needs more. He needs it rough. He needs his husband. 

"Fight me," Brock manages to get out as he shifts his weight, wraps a hand around Frankie's throat and rabbits hard into his husband.

Frank wraps a hand around Brock's wrist as he squirms and tries to shake out from under his husband. He moans out as he pushes his chest against the other man as he struggles, "Oh fuck! Brock!" 

Clearly, he isn't choking him hard enough for Frank to still be able to speak. He tightens his grip and presses upwards, cutting off air.

Frank squeaks out a little as he struggles against Brock. The orgasm building and building, the new sensation of needing air consuming him.

Brock's orgasm hits him hard and fast, causing a loud string of curses in a mix of English and Italian, body shaking from the intensity. Waves rush over him that steals his breath away before his body turns boneless. 

Frank crumbles inside as he cums. His free hand grips the sheets as the other one’s nails dig into Brock's wrist. His hips stutter as he clenches hard on Brock's cock. He would be begging and crying out. He wants to scream out Brock's name. But his head is spinning as his body softens. His eyes lock with Brock's as struggles for air.

Brock removes his hand and fights to stay upright and not collapse on top of his husband. He's shaking. "Fuck. I love you so much." 

"I love you more than anything." Frank says panting out before pulling Brock down on top of him to kiss him, "Fuck that was hot." 

He really can't respond just yet, his heart seems to be stuck in his throat and he can't breathe himself. Every muscle in his body seems to have liquefied and stolen all of his energy. Brock nods his response to Frankie before kissing him gently and forcing himself to move off and lay down.

Frank rolls to the side and drapes a leg over Brock's. His hand rests on his husband's stomach before resting his head on Brock's arm. He sighs and snuggles a little closer.

"Should get my phone… check time and… Messages," Brock breathes out carefully. He feels like he ran eight marathons without stopping.

"It's 8 am. Who's messaging you?" Frank asks with a yawn.

"Dunno when Jack leaves fer home."

"I know you're worried about them going back but baby, you'll be seeing them soon!"

"Yeah," Brock yawns out. He's sleepy again.

"Check your phone and we can snooze for a while." Frank kisses Brock's shoulder. He readjusts his position to rest on Brock's chest. "That's gonna bruise." His finger traces the spot where he bit him. 

"'s okay. Fair trade." Brock grumbles at having to reach and grab his phone. He turns it on and glares at the bright light, noticing that he's got a new message from Jack and Ray.

_Jack: Want you to know I love you. We are headed to the airport now to be home for dinner. I'll see you soon. Stay strong. Mom will have your favorite dinner waiting for you._

_Ray: it's 630 in the morning. Really?_

_Ray: You're flying Delta with Chris at 1 pm. We are going to be there with you until the band loads up. I figured we will keep your things in the car during the goodbye._

_Ray: this is Chris. Don't forget your wallet, keys, and cell. Oh and charger!_

_Ray: Have you had the talk? We support and love you._

Brock reads through them quickly, carefully angling the phone so it's out of Frankie's sight. He sighs sadly. His thumb quickly types and sends back a simple no.

_Ray: you need to do it. Rip the band-aid off._

Brock turns off the phone before turning it back on and setting an alarm for ten am and setting it aside. He's not responding to him right now. Sunshine isn't wrong but he can't do it now. He pulls Frankie tight and cuddles him.

"Everything ok?" Frank asks, sleepy. His eyes closed.

"Jack left. They went back home like an hour ago so they can arrive early," Brock murmurs equally sleepy. He's not going to touch on anything Sunshine said. "Set an alarm for two hours. Sleep now." 

Frank nods, "Love you."

Kissing him softly, Brock rolls them over into spoons and nuzzles him. "Love you too, _tesoro_." 

Ten o clock comes fast with the alarm clock screaming alive. Frank grumbles and stretches in Brock's arms. He yawns and strokes his love's arm, "Baby?" His voice is full of sleep.

"Don't wanna move," he grumbles in response.

"Alarm. I'll turn it off… release me? Then I'll come back?" Frank says softly.

"Should get up…" He can't finish his sentence or his thoughts. He can't do anything. But he also can't risk Frank reading the text messages either so he grabs the phone and turns it off.

"Five more minutes?" Frank turns and kisses his neck, "Check out’s at noon." 

"Okay," he whispers, holding him tightly.

The alarm goes off once more and this time it's time to get up. Frank groans and kisses Brock, "Shower time, _polpetto._ " His hand strokes Brock's stomach.

Groaning, Brock stirs and covers his face with an arm. A sigh escapes. "I don't wanna get up. So comfy." 

"I know but the shower will feel good." Frank sighs. 

Another sigh escapes from Brock and he gives in. He's not letting Frankie leave him however and so with a quick roll, he scoops up his husband and carries him into the bathroom. "Mine." 

"I'm yours!" Frank giggles and holds on to Brock, "I miss our bathtub." 

"Me too." 

The shower was sensual as Brock wanted to keep Frank feeling good. He was dreading the impending doom that loomed over them. After the shower and a little making out, they dress quickly and pack quicker to head down to the lobby and meet with the band.

"Brock!" Christa says with a smile and wide eyes.

Brock smiles wide, one arm around Frankie's shoulders. "Morning. Sorry about the wake-up call." 

"I mean it was unexpected but it's fine," Ray says with a smile.

"God, you've got a set of lungs on you." Christa chuckles.

"Yeah, sorry about that…" Frank says with his cheeks flushing. 

"Let's get going so we can meet the bus before Chrissy's flight," Gerard says with a smile. He pushes them to the exits. The band loads their things into the cars and load up. 

Brock can't stop holding Frankie, so he breaks his own rule of safety and pulls his husband into his lap, rationalizing that he could protect Frankie should they get into an accident and Christa could use the extra space. He's holding him tight and only involving himself in the conversation just enough to keep from arousing suspicion. He watches out the window, watching the cars and the shops fly by, lost in his thoughts, his nightmares. They drive by a large strip mall with a bright sign towering over the building, advertising the businesses within. The biggest sign, Toys-R-Us, catches his attention and panic takes him.

"Stop the car. Pull over. We have to stop," Brock says, voice rising frantically, smacking the body next to him as he watches the toy store fade away in the window. "We have to stop!" 

The driver slams on the breaks and sends everyone forward. Frank grips onto Brock's arm.

"Why are we stopping?" Christa asks.

"Turn around. Driver, make a right here and turn back," Brock orders, ignoring her question for now. They'll see soon enough.

The car turns around and stops in front of the store. Frank looks at Brock confused. 

"Toys R Us?" Ray asks, confused.

Brock unbuckles and carefully moves Frank over so he can get out. "Yes. Stay here. I'll be back in less than ten." 

"Ok…" Frank says with a wrinkled forehead.

As soon as the car door closes Christa turns to Frank, "How are you feeling?" 

"I mean my throat is a little sore but I'm good. I can't wait for Charleston. Weirdly enough, Brock's been there but I haven't." Frank babbles a little as he watches out the window.

"But like everything else is good?" Chris asks.

"Great. I've never been happier. This vacation made me feel hopeful for Christmas." Frank says with a touch of dreaminess, "I can't wait to marry him." 

"Well, that's good," Christa says with a smile.

Frank glances out the window and sees Brock coming towards the car with a giant dark teddy bear. His husband's face was bright and all he can see is the huge smile on his beautiful face, "Oh my god!" 

Brock bounds to the car, carrying the four foot tall, chocolate brown teddy bear over his shoulder. He opens the door with a wide grin, "Hi." 

Frank pushes the car door open and jumps out. "Baby!" 

"This is for you. It's almost you-sized." 

"Brock! _Polpetto_! I love it so much!" Frank beams up at him. He grabs his shirt and pulls him down and kisses him.

Grinning into the kiss, Brock wraps one arm around Frank and lifts him a little. He breaks it, happy that his love is happy. "I've got my tiger. Now, you've got your bear. I love you."

"I love you so fucking much!" Frank kisses him again, "I love him so much!"

"I was gonna get you one that was smaller but this was perfect and… maybe he'll sit on the floorboard." Brock sets the bear down to measure its height to Frankie. He giggles, "You wanna sit in his lap?" 

"I wanna sit in your lap," Frank says with a dirty smile. 

"Can we go?" Ray asks.

"I love him so much, baby! This is adorable!" Frank says with a smile. He grabs Brock's hand and pulls him into the car. The bear is placed gently on the floorboard with a small bag that has a giraffe printed on it. Once Brock is seated, he turns and straddles his lap. He kisses Brock. 

"Not in front of the kids, baby," Brock jokes after breaking the kiss. 

"What's in the bag?" Christa asks.

"So I couldn't find the plush right away so I ran through the store, kinda literally. Found my way to the baby department. I have ideas by the way. Anyway, I couldn't resist grabbing this," Brock grabs the bag and hands it to her, "for Baby Floof. To grow into at least but still."

A white onesie with the letters printed in cursive, _the best of mommy + daddy_ across the front in navy blue sat in the bag in a size designed for one to three months.

Christa grabs the bag and opens it. She pulls the onesie out. "I love it so much, Brock!"

"Thank you, Brock! That is so damn cute!" Ray grins and squeezes his shoulder.

The car falls quiet for a moment, "Hey Brock, I have a question?" Gerard asks.

"Hmm?" Brock hums, resting his chin on Frank's shoulder.

"This is a little awkward but last night… were you guys _playing_ a game?" He asks, "Like making Frank come somehow?" 

"Not sure what you are talking about," Brock lies easily as he tries to keep the others in the dark. He, like an idiot, forgot to take into account that Gerard would recognize Frank's signals during orgasm. Mostly because he was distracted trying to keep the night from ending, drinking away the pain, and because he rather pretend his boy and the singer was never a thing, to begin with. He gives an apologetic smile, "But I'm sorry if our late night activities bothered you."

"But. I know." Gerard starts but stops. He decides to approach Frank when Brock's not around. He glances out the window and sighs as the busses come into focus, "Good ole silver bullet." 

"Did you wanna keep _Enzo_ in the bunk or the back room?" Frank asks softly. 

"Back room is roomier for his big butt. What do you think? He might get squished in a bunk." Brock grins, mentally doing cheers that he used the right words and he hasn't broken yet. He can't do this but he's going to anyway. The sight of the bus at the airport makes his stomach churn.

"I think that you're right." Frank smiles, he kisses Brock. 

"Enzo, huh? Does this mean I have _Tony_ the Tiger then?" 

Frank laughs as the car comes to a stop, "No. Absolutely not. But he is the same color as your eyes."

"He is going to be a good cuddler bear," Brock says quietly.

Gerard pushes the car door open and exits. The others pour out leaving Christa behind for a moment. She squeezes his knee and smiles. 

Frank kisses Brock's cheek before grabbing the bear, "Let's go, baby!" 

Brock glances at Christa, pleading with his eyes for her to not leave him or make him do this. Something. Anything. He's not sure what he's begging for at this point. He whispers to her, barely audible, "Get out and say goodbye to the band? _Please_." He blinks away the tears that were already rushing to his eyes before following after Frank.

Christa heads for the boys leaving Frank and Brock. She glances back. 

"Baby. You ok?" Frank asks Brock. He can see the water collecting on his lower lashes.

"You should go put Enzo on the bus, then come back and say bye to Chrissy. Next time you see her, she's gonna be at _least_ twenty pounds lighter…" Brock smiles at his joke before taking his hand and walking them over to the group. He can't do this alone. He can't. He won't be able to speak. At this point, he's fairly certain he's going to puke or the universe is going to tear itself into two and collapse. His anxiety is screaming at him.

"Ok. Smart." Frank quickly runs on the bus and deposits the bear in the back. He kisses the top of the bear then hurries back outside.

Brock is fairly certain he's going to be sick as he sticks close to Christa and Sunshine. He's on the verge of a panic attack and he hasn't said a word yet. He's not sure what's worse, the fact that he's the cause of the pain that's about to come or the fact that it might be irreparable pain. The moment he considers it, he realizes it's the fact that he's having to go against his very nature to protect and do no harm to his own that is the cause of his imbalance in his soul and heart. That was worse. And his gremlins wonder if it's worth dying for.

Frankie returning to say bye to Chrissy snaps him back to reality and he unconsciously grabs onto an arm. 

Frank smiles at Christa. He wraps his arms around her, "I'll see you soon. I can't wait to meet him. Love you, Chris!" He gives her a squeeze and a kiss on her cheek. He steps back as the band slips into the bus. Except for Ray and Brock. 

"I can't do this," Brock whispers under his breath to Ray. He hugs him, hard. His own goodbye. "Help me. Please don't leave me until it's done." 

"I'm staying. You can do this," Ray hugs him tight.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." He pulls away and tries to keep the panic attack that was building at bay. He tries to catch his breath.

"You got this. You know what to do." Ray pats his back.

Frank sees the hug and tilts his head, confused as he approaches them, "What's going on?" 

"Frankie, you know I love you, right? You're my soulmate and we're gonna get married. Right?"

"Yeah, I love you too! I can't wait to be your husband." Frank grins up at him but the smile fades a little.

"Good. Because I need you to hold onto that. I need you to remember that no matter what I'm yours and you're mine," Brock says, face crumbling and tears spilling onto his cheek. He fights to keep some composure.

"Brock! Baby? What's wrong?" Frank's heart hurts.

"I love you. I do. More than my own life, I do. But I'm not going on the bus."

Frank tilts his head as a rush of panic sets in, "Why? What's going on? Why aren't you coming with me? Where are you going?"

"I'm going back with Christa, to stay with her for a few days. Maybe fly home. Because…." Brock has to fight to take a deep breath and say the words, "We need to take a break. For at least a week. It's not a breakup though so _please_ don't think that. But…" He's losing the fight. He's already lost the war. "This is a growth opp- opp- opportunity." 

"What? Why are you breaking up with me? I thought we were good?" 

The words rush out of Brock pleadingly, terror in his eyes and heart, "Not a breakup. Not. I'm not leaving you like that. We just need to take some time apart. Not a breakup! It's not! It's not a breakup. It's not a breakup."

The boys have made their way outside and stick close to the bus. The sound of Brock's voice cracking alarm them and send them running.

"But I love you and I'm trying to be better." Frank's mouth quivers as the tears fill his eyes, "I'll be good. Please don't leave me!" 

"Not a breakup," Brock repeats, panic stripping him of his speech. He tries again. "I love you. So much. But we can be together and still be apart physically. You _are_ my good boy and I love you. But we have some things we need to work out, separately. You need to work on, uh, that is I– Fuck." He can't remember the words anymore! 

A tear rolls down Frank's cheek, "I need to work on what? I told you I will do whatever you need me to do. I told you that… " 

"You need to respect Brock's wishes. He says and does things in your best interest and you still don't follow." Ray says firmly as he glances at his wife. Christa is no help, tears are streaming down her face, "You've taken Brock for granted." 

Frank turns to Ray and clenches his jaw. His pained expression hardens, "Is this your fucking idea?" 

"Yes but I agree with him or I wouldn't be doing this." Brock takes another deep breath, still crying, "After your concussion, my fear for your safety has been ramped up. And then you pulled the stunt that nearly gave me a heart attack and I just- couldn't do it anymore. I can't be security and boyfriend. I can't keep dreaming you are going to fall off a stage and not survive every night. I love you, Frankie. But this isn't the first time you've told me you'll behave and then you don't. This isn't the first time you've made me terrified you are going to die doing something dangerous and it's not even the tenth time you've directly ignored something I've told you not to do. It's hurting me. And I know I have control issues and I'm partly to blame for this. Which is why he suggested a week apart."

"So because _I_ don't listen. Because _I_ am _not_ what you want. You're leaving me, sorry taking a break from me. I’m sorry," Frank says crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not leaving you," Brock snaps. He doesn't understand! Why doesn't Frank listen to him?! It's not a breakup. It's not. He can't live without Frank. He won't live without him. "I've always wanted you. I always will. We are one. But this is a problem for the both of us. Don't you see? It's just a little time apart so we can be stronger together. I'm coming back. It's not just you that's got something to work on. I told you, I do too. We aren't perfect and this is just so we can stomp out a snake in the grass before we get married. Please, Frank. Please understand and believe me." Brock slides to his knees, tears streaming. Frank's words held anger and pain and he's the cause of it all. He's terrified that Frank just broke up with _him_. He'll beg if he has to. Anything to get Frank to understand.

"Fine." Frank says taking a breath in to keep himself from breaking, "We're on a break." 

"I love you," Brock whispers, brokenly. He could feel the little something that rebelled against this in his soul shattering. 

"I know." Frank says trying to keep the tears at bay, "It makes sense now." 

Brock looks up at Frank, face a mess and pain evident. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay, Brock." Frank offers a hand to him.

"You guys just need to relearn how to be yourselves in a relationship. You lost that," Ray says softly. 

Frank's head snaps to Ray, "Yup. Sure have." 

Carefully, Brock stands, feeling as though the ground might move like water and swallow him whole. "I need to learn not to control every aspect of your life. Not to constantly need to keep my sights on you at all times minus bathroom time. I need to not hold on so tight and maybe you won't rebel so much. I need to not be scared of your safety and trust you more and I can't do any of that with you on the road. That's a big reason why I'm putting physical distance between us. My need to control things is hurting us. Your desire to do whatever you want is hurting us. We are too close, so that's why the break. We are consuming each other. I can't tell you what to do or scream at you to be safe if I'm in Italy. It's not a breakup and I'm coming back. It's a learning experience before these things hurt our future marriage."

Frank feels like he might pass out. His head is spinning, "Ok. I'm sorry for everything. If you come back, I'll be better." 

"When. Baby, _when_. It's just for a few days. I'm not leaving _you_ or the band. I'm just taking an extended vacation. Please, _tesoro._ I wanna marry you. This will make us better, stronger. I promise. Trust that we are meant to be together. We aren't over. Ray knows the books so the important paperwork can still get turned into Lauren on time."

Frank squeezes his eyes shut at the word _tesoro_. Tears pour down his cheeks as the voice in his head starts the whispering campaign. Something dawns on him and turns his stomach sour but he keeps it to himself, "If you make it back to Manhattan, your present for your _birthday_ next week got shipped there to your apartment."

"Our," he gently corrects him. "Our unless you are walking away from me, permanent, right now." 

"I've told you since day one, I'm not leaving until, well, until you leave me." Frank pauses, "It's coming to _our_ apartment."

"It's a good thing I'm not leaving you then because I won't survive that." Brock kisses him, hard before lifting him into koala mode. Fresh tears stream down his cheeks, as he holds onto Frank tightly.

"Please don't shut down." Frank says quietly, "If this is what you want, don't stop living."

"It's not what I want. I don't want to do this. Everything is screaming at me not to do this. But. It's not about what I want, but what we need to have a healthier relationship. Fire burns sand before glass is made or some stupid poetic shit like that. I'm doing this for future us that will be thankful we did this. And don't you shut down either. This isn't the end of the world no matter how much our anxieties are screaming. It hurts. But we'll be okay. I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay."

"Ok." Frank nods, "But I'd rather be steel than glass." 

A small laugh escapes. "Yeah. I was gonna say diamond but I forgot how they are made. You're my diamond."

"In the rough maybe..." Frank says softly. The ache in his chest turns to a static feeling. Numbness overtakes him. "I guess I'll see you in Minnesota." _If you come back._ "You are gonna miss your flight, mister. There's Dramamine in your duffle, take two." 

Just when he thought he had gained some semblance of control, Frankie's words rip off the balm he'd been building in his heart and fresh tears fall. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to board an evil plane. He wants to wake up from this nightmare. 

Frank wipes Brock's cheeks, "You got this commander. Just like I have your tags and you have my _G string_. Be good and be safe." 

"Always remember that I love you, _tesoro_. To the ends of the earth and back, I love you. And that we are stronger than our demons. Don't shut everyone out and please don't blame Ray. It's not really his fault; it's nobody's. Please remember to eat and take your meds. No more diving into drum kits. Be good and stay safe, _gattino._ "

"I love you, Brock." Frank strokes his cheek, "Wine isn't a food group, neither is chocolate. But please come back." 

"I'll always come home to you, _tesoro_. Always. Stay away from the cancer sticks- I know you like those when you are stressed. Call your mom instead." He needs to put Frank down but he's having a hard time bringing himself to do so. Reluctantly, he slides him down his body and sets his husband down. "I'll bring you back something from Italy?" 

_If you come back._ "Okay. Make him tall, dark, and handsome. 50’s with a good body, nice smile, and a big heart." Frank gives him a half-smile.

"Promise. My word that I'll be back in a few days, a week. And a gift. It's about time I check in on my dad and the business anyway." Brock steps back but still keeps one hand tightly in Frank's. He doesn't want to let go.

"Let me know when you land. If you want… that is." Frank nods.

"Promise."

He walks Brock to the car. He knows that Brock is going to hold on to the last second, "You'll miss your flight if I keep you." 

"I don't want to go on the evil damn fucking thing anyway," Brock whispers vehemently. "I don't plan on being conscious for it." He opens the car door and pulls Frank into another hard and desperate kiss. "I love you. I'll see you later. I love you."

"When you land don't forget to ground yourself before you get up. I'll be here waiting when you come back." Frank says softly. He doesn't believe a word of it. His panic is bubbling over, "Be good." 

With a nod, Brock forces himself to get into the car and buckle up. Almost immediately he begins to tremble. He grips the seat hard and tries not to break again.

Frank disappears inside the bus. He can't watch the man he loves drive away. He can't help but feel like it's falling back into the same routine he went through with Jamia. She'd dump him to fuck someone then come back after it was over. Or was this the end? The voices in his head no longer whisper. He's got nothing to say to anyone. Nothing positive. Nothing that doesn't involve a fight. This is why Brock was so weird last night. This is why he's been having nightmares. This bullshit. He slams the back door of the bus closed and punches it twice, the second blow sending pain up his arm. He opens the door and throws himself into a bunk and closes the curtains. 

For Frank, the first night is going to be the hardest, everything Brock had said echoed in his head as another impossible round of tears stream down his face. He knows there were good things said but all he remembers are the negatives. _"We need to take a break."_ Frank tosses and turns as the weight on his chest somehow grows heavier from the fact that Brock wasn't there; the fact that it's his fault. 

The remainder of the day had been spent holed up in a bunk drifting between sobbing and sleeping. When it came time for soundcheck he went through the motions. He avoided Ray. Then when it was time to be on stage it felt like he was watching from outside of himself. He didn't perform like normal. His actions were small. Only moving from back to the front of the stage. Even his vocals were weak. It was how he felt. He couldn't do this. Maybe he should quit. Maybe he could… no, that's a coward's way to handle this.

_"We are consuming each other."_ Brock's words echo in his head. _"On an extended vacation."_

Frank's made a plan, the second he gets a chance he's drinking. They have half the day off and he's not going to feel a damn thing. This is how it always starts. _"We just need time apart."_ Soon, it's _"I just don't feel the same way, Frank."_ or _"You're too young for me."_ And then the finishing move of _"No one is going to ever love you Frank because you don't deserve love."_ Well, fuck him, fuck the Rumlows and fuck Ray Toro for this. He should have never rejoined the group. It's been nothing but trouble for his relationship. Fuck them all.

~~

Brock sits stiff, one hand digging hard into the fabric of the seat. He has somehow managed to carefully pick up the pieces that were himself and hold it all together with some tape. He doesn't look at Christa, he doesn't look at anything. They get about a quarter-mile around the airport before Brock suddenly demands to stop and to pull over. Before the car is even fully at a standstill, he's out of the car and into a grassy median, falling to his knees and violently vomiting hard everything in his stomach. He's a sobbing mess again only instead of crying, he wails. Long and loud, he screams his pain because if he doesn't he feels he's going to drown. He needs to get everything out. His world shatters. He wails again until his voice is gone.

"Brock, honey?" Christa asks softly.

He looks at her, slowly and it's like he is peering through a distorted window. He needs to get up. They need to go. Has he moved yet? His brain isn't sure. His eyes tell him no. Carefully he wipes his face on his shirt and tells himself to stand, coaching himself through each movement. He returns to the car and has no memory of how but he slides in and buckles.

"Go," comes the hoarse whisper to the driver. He stares out into the nothing as the car moves again.

"I know it feels like it's the end of the world but I promise you it's not. It's scary and weird to walk away from Frank. But now's the time to evaluate if you are happy. If being with him is what you want and then learning who _you_ are in your relationship." Christa says softly. She knows how much it has to hurt. He's head over heels for Frank. A small part of her doubts if this was a smart choice. 

He doesn't respond. He heard her though. It feels like his body can't do anything anymore and he's locked away inside. He tries to speak but nothing moves, no sound escapes. He wants to tell her he hates her. He hates Ray. He hates them both for making him do this. He hates himself more for following through. Frank and he were happy before his brother meddled in their lives. They had their ups and downs but they were good. Now they were broken. Empty chocolate eyes stare out the window until the driver takes them to their gate. Again, he tries to make himself move or react or something but he can't. It's not until Christa reaches over and touches his arm that he slowly tears his eyes away from a crack in the plastic to look at her, lost and blankly.

"Sweetheart. It's time." Christa says warmly. She knows that is what he needs; kindness and compassion. His heart is broken. "Come on, Brock." 

Numbness begins to settle in, the ache in his chest somehow intensifying. He gets out and moves to the trunk, unsure what to do now. He screams at himself from far away that he needs to grab their things. He needs his stuff. 

"Frank said something about medicine. That was pretty smart. You should take that." Christa says warmly as she picks up a bag. She ushers them along after Brock retrieves the meds. He doesn't remember how many he's supposed to take so he just takes a handful. They check-in, go through security, and board the plane with ease.

Christa worries she won't be able to help move Brock when they land and she's right. He's out of it, his words are jumbled and she almost considers taking him to the hospital but doesn't. The Air Marshall helps to get him in a wheelchair and out of the plane first. She lies a little and says her _husband_ is a nervous flyer. He helps load Brock into her car. 

"You gotta be functional, Brock. I can't carry you." She says as they arrive home. She lightly shakes his shoulder. She gets out of the car and unloads the trunk. His bag is heavy as hell but she manages. She comes back and opens the car door, "Come on, Brock. I'll help you." 

He gives her a slow blink. When did she get there? He's not sure what he's supposed to do. There's a ring in one ear and he swallows what feels like sandpaper. He's so tired. His heart races and yet everything feels heavy.

"Come out of the car." 

Once she gets him out of the car and up into her bed. She spends the rest of the day keeping busy. She tries to wake Brock for dinner, "Brock come downstairs. You have to eat." 

"No not food," he slurs before hugging his plush tiger tighter and falling back asleep. His clothing is soaked with sweat, hair plastered to his face.

Christa sighs. She puts a water bottle beside him on the nightstand. She is not going to force him to do anything; _tonight_. His heart is broken. "You should text Frank and tell him you landed and are ok." 

A soft snore is the only response. The plush tiger stares up at her with glassy eyes and seems to plead its plight of being a substitute Frank.

She pulls the blankets down and pulls his socks off then his pants. She wipes his face with a wet rag and kisses his forehead. Christa spends the rest of the night getting ready for the next day. She falls into bed around midnight and passes out. 

Sleep isn't in the cards her head tells her when she is woken by Brock's thrashing in the bed like he can't get comfortable, he's talking loudly something in what she assumes is Italian only words she understands are Frank, Ray, and No. Her arm reaches back for him and feels hot, sweaty skin. She sighs and rolls out of bed and gets him a wet washcloth. She shakes him slightly, "Brock. I need you to wake up for a couple of minutes."

With a sharp inhale, Brock wakes and immediately groans and tries to curl up as small as possible. Everything hurts. He's cold. He's wet. Where's Frank? He groans out his husband's name, "Frankie?" 

"Oh sweetheart, he's not here. But I need you to take some Tylenol for me, ok?" Christa strokes his face.

"Hurts. Cold. Frankie…" he mutters. He can't find Frankie. He needs him.

"Honey, he's in South Carolina. You're in Jersey." Christa tries to reason with him, "Take these and drink some of this." She puts four pills in his hand and then opens the water bottle.

He does as he's told, sipping the water a little before realizing he's thirsty and winds up drinking more than half of the bottle greedily. He quickly gives it back to her before curling up tighter, freezing more because of the water. Tears fall. He wants Frankie. His blanket. His brother. He wants _safe_. He clutches the tiger tighter and shivers hard both from the fever and from his emotional turmoil.

"I'll lay here and cuddle with you sweetheart." Christa picks up her phone and sends a message to Ray. _Something is really wrong beyond a broken heart. I think he's sick._ She sets her phone down and presses her belly against his back. 

Brock eventually falls back asleep, blessedly without dreams. It's still fitfully as his body fights off a fever while a spiritual war rages on inside him.


	25. Brock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the aftermath of the break, Brock has a week to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'd like to apologize for the long delay. We had skipped over this chapter and the next in favor of continuing on with the story. I had forgotten that I left this chapter unfinished until I posted the previous chapter. That coupled with some real-life issues with work and preparing for the holidays, things have been a little lagging here. 
> 
> I need to make it clear that this chapter is 100% from Brock's POV, even with the unreliable narrator that I tend to do, along with the terrible tense changing. There's never been a beta, we die like men. In this case, women.
> 
> This chapter was written mostly by me, Winterscribe, excluding the appearances of Ray and Christa. So all mistakes are my own and this is a work of fiction and we don't own Marvel people. Next chapter is Frank. It's the SAME WEEK as Brock FYI.

**Day One**

Brock stirs in semi-consciousness and groans in pain. Everything in his body aches, even down to his bones. The bright light streaming through the windows makes his eyes scrunch up, head pounding, and seek out Frankie to hide his face. His arms reach out and find only air. He feels sick, like the world's worst hangover. He doesn't remember drinking. Soft noises of pain and discomfort escape as he shifts in the bed. It feels… Wrong. He turns over in the hopes that Frankie is behind him; a rare occurrence but it happens. His eyes snap open to confirm what his arms tell him. There's nothing there. Then it hits that he doesn't know _where_ here is. His heart rabbits, his throat constricts, and he tries to escape the unknown, limbs getting tangled in the unfamiliar sheets and bedding. How did he get here?! Where is he?! Where is Frankie?!

"Frankie?!" He screams, "Frankie?!

Christa waddles in slowly from the other room. She's in a sundress with her hair pulled up in a bun. "Brock! Brock! Hey! Woah!" She approaches the bed and pulls the blankets away from Brock. 

He turns and looks at her, panic stricken and soaked with sweat. It takes a moment for recognition to register. He doesn't feel good. "Where's Frankie? Where am I?" 

"Frank is in Charleston. You're here with me in New Jersey. Take a breath, sweetheart," Christa says softly. 

He looks around, lost. "How am I here? When? I wanna go home. Don't feel good. Want Frankie. Where's he? Need Koala." He lays back down and curls up. "Hurts."

"I think you picked up a bug on our flight to Jersey, which is why you don't feel good. Were gonna get up ok? We need to get you into the shower. Then you into some sweats and we'll sweat this sickness out. Okay?" Christa says leaning over him, "Come on Brock. We'll get some soup in you and Tylenol."

"I'm cold," he moans and inches his way towards her, everything hurting as if he had been hit by a truck and then ran over a few times. He hates the cold. He shivers hard inside his body and it only makes him hurt more. He wants Frankie. He wants his blanket. He wants to go home.

"Come on my big inchworm." Christa takes his hand and tries to pull him, "Frankie isn't here. You're not together."

"What?" He squeaks out, eyes watering. They aren't together? Frankie broke up with him? Why? When? The tears fall again and his face crumbles. He sobs. Frankie's gone. 

"Yesterday, you told him you needed a break. Remember?" Christa asks, "Sweetheart, do you wanna go back to your house?"

Break? He doesn't get it. He frowns, wondering why his house is important. He's tired, cold, and he hurts. Another shiver wracks his body and his teeth slightly chatter. "Frankie there? We go home? Blanket?" 

"I'm going to get a thermometer and check your temperature." Christa says. She disappears from the room as quickly as she can. She returns with a thermometer. She puts it in his mouth and waits, "If it's higher than 106, we're going to the hospital."

She pulls it from his mouth and frowns at the 105.7 reading, "Up, now. We need to get your temperature down."

"Brock. Now!"

He didn't realize he had spaced out again. He just wanted to sleep. Everything hurts and feels heavy. It takes all of his strength he had plus some he didn't know existed to make his way out of the bed and into a standing position. He just stands there for a moment, eyes drifting off.

"Come on big fella. Let's get you wet." Christa says with a sigh. She scoots under his arm and tries to move him forward. She needs to get him cooled down. He might not like it but she's about to strip him down. Her voice hardens, "Move, Rumlow." 

He starts to move forward but he stops. Something's wrong. He's missing something. He's not sure what but he can't go underwater without it. 

"Brock. Now." 

" _Tigrotto_?" He murmurs. Frankie. Kitten. He needs Frankie.

"He's staying here to guard the bed." 

No. No he can't. He needs him. He can't leave him! Panic rises and with it, so does his stomach. Shakily, he turns and grabs the plush, keeping a death grip on its fur. Its presence calms the panic a little. It's the only thing he has that's Frankie. It's his anchor, giving him a sense of direction amidst the torrential storm within him. He can't let it go. To do so is to be lost.

Christa pulls him into the bathroom. Her voice is not nice, "Strip or I strip you." 

He's exhausted and doesn't have the energy to do anything other than comply. Keeping the death grip on his tiger, knuckles turning white, he slowly, achingly removes his shirt. 

"Give me the tiger while you strip, honey." 

He can't. He can't let it go. It's _Frankie_. He needs it. Just the thought of letting it go set his heart racing and made his palms sweaty. Although that might have been the fever that he didn't know he had. A tight, whispered, "Can't," escapes.

"If he gets wet, then I have to put him in the dryer and then it's an hour without him."

"I can't," he whispers. 

"Fine. Whatever, Brock. You win. I'm not gonna fight you. Get in the shower." Christa sighs. Baby Floof was kicking the crap out of her and her large man baby was being unreasonable.

Her logic filters through his muddy brain and as he slowly removes his underwear, he gets an idea. Stepping into the tub, he sits. He's exhausted anyway and can't find it in himself to stand. One hand holding the paw of the tiger, drapes over the porcelain edge, keeping his _tigrotto_ safe and dry. He sighs and curls up, laying his head on the cool edge off the tub, freezing and heavily fatigued. He whispers as he closes his eyes, "Comp'mise." 

"Alright. Smart thinking." Christa turns the water to lukewarm. She sprinkles menthol and eucalyptus bath salt in the water, "After this, Tylenol and soup. Then bed. You're gonna sweat this out."

He doesn't respond, sleep pulling at him. He drifts in and out, one eye occasionally watching her move about. He wishes the water was lavender but then he realizes it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Frankie is gone.

"No sleeping. I'm going to change the sheets." Christa says touching the top of his sweaty head, "Maybe if you're up to it, we can check your phone. It buzzed a couple times." 

"Frankie…" he murmurs sleepily. The water was warm but not warm enough and he shivers, again. He wished the ice cubes would melt soon. He misses being warm.

"Maybe. I assume so." She smiles.

"'m cold. Where's my blanket?" 

"I'm not sure sweetheart. I'll find it. Okay?" Christa says with a small smile.

Sleep pulls at him and he can't fight it. It blurs his thoughts and memories and for a moment he's back home as a child. He's not sure why his mom is so big but she's going to find the thing. He just needs to stay put. " _Okay Mama,_ " he mutters in Italian as she leaves him. He closes his eyes as he waits for her, softly snoring.

Christa quickly changes the sheets and bedding. She searches his duffle and doesn't find a blanket. She sends a message to Ray who replies that it's his weighted blanket and it's on the bus. 

"Shit shit shit! Okay, I'll go buy him one while he sleeps." She says to herself. She returns back to the bathroom and sighs. Brock was nodding off. "Alright, let's rinse off, Brock." 

Her voice wakes him out of his light slumber and he stirs slowly. "Did you find it?" 

"Yup. I sure did, honey. It's waiting for you in the bedroom." Christa sighs, "Let's wash your hair."

He's not sure what it is she was looking for but it's good it was found. Shifting, he sits up a little, the death grip on his tiger somehow getting tighter. He's so tired. He hates the cold. Everything hurts. Those things were the extent of his existence now. Pain, ice, and fatigue was all he was reduced to. Everything else just happened to him and he just watches from afar in his head. More tears form and fall silently down his cheeks.

She washes his hair while she quietly hums to herself, "Alright handsome. Let's get you into some warm clothes and under lots of blankets."

Brock allows himself to be led back to bed where fresh clothes were laid out for him. He doesn't think or feel as he slides the fabric onto his body. He crawls under the covers and clings to the tiger tightly.

"Sit up in bed. You're getting chicken noodle and Tylenol." Christa says, sounding frighteningly like her mother.

"Not hungry," he replies, not moving.

"Not a choice. You need something in your guts. Even if it's broth." She says firmly. At this rate she'll be a good mom.

"Okay," he gives in weakly. He'll move once he has to. He's cold. His eyes flutter closed as sleep calls him again.

She covers him with one more blanket, "I'll be back with soup." She isn't gone for long but when she returns Brock is fast asleep. Christa sighs as she shakes him slightly, "Hey wake up to take these at least." 

When he doesn't wake, he places the Tylenol and bottle of water on the side table. She goes back into the baby's room and pulls out the baby monitor. She puts it in her room and takes the receiver in case he needs anything, so she can get some work done. 

He sleeps fitfully again, fever breaking and spiking in a repeating pattern. He's exhausted but tired of sleeping. Dragging his sore body to the bathroom, he pees and washes his face before dragging himself out, tiger in hand. Christa gives him the Tylenol and water before warming up chicken soup while he mopes on the couch. He eats it but thirty minutes later, he's throwing it all up. He doesn't try again, instead crawling back into the bed and crying himself to sleep. He doesn't wake until the next day.

**Day Two**

He wakes up with a hard jolt, a nightmare on the edges of his mind. Everything still hurts like there’s ice death in his bones. The weighted blanket on his legs isn't his but he's thankful for it. It reminds him of home. He wants Frankie. Grabbing the Tylenol, he takes some before curling back up with his tiger and the blanket, shivering. He exists.

Christa brings food but he refuses, not wanting to go through that hell again. Eventually she wins however and he tries but it doesn't stay down again. He doesn't eat the rest of the day, slipping in and out of sleep filled with nightmares and panic. He clings to the tiger and the blanket. He exists.

It's dark when Christa slides into the bed with him. Part of his brain wants to panic and run that he's sleeping in another man's bed with another man's very pregnant wife but the thought is quickly squashed by apathy. He doesn't care. There's very little he does care about, the tiger and the blanket being his center of his universe. He doesn't care what happens to him. The world around him seems to operate on a different plane than his little, insignificant existence. Life outside is bright and cheery while his world is dark and empty and he doesn't care. An intrusive thought crops up and it should scare him but he doesn't care about that either. He exists.

"Your phone has been going off. You need to answer it." Christa says softly.

She's probably right. But he can't bring himself to move, each limb feels like ten weighted blankets. He glances at the device before going back to staring at nothing. He only cares if it's Frankie and yet… he doesn't. Frankie is gone. He remembers their talk. Perhaps it was a fight. He remembers how angry he was that Brock wanted this and pushed him away. It was he who called it a breakup. Even Christa said they were no longer together. This isn't how the plan was supposed to go. So he exists.

Christa sighs and scoots closer to him, she can't reach his phone so she rolls on top of him and grabs it. She exhales then sits back, "Take the damn phone and read your messages." She forces the phone in his hand.

"Sorry," he whispers. He didn't mean to bother her. He opens his phone, looking at the missed calls from the label and one from Frankie.

"Nothing to be sorry for sweetheart." She leans over and kisses his cheek before she softly replies, "Sometimes, we _all_ need help. I know Ray said he's texted you."

Opening his text messages, he discovers he's missed quite a bit. There's a selfie photo of Frankie with him drunkenly grinning, a beer in hand.

Frank: _is fibe o clock somewhere_

For a long moment Brock stares at the photo. Seeing his not-yet-husband's face should bring joy but instead he doesn't feel anything. Frank's not happy though. The knowledge that the first thing his love did was go out and get himself plastered hurts though. He caused this. He ruined everything by doing the one thing he swore he would never do; the one thing he didn't think was even possible for him to do- he hurt his own. Everything he's feeling now is penance. He deserves this.

There's another text from Frank, from earlier in the day.

_Frank: Please try to eat and drink water._

_I miss you so much._

_Sorry for the drunk call and drunk text_

Call? He minimizes his text messages to see that a missed call yielded a voicemail. He plays it on speaker.

 _"Hi babe, Brock. So imma lil drunk and alone. I just want you to know that I'm a good boy. Guy. Whatever. And you are gone and I don't know why you felt the need to leave me."_ Frank pauses and audibly swallows. _"It feels like the same thing that Jamia did to me. She'd dump me and fuck other dudes. So I hope he's worth it cause no matter how fucking drunk I get I can't even trick an ugly chick to fuck me. I love you too much and you don't want me. Maybe call me once you're done fuckin him."_

He lets the voicemail play and even though Frank apologized, the words _hurt_. How can Frank possibly think of him like that? He would _never_. Incomprehension fills him at Frankie's belief that he doesn't want him. It's all he wants. He's all he needs. Pushing the phone away, he sobs hard into the pillow, a small scream escaping. He didn't think he had any more tears to shed. Just like he didn't think anything would break through the pain filled numbness of his world and hurt him. They both are in pain and it's all his fault.

Christa pulls him into a hug, "I'm sorry honey." 

He clings to her, desperate for the soothing contact as he sobs. He wants to go home. He wants everything to be normal again. He wants the pain to stop. He just wants Frankie.

"Let it out sweetheart." Christa whispers as she strokes his back.

~~

Eyes open and he wonders how long he was asleep for. Must've not been too long as Christa is still awake and he's still in her arms. He just stares at her, listening to her heartbeat, tiger tucked against his chest. Empty again.

She hums softly, "What do you think about moving down to the couch?" She asks running fingers in his hair.

"No," he speaks in a small voice. He doesn't want to move. And the pain is making him tired of existing too.

"Okay. Just asking." Her voice is as soothing as she can make it, "He is kicking the crap out of you. Can you feel him?"

He didn't realize the baby inside of her was moving until she said it. There's a slight pressure that comes and goes, which must be him kicking. It's an odd feeling and one he's not sure about.

"Yes," he responds simply.

"Oh." Christa replies as she rubs his back.

She tries to get him to sleep again. Once he quiets, she pulls her phone out and texts Ray.

_Christa: I can't help Brock. I'm failing him and he's only getting worse. He would have been so excited to feel the baby moving._

_Ray: I'll text Jack. He was talking about shipping Brock home. I think it's where he needs to be._

_Christa: That's smart. I feel awful. I feel like I'm letting him down. Also I think I'm smothering him with baby belly._

_Ray: eh. He'll live. I'll have Jack call and talk to him._

_Christa: Thank you. I love you._

_Ray: love you more._

Christa tucks her phone away. She shifts a little. "Will you be my big spoon?" She asks.

"Okay." He shifts and molds his body around her back, the tiger claiming the space between their bodies. The plush's face didn't give him the impression that it minded being flattened. He buries his face in her neck, a move that feels normal and safe and soothing until he smells perfume and not _him_. It brings a new wave of tears. He lies there, slowly crying himself into exhaustion and the safety of sleep again. It doesn't last long though and his phone rings. He considers ignoring it. He doesn't want to speak to anyone. It's not Frankie. 

"Answer it." Christa says softly. She scoots a little and reveals the edge of the phone.

He whispers with a sigh, "I don't feel like talking to anyone. I'm tired." 

"It's either Ray, Jack, or Frank." She says flailing her arm trying for it. If he doesn't answer it, she will. She groans a little, "Help." 

"Frank doesn't want to speak with me. Not if he thinks I've dumped him to cheat." He never thought he would be compared to someone as low of a human being as _her_. Seeing Christa's plight, he takes pity on her, or what amounts to it anyway, and pulls the phone out from under its confines. 

"Gimme." Christa says quietly. Once the phone's in her hand, she taps the green phone on the screen then puts it on speaker, "Hello?" 

"Hey, Chrissy," Jack says on speaker. "Brock there?" 

"Yup. He's on speaker." Christa says touching Brock's shin with her cold foot to get a reaction, "Say hi to your brother." 

"Hi."

There's an audible rustling before Jack speaks again, voice as gentle as he can be. "Hi, brother. How are you?"

"Still alive."

Jack sighs softly. "That's good. I'll take that. I'm packing right now, going to meet the band in Chicago. From what I understand, I'm not sure who is faring worse, you or him. Spoke with Ray. Frank's not coping well and he's going down a path of self-destruction. So, like a good brother, and because you told me to long before the shit hit the fan, I'm going to check in with him and get him back on track. You going to kill me if I beat him up a little?"

"Probably don't bruise his face up?" Christa smiles.

"Physical force is a last resort but I will punch his ass if he needs some logic knocked into him. Tattoo make-up will cover the rest. My point being, that I don't want any drastic measures I may have to take to backfire."

"It doesn't matter," Brock says low. "We're done, right? The plan backfired." 

"No. He still loves you. And he misses you. It didn't backfire." Christa sighs.

"I'm agreeing with Chrissy here. Anything he may have said to you was probably just anger speaking. He's hurting just like you are," Jack says. 

"Via booze." Christa adds.

"Yes, there's that," Jack agrees with a wince in his tone. He pauses for a moment before continuing, "But, that's not wholly why I'm calling. I'm enacting Brother Protector mode and sending you home, Brock. We spoke about this at Disney. About you possibly going back to Italy. I think it's time. I'll take care of Frank. Come home."

Brock lays there, staring at nothing as he listens. The words are nearly meaningless beyond the words themselves. "Okay." 

Jack exhales at how easy his brother just gives in without a thought or protest. He has to remind himself that this is normal for his brother. Brock always slipped into darkness when there was some emotionally traumatic event. Then he works it through and he bounces back. His brother will be okay. Jack has to believe that, even if he might be the only one. "Okay. That's– that's good. Okay. Tomorrow's good? Or….?"

"Or?" Chrissy's asks

"Or did you want to wait a little longer? The family plane is taking me to Chicago, I can send it to you and have it there by tomorrow. Or you can take a later flight." 

"Too bad we couldn't get him on a flight tonight."

Brock's arms and body tenses around her and he curls up tighter. He doesn't want to leave tonight. "No. Tired." 

"I'll try to have the plane there as soon as possible, tomorrow. Maybe I'll just parachute down over Chicago instead of going through the motions of landing. Then it can get to you nearly a whole hour or two later earlier," Jack chuckles.

"Okay," Brock agrees. It's not long after that he hangs up. Sleep pulls at him.

"Don't take it the wrong way. I know that Maria is going to be the best one to help you. I still love you Brock." Christa says softly.

"Okay," he repeats sleepily. "Love you." Soft snores follow soon after, Brock's face buried into her neck.

**Day Three**

It's been three days and the only reason he knows it is because Christa wakes him up and says so. His bladder makes him get out of bed and his stale, musty body odor encourages him to shower and put on normal clothing. Emotionally he feels the same but physically he's feeling less sick. He thinks he hasn't had a fever since the day prior. Time just ebbs and flows around him and he's drifting on a promise. The tiger sits in a plastic bag he located under the sink while he showers with whatever is available. The pain is still there, but significantly less and he's no longer ice cold inside, nor are his veins and muscles feeling like they weigh a ton. Guess he burned through whatever bug bit him. After his shower, he dresses and notices there's a new message from Frankie.

_Frank: I'm sorry that I have not been the partner I should have been for you. You deserve someone who can respect your wishes._

_I'm working on being that guy for you. For us, really._

_Please take care of yourself._

_I miss you so much it hurts._

_Ily_

He reads it over and focuses hard on the last two lines. Frank missed and loved him. And he was working on his issues. That was good. He hasn't done shit as part of the plan. He can't bring himself to do anything. He wants Frankie. He's not sure if he's supposed to cut all contact or if it's just physical distance during their retreat, but he doesn't care. He quickly types out a message and sends it.

_I love and miss you too_

He grabs his tiger and the blanket before dragging his body to the couch. He curls up against a pillow and tucks his feet. Blanket around his body, tiger at his chest and phone in hand. He doesn't have a plan other than to just exist here until it is time to leave. His phone chimes loudly and he glances down at the new text.

_Frank: Are you eating? Drinking water? I'm fucking worried that you are just sleeping._

He frowns. He was drinking water, right? He can't remember. His stomach churns at the mere thought of food and he panics a little that he might be sick all over Christa's couch and floor. After a moment of waiting until the nausea passes, he types back a reply.

_Work in progress. You?_

_Frank: The eating thing is a struggle. But I'm drinking. Not water. But some fluid._

He sighs but he's not surprised. The photo and phone call were more than explanative of what Frank had been drinking. But, he is an adult and Brock is supposed to be learning not to be so controlling of others. 

_I gathered that from the photo._

He struggles for a moment over if he should add more but he can't think of anything to add. Every standard question or comment he could add just seems… inconsequential and worthless. 

_Frank: I know. I shouldn't be drinking as much. I don't wanna feel anything. Please don't be mad. But please try to eat and maybe sit in the sunshine. That always makes you feel good._

Brock is already typing his reply before his thoughts have fully formed. He holds the tiger closer. He can hear Christa doing… something. 

_You don't want to feel anything and I feel nothing. Not mad. Not anything. Maybe we can be two peas and meet halfway. I haven't been able to keep anything down. I'm flying to Italy today. I think._

_Frank: Do you want to fly to Italy? Maybe it will do you good to get some sun. And your mom will help. Baby, can I tell you something?_

Again the reply is simple, easy. The only thing he wants is his Frankie. Everything else is just a substitute. Tiger and the blanket are excluded as they are necessities.

_I just want you. But Italy will work. Did you call your mom?_

_Yes_

Brock doesn't understand why Frank wouldn't be able to tell him anything. He thought they had an open and honest relationship. Even when he's compromised he's truthful.

_Frank: I didn't call my mom. I can't bring myself to. I could barely text Sam. I just want you. I hate this so much. I wish I never joined the band again. I wish I had just married you and ran away to Italy or wherever._

_Good that you texted Sam. I recommend contacting your mom. It's not the band's fault. It's nobody's. Band is family. Ohana. We will marry._

_Frank: You should talk to Sam too. I hope we will marry. You would have loved the hotel in Charleston. It was huge and that bed was like ours at home._

_I miss home_

He wants nothing more than to go home. He’s heard them say that home wasn’t a place; it was where your heart was. The statement never seemed truer than now. His home was in turmoil. As was his heart and soul. He cuddles his tiger harder, longing for Frankie, and sighs. 

"Did you wanna try eating something light? Like toast," Christa offers as she peers around the corner.

He looks up from his phone slowly. He didn’t register her presence. He sighs, he’s not sure about eating anything. “No. But okay…. And a bucket. For the inevitable. When was the last time I had water?”

"Like two days ago..." Christa replies from the kitchen, "You took a sip yesterday but that was to take Tylenol."

_Frank: I miss home too. Wanna run away?_

_You can’t run from yourself. The location doesn’t matter if it’s all from inside. If I could, I would._

With a slight groan of pain, Brock forces himself off the couch, though he does keep the blanket around his shoulders and tiger in his hand. He’s collecting things. He wonders what Sam would say. He wonders if he cares. He doesn’t. Softly, he enters the kitchen and puts his forehead on Christa’s shoulder from behind. “I’m sorry you have had to take care of me.”

"Don't be sorry. I don't mind. It's nice to have someone in the house." Christa says before turning her head and kissing his cheek.

_Frank: I know I can't run from me. But handling shitty me is easier when I have you._

“I know this wasn’t part of the plan though. It’s worse. Much worse. Thank you,” he whispers softly before brushing his lips across her cheek. His phone vibrates again and he reads the new text before getting himself a drink of water.

_I was generalizing about us both, love. But I understand. I feel the same way._

_Frank: BRB in 30_

Brock tries the toast with water and it’s terrible but surprisingly enough it stays in his stomach. For all of five minutes. Once he’s done heaving it back up, he takes his paper plate and throws it away then washes out the bucket. He’s lost as to what to do now. Christa is in her office, he thinks. He’s not sure. He wanders the house, like a planet that has lost its sun, until his phone vibrates again. He makes his way back to his spot on the couch and curls up before answering.

_Frank: So, do you think that we can text like this while we are apart? It's the closest I have felt to ok in days._

“Do you wanna watch a movie with me?” Christa asks, “I know that you are leaving in a bit but maybe we can watch a good cartoon like Hercules or something.” 

“Okay.” He might just lay here with her instead but he’s trying at least. He owes her that much. He types up his reply and bundles up better under the blanket, tiger pressed against his heart.

_I would like that. It’s better than the silence in my head. I am sorry._

Christa sits down beside him with two bottles of water. She hands one to him, “What do you wanna watch?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Not really.” He pauses, unsure if he _wants_ something or not. Now that a single thread of connection has linked the two halves of his soul, he might have refound his sense of purpose. 

“I kinda want something lighthearted.” She says softly, “You seem less tsunami and more like a spring rain, you ok?”

“Frankie texted me this morning. I replied.” He bites the inside of his cheek. “Can I–?”

“Yeah!?” She says, cheerful, “That's fantastic! You guys should. I think it's important.”

That was a minor relief to know. It was better than feeling as if he had broken some rule about not making contact. Just knowing he is allowed to talk to Frankie eases some of the pain in his chest. “Can I lay down on your lap?”

“Of course! You don't have to ask love. Though Zac might kick you a little.” She says with a big grin. She presses the play button on the movie as she relaxes on the cushion.

Adjusting himself so that his head rested on her thighs, he sighs and huddles under the blanket, burying his nose in Tiger’s fur. He can already feel sleep at the edges of his consciousness. “Zac.”

“Zachariah.”

“Okay.”

The movie plays and Brocks stares at it but doesn't really watch. A hand drops down and fingers card through his hair, only further relaxing him. The last thing he remembers is Hercules fighting a Hydra. When he wakes it’s because the end credits song is annoying even in his nap. His phone has a new text and the time tells him he needs to gather his things. Sitting up with a little yawn, he reads the message.

_Ray: Update. Frank talked to me. It wasn't hostile. He was lively but not crazy. He ate food with the band. I'm glad you guys are talking. Love you Brother._

He replies before gathering the energy he will need to get up. _Love you too, brother. Miss you both. Thank you._ Message sent, he goes into the bedroom and gathers his clothing. He’s not sure where to put the blanket; he misses his. He misses a lot of things. Packing is easy though and within a few minutes, he’s ready to leave. 

“That blanket is yours!” Christa calls up the stairs, “Since your other one is with your boy.”

Brock briefly wonders if all pregnant women came with the ability to read minds before his phone vibrates again, signaling Frankie’s response.

 _Frank: Thank god because I need it. It was a good show tonight, I'm tired but my brain is awake._ A photo of a shirtless smiling Frank with a big teddy bear just in frame comes through after his text.

Sitting on the bed and pulling the blanket around him, he types out his reply, the edges of his mouth turning in the shadow of a smile. _Glad to see Enzo bear is serving his purpose._

_Frank: I got a tattoo._

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to mention that Ray told him or not but it’s too late now. He already sent the reply. 

_I heard. Show me?_

_Frank: What do you think? Also, Driver Dave is driving like a maniac. We're gonna hit Chicago in like 2 hours, apparently._ He sends a photo of an upside down horseshoe with laurel leaves and a banner with the words HARD LUCK. All colorful and very old school style.

He stares at the photo, with it’s bright red and greens and can’t help but wonder if this was a direct result of their break. It’s not a bad tattoo but he really can’t bring himself to have an actual opinion on it. He lies.

_Looks good. The brightness is rather anti-emo. You might have to leave the emo club. Are you sure you won’t burst into a hoard of bats as a result of breaking your emo creed?_

_Frank: I already did. Ray and Gerard had to catch all the bats to put me back together again. But you like it? I think I want to do more color…_

Another sigh escapes. He hates this. Hates having to fake things because it’s easier than explaining how he doesn’t feel. The tattoo might have received a much happier response were it inked last week or in the future but he couldn't care less about it now. He doesn’t have opinions. That would mean he could feel something more than general numbness. None of that is Frank’s problem, however. Great thing about texting is the simplicity of typing in a response without the emotional attachments. Or lack thereof.

_I do. It looks fine the way it is. Any brighter and you’ll blind Mike-n-Ike._

_Frank: When are you leaving for Italy?_

Brock picks up his things and heads back downstairs to search for Christa. 

He’s not sure how much longer he’ll have to wait but he’ll spend the remaining amount of time on the couch.

_Not sure yet. Awaiting for Jack to give me an ETA. Sometime tonight._

“I got you something.” Christa says quietly.

He looks up at her from his spot where he is curled up with a slight head tilt. He doesn’t understand. He has the thing she gave him. “You said I could have the blanket.”

“Yup. You can but I got it for you yesterday.”

“I don’t understand,” he sighs. He doesn’t have the brain power to guess things and do word puzzles. Not that she was. It was him trying to work a problem he created. “What is it?”

“I hope this doesn't backfire but Ray got a photo of you with Frankie at Disneyworld. So I printed it out and put it in a nice frame. I thought you could take it with you to Italy to remember to come back.” She says handing him a silver photo frame with Frank looking up at Brock with a big smile as Brock is looking up at the fireworks.

He takes the frame and another shadow of a smile appears. A hand caresses it gently. He looks at her and whispers, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

_Frank: You're still coming back from Italy, right?_

A buzz in his lap diverts his attention from the pretty photo to his phone. A thought crops up and he wonders why Frank would question that. Of course he was coming back. He’s just not sure _when_.

_Frank: Babe, it was Gee. He snaked my phone. I know you are coming back. I was just having a moment. I love you. What are you wearing?_

Why is he asking that? Surely Frank knows he's not- oh, right. No. Suddenly his energy and interest in the topic is sapped away. Perhaps he is reading into it but regardless, he has zero energy to even pretend to be interested in flirting. And while it's not fair to Frank, and he knows that, he can't even bring himself to care about not caring. Still, he responds with the truth.

_Tee. Shorts. Blanket. Tiger. Not necessarily in that order._

_Frank: I'm glad that tiger has been your companion._

_Me too. I don't believe I would have survived if I didn't. He's my constant._

_Frank: I'll be honest, I banished Enzo to the back of the bus but he's now not leaving my bunk until I get you back._

_Tiger doesn't leave my grasp. I think we are equal in that._

He thinks about Gerard stealing Frank's phone and a thought floats in adrift on a cloud. Frank wasn't self-isolating anymore. That was good. The others come to mind and he wonders how they are doing.

_Are the others ok? Do they still hate me?_

_Frank: No one hates you. They never did. Mike kept bugging me to bug you. He misses you. Bob is mad he lost his phone in Charleston and can't text you. Truthfully, they were really pissed off at Ray for this vacation. Gee says hi, he was showing me the ring for Lindsey. Wanna see?_

A wave of sadness hits and he fights back tears. It wasn't Ray's fault. It was his. It may have been his brother's idea but not only did he agree but he planned this. With help, because he knew he was going to have a hard time. Ray was right. He's the failure. He failed Frankie. Broke his promise. And now he's paying for it. He deserves this.

_Sure._

_Not his fault; mine._

He doesn't care about Lindsey's ring right now. But he can hide behind the mask of a text. He wipes his eyes while waiting for a new text message. Either from Frank or Jack. Or Christa entering his space. It didn't matter. He just waits for something. Not for long though because Frank's responded and it's in two texts.

_Frank: I know that it's not Ray's fault. But at the time, they didn't truly understand why. It's not your fault. Stop taking the brunt of the blame because you can only carry so much. I love you and I miss you so much it hurts but this *is* important for us to be stronger._

_Frank: ANND this will make the reunion, that much god damn sweeter. Cause you better believe I'm going to be the clingiest koala._

There's so many things there that caused half thoughts and ideas to form, only for it all to be discarded. None of it really needed to be said. He goes for simple. He's tired. Of everything. Maybe he can nap until the plane lands.

_I love and miss you too. Good about koala. Tiger can only do so much and he needs a bath._

No sooner as he types up the last few words, his phone buzzes and a notification pops up saying it's from Jack. He sends his message before reading Jack's.

_Jack: I'm in Chicago. It's headed to you. Should be there soon. It needs to refill before the flight back, FYI. Love you_

"Christa?" he calls for her softly. He stows the photo frame in his duffle before slowly standing and picking up his things. She didn't answer, so perhaps she's upstairs or something. Trying again, he raises his voice a little, "Christa?" 

"Yeah?" She calls out with a trace of pain in her voice, "I'm coming." 

"The plane is on its way. It'll be here when we arrive at the airport."

"Ok. I'm coming. I'm slow cause I'm a mother rhino." Christa jokes as she gathers her things. 

"Okay." He waits and watches. Should he help her? He should, right. That's the nice thing to do, right? So why isn't he moving?

Christa waddles down the stairs with her purse and keys in hand, "Alright handsome, let's hit the road and get you home." 

"Okay."

After they are both in the car, his tiger and his blanket in his lap, Brock texts Frankie, giving him an update.

_Headed to the airport. Will sleep on the plane. Love you._

_Frank: Okay. I love you too. I'm sorry. Please text me when you land and when you can in Capri._

_I will._

"Please let me know you landed." Christa says softly as she pulls into the airport drop off area.

"Okay. Thank you." The two simple words of thanks couldn't possibly encompass all that had transpired over the last two days. And yet, he couldn't find the words to add to it.

"For what?" 

"Everything." She saved his life in more than one way. He's not entirely sure if that's a good thing just yet but logically he knows it's good. She took care of him and he knows he wouldn't have survived this week without her. If the fever didn't kill him, the war in his spirit would have.

"You're my husband's best friend. My son's godfather. And one of my very close friends. I would take care of you any day." Christa says touching his knees before putting the car in park. "I'm gonna get out and get my proper hug before you leave."

"Okay," he says before sliding out of the car and grabbing his duffle. He sets it down on the ground as Christa comes around the car and hugs him.

"Love you Brock." She says into his chest.

He wraps his arm around her and does his best to pull her in tight. He even goes as far as kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too. And Baby. I'm sorry I'm not-" He trails off, unsure how to word his current state of existence.

"Yourself." Christa strokes his back, "We understand. Zac is a good baby." 

He nods. "Best of his parents." 

"Mostly mom." She grins as the hug loosens, she leans up and kisses his cheek, "I'll see you soon. He's ready to escape the cage called mom and he can't wait to meet his best coolest uncle."

He nods, the words coming out slowly as his brain wades through mud, "He has to wait. Patience and all that. You'll be a good mom. Love you. See you later."

Christa waits until he's headed inside before letting tears fall. 

**Day Four**

True to his word, Brock sleeps the entire trip. He staggered on the plane, exhausted, and headed right for the bedroom. His duffle hits the floor near the bed and he plus his two companions climb into the bed and is out cold nearly as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He is woken up by the flight attendant by a knock on the door. She's smart enough to know better than to touch him when he's sleeping. He doesn't know this lady so he's thankful for her precaution. 

"Thanks," he says quietly, groaning as he pulls himself upright. "How long have we been here? What time is it?"

" _My apologies, sir. I do not speak English."_

He gives her a slow blink. That was odd, as he usually employs dual language flight crew because his extended family is American. It's whatever. He'll stick with Italian while he's here. He repeats himself in his native tongue.

" _We're getting ready to land, sir. The time is now five forty-two in the morning. Dawn is coming,_ " she replies.

" _Thank you. I will be out shortly._ " He nods his dismissal.

After freshing himself up, he grabs his duffle and makes his way to the front of the plane. A quick glance out the window gives him a decent view of the island. He snaps a photo and sends it to Frankie.

_Almost there. Landing in ten or so._

He sits on the couch and waits. He doesn't have to wait long before Frank's responding. It's late there, nearly midnight. 

_Frank: it's gorgeous. I can't believe that place is where you call home._

_Frank: Also thank you for sending Jack. He's not you but it's nice to not be alone._

Jack. He didn't remember sending Jack. It takes him several moments to recall his discussions between Jack and Ray prior to the break. He did send him, in the event that Frank did not take it as well as he knew he would. Somehow Jack found out. Ray must've called him in. Shit. He replies, aiming for something less empty. He doesn't want Frank to worry.

_You're welcome. I can't wait to bring you here. You'd love it._

With a small jolt, the plane lands and Brock rises from the couch, grabbing his items. He heads down the stairs and onto the pier when his phone chimes again. Pausing, he takes it and reads it. He'll reply later.

_Frank: Tell your mom and sister I say hi. What does it smell like in Capri?_

Brock makes the arduous trek across the pier, waves crashing against the wooden, making it creak and groan. A particularly hard gust of wind causes a sea salt spray to rise up and splash him in the face. It stings a little in his eyes and he wipes his face on his shirt. He used to be able to swim in these waters without a problem. Seems even his eyeballs have turned American. Turning away, he continues up the cliff to the sprawling Villa of his childhood home. Tightly manicured lawns divided by cobblestone and lined with flowers bought back memories Brock had long forgotten. His mother loves her gardens and as he winds around the building, a myriad of flora in full bloom greets him. The wind blows again, as if it's trying to give him every sense memory possible, and gardenia fills his lungs. He hates gardenia. 

A small shout catches on the wind and he turns, seeing his mother slipping out onto the veranda and running to him, arms wide open. He just stands there and there's a part of his brain that seems to be watching everything from a distance. It screams at him for being an idiot and to not just stand there; to move and say something. He can't bring himself however and quickly enough her arms are thrown around him.

"Hi mama," he whispers softly in his native tongue. Slowly, he brings his arms around her to return the hug. There's a sliver of comfort found in her shoulder and he rests his cheek there. 

Maria pulls back, visibly surprised at his language of choice. Her face softens and she smiles before wrapping one arm around him and leading him inside. She chooses to follow Brock's language choice. "Come. I have your room set up just the way you like it. Once you get settled, I want you to come down to the kitchen. I've cooked up several of your favorite dishes. Don't tell me you aren't hungry, I know you are."

"No, Mama. I have been sick. Fever and unable to keep things in my stomach. It's still not balanced," he replies with a head shake. He doesn't want whatever she made. He can't bring himself to care that it's a waste of food. He should care and he knows that. 

"That's alright. We'll start with something easy then. Get some good home cooking into your stomach. Maybe it'll fatten you up properly." Maria pats his stomach as they walk towards the sweeping staircase, his mother's heels echoing on the marble tile.

"I don't need to be fatter, mama." Brock knows he will be fighting a losing battle if he's not careful and so the next time she makes a comment about how good boys have soft stomachs, he just nods.

His mother leads him to his room and it's still everything that makes his _his_ but upgraded. A larger bed replaced the one he had as a teenager and the space was far more organized. It's a good room with it's own en suite. That was new.

"We renovated a few years back. Turned the room next door into a private bathroom. I hope you like it," his mother smiles at him, nudging him towards the door.

The logic part of his head is greatly appreciative of not having to walk down the hall to the spare bathroom the other five rooms on this wing are required to share. The other half of him could care less what the bathroom looked like, other than its core functionality. He pokes his head in, finding an overly large claw foot tub with vintage brass scattered throughout the fixtures.

He gives the answer his mom is hoping for, "It's beautiful." 

She leaves him to unpack and he finds himself sitting on the bed. Leaving Christa and coming home didn't change anything. Didn't ease the ache in his chest. He's not sure why he's even here. It wasn't going to change anything. He couldn't change the past. He's not sure about the future.

After unpacking and settling in, Brock's jet lagged brain gives into the urge to sleep and he naps for a few hours. When he wakes, he realizes he never responded to Frankie and does so.

_I will. Smells like sea water and mom's flowers. Gardenia seems to be the most prominent right now. Not my favorite._

_Frank: I don't know what gardenias smell like. I can't wait to be there with you. I love you._

_I love you too. Miss you_

Brock makes his way downstairs and discovers Brooke speaking on the phone. She’s pacing with one hand on a hip. He’s not sure what she’s talking about but he’s curious. Not enough to stay however and instead he tries to sneak by. She catches him by the arm and shakes her head, one finger going up to hold him captive. He waits until she’s off the phone.

“Brock! I know we just saw each other a few days ago but I’m happy to see you again,” Brooke says with a grin. She pulls him into a tight hug. She gives him a concerned look but says nothing. Instead she loops her arm through his and leads him into the kitchen. The moment the smell of food reaches his nostrils, his stomach churns and bile rises. Maria is there, plating prosciutto. It used to be his favorite for breakfast but now he is fairly certain that if he takes a single bite, he won’t be able to stomach it.

“I made you something light to eat, sweetheart.” Maria smiles as she sets it down on the table.

“I can’t,” he whispers softly, shaking his head. “I know it. I can’t.”

Maria’s brows furrow in thoughtful concern. She nods and sits, motioning him to join her. “Sit. Talk to us, dear.”

Brock sits. “Frank says hello.”

“Oh honey,” Maria whispers, taking his hand.

His eyes fill with tears and they slip down his cheeks, betraying him. He slides off his chair and sits in the one next to Maria, leaning into her open arms and allowing himself to be pulled to her chest. His voice cracks, “I miss him, mama!”

Maria’s heart breaks to have her son sobbing his heart out and she holds him tight while a hand runs through his hair. “Let it out, child. And then we will talk. Tell me what burdens your heart, my son.”

He breaks, sobbing and rambling a mess of words. “I miss him and I’m scared. I don’t want him to hate me or leave me. I made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have done anything. I failed him. I hurt him, mama!”

Maria holds her son tighter as he sobs out everything pent up inside. From her lips, a low lullaby flows, soft and flowery until Brock’s body sags with exhaustion, hand held fast to his stuffed tiger. “Relax, my son. Things have a way of always working out in the ways we least expect it. You two are meant to be. You must trust that. Go. Rest.”

Brock pulls away and slips out of the kitchen, wiping his eyes. His father’s voice catches his ear and he turns to see the door to his father’s study slightly ajar. He can see his father sitting at his desk, body stiff. Amber-colored eyes glance and for a moment Brock is certain they are looking right at him. A figure moves and blocks the door, just seconds before a voice he does not recognize closes the gap between the wood with an audible click. He stands there for only a second more, an uneasy feeling about what he witnessed in his gut. He turns and heads upstairs, back to his room. He’s exhausted and he needs his Tiger. He needs Frankie. He strips down to his underwear and buries under the blanket with his tiger. Pulling out his phone, he texts Frankie back.

_Mom and Brooke say hello. Dad is busy or he would say hi too._

_Frank: That's okay. Hey B. Be sure to eat something, please. Okay? And go outside or like swimming. Don't stay in bed the whole time. I love you, my moon and stars._

A photo comes in of Frank either getting ready for a show or leaving one. He's wearing the same white shirt with the red smudge make-up that he usually finds so attractive. 

_I love you, tesoro. I'm sorry I did not respond earlier. You are still beautiful as ever._

_Frank: It's okay. You are busy. No worries babe._

Brock puts his phone to sleep, slipping it under his pillow. Not long after, he too sleeps.

**Day Five**

Brock wakes up with a groan. The pain in his body is stronger today, it seems. Or perhaps it was only his tolerance that had decreased, making the ever-present ache in his bones more prominent. Slowly, he sits up in his bed, one hand permanently clutching Tiger. Rubbing his face, his stomach growls its need for food. He ignores it. What was the point of eating when he was just going to throw it back up again? Besides, the mere thought of food made his stomach churn with uneasiness. Smelling food makes him nauseous. 

He stretches a little before forcing himself to get up and go to the bathroom. He doesn't particularly wish to do anything other than exist and sleep but his bladder disagrees. Not that he cares. This was the stark reality of his apathy. He doesn't care about his body's physical needs. He doesn't care if he lives or dies. He doesn't care about the people in his life beyond the fact they are family but even then he's certain that at this point, he wouldn't care if something bad were to happen. He doesn't care about anything other than the only two lifelines he has that keep him from just giving up and throwing himself out the window. Were it that Frank would never to speak to him again, he would have. He wonders if he should care about that thought. He doesn't. 

After he's done relieving himself, he has to rationalize reasons why he should shower. He doesn't care about any of them. Doesn't want to get into the bath and quite frankly, he never wanted to leave the safety of the bed. He's banking on the hot shower to help ease the pain. It doesn't. Stepping out, he blindly grabs whatever clothing he can first get his hands on.

There's a knock on his bedroom door before it opens and Brooke steps inside, wearing a pale pink sleeveless blouse and shorts. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail. She looks happy aside from her expression. He's certain he looks as he feels.

"Good, you're dressed," she remarks as she approaches him. "We are going to the mainland today. We've got business in Rome."

He sighs softly. He has no interest in leaving the house. He has no interest in anything, really. He supposes it's odd that he could not care about anything except when he does. Apathy was weird. He shouldn't care about leaving the house but he does. He didn't want to be reminded that while his universe was destroyed, the rest of the world was happy and going about their day as if nothing had changed. A part of him hated them all. 

"I don't want to."

"I know you don't. But I'm not really giving you a choice here. I want to spend some time with you and I have plans in Rome." Brooke goes to him and gently places a hand on his arm. "I won't push this because I know you are hurting. But I also know you wouldn't take care of yourself if given the choice. You would lie here and waste away. Come with me. I miss you."

He's silent for a long moment, staring down at his Tiger in his little plastic baggie. Contemplating. He sighs again, tired. "Not without my blanket or Tiger."

Grinning, she nods. It's a step forward and she'll take it. "Good! Come, put your shoes on and we will eat before leaving."

He nods and sits on the bed. He has zero interest in food and while he pulls on socks he tries to figure out a way to avoid the subject. And hold on to Tiger. Brooke leaves as he gathers his phone, keys, wallet and a few weapons. He doesn't think he'll need them and a part of him that lies within the darkness inside whispers to him that he shouldn't bother taking anything to defend himself because he should just end it all anyway. 

Heading downstairs, he wraps his blanket around him tighter as if it was some form of shield against the world. In a way, it was. The blanket and Tiger were his lifelines. Halfway down the stairs, his phone chimes signalling a text. It's from Frank.

_Frank: Are you awake?_

He's not sure if he has the mental capacity to walk down the stairs, text, and hold on to his lifelines so he replies with a simple yes before continuing on his arduous journey. Descending the stairs shouldn't feel like he's taking the Ring to Mordor. It shouldn't be this exhausting.

_Frank: Are you doing okay? I know you're down. But I am just worried about you._

Brock doesn't know how to respond here. What defined okay? He's tired of lying. He's tired of existing. He replies as he enters the kitchen.

_No. But I will be. I love you. I miss you. In Rome today._

"Good morning, my sweet boy," Maria greets him with a kiss on his cheek. "How are you this morning? Did you sleep okay?" 

"Enough," he replies. He wishes people would stop asking him these questions. The smell of fresh pork frying hits him and he has to fight to keep from gagging. He steps back from her embrace, trying to keep his breathing under control.

Oblivious to her son's plight, Maria pulls him towards the dining room table. His father sits there with coffee and the local paper in hand. Brock freezes at the sight. He's…. forgotten that his father was here. His shoulders pull in. Certain that Emilio was going to spout something painful at him. Be a man, perhaps. 

"Sit,” Maria says, joining him. "Would you like some coffee?"

Brock shakes his head. "No. Would make me sick."

"What's wrong with you?" Emilio asks.

"Sick, Papa," Brock answers, silently praying the older man will not press for answers. He's not sure how much his father knows. Regardless, he doesn't want to talk about it. 

Emilio glances at Maria, who shakes her head. He nods and lets it go. For now. He's heard about some break up between his son and a lover. It was a good thing considering he had plans for his heir. 

~~

"Brock, are you ready to leave," Brooke asks, sounding exasperated.

Brock blinks and looks up at his sister. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes,” she huffs a little, hand on one hip.

Brock looks around the table to find his parents and sister’s plates cleared away. Did they eat yet? Had he missed all of breakfast? Why didn’t he remember any of it? He’s still holding onto Tiger. His blanket is still wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes water as the sudden desire to cry fills him. He doesn’t understand why and that makes him want to cry more. Instead, he nods and forces himself to rise to his feet.

“Try to enjoy yourself, my little potato,” Maria says, taking his arm and rising to her feet to pull him into a warm hug. She brushes his hair and kisses his cheek. “No matter what your head tells you, you are going to be okay. I love you, baby. Now, go. Soak up some healing sun.”

He nods absently and stares blankly at the table. He should say something, right? That’s a normal response. If he pretends enough maybe he will begin to feel it. His words are slow; like his brain. “Okay mama. Bye.”

As he follows an impatient Brooke, his father reaches out and stops him. “I need to speak with you when you return. Family matters.”

“Ok.” He waits a second more before just trailing after his sister. He doesn’t care about the family business anymore. Whatever his father wanted from him was inconsequential and for all that mattered, he would gladly turn over his title to his brother and sister. He’d give up everything if only to take back the damage he did and fix the hole in his soul.

Brooke ushers her little brother outside before they get stopped again. She has plans to hopefully bring back some of the life within Brock. Besides visiting the Vatican, she also wanted to see if she could reconnect with her twin. Seeing him like this brought back so many painful memories. Only this seemed to be worse. Brock seemed to be....broken. And not just the kind of broken that came from having a broken heart but something on a more deeper level. As they walk down the cliffside and towards the pier, she glances at her sibling with worry in her heart. This didn’t feel like something he would just bounce back from. At first, she tries to engage in some light conversation but when she meets the proverbial dead end, she gives up. After loading up into the plane, in which Brock sits on the couch and stares at the passing clouds, they land at the airport. Once they get a rental car, Brooke drives them towards the heart of the city.

Brock’s phone chimes with new text and it takes him a bit to register where the sound came from and why. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sees Frank’s reply. 

_Frank:_ ❤️ _I heard that it wasn't built in a day… I miss you so much. Jack's making me be functional. Hopefully Brooke is doing the same._

How was it that Frank seemed to know the right things to say? Lifting his head off the car window, he adjusts his grip on Tiger to be able to reply. It was good that Jack was pulling Frank out of his spiral. At least one of them was getting better. He wasn’t so sure about his future just yet. All he saw was pain and emptiness. The words he replies with come easy this time. He doesn’t question it but he’s thankful he doesn’t have to focus too much on thinking.

_Good. She's trying. And no, it wasn't built in a day but neither was our love. I hear good things take time._

Before he finishes typing the last word, Brooke stops the car in front of a large church. He frowns, wondering why and when they got there. He keeps losing time. Turning to his sister, he asks, “Why are we here?”

“Business. Come. I need to speak with the High Priest.” Brooke gets out of the car and goes around to his side to wait. 

Following, he clutches his lifelines closer. Brown eyes dart around to ensure no one was watching him as he cuddles Tiger tightly. He doesn’t want to face the sneers and judgemental looks he was sure he is getting. Brooke enters first and immediately disappears off with someone, leaving him behind. He's ok with that. He enters the church and feels small. Vaulted ceilings that would put Stark Tower to shame give the sanctuary a vastness so great that Brock feels inferior. 

"Are you lost? The soup kitchen is on the other side of the building, my child." An older priest says touching Brock's elbow. The man's voice is soft as he moves around to face the poor lost soul in front of him.

"Let me take him, sir." A younger man says approaching the two, "We can get you some food and a nice jacket."

Brock blinks, lost. He doesn't understand why they are offering him food. He's not hungry. He likes his blanket. "No food." 

"Sir, are you lost?" The young priest asks with a concerned face.

Was he? Perhaps he was. He didn't remember the plane or the car ride very well other than a blur of buildings passing by the window he laid his head on. Maybe the priest meant lost in a different way. Why didn't he get arrested the moment they stepped into the church? What business could his sister possibly have here? The Pope declared him excommunicated and an enemy of the church. Were these men blind? Or was he truly as insignificant as he felt? 

"Do you want to sit down?" 

He nods. Laying down was preferable as it took some of the pain away. It was as if gravity itself was heavier than normal. Or maybe he was just weaker. It hurt to stand. His bones cried out for relief. Sitting was the best he could get right now. He slowly follows the young man up the center of the sanctuary to a row of pews. Soft chants in Latin reach his ears and echo off the pristine stone walls. He used to know what they were saying but it seemed foolish now. Easing himself into the pew, he holds his blanket tighter around his shoulders and Tiger close to his chest. He looks up at the priest, unsure what to do now.

"I'll come get you in a few moments, relax for a while." The priest says with a soft smile as he put a Bible in Brock's lap. He parts from the homeless man to give him a moment alone.

Brock stares down at the book blankly. He's not sure what to do with this so he ignores it. Instead, he checks on his third lifeline. He's not sure if he's allowed to have his phone out or not, so he tries to be a little secretive as he sneaks a peek at the reply he received. Tiger stares emptily at the stained glass windows with the image of Christ and Mary on them. 

_Frank: Don't go **Roman** too much and get lost…_

Brock can't help the small exhale of air and the chuckle that escapes after reading Frank's most recent text. He quickly types back his reply, carefully looking over his shoulder to keep an eye out for the priests. 

_How can I? You are my true North. I'll always find my way with you and to you._

The words never felt more true then in this moment. He lived because of Frankie. He fought through the bug that got him sick out of sheer will to find his soulmate. He wasn't sure if that was selfish or not, though the darkness inside said he should've just given into the pain because his life was worthless. Besides, hadn't he fought hard and long enough? Didn't he want to just let it all go? To end the pain? His phone chimes loudly, snapping him out of his revere and he quickly lowers the volume as nearly everyone in the space turns to look at him with judgemental contempt for disturbing the peace.

 _Frank: I love you, Brock._ ❤️

 _I love you more, polpetto._ His eyes water again and this time he doesn't bother holding back. He misses him. So much, he misses his other half. He should've told the priest that yes, he was lost. He hurts so much. The deep ache in his body that reached his bones was nothing compared to the pain in his heart and soul. Everything hurts. The device buzzes quickly in his hand at Frank's fast reply.

_Frank: silly potato, that's you. Remember. I'm gattino or tesoro… or whatever little sparrow is… I can't remember that one._

His thumb swipes across his phone _,_ tears freely falling onto the screen and in his lap.He wants to go home. _Passerotto._

A movement to his right has him looking up. The younger priest from before was back. He doesn't know why. He doesn't want food and he's got his blanket. Maybe he was sent to fetch him for Brooke? 

"Would you like me to pray for you? Do you need a tissue, sir?" the priest asks. Brock didn't notice before but the priest has such a rich accent. It's surprising in a nice way.

His face is rather wet. Now that he notices, his nose is running too. What a mess he must look like. He doesn't care but he also doesn't want his phone to be ruined. "Tissue. Thank you." 

Nodding, the young priest hurries away, grabbing a tissue box from inside a closet before returning to the broken man. He offers the box. "Mind if I sit with you? Perhaps it would help if someone listened to your burdens. Then, I can pray for you."

Brock shrugs as he wipes his face and blows his nose. He doesn't care. It's not going to change anything. It's not going to get better. "Won't make a difference."

"Maybe not now, but confiding in someone who doesn't have an investment in your situation can help you alleviate some of your burden. We all need help and you are not meant to carry this alone," the priest says softly as he sits next to Brock. "Let's start with an introduction. My name is T'Challa. What is yours?"

"Brock," he replies wetly.

"Alright, my friend, what has distressed you so?" 

Brock takes a few moments to finish cleaning himself up, using several more tissues. He debates telling this stranger his problems. He didn't believe it would make a difference or solve anything but maybe he could find out some answers of his own. Like why he was here and not in prison. He whispers, almost afraid to admit the truth aloud, as if by doing so would make the gravity of the situation more real. "I hurt someone I love."

T’Challa nods solemnly, "Have you made amends with your loved one? Done the steps to prove you won't do it again?"

Brock shakes his head no. “They are not here. They are American.”

T’Challa nods, understanding. “What are you feeling? Why don’t we start there?”

He stares down at his lap, the wet tissue in hand. Occasionally a stray tear would fall and splatter onto the white linen and soak in. Tiger stares back at him with his ragged and soaked striped fur, glassy eyes seemingly holding encouragement. Brock’s voice is as small as he feels when he replies, “Lost. I think.”

“You are not meaning lost in the traditional sense?”

Nodding, he sniffs hard and wipes his nose with the wet tissue. He knew where he was. Though, he still didn’t understand why and a large part of him didn’t really care. He was there. He existed. That was what he was doing; existing. Waiting. For either death or life. It mattered not.

"Then you have come to the right place my friend," T'Challa says with a warm smile. "We are in the business of helping those who are lost find their way home. In both the traditional sense and spiritual."

Brock shakes his head. "You cannot help me. I've been excommunicated. The Church doesn't help people like me; only condemn."

“That is where you are wrong, my friend. Just because you are separate from the Church, does not mean you are without help. It is our job to tend the flock and bring back the wayward sheep into the fold. Tell me of your experience after the hurt was done.”

Taking a breath and holding Tiger tight, Brock begins to recount his nightmare week. He shares how it felt that the break felt like a _breakup_. He lost his soulmate. He recounts his memories from the fire inside his body, the feeling of something breaking deep in his soul and falling into darkness. He's careful to avoid male pronouns and names lest he lose his only audience to the inherent bigotry that tended to live in the Roman Church, at least from his experience. Granted, he was already excommunicated so there wasn't much else he could lose but for some reason Brock found himself not wanting T'Challa to leave or judge him. It was odd how he was unable to speak to those that he knew but was able to share, albeit extremely brokenly and with lots of tissues, the turmoil that resided in him to a complete stranger. While it didn't change anything, it was nice to put the nameless feelings into words. Even if they were more than a little jumbled.

T'Challa listened carefully to the man's story. He listened and heard. This story's theme was not unlike many others that he had counseled. However, something seemed different with this broken man than the rest. The few cues he received allowed him to build a sort of puzzle in his mind and the result was very interesting. Brock was describing something that was nearly unheard of in T'Challa's experience and he suspected that not even Brock himself knew it. He needs to know.

"Allow me to interrupt, my friend, please. There is something I must address. Do you know how high your fever was?"

Brock shakes his head, "No. Just that I felt like my insides were frozen. All the time. Everything hurt. Still hurts. Not as bad now though. I remember having to take a cold bath. I hate the cold."

"A very dangerous fever then, to require ice. It seems to me that you were battling not just any sickness, my friend, but one far more dangerous than any flu," T'Challa says with a smile.

"I don't understand." Brock frowns. What's more dangerous than the flu?

"It appears to me that your _person_ is more than just a lover whom I expect you will want to marry," begins T'Challa. He knows full well that this man spoke of a male lover but he is choosing to overlook that in favor of helping him. It was not his place to condemn for that was God's but to lead the lost back home; to be a beacon of the Lord's light and help them heal. "It seems to me that you fought not just a battle of illness, but one of life and death. I have no doubt that should you not have fought so hard to remain tied to your love, you would have died, Mr. Brock."

For a moment, Brock is stunned into silence. He knows T'challa is right. He's not sure how he knows but the strange feelings he had leading up to the break made more sense now. He fought Death and won, barely. And now something was broken inside. Would it ever heal?

"I knew. I don't know how but I think I knew." Brock is silent for a moment before asking, "Am I being punished?" 

T'Challa considers his words carefully. He wants to say yes, that Brock needed to atone his sins for lying with another man. It was against the Catholic faith and God. As a priest, he should say such things and direct Brock to the confessional so that he may be absolved. However, in doing so, he would push the older man away from the church. He decides to answer the question as it is intended. "That is something you must discover for yourself. However, it is my belief that what you are currently experiencing is the result of the break. As your illness was the physical manifestation of the battle between you and death, so to this burden you carry is but a symptom. You won the first battle in your soul but not yet the war. The road to recovery will be long, my friend."

Brock nods. He knows. He can feel it deep within that this isn't something he's going to get over quickly. He's not sure what to do now. He wants to go home. Maybe take a nap. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He doesn't want to have company either. "Thank you."

Nodding, T'Challa rises from the bench. He reaches over and claps Brock on the shoulder. "You are most welcome, my friend. Please, do not hesitate to return. May your journey to recovery be smooth. I will pray for you, sir, for your soul and for your sins."

"Thanks," whispers Brock, watching T'Challa take his leave and wander the church for someone else he can help. He buries his face in Tiger's fur. What was keeping his sister? He's drained. He wants to go home.

He doesn't know how long he sits there just existing and staring off into space. The next thing he knows is the feeling of pressure on his shoulder and slightly jumping. Brooke is there, leaning down a little. She's smiling at him, features soft with kindness and sympathy. What's wrong?

"Hey, I'm so sorry that took longer than expected," Brooke says quietly. "Are you ready to leave?"

Oh, was he ready. He nods quickly. Standing and following her out, they climb into the car and begin the drive back to the airport. He immediately gets comfy up against the glass and tugs his blanket around him tighter.

"Are you going to wash your plush?" 

Brooke's voice cuts through his doze and he jumps a little. He's not sure when he fell asleep but judging from the buildings outside, it wasn't long because they appeared to still be in the city. "No. He's never leaving my hands. Are we stopping in Rome or going home now?"

Brooke glances at him. The fact that her brother clings to the raggedy tiger plush is concerning to her. They were 51 now. Far too old to be interested in stuffed toys, in general, and certainly not holding onto it like a child. In his past depressive episodes, he would barely get out of bed, never eating, never speaking. This was different on many levels. She's not sure how to handle him this time, but she's going to be patient. Letting him process through things in his own time and own way was the only successful course of action in the past and she was going to do the same here. No matter how wrong this looked. She replies softly, "I was thinking of just passing through. Unless you had someplace you wanted to go?"

Brock is silent as she drives. His brain feels sluggish. Thoughts form slowly, one at a time, getting examined before being discarded. Perhaps this is what it's like inside the mind of a sloth. After what feels like forever, he answers with a simple, "Yes."

There was no reason to explain his thought process.

"Okay. We can stop somewhere. Where?" Brooke asks, trying to look at her brother and still keep an eye on the road ahead.

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispers. “Just a store. I want to purchase something.”

Brooke fights to roll her eyes at his most unhelpful answer. She keeps her voice soft and gentle, “Okay. Could you be a little more specific? Food? Clothing?”

"I don't know. Just. Something. Not clothing." He's not being very helpful. He knows this. But he doesn't know what he wants to look for. How can he describe something he doesn't know? He should try. At least. Right? He struggles to form words.

"Alright. Let's go to a pharmacy. Seems as good as any a place to start." 

Brock nods, absently. He stares at the world passing him by. A stranger in his own country. It's not until Brooke shuts off the car that he registers they are parked in front of a pharmacy. He gets out and slowly trails after her, blanket and Tiger his constant companions. Entering the store, he feels overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people in such a small space. Hopefully they will leave him alone. The noise of the crowd fills the store and makes his head feel fuzzy or stuffed with cotton. Why did they come here? He wants to go home. Movement to his right draws his attention. Brooke is with him. Has she been speaking to him? He’s not sure.

“Do you want to look around to find whatever it was you wanted to buy?” she asks. “Or do you want me to help you?”

She’s right; he wanted to buy something. But he doesn’t know or remember what it was. He’s not sure what choice he should make here. What should he do? He stares at nothing, body locked up with choice paralysis and brain numb. He should move at least. Right? To get away from the door? Carefully, he takes a step forward. He has no idea where to go or what to look for. The thought makes him tear up. He feels lost. He _is_ lost. 

The single step seems to be what he needed because he's not stopping. He stares at the items with little recognition and dispassion. Nothing registers to him and none of it is what he's looking for. He's not sure what he's looking for but it's not here. Brooke follows behind him, silently offering support. It's not until he's given up and headed back out that he spots something that catches his eye. He goes over to a card rack. It's mostly full of tourist postcards, birthday cards, and a small section for each major occasion. It's there that he picks up what caught his eye; a plain creamy-white colored card with two cotton balls peeking through a cut out. There's a tiny stick above and below the cut out, giving the cotton balls the appearance of being a s'more. Tiny faces were inked in with a marker, making them happy faces complete with drawn on chocolate. Little pink hearts fluttered around the two cotton balls. Beneath the left s'more were the words _I love you_ , beneath the right was _I love you s'more_ , and on the inside _I love you most_ was printed. It was perfect for Frank.

"That's adorable," Brooke says softly next to him. 

"This. I want this." He's never been more sure of anything since he arrived.

Brooke takes the card gently from his hands. "Alright. Why don't you go back to the car and rest? I'll take care of this for you."

He nods, thankful he doesn't have to go through the sea of people. He's not sure he could figure out how to pay anyway. It's not because he doesn't have money. Carefully, he quickly makes his way towards the safety of the car. He's certain he feels eyes watching him but he doesn't care. Nothing matters in life anymore. His life doesn't matter anymore. There is only Frankie. Tiger and his blanket as well but only as things necessary to tie him to this world and to Frankie. Getting into the car, he returns to his spot of laying his head on the window, Tiger pressed hard against his chest. The heat of day seeps into his muscles for a moment and he closes his eyes. It seems to help ease the pain in his bones that his shower couldn't accomplish this morning. He could sleep here. He might if only the damn sun weren't too bright. He tries anyway though, at least until Brooke returns.

It's not long after that she slides into the car, card safely tucked away into a small plastic bag. She tosses it into the back seat before heading back onto the road. "Anywhere else, little brother?"

"No," he mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes. "Home."

"Okay. Let's go home." 

~~

"-rock. Brock, wake up. We're here," came his sister's voice through the haze of his consciousness. Stirring with a pained groan, he opens his eyes blearily. Brooke stood above him. He sits up, having no memory of laying down on the couch to begin with, and wipes his cheek of drool. Slowly, he stands and regrets it as waves of dizziness washes over him. He closes his eyes and waits for it to pass before heading for the stairs.

"Hey, what's wrong? Besides the obvious," asks Brooke, grabbing his arm to steady him.

"Nothing. Just a little dizzy, is all," he mutters. "I'm ok."

"No, you're not. Probably need to eat something."

Alarm floods him. Not food. He can't eat. He'll be sick. He doesn't want to be sick. It hurts so much. He's shaking his head no before he even realizes it. "Not hungry. Just tired. I'll be fine."

He ignores the look of disbelief from his sister and trudges down the stairs. Huddling under the protection of his blanket from sea spray, he forces his body to push through the pain and hurry across the wooden pier and up the cliff steps. His only focus is on his bed. Brock heads inside, keeping his head down. His body aches with a deep heaviness that seems heavier than his new normal. Perhaps it was due to the stress of the trip? It seems that not even Tiger can ease his burden anymore. He still clings to his lifeline though. He can't let Tiger go. He knows he won't survive another loss. In fact, he's not even sure he wants to either. Everything hurt with no end in sight and it was getting to him.

He's halfway up the stairs when Brooke calls him. He tries to ignore her but when he hears a second voice - his father's voice - he halts. He doesn't want to deal with whatever his dad has planned. Slowly he turns, fingers tightening around fur and velvet and a question in his eyes.

"In my study," Emilio says firmly. He turns from the bottom of the stairs and disappears down the hallway to the left, knowing his son would follow. His cane and cast boot strike the tile and give Brock an ominous feeling.

There's a small part of Brock that wants to shrink small and hide in his room, certain that he is in some form of trouble with his dad. A larger part wants the same thing but only to avoid what is certain to be an exhausting conversation he will probably fail at. He doesn't really care what his father wants. He only wants to avoid making his pain worse. Still, he's a good son enough to begin making the ardorous trek into his father's study. He wishes he didn't care about wanting to not care about things. Apathy was weird.

Pushing open the dark oak French-style double doors, he enters what will one day be his proverbial throne. As a child, he used to think his father's study resembled that of the American President's oval office. It was something he learned in school and couldn't help but notice some rather prominent features primarily the way a large cherry oak desk sat in the center of the room. And while the study wasn't oval like the President's, Emilio's held the same feel of power and authority. Brock nods his head at the two armed guards that flanked his father before stepping fully into the room and approaching the desk. His eyes trace over features he hadn't seen before; the green carpet and a towering bookcase to his left were both new. He sits in one of two black leather chairs. Waiting. Existing.

Emilio is silent for a moment, writing something down in a notebook before raising bright amber brown eyes to meet his son's. His hands fold over themselves before speaking, voice rich and soft yet full of authority, "You look like hell."

Brock blinks, not expecting that to be the first thing out of his father's mouth. He doesn't know how to respond. Should he? Probably. Maybe not? He's not usually this unsure. He doesn't like this and it feels uncomfortable. He wants to go to bed. He fights the sudden urge to cry.

"I know you are not doing well, and I am sorry, my son," Emilio continues. "A broken heart is a terrible thing to experience but know that it is not the end of the world. Like all things in this life this, too, will pass. We must look towards the future for both yourself and our family. My fall last month put a strain on myself and your mother. I simply cannot afford another sort of event. A man my age has his limits."

Brock nods. He hated not being here for his dad when he was going through such a hard time. At least his dad seemed to be healing well and moving around better. He didn’t think he could bear it if his dad were to get hurt and not come back from it. He loves his father very much. He supposes this meeting was about his succession and isn’t sure if he’s ready for it. He has been groomed for this role his entire life and while he is as ready as he’ll ever be, he’s not sure he wants it. Not now. Not without Frank at his side. It hurts too much.

“Something has been brought to my attention recently and while I would normally consider this to be grave news, perhaps due to the recent events with you and your…” Emilio pauses, unsure what determiner to use here, “partner, this might actually be beneficial to you.”

Brock’s head rises to look up at him. A sense of foreboding fills him. He’s not sure what could possibly be bad yet good news. “What...news?”

Sighing hard, Emilio motions to one of the guards before turning to Brock. The guard turns and exits through a hidden door to the side. Brock’s eyebrow raises. Not many people were allowed into the inner chamber. Which meant he was about to meet someone very important. As exhausted as he is, both physically and mentally, he pulls strength from the depths of himself that he didn’t know existed and sits up a little straighter. 

“There comes a time in a man’s life that he must make hard and oftentimes unfair decisions that are only beneficial to the family, yet cost a leader dearly. No matter what we want or desire, the family comes first in all things. The business is sacred. Do you understand that, Brock?”

“Yes, father,” he nods, hesitantly. Of course he knew that. How could he not? He would never put the family in jeopardy.

“Good,” Emilio nods. The side door reopens and the guard returns, followed by a man Brock has never met. “May I present to you Sebastiano Gotti. Soon to be the new Head of the Gambino Family, he has come to build an alliance with us.”

A striking middle aged man enters. He’s sharply dressed with a white button down partially opened under a black open jacket and black slacks. Short black hair gelled to the side frames his dark brown eyes and highlights the strong jawline and high cheekbones. A day-old scruff gives him the appearance of a pout. He strides over to Brock, exuding confidence and extending a gold-ring covered hand for him to shake. His voice is smooth and light, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Brock. I’m sure we will be the future of The Five.”

Looking up at the well dressed and very handsome man, Brock feels like he has fallen from grace and landed in a dirt pile. He used to be like the man in front of him, all suave and rich looking. Instead, he’s wearing days old clothing, clinging to a sweat-soaked raggedly tiger plush and huddled under a heavy and hot blanket. He can’t remember the last time he put on deodorant or brushed his teeth. He knows he is wearing clean underwear. He thinks. Maybe. He took a shower at least. In comparison to Sebastiano, Brock was a homeless dude. No wonder T’Challa thought him as such. He shakes the offered hand, “Hi.”

Sebastiano grins at Brock and Emilio. “Your father tells me you’ve been in the States for the last several years. How exciting. I’ve never been, myself, but I hear it is a sight to behold. The things you must have experienced. I can’t wait to implement new ideas and concepts that will turn our united families into one of the greatest crime organizations of the century. With this new alliance, we will be even stronger."

~~

Brock feels sick. Nausea rises through his body only further aided by his panic. He can't hold onto Tiger any harder. He lies in bed curled up as tight as he can be. Tiger is pressed close to his heart for comfort though it never quite seems enough. The weighted blanket clings to him under his bed sheets and yet he still feels cold on the inside. He stares into the darkness of his room, trying to calm himself after his nightmare. Remnants of his dream linger in his mind. Putting aside the memory of freezing to death from the inside, he grabs his phone. Maybe he can pass the time until he falls asleep again playing a game or aimlessly scrolling through the internet. The screen's brightness is a stark contrast to the darkness of his room and it hurts his eyes for several moments. Once they adjust, he realizes he has a missed text message. It's from Frankie.

_Frank: That's it! Passerotto. Anyway, shouldn't I be the spaghetti to your meatball._

His sleepy brain isn't sure if he just got called fat or not. It takes him a bit to understand that Frank is referring to his love of eating meatballs and his pet name, not Brock's weight. He's tired. So very tired.

_You are skinny, yes. But you will never be wet noodle skinny._

_Frank: I am a skinny little noodle boy. But I'm your noodle boy. How are you doing?_

How was he supposed to answer? And why did the question always feel like it was loaded? What were people expecting him to say? The truth? The truth was no, he wasn't okay and he was barely hanging onto life by a thread. He was lost; in limbo it seemed, not caring if he lived or died but unable to let go of his lifelines. His universe shattered, a piece of him broke inside and now he exists in space, floating around with no purpose only experiencing pain. Only his grasp on Tiger and his blanket kept him from falling off the deep end. On the surface, he knows that Frank is being genuine. But he also couldn't help but feel like it was a feeler question. Was Frank still under the impression that he was off having fun with some side piece? Was Frank still worried about his return? Shaking his head in a poor attempt to clear his thoughts away, he types back a reply.

 _I'm alive_.

_Frank: Alive is good. I'm sorry you're hurting so much baby. I love you and I know that if and when you come home, we can fix everything._

There's that _if_ again. Brock can't tell if Frank is actively trying to be positive or if he truly means it. He wonders how he is doing. 

_How are you?_

_Frank: Truthfully, my heart is broken. I miss you so badly. I didn't think this was possible. I just wanna quit and fly to you. I know why this is happening but I don't like it. I am trying to stay positive. And I'm sober._

Sober was good. It would do no good if they did the break and nothing changed. He realizes that also applies to him but he felt that his control issues have at least somewhat abated simply because he wasn't in control of anything anymore and he was okay with that.

Slowly, he begins to drift back off, phone finding its way under his pillow. The rest of the night is thankfully dreamless as the dawn begins to filter through his curtains. 

**Day Six**

Waking up, Brock's eyes blearily focus on a giant yellow smiley face inches in front of his face. It startles him enough that he jerks back, clutching Tiger and his blankets to his chest in hopes that they will protect him from that…thing. The thing swings back from the bed, foil glinting in the light and string trailing down to the floor. _Happy Birthday_ sparkles back at him on the giant balloon and Brock groans. He'd forgotten his birthday.

Sighing hard, he closes his eyes and debates on getting up or not. He doesn't really want to but his body reminds him that he's still alive and it has needs. With a groan, he sits up and clenches his teeth at the ever-present pain. Pushing the balloon away, he makes his way into the bathroom. As he gets dressed he thinks about the day ahead and dread fills him. There's no way he can avoid getting sick today. He knows his mom will have made a cake, at least, and will probably have a feast or something. He'll be expected to eat and socialize and there's nothing he can do about it. It's a shame Jack isn't here. He could act as a buffer at least. 

The door opens and Maria enters with a bright smile and arms wide open. She exclaims as she gives him a big hug, "Happy Birthday, baby! Did you sleep well? How are you feeling today? I got you something special for you and your sister. It's in the kitchen. You can have it with your breakfast."

He refrains from shaking his head, no matter how much he wants to. He doesn't want food. He doesn't want to be sick. It hurts. He resigns himself to the inevitable of having to at least eat breakfast. The thought makes his stomach churn with nausea. Perhaps his family will see he is still sick with this stomach bug and leave him be. Just because he no longer has a fever doesn't mean he's not still sick. The body aches and fatigue were probably enhanced because of it.

"Hi Mama," Brock whispers into the hug. "Slept okay. Still sick. Thank you for the balloon. Scared me."

Maria squeezes her poor boy tight and laughs softly at the thought of her big and strong son being frightened by a balloon. "I'm sorry, little potato. I did not mean to frighten you. With glitter and a happy face."

Brock pulls back a little to see the wry look on her face. "That happy face was inches in front of my own and when I opened my eyes it was all I could see."

Maria laughs and squeezes him again before planting a kiss to his temple. "I'm sorry, love. Now, you must get up. Get dressed. Take a bath. Make sure you change into _clean_ lightweight clothing. I love you my son but you smell. Then, come down for breakfast."

Brock mentally sighs. He didn't want to do any of that. But this was his mother and no matter if he was 5, 15, or 50, he had to listen to her. So he nods, as any good son would do. "Yes mama."

"Good," she nods, "I'll leave you to it. I need to wake your sister. She’s chosen today to sleep in." With that, she releases Brock and exits his bedroom.

Getting up and shedding the weighted blanket felt weird. Like it was more than just a blanket but that he was shedding the twenty pounds _himself_. He feels so much lighter without the blanket around his shoulders. He hates it. Removing his clothing only added to the odd feeling. He avoids the mirror. He hasn’t actively seen his reflection since he left Frank. Afraid to see the image looking back at him. Afraid he might not like what he sees. Stepping under the hot shower, he shivers from the stark temperature difference between his skin and the water and a whine escapes. Panic fills him. He’s dying! He’s too cold. Wrapping his arms around himself he quickly turns the water as hot as he can make it before sitting in the tub under the scalding spray. Tremors wrack his body and his teeth chatter. He’s not sure how long he sat there, only that eventually his heart calms down and his skin is a bright red. The water cascading over him is no longer burning hot but lukewarm. He sniffles, not realizing he had been crying. He’s still a little cold on the inside but his skin feels better. He can deal with this. Maybe once he washes and gets back under his blanket, he’ll get warmer. Tiger stares back at him in his plastic baggie to keep him dry. It feels weird to not be feeling soft fur under his fingers. Achingly slow, he rises to wash up. Every muscle is tense and tight; weak.

No matter what T’Challa said, this feels like a punishment.

Getting dressed in more of a chore than it needs to be but he manages. His thoughts linger on Frankie. He’s supposed to return tomorrow. Oh how he wants nothing more than that. But this trip was supposed to be different than how it turned out. Instead of working on his issues, he was too ill to do much for the first several days and now he’s wasted away the week. He can’t go back. He isn’t ready and if he went back now it would be disastrous.

Once he’s dressed and back under the safety of his weighted blanket, he takes a deep breath and steps out of his room. Dread rests in the pit of his stomach as he knows what is coming. The feelings were familiar, having had nearly the same experience not a full week before. He had dreaded, protested, feared, and hated the lead up to taking a break from Frank and everything he feared had come true. His instincts tell him the same now. Experience is the bridge between knowledge and wisdom or so his father once told him.

As he descends the stairs the smell of freshly baked bread and spices reach his nose. It was probably meant to incite hunger and provide warm, comforting feelings but instead he feels quite the opposite. His mouth waters but not out of a desire to eat the food but as a natural response to nausea. His palms sweat as his body breaks out in gooseflesh and the feeling of an egg slides down his back. Everything in his body is calling out to him to not go through with this. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. Forcing his feet forward, he enters the kitchen only to be assaulted by two arms and a kiss on his cheek.

“Happy birthday, brother,” Brooke squeals happily before kissing him again.

“Happy birthday, sister,” he replies warmly, hugging her close. He buries his face in her neck and holds her hand, an intimate gesture they used to do as children. It had always felt right growing up. Until some bullies thought differently. When he had begun to shun her away out of fear, their mom had pulled out old sonograms of them in the womb to show the twins in the same position. He never worried about it again.

“Did you sleep well,” she whispers to him. He can smell her perfume, sweet and light. It’s pleasant and goes with the beautiful sundress she’s wearing.

“Enough.” He replies, “How about you?”

“Good. I have plans with you after breakfast.” She kisses him on the edge of his lips. “That is, if you do not mind.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts his lips and he nods. “Okay.”

“Brock, sweetheart, come eat,” Maria calls to him from the dining room table. In front of her is a wide spread of fruits and bread with smoked meat and honey.

He swallows hard and it burns in his throat. His hand tightens around Tiger and he forces himself to take his seat at the table. His brain screams at him that the pineapple in front of him is poison. He fights the urge to run. His head has decided he’s in danger and flight has taken over. It makes a small noise escape him.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Maria asks him, placing a hand on her son’s.

“I don’t think my body is ready to eat. Still sick, mama,” he admits softly.

“Nonsense. You’ve been fine to me. No fever, yes?”

He shakes his head, “No fever. But… nausea. Dizzy. Tired. Hurts.”

“It’s true, mama,” Brooke adds. “He was dizzy after we landed yesterday.”

“Perhaps eating something will help,” Maria offers. She pushes a plate of sliced apples in front of him. “There is cake later, if you want it. Go on, eat. There’s honey, too.”

Brock knows there isn’t a single thing he can do to avoid this. Italians loved food. It was part of their culture. Knowing the inevitable outcome helps him make the decision to take a slice of the apple and eat it. It will prove his point and they will leave him well enough alone. It's going to hurt. He will be sick. But it's on his terms and for a purpose. That alone makes it easier to ignore his body screaming at him in fear.

He doesn't get the chance to eat it and for that he's thankful as the sound of something like glass shattering echoes through the house. His mother and sister bolt for their seats, worry evident in their faces. He wonders if it was his father. He's certain they think the same thing. Several of the house keepers rush past the kitchen entrance and he wonders what's going on. He should go check. He doesn't want to move. Moving hurts. Still, he pushes himself up with a slight wince and follows the sound of anxious voices.

In the foyer, what was once a crystal three-tiered chandelier now glittered in the sunlight on the floor. Glass sparkle everywhere, catching the sun rays from the many windows. A prism of a thousand mini rainbows danced along the tile. Amidst the glass, sitting on a small stool, was Sofia, one of the housekeepers. Brooke and Maria were with her and Brock didn't think she was hurt, though certainly startled and shaken up. 

"I'm so sorry," Sofia stammers through tears. She was pale and shaking. Brock feels sorry for her as he carefully navigates his way over. 

"Nonsense, dear," Maria says, wrapping her arm around the frazzled young woman. "We are just happy you are unhurt."

"What happened?" Brock asks as he approaches.

Sofia's voice turns panic stricken and urgent. "Sir! I'm so sorry! The chandelier! I was going to clean the rug but– it– fell! I didn't touch it, I swear, sir!"

The chandelier fell? Brock's eyes narrow in thought. He pushes it away in favor of giving Sofia a kind smile. "I believe you. It was just an accident. Take the rest of the day off. If you need medical assistance, just have the doctor bill us. Your safety is more important."

Both his sister and his mother echo his sentiment as they help the woman up and lead her away to gather her things. He can hear the remnants of their soothing voices echo down the hallway. Carefully he checks over the chandelier chain. Something doesn't seem right.

~~

After breakfast, in which Brock manages to avoid eating by making sure he was busy with ordering a new chandelier and overseeing the cleanup, he and Brooke make the drive down into the city below their cliff. Brooke had gushed the whole drive about a little cafe that had just opened. And while he was happy to see his sister happy, another pit formed in his stomach. He didn't understand why they needed to visit a cafe when they just had breakfast. He refrains from asking however, knowing full well she would turn it on him.

"You'll love him, I promise," Brooke repeats, excitement clear in her voice.

Wait. _Him_? He must've heard incorrectly. He asks, "Who?"

"I told you. Were you not listening at all?" Brooke gently chastises.

"Yes, but I thought you were referring to the cafe itself. Not a man. Who's this man?" 

Brooke laughs. "Just for that, I'm not telling you anything until we get there."

He shrugs and returns to his window. "Fine."

"Fine," Brooke echoes.

"Whatever." 

"Okay."

"I don't care, you know."

"I know. I don't care that you don't care. So there."

Brooke had such attitude. A part of Brock wants to roll his eyes but he refrains. He still can't help responding however. "Yeah well I don't care that you don't care about me not caring about some _boyfriend_."

"So you were listening! Hah!" Brooke playfully shoves him.

"No. It's more like I put two and two together. You're all weirdly happy and shit. It's not normal, ya freak," he grumbles with only a hint of play in his tone.

"First of all, you're an ass. Second of all, if you are going to be a grumpy butt, you can walk home. Otherwise, be nice and don't judge him right away. Please?"

Brock snorts. Of course he's going to judge him. What else is he going to do? It's a hobby and one he's pretty decent at. The fact that his sister has to tell him not to judge the mystery man is the exact reason why he should judge him. Nobody touches his sister. It's against his law.

"I make no promises. In fact he already has several strikes against him," he points out. 

"What? Why?!"

Brock counts the ways on his fingers. "He's dating _you_. He made me leave the house and go to a stupid cafe. And he's probably dumb as a bag of rocks." It wasn't anything personal. He hated anyone who dared to date his sister. No one was ever good enough.

Instead of answering, Brooke pulls into a parking space for the cafe and gets out. "Guess you'll have to find out."

He does roll his eyes this time as he undoes his seatbelt and forces himself to get out of the car, holding his blanket close. Sunlight beats down on him and seeps into his bones. It brings some relief to the pain. It's then that he really takes a look at the cafe his sister brought to him. 

The cafe is rather quaint. It looked like something dating around the renaissance with weathered cobblestone and a victorian trim and windows. Across the front of the building, in perfectly faded red block letters were the words _Out of the Brew Cafe_. Tables littered the outdoor verandah perfect for small groups of up to four people while larger tables and booths filled the indoor space. Replicas of famous artwork hung on the walls while electric sconces gave off a warm atmosphere. It was a myriad of styles and colors and yet it worked together perfectly. Brock can't help but think that Frankie would enjoy this place as they wander through the cafe, looking for their other party member.

Brooke makes a noise next to him that tells him she's found her man. Brock follows her line of sight to discover the tallest man he's ever seen walking over to them. With short hair carefully gelled, a salt and pepper beard, light brown amber eyes, full brows, and an athletic build, Brock knew right away that this was the mystery man he came here to meet. The closer he gets to them, the more Brock realizes that this guy is a giant. He's taller than Jack. Brock has to crane his neck back to look up at the guy who easily has a full head of height on him.

Brooke pushes past him in favor of greeting her boyfriend. Wrapping her arms around his wait, she leans up and kisses him briefly before turning to her brother.

"Brock. This is Anatolio, my boyfriend. Anatolio, my brother Brock." 

"I finally get the chance to meet the family. It's a pleasure to meet you," Anatolio grins. He offers his hand to Brock. "Your sister raves about you."

"Funny, she's never spoken about you at all. Best kept secret, I guess." Brock returns the handshake. He's not sure what to make of this guy.

Brooke offers with a grin, "Why don't we go sit down and chat? Did you eat yet, Anatolio?"

"No, sadly. I got busy this morning. Did you two?"

The twins nod. Brock is thankful he's not going to be expected to eat or drink. After a moment of discussion, the twins head outside to wait while Anatolio orders his food and coffee. He offers to grab something for the twins to which Brooke agrees on coffee but Brock declines. He hugs his lifelines and observes the newcomer walk away. 

"So what do you think?" Brooke grills him the moment her boyfriend is out of earshot.

He shrugs. "I dunno. Kinda early to tell."

"I'm hoping this goes well. I really like him, Brock. It's not often I meet a man who can keep up with me. Anatolio is one of those men who can. Not to mention he's gorgeous."

As Anatolio rejoins them with coffee and breakfast, Brock gives him a full assessment from top to bottom. He's inclined to agree with his sister. He was quite a looker. He nods his agreement just as Anatolio sits.

Anatolio gives Brooke her coffee with a kiss before taking a sip of his own. "Mmm, this is good. So. Brock. I'm sure you've got a dozen questions for me. Fire away. I'm an open book so hit me with your best shot."

"How old are you?"

"47. Not much older than you two," Anatolio grins.

"You have zero right to complain about him being younger by 4 years, Brock," adds Brooke, "and you know why."

Making a face at his sister, Brock turns and asks his next question, "Only child or do you have siblings?"

"I have a younger brother named Dante. Why did Brooke say that about the fact that I'm 4 years younger? Is that a problem for you?"

"It isn't," Brooke cuts in before her brother can say anything.

Anatolio laughs, "Alright then what is it?"

"Brock's older than his partner so he gets no say in this."

"How much older?" Anatolio grins at Brock.

"25 years."

Amber eyes widen as thick brows shoot up. Anatolio blinks a bit as the words register in his brain. 25 years was a lot. Such a huge difference to be dating someone young enough to be your son. He notes Brooke doesn't seem to care and that cinches it for him. If they are cool with it; so is he.

"Then yes, you most certainly have no room to talk," he laughs. "How long have you two been together?"

Brock looks down at his hands. Tiger looks back at him and his shoulders slump a little. Were they broken up? He didn't know. Frank was so _angry_. He had every right to be, of course. But it had hurt nonetheless. He whispers, "Just over 7 months."

"Oh, so young love. Well, fresh love anyway. Things are always so nice at that stage. My exes would probably agree with me there."

"Ex girlfriends or Ex wives?" Brock asks.

"Girlfriends. I've never been married."

Brock blurts, "Are you clean?"

"Brock!"

"It's fine Brooke. It's a good thing to ask. I am clean and free. My last ex cheated on me and she hooked up with a guy who was later tested positive for an STI. I got tested the moment I discovered and came back clean."

Brock nods, "Good. It's important to drop dead weight."

They chat for a while, Anatolio finishing off his breakfast. Brooke finishes her coffee and gets up, taking the trash with her. Anatolio follows, making a beeline for the bathroom, leaving Brock alone. He sits in the sun and reflects on what he's learned about his sister's boyfriend. He seemed nice. Handsome. He looks at Brooke like she was the most important thing in his life and Brock liked that. His sister was happy and that was all that mattered to Brock.

Something big blocked the sun and Brock looked up from his lap expecting to see either his sister or her boyfriend. He squints into the sun, unable to make out who the human shape shadow belongs to. As he opens his mouth to speak, the shape grows larger moments before a solid mass barrels into him. Pain erupts across his cheekbone quickly followed by another at his jaw. 

His hands come up, shoving at his attacker. He still can't see their face. They grapple, struggling as Brock tries to get this guy off of him. Their movement causes them to slip into the shade and for the first time Brock can see who dared to attack him. His eyes widen in both recognition and surprise but it's short lived. A flash of silver temporarily blinds him allowing his attacker to knock him back to the ground. He has just enough time to raise his hands in defense before the blade of a knife is plunged down at his chest. He flinches and braces for an impact. But it doesn't come. There's only a small bite in his chest burning near his heart. The back of Tiger's head rests near his throat and the realization that Tiger's stuffed body kept the knife from going all the way through causes relief to wash over him.

"Sonofabitch!" The anger-laced voice of Sebastiano screams in Brock's face.

The blade is yanked out of both Brock and the plush. The last half inch on the tip of the blade was covered in blood and polyester fill. Sebastiano screams in frustration, rearing back to stab Brock again. "You backstabbing traitor!" 

Brock's training kicks in and he uses his free hand to jab three fingers hard into Sebastiano's throat. When the other man rears back, choking, Brock surges forward and grabs his nuts, twisting hard before getting his leg up and kicking the younger man off of him. He scrambles to his feet, a burning pain stinging in his chest. He can feel a wetness there and knows he's bleeding but ignores it in favor of keeping an eye on Sebastiano. 

"I am not a traitor," he hisses out. "I am honoring a promise _**I**_ made to someone else and refusing to follow the path laid out for me. The deal between our fathers failed to take into account my needs. I will speak to your father and make other arrangements. It's not personal; just business."

"Really?" Sebastiano wheezes. One hand slinks to his side. "Because it feels pretty personal!"

The flash of steel is the only warning Brock has before Sebastiano is on his feet and rushing Brock. Bracing himself, he calculates his plan of defence. He can't really afford to kill him. Not yet anyway. Side-stepping the knife, he jabs a punch into the man's side. He attempts to duck another punch but fails and stumbles from the force. Another blow lands on his back. He hates to admit it but he’s too weak to fight him. But he didn’t nearly die from a fever just to die here. He has to get back to Frankie. He has to fight. Hugging Tiger tight in a fist, he pivots and swings hard as he can, plush-filled fist landing hard against Sebastiano’s cheekbone and nose. He hears rather than feels the crunch of cartilage breaking. Sebastiano stumbles back and Brock takes the opportunity to snactch the knife from him.

“I’m going to give you one more chance, Sebastiano. Drop it,” growls Brock, brandishing the blade.

“Brock!” Brooke calls out after stepping from the cafe. She’s immediately on the phone once she sees Sebastiano. There was no way in hell she or her father was going to allow this. Whatever _this_ was.

Brock doesn’t turn at his sister’s voice, too busy watching Sebastiano in case he had another trick up his sleeve. He doesn’t expect to see a blur out of the corner of his eye and he blinks in shock. Anatolio barrels into Sebastiano and throws him into the table, spinning him around to shove him face first into the metal. Grabbing his arms, Anatolio holds him immobile and calls to Brock, “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah….” He looks down and sees the red stain slowly spreading. “Maybe not.”

Brooke marches over and beats her fist on Sebastiano's broken nose. Ignoring the man’s howl of pain she screams at him, “I will have your head on a platter for this Gotti!”

Brock carefully walks over. He stares at the scene absently. They need to leave. People saw their fight. The authorities would get involved and nobody wanted that. He doesn’t understand why Gotti would do this to him. To the Five. They were all technically Family. To jeopardize one is to jeopardize them all. Gotti should have known better than to attack him out in the open. Internal affairs are supposed to be handled on the inside and with the other Heads. This was dangerous and Brock realized that perhaps the deal with Gotti wasn’t going to be as easy to get rid of as he initially thought. He’ll need to watch his back until it is handled; quietly.

“We need to leave,” he says softly, using Tiger to hide his bleeding.

“Agreed,” nods Anatolio. 

“Put him in the car. We’re taking him back with us,” comments Brooke, not looking away from her phone. “Feel free to throw him in the trunk.”

Anatolio chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind. And remind me never to piss you off, love.”

Brooke smirks, “You’ll do well to remember that. Come. We need to get Brock treated and my father wishes to speak with this idiot.”

Slowly the trio treks towards the car, dragging their captive with them. Brock reflects on what happened. “Anatolio? How did you do that?”

“What? Subdue him?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I learned that at work.”

Brock doesn’t respond right away. Instead he watches as Brooke opens the back door and Anatolio tosses in Sebastiano who just lies on the backseat with a groan. “Work?”

“Oh yeah, we never got around to talking about that,” Anatolio huffs from exertion. “I’m a cop.”

~~

Brock sits in the kitchen and waits for more bandages. The blade from Sebastiano’s attack missed his heart but it went in deep enough to keep bleeding. At the moment, Sebastiano and Pietro Gotti were in his father’s study, discussing the attack and the next steps. Brock was within his right to demand recompense but he was too tired to even care at the moment. He hurt and just wanted his bed and his Tiger. This issue with Sebastiano isn’t as resolved as he expected it to be. He realizes that he cannot return to Frankie just yet. To do so would put them both in danger. The last thing he needs is to have the Gambino heir target his boyfriend simply out of spite and hate. He needed to address and handle this issue first beforehand. He makes a decision to call Frank and let him know. He hates that he has to do this. He can’t help but be thankful when Frank’s cell goes to voicemail. He’s not sure he has the mental capacity to handle any more high intense situations.

_I want to come home. I need you in my arms. But I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be the man you need me to be. The man you deserve me to be. One that doesn't control everything. I need a little more time, my love. Hopefully a few more days. I am so sorry. I miss you. I know you are hurting, and it's my fault. I'm trying to be a better husband for you. For our future. Call me, when you get this. I miss your voice._

Just as he hangs up, Maria enters in with a large bowl filled with hot water and clothes. Behind her is one of the maids, Irina, with fresh bandages and gauze. They set the items down on the table and begin to treat his wound. He hisses as Maria irrigates the wound with antiseptic before applying more pressure and gauze. The two women tape up his chest. Irina begins to pack up the first aid supplies when she notices Tiger looking a little deflated.

“Sir?” Irina asks softly. She brushes a hand across Tiger’s head. She’s seen him hold onto the plush since he returned and it saddened her heart.

“Yeah?”

“Does he need medical attention too?” Her voice is gentle and soft, knowing it was what he needed.

Maria turns from where she was washing her hands to look at her eldest boy. Drying them, she approaches. "What's wrong with the little tiger?"

"He saved me, mama," Brock whispers with a pained voice. Turning the plush around he shows her the "wound" from Sebastiano's knife. "Protected me."

Maria gasps softly at the ruined plush that her precious boy loves so much. It hurt her heart to realize that her son came so close to death. If it weren't for Brock's inability to let him go, she would be down a child. The thought makes her eyes water. She resolved then and there that she would find a way to make the Gotti boy pay.

She knows better than to try to take the stuffed animal from her son. Instead she carefully runs a finger over the ripped fabric. She can fix this. She knows it. Quickly hurrying away she disappears in her room and opens up her bathroom cabinet. She goes through two drawers before she locates what she's looking for– a needle and thread. Carrying the case back to her son with a grin, she proudly shows him the miniature sewing kit. She selects a closely matching thread. "Would you like me to give the patient a local anesthesia during his surgery?"

Brock's heart constricts and overflows with love for his mother. Gratitude follows. She could fix his lifeline. He nods, feeling much like a small boy again with his mom fixing his toys. Gently, almost reverently he places Tiger on the table keeping one paw in his clutch. "Thank you Mama."

"Of course, sweet boy," she replies while threading the needle. "Did he lose any important insides?"

He shakes his head, "I don't think so." His phone vibrates and he picks it up to view the text as he watches his mom begin to sew up Tiger.

_Frank: Okay, rad. See you if you come back. Happy Birthday, Brock._

Wordlessly he sends the phone to sleep and focuses on his mother and his Tiger. He hurts. Not only did his heart ache from within but it matches the outside too. He wants to go to bed and just forget about this day. As far as he's concerned his birthday was ruined. Everything was diminished without Frank to light up his life to begin with, only further enhanced now that they were on a break. His mind wanders to the cafe and to the attack. He doesn't know what he's going to do with this mess. He's not sure what he _can_ do. He does know that it's something he doesn't want to handle. Instead, he would rather it never have been a problem in the first place. And it shouldn't have been either. Sebastiano's family as far as the Five goes. He can't pinpoint why the younger man would attack him in broad daylight and in public no less. If it were him, Brock would have waited until his target was alone and away from prying eyes. It just doesn't make sense.

Maria finishes sewing up Tiger and ties off some knots before patting his cheek and kissing him on his forehead. "There. Almost as good as new. He'll have a scar but like yours, it'll be a victory battle wound." She kisses him again and pats his cheek before turning away to put up her things. 

He's headed back upstairs when the phone rings. A thrill runs through him at the sight of Frankie's name. He misses him so much. He answers and rushes out an apology; maybe if he showed he was sorry Frankie wouldn't hate him for this.

"Tesoro, my love. I missed you. I am so sorry," Brock's voice was thick and rough.

"Uh...what?" Frank says softly, "Brock. I don't understand." 

"I did not want to hurt you. I didn't mean any of this to go this bad. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, baby."

"Brock. My love, I don't speak Italian. I don't know what you are saying. It sounds nice but you could be reading a recipe to me and I wouldn't know." Frank says with a small chuckle.

He didn't realize he was still using his native tongue. After a moment of silence in which Brock is trying to remember English, he speaks again, "I'm sorry." 

"I mean, you are in Italy. It only makes sense." Frank says in return, "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry. Only much more… winded."

"I'm sorry too." Frank replies, "Jack had to knock some sense into me." 

"Literally?" He asks with a slight lilt to his voice. His accent is heavy and strong, having only spoken Italian since he arrived.

"Not yet but I feel like I might be crusin' for a bruisin'." Frank says with a chipper tone.

"I'll do it and you know it," adds the distant voice of his brother. It was good to know they were together.

Frank continues, "So… you're not coming back huh?" 

"I can't. Something came up that I can't talk about just yet. And, like I said, I'm not ready," he says softly.

"Okay. Take your time…" Frank says, emotions laced in the words as they crack slightly.

"We both don't want that. Cristo. I don't want to be here. I want to come home," he says wetly. 

"I know. I want you here." Frank says with a shake to his voice, "You start crying and I'm going to. And there's no crying on your birthday. It's a rule."

"Fuck my birthday. I hate it. I'm not there with you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. This wasn't the plan. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'm sorry Frankie. I love you." Brock rambles, tears evident in his voice. He barely makes it to his room before he collapses on his bed and cries freely. He tries to hold back the noise however to keep Frank from worrying. He struggles to keep his voice even and calm.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! I forgive you. I'm sorry for bringing it up." Frank replies using his best calming voice, "I love you more. What's… what's the weather been like? We are in Minneapolis and there's a chill in the air." 

"Bright. Sunny. Hot. So hot it seems to seep into your bones. Not humid so you sweat but just perfect for soothing achy muscles. It's perfect. I needed that when I was at Christa's. I need you. How… how are you? Truly?"

"Uh. Well. I'm." Frank hesitates.

"Tell the truth," Brock whispers. 

"Not great. Sad. Angry. Confused. At the moment sober. I got in trouble last night for drinking. I quit smoking." Frank starts with a small exhale, "I have one more paid for tattoo to get then I've been told I need to cool it, cause hurting myself to hurt you is apparently ineffective. Sam isn't talking to me. My mom isn't either. Jack and weirdly enough, Gerard, have been the only ones who make me feel like I am not going to either sink or explode."

"But I don't want to tell you any of this cause I don't want to make you worse. I don't want to hurt you. I am not supposed to do that, as your boyfriend." Frank finishes his thought, after a long pause, "Sorry." 

"Thank you… for being honest with me," Brock says softly.

"Sorry." Frank says again, "Tour's almost over...so that's good. I'll be going home soon...

"Is Maria happy to have you home? What about your dad? I'm sure Brooke is too." Frank changes the subject. 

"I miss our bed. Or any bed with you in it. Tiger only does so much. At least, when you are home, you can spritz Enzo bear. Hopefully he's helping. The family… it's complicated right now."

"I'm sorry, baby. Anything I can do, just say the words. You know I'll be there. Your brother has accused me of inappropriate behavior with Enzo bear." Frank comments.

"I'm not sure if it's safe for you to come here right now." Brock frowns as the rest of Frank's sentence registers. "What were you doing to that poor bear?"

"First, rude. I wasn't and haven't done anything bad to the bear. I just cuddled it when I was alone. And second, why do you assume automatically I was doing something to EBee?" Frank replies with a heavy attitude and a tiny hint of his New Jersey accent coming through.

"Because you said Jack said something?" Brock asks.

"He accused me of fucking the bear. I'm not. I'm not that lonely…" Frank says bluntly.

"Oh. Good. Sorry."

"Do you need me to let you go?"

"No. Not yet. Sorry." He pauses, struggling to find words. He's doing better than he was a week ago but it's not… enough.

"You just sound occupied. I don't wanna. Be a bother."

"You aren't. Promise. I'm just not… Myself. Again. I'm trying though. I've got plenty here to keep me occupied though."

"Oh ok. I'm glad you're trying to stay busy. I was scared you were gonna stay in bed. Isolate yourself. Pit of despair. " Frank's voice is skeptical. 

"Yeah, work has kept me very busy." 

"Good, I guess?" Frank asks, concerned. He isn't sure what to say. He's been working. The wheels turn in his head a little faster. 

“Yeah,” Brock trails off with silence. A heavy sigh escapes.

"I have been playing music. Working on my uh, drinking skills. You know, sex, drugs and rock and roll..." Frank gives a weak chuckle at the end.

There's silence from Brock as he fights himself on what he wants to say vs what he should say. The purpose of his time away from Frank was to be less controlling. He can't control what Frank does or does not consume. "Okay." 

"Jack's been a huge help. I promise. I am ok. I wouldn't be talking if it weren't for him..." Frank tone lightens, "I'm getting better."

"That's good. I'm sorry for all of this." Brock wipes his face and wishes he had something to take the edge off. His chest was on fire, his head hurt and his heart ached. He just wants it all to go away.

"It is what it is." Frank sighs, "I'm just happy to hear your voice." 

"You said you were angry and confused. Wanna talk about that? I want to explain myself. If I can. I just want… I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Ok. Yeah. We can talk." Frank's words seem hesitant. 

"Need me to stay or leave?" Jack asks both men loud enough that Brock can hear through the phone.

"If you wanna stay, I'm cool with that." Frank answers Jack. 

"Stay. We'll probably need a mediator," Brock whispers roughly. He's not sure if his brother heard or not. He's not even sure if his opinion counts here.

"So. Yeah… I'm angry and confused. But I'm not sure where to start." 

"Pick one emotion and start there?" offers Jack. Brock hears and agrees.

"Angry. I'm pissed that you fucking left." Frank says softly.

"I'm sorry." 

"That's all I get? I'm sorry. Why?" Frank says with a trace of attitude.

"......I didn't know what else to say," Brock whispers. He inwardly flinches at the anger in Frank's voice. He had it coming. He deserves this.

"Brock. What made you think that leaving was going to fix this?" Frank asks sharply.

"It was supposed to create space to let us live without… being too attached. It's unhealthy. We moved too fast. The distance was to make it easier to work on the issues without distraction. Normal couples aren't with each other twenty-four seven."

"Spoiler fucking alert Brock. We are far from a normal couple. But fine, I'll give you that. Maybe you and I did crash course this relationship, but I think it was pretty fucking cruel to do it how you did it," Frank sighs in frustration.

"I know. And you have every right to be furious at me. I knew you would be. But I also knew you would be utterly miserable leading up to me leaving, had I told you. Or persuaded me not to go and I know this is the right thing. I tried to make it so you knew that I love you."

"I also didn't know we had so many issues. But it's fine. You know what's not fine, breaking up with your partner and then subsequently getting depression so deeply that you can't fake excitement when you talk to your partner." 

"Are we broken up? I didn't break up with you," Brock's voice cracks.

"Sorry, taking a break from your partner." Frank corrects himself, "I still wanna be with you. I'm here as long as I'm wanted." 

"Forever. I'm sorry for failing you. I'm sorry for hurting you," he whispers wetly. He wetly sniffs and muffles an intake of air, still trying to maintain some semblance of control. Yes, failing again. Just like he fails at everything else in his life. Like he failed to keep his promises to Frank. He deserves the worst of pain. He deserves death.

"You didn't fail me. Damn it, Brock." Frank sighs, "Brock. You didn't fail me. Baby, I love you. Take a breath. It's gonna be ok." 

"You don't think that; I know you've been off the deep end. You've told me. Ray has told me. Jack is there because of it. And it's my fault," he cries. Tears pour onto the pillow beneath him. He rolls to his side and clings to Tiger. His lifeline and reason for living.

"Brock." Frank lowers his voice, "Listen to me… okay?" 

"Okay." 

"I don't like that I have to have a hall monitor BUT that's beside the point. You didn't fucking fail me. Can you tell me what exactly you want me to do, to learn from this. I know we talked about learning how to be my own man. What else can I do? I have things I'm going to do to keep myself from reeling. Like cooking or other things." Frank rambles like he's trying to keep Brock on the phone.

"I'm not a hall monitor. Not like that, anyway," Jack protests in the background. 

"Not you. Ray." 

"I asked him to let me know to give me a peace of mind," Brock murmurs. "I'll ask him to stop."

"It's fine Brock. If it makes you feel better."

"It's controlling. Just because something makes me feel better, doesn't mean it's good for me or the right thing to do. Staying would have made me feel better. Leaving temporarily was the right thing to do."

"I want to go to therapy. With you." Frank says firmly. 

"Okay. We'll set something up when I come back." 

"Ok. Thank you." Frank says cooling down.

There's the muffled voice of his brother in the background but Brock can't hear it over the roaring sound in his ears from his stuffed head and the sound of his sobbing. He wished the apathy was back. Anything to take away the pain in his soul.

"Yes. That is a good question. Thank you Jack." Frank repeats, "What exactly can I do?"

"Stay safe. Stay healthy. Trust me. Take care of yourself; not just 'cause I want you to but 'cause you are an adult and responsible for your health. Learn to live alone. Are you gonna be my sub? Or no?"

"I do want to be your sub. I've been doing reading and it's what I want. I can do this." Frank answers quietly. 

"I know you can. You can be a good submissive and still be unchained. If you think that," Brock says softly.

"I know I can. I'll be a good boy." Frank's voice is small. 

"I love you, but that's what part of the issue is. You fight me. You disobey me and apologize for getting caught. I didn't know at first. Why did you feel the need to do exactly what the doctors and myself told you not to do, in Mexico? Whatever it is that keeps you from trusting me and rebels; you need to discover and address what that is. That's the core goal. The rest will happen on its own and we'll continue when I come home.

"Ok. I'll work on it." Frank says thoughtfully.

"I told Frank, this was a sort of trust exercise. I get what you're saying. What does he get?" Jack asks into the phone.

"It's true. I don't trust you either. I don't trust you'll do what I say and trust me that I will take care of things. I worry about a lot of things and you are at the center of most of them. I need you to trust me so I can trust you and by doing so, I don't cling too tight. I'm learning it now. The hard way. I can't control everything."

"Okay. I need to trust you wholly. Not just half way. I'm sorry, I haven't been fair to you." Frank answers. 

Brock doesn't hear the rest of what Frank has to say. Exhaustion pulls at him from the strain of the day, the pain in his chest, his crying, and his spoon deficiency. Soon his eyes are too heavy to keep open and his breathing evens out. Tears steadily leak from his eyes even after he's fallen asleep. The phone stays lit up in his hand, the call continuing on until eventually it ends. Soon after the screen goes black.


	26. Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's experience being without Brock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder that this takes place _at the same time_ as Brock's week. As such, there will be duplicate communication. We wanted to show how both men experienced the same week apart without confusing you guys. Unlike Brock who lived on a day-by-day basis, quite literally, Frank's week is countable by the cities they are in.
> 
> We hope you enjoy. As usual, we don't own the characters and this is a work of fiction.

Charleston:

Sleep comes but it's not restful. He wakes in the morning sore and tense. Frank crawls out of the bunk and moves around the bus a little before sits on the bench in the front of the bus and drinks his coffee that is spiked with a whiskey he'd stolen from the Florida hotel. He stares out the window and ignores the bus as it stirs to life. 

"Hey… Frank," Ray says gently.

"Fuck off Toro." 

"That's not cool. I'm trying to have a conversation with you. I'm still your friend," Ray sighs.

"Mmm. Maybe you can get me arrested too? Since you have gotten me dumped and oh, yeah, I'm homeless too." Frank replies, dryly, "That's what friends are for right?"

"He didn't dump you." 

"We have to take a break. We are too close." Frank quotes back to Ray, "Break means dumped. So fuck you, Toro. Mmm and this is an Irish coffee. I plan to feel nothing. Since you know, we don't have a show and nothing matters anymore. Once we get to the hotel, leave me alone." 

"Okay. But please, don't do anything stupid." Ray asks nicely. He knows that Frank's going to lash out but he's gotta keep him safe. He promised Brock. 

"Yup." Frank says coldly, "And if Mr. Rumlow calls to check. Please tell him everything. I know you will."

"Frank."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get hammered before noon." Frank pushes his headphones on and turns his music up loud enough to be heard from the back of the bus. 

Ray sighs and joins Gerard at the table, "How long do you think that he's gonna be pissed at me?"

"You mean for meddling in his relationship? Hmm… that's a hard one Ray." Gerard sighs, "Frank is a highly emotional person. This shit is gonna hurt for a while especially because he's in love with Brock. Like full-on love."

"Not to mention, he's meshed his whole life with Brock. You two didn't rip the band-aid, you pulled out the fresh stitches and let it bleed." Bob comments.

"Oh, don't forget, you got rid of our tour manager. Who was actually really cool!" Mike grumbles, "Who didn't have a weird hatred for me." 

Ray sighs heavily. He can only nod. They were all right. Thank God the Charleston show was tomorrow night. It'll give Frank a chance to dry up. He sends an email to Brock, just checking on him and Chrissy. The group spends the next hour quiet on the bus until they roll into the hotel. 

Frank stays true to his word. As soon as he has a hotel room, he is in the bar. The bartender is pretty but he can't. He can't flirt or be even friendly beyond a small smile and a tip. Not right now. Instead, he downs four drinks and a couple of shots in a record amount of time. He drunkenly texts his mom and asks if he can move home. Then sends a drunken selfie to Brock, with a drink in hand, _'is fibe o clock somewere.'_ before he passes out in bed. 

~~

He crawls out of bed and pulls a beer from the fridge. He downs it and lies back in his bed. The hotel room is empty and feels like it's going to cave in on him. He wants it to. Part of him wishes he'd never been born. The other part, the crueler tells him that Brock will leave him for good. This isn't a break but a breakup. He ruined this because that is what he does. He can feel his own brain poison him. Tears roll over his temples and into his hair. A sob comes from his chest as the grief hits him as he rolls to the side. 

After a few moments, his phone buzzes. He lets it lie beside him for a bit before answering it. It's probably the interferer, Raymond. He is shocked to find it's from Brock. 

_Brock: I gathered that from the photo._

“Fuck you.” Frank says rubbing his face. He types out a message before stopping. The words on the screen are hard and cruel. His fingers hover over the send button, instead of deleting the mean message. Sighing, he replies that he knows how he shouldn't be drinking and that he's been using it to feel nothing. It's not the best way to cope but it's better than drowning or drugs. 

He knows that he needs to get up. He needs to shower. He doesn't want to and he's not going to. Instead, he's gonna have another drink. The idea turns his stomach but he's going to do it anyway. He puts his phone down for a moment as he pulls out clothing from his duffle to wear. A new feeling, a weird mashup of anger and grief washes over him as he takes a breath in. He dresses quickly in jeans and some band shirt he'd picked up on Warped Tour last year and heads for the bar. He downs a drink quickly and hurries out of the bus after Bob.

_Brock: You don't want to feel anything and I feel nothing. Not mad. Not anything. Maybe we can be two peas and meet halfway. I haven't been able to keep anything down. I'm flying to Italy today. I think._

Frank frowns. Lucky Brock, gets to feel nothing. Probably because this isn't hitting him the same way. He's probably happy to be rid of his nuisance. Brock going to Italy could be a bad thing. He's probably going to Italy to take over the business. A different idea runs him down as he sits on a bus bench; he's going to Italy because he found someone else. 

_Brock: I just want you. But Italy will work. Did you call your mom?_

_Lies. You don't love me anymore._ "If you wanted me, you'd be here." He speaks softly with a slight slur to his words. Tears well in his eyes but he fights them back. He glares at Ray as he pulls water from the fridge, not noticing him. The guys head for the door and leave him behind. Maybe he should stay behind. Claim the flu. No, then Ray would make up more shit to really kill their relationship. He rereads the text as he rises to his feet. 

Frank pauses; his mom never replied. She's probably pissed at him for ruining his relationship. Frankly, he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He has just been reeling from being alone. He can't call his mom. Won't matter if he did. He can't handle her emotions over Brock dumping him. He can't cope himself. He replies as he slips into the town car as the band heads for their promotional work. His head is a little light but the pain in his chest is still there. It's angry, aching in his heart, and is threatening to consume him whole.

"Frankie." Mike says quietly.

"What?" He growls.

"I'm sorry you're hurting." Mike replies before touching Frank's knee, "He might have left you but we didn't. We're still here."

"Yup." Frank's reply was icy but he didn't mean it to Mike. Mike was innocent. It was aimed at Ray, the big mouth, relationship meddling bastard. 

"I am always here for you if you need to talk." Mike says with a nod. He could tell that talking to Frank was not going to be more than small sentences. He sits back and stares out the window. 

"He's coming back, Iero." Ray sighs.

"Yeah to get his shit and kick me out! Wonder if his new boy toy is younger than me." Frank snaps. 

"You're a real asshole. Brock isn't like that and you know it." Ray says as he clamps down on his emotions, they won't help. 

"Brock's just taking a moment. He's stepped out of the room." Gerard tries to find words that can make this feel less awful. 

"And into someone else's bed." Frank grumbles.

"No. He loves you." Gerard corrects.

"Whatever. Hey Ray, maybe you can get me hit by a car. It'll probably hurt less." Frank suggests with so much malice that it darkens his tone.

"Maybe if you'd been a better partner, he wouldn't have left you. You only think of yourself and having a good time. You were hurting him and didn't give a fuck about it. This is YOUR fault. Stop being a bitch and deal." Ray snaps. He shouldn't have. He only is making this worse, "Take some responsibility and try not to kill the person you claim to love."

Nothing he can say will make Frank snap out of it. He crosses his arms and stares out the window. 

"Fuck you. I hope your kid–" Frank cuts himself off, he doesn't want to go there. He wants Ray to hurt. He wants to say horrible things. But it's cruel. Baby Toro is innocent. He sees the rage in his one-time friend's eyes before Ray steps back and clenches a fist. He crossed a line. 

Ray doesn't push it. They are friends, he reminds himself. He glances back to see the others' shocked faces. He takes a step and sits beside Bob. Quietly thinking as he pulls his phone out.

"I need a drink. Or some kind of downer. Or upper." Frank sits back and shuts up. Ray would be texting Brock saying he's a druggie now. His phone buzzes and catches his attention. He needs another damn drink. He watches Ray pull his phone out and begin furiously typing. _Fucking narc._

_Brock: Good that you texted Sam. I recommend contacting your mom. It's not the band's fault. It's nobody's. Band is family. Ohana. We will marry._

_No, we won't. You stopped loving me yesterday_. Brock needs to call Sam. Sam can help him from spiraling too far. He feels resentment towards the band. He shouldn't have come back. He should have just stayed gone. He should just quit now. Maybe off himself on stage, really go out with a _bang_. No, that would hurt the fans. This isn't their fault. He can hear the guys talking but he's tuned them out as he replies to Brock. It feels good to just talk to him, even if it's like this. He can pretend he isn't being left behind, that his heart wasn't ripped out of him and left in fucking Florida.

_Brock: I miss home._

"But do you?" Frank sighs as he talks to himself. He misses their apartment. He misses being in their own little bubble. He gets an idea but he knows that it's not going anywhere. He replies with a smile on his face.

_Brock: You can’t run from yourself. The location doesn’t matter if it’s all from inside. If I could, I would._

Frank sends him a reply with a little tear in his eye. Brock replies quicker this time which makes him feel a little better. 

_Brock: I was generalizing about us both, love. But I understand. I feel the same way_

He replies back but doesn't get to say what he wants as the band begins their press things. He is itching to reply to Brock. He smiles and plays along. His thigh and knee are itching. During a break, Ray approaches him.

“I am sure you don't want to hear this but it's hard to be apart from the person you love. Especially when you have spent months with them. I know that you love Brock. I know that when he comes back things will be better. Please believe me. If all else fails, you will be stronger,” Ray says as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He's gotta be the bigger man and not let Frank's lashing out be personal. 

“Why do you even care? He's one step closer to being gone for good, he'll be in Italy soon. He and his new boyfriend can be very happy. Until then, and I am sure it's probably against your sick rules but I don't care, he and I have been texting. I don't give a shit what you say. I wanna make sure he is at least eating food. Or drinking water.” Frank grumbles.

“No! It's good to be talking! It's normal!” Ray says with a huge smile, "You think he's got a new boy? Why? He's been sleeping and crying. Yeah. He's got something. Depression."

Frank says nothing. 

“I don't expect you guys to not talk at all. You love each other. You have been attached at the hip for months. This is just so you guys can return to being yourself while in a relationship.” Ray says with a smile.

"I thought we were fine. I mean, he promised me, the once boyfriend, he'd tell me what he needed. But I guess, he needed _you_ to _really_ know the truth. Cheers to the new couple." Frank replies. His voice cracks a little. He stuffs it down and feels the tightness in his chest.

"Frank." Ray sighs. He can't win. 

Frank looks at him with no expression. He leans back, pulls his phone out, and shoots a text to Brock before they begin the next interview. He wants to keep talking to Brock even when they aren't on the same continent. Soundcheck follows and it goes smoothly. He is antsy to reply back to Brock but doesn't because a meet and greet holds him hostage until just before the show. 

Frank finds a quiet spot a few minutes before the show starts and calls his mom. He tells her what happened and what is going on through the tears. He can't stop them. Her response is shockingly warm and understanding. She tells him that her home is always going to be his and if he needs to move back, she would be happy to have him. He tells her he will call her later and that he loves her as he watches the band line up. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and rushes on stage.

The band is electrified. Frank feels that surge that he's not felt in a while. He is bouncy but keeps himself from going crazy. He knows that Brock doesn't want him to get hurt from doing dumb things. He also knows that Ray is going to report back on him. During the encore, it could have been the adrenaline but whatever it is, he hugs Ray then the others. 

“I'm still mad at you. But I’m sorry for being a total prick and–” Frank says before he bounces back to the stage. 

After the show, the band loads into the bus and settles in for the night. Frank makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as the others eat dinner. He is quiet but smiling. It feels like he is doing something wrong but he needs to laugh. It's a short trip to Chicago. After he eats and pulls their photo from the fridge, he crawls in their bunk. Frank cuddles up to the teddy bear and picks up his phone. Brock responded and it makes him feel a little giddy. 

_Brock: I would like that. It's better than the silence in my head. I'm sorry._

“God, me too!” Frank sighs. He replies with a smile on his lips and sends a photo of him with the bear. He just happens to be half-naked. Suggestive yes but he's a little shameless. He waits a little anxiously for Brock's response. 

_Brock: Glad to see Enzo bear is serving his purpose._

Frank huffs a little. He sends a reply a little dissatisfied. He can hear Ray talking to someone on the phone but he doesn't care. He cuddles the bear a little tighter as he waits for Brock to reply. 

_Brock: I heard. Show me?_

The bus speeds along the road. The driver hollers that they will be arriving in a faster time than expected. He gets murmurs from the bus around him. He's praying the man doesn't kill them.

A little alarm goes off in Frank's head. Was he not supposed to get tattoos? Was Brock mad? Fuck. He fucked up. Damn it. He sends a panicked reply then a photo of the newest one. “Respond already!” Frank whispers to Enzo bear.

_Brock: Looks good. The brightness is rather anti-emo. You might have to leave the emo club. Are you sure you won’t burst into a hoard of bats as a result of breaking your emo creed?_

The reply makes him laugh and shake his head. Frank replies as he shakes his head. He's not so witty but he is needy. The bear isn't cutting it. He wants his boyfriend. He waits quietly in the bunk. It feels like forever. Gerard swings his head down and grins at Frank.

“Hi. Whatcha doing?” Gerard asks.

“Talking to Brock.” Frank says with a little smile.

“You sober?”

“Did you see me drink?” Frank frowns.

“I'm coming down.” Gerard says as he slips out of his bunk and into Franks, “I was thinking that we could watch a movie later. You've been isolating yourself and Lindsey is having a girl's night.”

“We can do that. It would be nice to not be in the room alone. It's very suffocating.” Frank says quietly.

“Did you wanna see Lindsey's ring?” Gerard beams.

“Yes!” Frank says as his phone buzzes. He glances at the message.

_Brock: I do. It looks fine the way it is. Any brighter and you’ll blind Mike-n-Ike._

He replies with a big smile on his face. “Do you think that it's possible to re-fall in love with your soulmate?”

“Yeah, I do. Are you two flirting?” Gerard asks.

“No but just finally getting to talk to him makes me realize how much I really REALLY really love him.” Frank gushes.

“You guys are gonna be worse when you reunite.” Gerard shakes his head with a smile.

_Brock: Not sure yet. Awaiting for Jack to give me an ETA. Sometime tonight._

Frank makes a grimace, “I worry that he is going to go to Italy. That he won't come back.”

“You should tell him. He needs to know your fears.” Gerard says softly.

“He said he feels nothing. It makes me scared he won't respond the way I want him to in my head,” Frank says as he holds his phone out a little. Gerard grabs it before he can react. His fingers move quickly and send the message before Frank can grab it back. 

Frank panics and messages Brock again.

“Asshole!” Frank punches Gee in the shoulder, “Show me her ring. Jerk.”

Gerard pulls out a little red box and pulls it open. The small circular diamond is surrounded by tiny ones. 

“She is gonna love it.” Frank smiles.

_Brock: Tee. Shorts. Blanket. Tiger. Not necessarily in that order._

Frank smiles wide. Brock is adorable. He is happy that the tiger has been a hit. He worried about Brock not loving it.

_Brock: Me too. I don't believe I would have survived if I didn't. He's my constant._

Frank smiles even wider at the idea. He loves that Brock loves Tiger. He loves the bear. He wants to beg Brock to come home. He is dying to say that he will quit and join him. 

_Brock: Tiger doesn't leave my grasp. I think we are equal in that._

After he replies to Brock, he glances at Gee. “I kinda wanna get another tattoo.”

_Brock: Are the others ok? Do they still hate me?_

Frank shows Gee the message and frowns. Gerard shakes his head. 

"No one hates him. Why would we?" Gee asks with a squint and tilt.

"He assumes everyone would." Frank smirks.

"Nah I love him… we all do. We all miss him." Gerard says with a smile. He watches Frank reply. 

It takes a moment but his phone buzzes then buzzes a second time.

_Brock: sure._

_Brock: not his fault; mine._

Frank replies. The clipped answer is his first clue that Brock is upset and Frank's instinct is to make it better.

_Brock: I love and miss you too. Good about koala. Tiger can only do so much and he needs a bath._

Clipped answers make him anxious. He must have said something wrong. He doesn't know what. He furiously types out an apology. He doesn't want to fuck this up. He can feel him slipping from his fingers. He's got to be a good boy. He feels the bus slow to a stop as Gee and he sit up. 

"About time we are here." Gerard jokes.

Before he can hit send Brock sends another message.

_Brock: Headed to the airport. Will sleep on the plane. Love you._

Frank sighs. Something in him tells him that he is not going to be seeing Brock at the end of the week. A pit forms in his stomach. Is he ever going to see Brock again? He pulls the bear and his duffle and heads into the hotel. They all part ways and disappear into their rooms. 

Frank can't stay still. He's gotta get out. He throws the bear on the floor and turns around to not be alone. 

At the vending machine, Mike elbows Bob. He nods to the small dark-haired figure trudging through the lobby. Bob and Mike watch their friend go from the elevator and into the bar. The two of them make their way to the bus. 

"He's going to drown himself." Bob comments with a frown.

"I know." Mike sighs, "Scares me that Brock might not come back. What's that gonna mean for Frankie?" 

"He…" Bob stops himself. The idea of Frank doing something selfish, makes his guts twist. 

"I thought that too." Mike speaks to him softly before boarding the bus. They planned on recording but instead, they played video games. Their hearts aren't into it. Everything feels awful. 

Chicago:

It doesn't take more than a sip to know that this is a bad idea but fuck it. It feels like a balm that calms the angry hornet's nest in his head. He chats with the bartender. He's a nice guy, Brad. They talk about his kids and the upcoming holidays. After a second drink, he pays his tab and heads up to his room. He feels warm and fuzzy inside. 

Even though he's talked to Brock, he is still scared. Scared that Brock's never coming home. That he's going to be alone forever. He shakes his head and sighs. He deserves this. 

Frank flops on his bed and sighs. He needs to learn to not be so damn needy. He stretches long and sighs. He misses Brock. He misses him being quietly noisy. His shuffling or the little hum he does when he's preoccupied. Sitting up, he pulls a beer from his duffle and takes a long sip. He can't remember what Brock smells like, that thought makes his chest tighten. 

A knock on the door startles him. He glances at the clock. It's almost midnight. Why is someone at his door? Did the family send someone to 'handle him'. Make Brock's bad decision go away. He never realized he was the Princess Diana to Brock's Prince Charles. He creeps up to the peephole and takes a breath before he looks. 

Jack is standing in the hallway looking a little bored while he waits for someone to answer the door. His hands are in his pocket and a bag sits at his feet. Confusion washes over him, why send Jack to kill him? That's cruel. 

Frank pulls the door open hard. His heart flutters a little at the sight. He takes a sip of his beer and asks, "Jack? Why are you here? Did Emilio send you to kill me?" 

"I'm the calvary. Brock arranged for me to stay with you once he was in Italy until he returns. Also, hi."

"What are...?" Frank blinks. His head feels fuzzy, "I mean, I'm happy to see you but I wasn't expecting you." 

"He loves you and knows this is hard for you. I'm here so you won't be so alone. Also here to knock some sense into you if needed. You can thank Ray for that. Heard you kinda crashed and burned," Jack says as he enters the room, things in hand. He's going to ignore the comment about him being sent to kill Frank. He can smell the alcohol on his brother's breath.

"We can _thank_ Raymond for a lot of things lately." Frank throws his arms around Jack, "It's an ongoing dumpster fire here. He told you about that?" 

"He did. He is concerned you were going down a dark path that you wouldn't be able to crawl out of. That isn't the point of this exercise in trust." He hugs Frank back and sets his stuff down, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"This is a 'trust exercise'? Brock doesn't trust me?" Frank pulls back. He takes another drink from his beer and examines Jack's face. His heart hurts at the idea of not being trusted. He's not the one with an Italian boyfriend. 

"Hold on, before you get carried away with your thinking. It's just what I call it. Not him. But if you think about the goal of the break, it is kinda like that. For Brock anyway. It sounded nicer than break, okay?" Jack chuckles a little. 

"Oh. Okay, I guess you're right." Frank says softly. His wheels still turning and chewing up the idea of not being trusted, "How… How was your flight?

"Do you have a hotel room?" Frank asks, before taking a drink with a smile on his lips, pretending to be ok. He wants to hug Jack again. It was a little piece of what he was missing. He aches for the comfort of before. He needs another drink.

"I do. And the flight was boring as hell and long but alright. Ray set me up with a room. Haven't been there yet. Wanted to check in and surprise you first."

"Were you thinking I'd be drunk?" Frank smirks, "God, I'm happy you're here."

"Honestly? Yes. Though, I'm glad to see you aren't totally wasted and doing better than what I was first told you were," Jack smiles.

"I mean. I'm not better but I'm functional." Frank sighs, "I'm not hammered but I'm also not sober. I feel like I'm in purgatory."

"Functional is better. Sober is preferred but I'll take what I can get. You wanna talk about it?"

"Do you _have_ the time?" Frank asks, raising an eyebrow.

"For you, yes. I'm jet-lagged and awake. Get comfy. Let's chat." Jack toes off his shoes and sits more on the bed, patting the space next to him.

"It's just a war in my head. Logical versus irrational." Frank sighs as he sits down. He rubs his face hard and groans. He's too sober for that, "I don't even know where to start." 

"Let's start with Brock leaving. What's your head telling you?"

"That he doesn't want me anymore. That I'm the reason. That he's got someone on the side. And that…" Frank stops, he doesn't want to finish it. 

"And your heart?"

"He's coming back. He loves me. That I have nothing to worry about."

Jack nods and thinks for a moment. "I think you know the truth. So which will you choose to listen to?" 

"I wanna listen to my heart but my head is louder."

"Then be louder than your head. Our thoughts tend to parrot back things we heard the most or had the most impact. It's like our brains were wired to hold onto the negatives. But it can be changed. It's not easy, nothing ever good is. I once told Brock during a particularly hard depression episode that feelings lie. They are valid in a way that they are yours but they can lie because they are fed by our inner demons– the lying little buggers. Brock likes gremlins. Not the point. The point was that just because they tell you one thing doesn't make it true. And you can change the record."

"I know he's coming back. I don't know how to fix myself to make him love me? Like me? I don't know how to be the best partner for him." Frank says with a shaky voice.

"Let's start with facts. Has Brock ever given you the indication he doesn't love you?" Jack asks with a head tilt and a gentle voice. 

"No, he's never." 

"So you know for a fact that he loves you, right? So every time your head says 'I don't think it loves me' or 'he's cheating', say to yourself out loud or whatever, 'I know for a fact Brock is in love with me'. Or however you want to say it and as many times as you can." 

"I'm going to look like a crazy person."

"Fuck what others think, dude. Let them live their own lives and if they wanna stare, then be the rockstar of their day. You focus on you," Jack grins and playfully nudges Frank. "It's the same with, like, the other stuff. 'I know for a fact Brock will come back' and 'I know for a fact Brock has never lied to me'. That one's important. It's very rare that he doesn't do exactly what he says he's gonna do. It's a rare quality and he's the only person I know I have never doubted his words."

"I know Brock is not the kind of man who would not stick to his word." Frank says with a small nod. 

"Great. Remind yourself that every time doubt fills you. Or tell me and I'll remind you. Tell the band and they'll remind you. You gotta separate fact from fiction. Cool?"

"Okay." Frank nods, "I also think that my head is trying to sabotage me. I wanna feel nothing because everything kinda hurts. Hence the drinking and tattoos."

"Yeah that sounds like something above my skill level. Sorry man," Jack sighs and pats his shoulder. "This whole thing is… a combo of things. Mostly it's about you riding the fence between submissive and not. I think. I'm not sure really."

"Oh that's a struggle too. I wanna be a good submissive for him. But I've been independent for so long. Maybe that's something he and I can work on during recording the next album." Frank wrinkles his nose.

"Do you want to be his submissive? Like all the time?" 

"Yeah. I do. I think I have the instinct." Frank says quietly, "Again I know that you're not the one to talk about this with."

"I have a lot of doubts. Like what if he is at home and he doesn't want to come back?" Frank rubs his face, "It's a marathon of crazy. Not to mention the fact that all I can think about is how your dad can squash this. Or that the families could end it. I'm not gonna be the reason he loses his family. I'm not worth it."

"I know for a fact… that you are worth it. To him, especially, and to me. And to Brooke. Mom loves you too. And we will fight for you. I know my brother. He will choose you. And that's okay. We will choose him. There are ways around it. So he's lost his title and power. That's fine. I will speak for him. He loses the money from the family bank. That's okay too. I know Brooke would transfer the funds to a private one for him. We never give up one of our own. That's the Rumlow way. Not the Five."

"That's reassuring. I mean, I know that the band is taking off so I will have money, that's not what I was worried about. But it makes me feel better that you guys wouldn't shut him out." Frank sighs, "Have you seen him?"

Jack sighs deep. "No. But I know he's not okay."

Frank's face falls. "I'm afraid that he's going to spiral and not get out." That hurts. This is his fault. And Ray's fucking fault. The urge to punch that man in the face swells in him. 

"That's why he's going home. To prevent that. Christa texted Ray who texted me to send him home because he was getting worse." Jack sighs, "I know that he was beating himself up over doing this to you. Hiding it for a week and being terrified that you would never forgive him. Or you'd break up with him and never come back. He had a breakdown in the bathroom the night we were at Vito's. Ray and I had to calm him down. He was afraid of dessert. Because then it meant you were going back to the hotel and then he'd have to tell you and he struggled with being able to hurt you like this. That aspect is probably his trigger. I'm guessing. I don't know."

"God damn fool. He knows how I feel." Frank feels his neck get warm, "He says that I don't trust him it's–. No, I'm not yelling at you. You are the messenger." 

"Told you it was a trust exercise," Jack shrugs. "For the both of you. Right?"

"You're right. You always are, Jack." Frank pinches the bridge of his nose before dropping his head into his hands, "I'm not leaving until he leaves me. And even then..." 

_He already left you. Jack's lying. Brock's not coming back._

"You don't have to do this. You should get to be a tourist while we work!" Frank says lifting his head, changing the subject.

Jack scoffs playfully. "And lose my little brother to the big bad scary gangs that run this city? Nah… All I care about is right here."

Frank snorts, "I'm tough. Little but mighty. Unless there are bugs involved. I'm cool with having you around. But I do have to be honest, I was thinking about going to the bar before you knocked..." 

"Let's not. Instead, we could play a game or watch movies. Or go for a walk. Hang with the others, since they don't know I'm here yet. Or… something?" Jack chuckles.

"I like the idea of you just showing up at breakfast." 

"So basically what I'm hearing it's your want to keep me to yourself? And…" Jack notices the rather large teddy bear. "Mr. Bear?" 

"Enzo bear actually." Frank feels his cheeks blush, "My Brock stand-in in bed. But NOT like that!" 

Jack cracks up, falling backward onto the mattress and giggling some more. "Oh my god, that's fucking awesome. That's hilarious. Does Brock know?"

"I don't hump the bear!"

"Right! Sure!" Jack laughs. He goes to the bear and lifts him up, checking the butt for a hole.

"Oh my god!" Frank covers his face, "I just give it love and it makes me feel safe." 

Jack snickers, "Sexual lovin'."

"Jack!" Frank playfully hits him with the bear's leg, "I'm telling your brother you are defiling his bear." 

"Wait. His bear?" 

"He bought an Enzo bear."

"Oh! Okay! This makes more sense now." Jack nods before melting a little, "Awwww." 

"Did you think I just fucked teddy bears for the fun of it?!" Frank laughs, "Like, well dudes, it's Thursday. Gotta go fuck me bear?"

"No!" Jack says through another fit of laughter. "I just thought… like I dunno, that you bought him yourself and… okay yes. Yes, I did." His laughter gets harder and he has to sit on the bed to breathe, taking off his glasses lest he loses them.

"Oh my god!" Frank playfully hits him again.

"I'm sorry," Jack giggles.

Frank shoulder bumps his brother before sighing then hugging him again, "I'm happy you're here." He feels the joy slowly melting away. He misses Brock so much. 

He returns the hug, patting Frankie on the back and ruffling his hair. "I'm not sure I can one hundred percent say the same… I could be in my bed."

"With a lady?" 

"Eh. Give or take. I usually play video games. Read a book. Work on stupid ass paperwork. Call people. Make threats. The usual."

"The usual." Frank snorts, "I would like to think I take a cool third place in the things you'd rather be doing. Er em…"

Jack snickers because he is mature. "Family is always first. Then the usual. Unless the family is the usual."

"Well, yeah, family. World domination. Frank/band. Or maybe family, ladies then Frank/band?" Frank says thoughtfully.

"Bärchen… you do realize you are family? Yes? So Frank and the band are part of number one, then world domination, then ladies." He gives Frank a warm smile.

"Oh. Well. I." 

"We are brothers. You are bärchen, little bear. Why wouldn't you be family?"

"Well, I'm not married to Brock." 

"So? Not yet. Frank, everyone has welcomed you into the family since like at least the second day. I only hated you for like a second, I swear!"

"I mean… some young dirty looking punk kid is playing around with your brother. Who happens to be awful at picking mates, I would be skeptical." Frank says with a smile, "I'm just happy that you're on team Frankie." 

"I am but not like that. I don't like dudes like that," Jack teases with a wink.

"Yeah." Frank pauses, "Brock's a part of a special fan club."

"Brock and Enzo bear you mean," he sniggers.

"Don't listen to him EBee. He doesn't understand our love." Frank says looking back at the bear, "Ass."

"No, that's your thing with Enzo bear," Jack cackles.

"I mean… technically you'll do in a pinch right?" Frank snorts, "You are in fact, a Rumlow."

"Is that your round-about way of asking me to stay the night and sleep with you?"

"I mean I did get the king suite. It's a big bed. I won't even try anything." Frank says softly. 

Frowning, Jack looks at Frank with concern and curiousness. "Wait. Are you serious?" 

"You need your own space." Frank says softly. He wasn't joking but he will play it off like one.

"Let me go down to the front desk and cancel my room, first." He stands and heads for the door.

"You don't have to! Jack, I don't want to impose!" 

He stops and turns and pulls Frank into a tight hug. After a moment he kisses the top of Frank's head before letting him go. "I'm gonna be your big spoon tonight, bärchen. Family."

"You. You sure, Jack?" Frank asks, a little worried. He doesn't want to impose or be a bother.

He gives him a gentle look. "Do you remember the day that Brock confessed his touch starvation to us? And I said that if I knew, I would have helped him sooner? That we had been through some of the worst things in human experiences. I told him I would cuddle and spoon him if he needed it. And we have since then. Naked too. It's nothing that would bother me. So why shouldn't I do it for you?"

"Ok."

"You know what your biggest problem is, bärchen? You think too little yourself," Jack says soft and gentle before kissing Frank's forehead. "I'll be right back. Gotta turn in the room key."

"Do you need my room key?" Frank asks. He's not going to argue. He's absolutely right. 

"You're gonna still be here, right?" 

"I might be training elephants." He tries to not smirk.

"As long as you're not playing doctor with Enzo bear and giving him a rectal exam, I'm good with anything, little brother." 

"Oh my god! Go turn your key in, jerk!" Frank laughs.

Jack grins and gives him a little salute before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Frank lies on his back on the bed. He pulls Enzo bear close and stares at the ceiling. He can feel the tears welling up again, he does think little of himself because no one wants him. Like the scruffy dog at the shelter, he gets passed over for prettier things. The one person he wants more than anything in the world doesn't want him. Couldn't be bothered to tell him how truly unhappy he was. Was he that much of an unlovable monster? He can hear his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He extends an arm out and pulls it in close to him. It's gonna be Brock.

_Brock: Almost there. Landing in ten or so._

It is but it's a photo too. Bright blue waters surrounding what looks like a small island. The morning haze creates that magical look to the photo. He replies back as he yawns. He wonders how warm it is. And what it smells like.

He sits up and sighs. He wishes he was with Brock. 

_Brock: You're welcome. I can't wait to bring you here. You'd love it._

"No you don't." Frank sighs. At one time he couldn't wait either. He sends a message back to Brock. He flops on his stomach and pulls Enzo under him. Now, he is sure that's all he'll be seeing.

_Brock: I will. Smells like seawater and mom's flowers. Gardenia seems to be the most prominent right now. Not my favorite._

Frank smiles. Frank replies telling him he loves him. He wants to chat more with Brock but he should be present with his family.

_Brock: I love you too. Miss you._

"No you don't." Frank replies to the quiet room, "If you did, you'd be here." 

Frank hears Jack at the door as he taps softly. He crawls out of bed and opens the door without looking, "Any trouble?" 

He grins as he enters. "Nope. I'm officially your bunk buddy now." 

"Sorry you have to lose your own room. But good. I'm glad to share with you. Brock says hello."

"Oh? You've been talking with him? That's cool." 

"A little. He sent me a pic of Capri from the sky." Frank shrugs, "Did you wanna watch a movie? Do you need a shower? Food?"

"I'm good with anything," Jack replies as he returns to the bed and flops down on it. "Do I stink? Food's good. We could order room service."

"No you don't smell. I just figured a long flight might make you feel… yuck." Frank says with a shrug, "Here's the menu for the room service offered. Or we can order pizza."

"Eh, I chilled in the bed and watched a couple of movies, Jack says, taking the menu. "Made a few calls. Read the news online. Napped. Nothing taxing. Are you hungry? Did you want anything specific?"

"Nah. I've only had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich today. I also spent a part of the day kinda not sober. I'll eat anything."

"Okay so maybe pizza isn't the best choice then. Grease and alcohol are not friends. What about… Chinese? Or some sandwiches? Turkey on rye sounds good. Can you have turkey?" Jack looks up at Frank with a scrunched up nose.

"I can have Turkey. Turkey is one of my favorites." Frank smiles at Jack. It's forced. He's trying to be happy even if part of him hurts like a phantom limb. "I think there is a deli down the street from here. We can go get food and come back."

"Deal!"

Frank crawls off the bed and slips his shoes on. He itches his leg with his heel as he picks up his room key. "I had the idea to get another tattoo today."

"Oh? Sex'ng yourself up for when Brock gets back?" Jack chuckles as he follows Frank.

"Yeah… maybe. He might not like my thigh one though." Frank snorts.

"I wonder if tattoo porn exists?" Jack wonders to himself quietly.

"I think I'm getting a hand tattoo." Frank says softly as he pushes the elevator call button. 

"Why? You have, like, six already" 

"Why not? I was thinking of getting 'hopeless romantic' on each hand." 

"Awww. That's adorable. Ooh, if you punch someone does that make them hopeless? Or romantic? Like magic powers."

"Maybe I hit them so hard they are hopeless or knock them into falling in love? I mentioned to Brock I wanted to get the word bookworm on my fingers. He teased me."

"How rude. Next time, just hit him." Jack chuckles. He throws a few faux punches at the elevator wall. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?" 

"I can't hit him. That's domestic abuse." Frank pauses, "I'd want the power of invisibility. You?"

Jack leans against the wall and gives him a thoughtful look. "I'm kinda torn between telekinesis and teleportation. First would make my job easier. Second would be no more flights. Though, teleportation would also make my job easier as well."

"Yeah. Those would be good ones too. I always thought that mind-reading would be good but only if you can turn it off." Frank says with a little yawn as they exit the elevator and head for the door.

"Yeah, 'cuz you'd go crazy listening to the constant stream of crazy from other people. So many random thoughts. Talk about intrusive."

"I already hear enough crazy in my own head. I don't need guests." Frank smirks. An intrusive thought fills his head that he sweeps away quickly. 

"Ever see the movie, What Women Want? I feel like it would be kind of like that. Only amplified because you're bisexual," laughs Jack. He opens the door for him and they enter the deli.

"God. That would be awful. It's hard enough making one sex happy but hearing all of it. Though, if it were only the people you were attracted to it wouldn't be so bad." Frank stares up at the board. 

"Unless they are crazy. And really, people think things they don't actually mean. You'd have to like, filter out the random shit."

Frank approaches the counter and smiles at the clerk who looks miserable as he orders a regular turkey sandwich and pays for it after the kid throws it together for him, "Shapeshifting would be cool." 

"That's badass," agrees Jack. 

Frank waits while he orders a large turkey club on rye. Once he's paid they head back to the hotel, Jack eating his while they walk.

Frank knows he should eat but he's not sure if he can. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out the pack of cigarettes, pulling the last one and lighting it. He hands the rest of the pack over to Jack, "I probably should also give you these. Since I'm trying to pull out of self-destructing mode."

"For a split moment, I thought you were offering them to me," he snorts, taking the pack with a grin. 

The two men walk quietly for a moment, Frank smokes his final cigarette, enjoying the feeling of his throat burning ever so slightly. He has someone to keep him accountable because boy does he just wanna fall apart. He's got one pack hidden just in case he falls apart again.

"I mean, if you want to take up smoking. I can teach you a few things." Frank chuckles, he takes two more drags before flicking the cigarette. He opens the hotel door for Jack and follows him inside.

"Yeah, no thanks." As Jack passes by a trash can, he tosses the pack of cigarettes before pressing the elevator button.

"I mean, it's a good way to start self-destructing," Frank shrugs entering the elevator. He looks up at Jack. 

"So I need to get all of my enemies hooked on cigarettes and sit back and watch them slowly die?"

"Do you wanna wait 30 years for them to die?"

"Hell no," he scoffs. "I prefer the quickest method."

"Yeah I would stick to that plus it's more efficient."

"Right." He's silent for a moment. "What do you wanna do when we get back to the room?"

"I figured we could watch a movie. Like an old man, I'll probably pass out halfway through. Especially if it's like Rocky or something. I can't stay awake." Frank says with a shrug.

"Why not just watch random TV then? If you're tired, we can go to bed."

"Are you even remotely tired?" Frank asks as he shoves the door key in and opens the door for them, "I'd feel bad that you are wide awake while I'm snoring." 

"Eh, I could sleep. Soldier power. I can sleep pretty much anywhere and anytime. If you are tired, sleep. Don't stay up for me." 

"I'll end up passing out eventually. I just won't fight it. As of late, I've been staying up until 3 or 4. But that's for other reasons." 

"The drinking?" Jack asks, sitting down and finishing his sandwich.

"Yeah. And the crying. And worrying." Frank sighs as he kicks his shoes off. 

"And the vicious cycle repeats itself. Not tonight though. Not anymore, hopefully," Jack offers as consolation. He gets up and throws away his trash before getting himself a drink and getting ready for bed.

_Brock: Mom and Brooke say hello. Dad is busy or he would say hi too_

"Will you tell me something and be honest and objective about it?" Frank asks. He replies to Brock.

"I can try my best? Why what's up?" He tilts his head a little, pausing in taking off his shoes.

"What's your father really like? I've heard Brock's version. What's your take on the old man?" Frank asks.

Jack puts his hands on his hips for a moment, a little shocked, "You're really worried about this, huh?" 

"Sorry. But a little. I'm sure I'm not the vision your parents had when they imagined Brock getting married."

"No, but that's mostly because they thought Brock would marry a nice Italian girl and pop out grandkids. Circumstances changed and so did their hopes and dreams. They now focus on Brooke to give them babies. I don't envy her."

"Yeah. Me either." Frank pauses, "It's been in the back of my head."

"The baby thing… or?" Jack smirks, knowing the truth. "I'll tell you about Dad in a second. How do you prefer to sleep?" 

"The future in general. I sleep on my sides and I'm the little spoon." Frank says softly, "Though, I may end up cuddling into you. So sorry for that."

"Naked or half or full clothing? I'm trying to figure out what state of undress you need me to be in."

"Oh, I don't care. Whatever is comfortable for you. I'm not your brother. I have been sleeping in my jeans. So, you can wear underwear, shorts, whatever If you want to sleep naked, rock on." Frank nods 

"You are my brother but not like that," Jack winks.

"Yes but I'm not the fussy brother." Frank grins as he pulls off his shirt. It feels a little weird to be undressing in front of Jack. He pushes his jeans down and is thankful he's wearing just black fruit of the loom boxers.

Jack does the same, stripping down to his underwear, dark blue Amani boxers. He slips into the bed and sits. "Where's Enzo bear gonna be? You gonna spoon him? Give him some morning wood?"

"He can watch." Frank grins, "He's a watcher."

"Watcher? Hey!" Jack leans away and laughs, "Weirdo." He gets comfy, turning on his side.

Once Jack has relaxed, Frank instinctively curls into Jack's side. He misses the body heat. And the feeling of skin on skin. Brock made him needy, that bastard. 

"So. Dad." 

"Yes. Emilio, yes?" Frank asks.

"Mmhmm. Dad's old. And kinda old school, though he's made a shit ton of mental leaps in acceptance of Brock's sexuality. He still holds onto the family values he grew up with but is not so stubborn and set in his ways that he isn't willing to budge a little on some things. It's why Brock has to have you meet him first before he can propose to you. And he got your dad's approval."

"Yeah my parents love Brock. My mother already has a Christmas present for him. I'm sure she has a birthday one too." Frank says softly.

"That's adorable."

"She's been team Brank since the beginning." 

Jack snickers softly. "I can't believe you have a ship name. Anyway. Dad. Uh, let's see… He grew up in Naples. One of three brothers. One is deceased. The other is doing well in Sicily."

"Oh, what is he? Oldest or middle?" Frank says softly. He hesitates and puts an arm across Jack's middle. 

"He's the oldest. The other two are twins. Runs in families you know. Uncle Marco died when we were in college. Uncle Giovanni's married and has two girls."

"Ok. Probably gorgeous like you lot." Frank replies.

"I'm sure they are. I've never met them. Uncle Gio wanted nothing to do with the family business and after his brother's death, he left and cut all ties. We respected that. I haven't seen him since I was in my twenties." Jack pulls Frank in close, sensing that he wanted the contact but was worried about him.

"How did Marco die?" Frank asks, lifting his head. 

"He was hooked on painkillers and alcohol. It escalated to street drugs and eventually, he overdosed on heroin, I think. He was an alcoholic and an addict and the reason we never saw Uncle Gio again. It was messy," Jack says softly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. That's awful." Frank had more questions but he'll wait for that. It made sense why Brock was so opposed to drugs, even harmless ones like pot. 

Jack sighs. "As a kid, Uncle Marco would babysit us. He was cool. But when you are barely twenty-one and have to bail out a strung-out uncle for being arrested several times, it takes a toll. Brock got really familiar with the police station before he passed."

"Oh Brock. He is such a soft heart, too. It probably hurt him to be a part of it all." Frank tilts his head and rests his chin on Jack. 

"As the one who was being trained to take Dad's place, Brock was the one who had to handle it all. He saw a lot of shit. He refuses to take medications now as a result."

"I know. It's a battle I've lost with him." Frank thought back to a particular migraine and Brock's stubborn ass not wanting to take anything. 

"What else do you want to know about Dad?" 

"Does he have favorites? Is he a hardass? Sense of humor? Mean? Nice?" Frank says with a yawn.

"Favorites? Like kids? Or like food and drinks? He's a fair but hardass kinda guy. I think his temperament is how you look at him."

"Kids."

"Well he favors Brock, him being the firstborn male and his heir. But that's business and not the same for the family side of things. He loves all three of us rather equally," Jack says softly, a hand stroking Frank's back. After a moment he speaks again, "One day I am going to need to teach you the business. Before you meet him."

"The business? Like _business_ business?" Frank asks honey colored eyes looking up at Jack.

Jack hums in agreement. "Might take you on a run with me. Let you decide how involved you want to be."

"Well, that. That's interesting. Brock and I discussed my role in the future. The way he spoke he was not wanting me to have anything involved with the messy things." Frank says softly. 

"Ah. Well. Nevermind then. If he wants you clean, then so be it."

"I'm my own man though, right? Or is it what the 'king' says kinda thing." Frank asks. 

"Bit of both. Brock's word is final. You can challenge him and try to get him to change his mind but his word is the law, so to speak."

"Oh. So kinda like now." Frank chuckles, "I just want to know all aspects of the business. Maybe not the full aspects but enough to be informed on the job so I'm taken seriously."

"I can do that, yes," Jack nods. "We'll do something once he returns."

_If he returns._

Frank takes a deep breath and lies quietly with Jack listening to the television. He knows that he still has to make a good impression on their father. He does feel better knowing a little more about the man. He wants to go and buy new nice clothing. He wants to look respectable. Like he can take care of Brock. His mind sleepily wanders to Brock. He wonders what he is doing? Is he ok? He hopes he is sitting out in the sunshine. Maybe Maria can get him to eat. His whole body aches for Brock. He just misses him. 

_How to be together but be ourselves_ or whatever it is that Ray spouted. Maybe he'll get a hobby. Maybe he'll learn to tattoo. He yawns again and lets himself fall asleep. He has nightmares about watching Brock fall and not being able to save him. He wakes from the dream with a small shout.

He wakes fully with his body draped over Jack. His fingers find a scar on Jack's ribs. He swears the same scar is on Brock's ribs too. It felt far more intimate than he intended but it felt good to have someone to hold on to and be held by a person. He relaxes back to sleep and wakes later. 

The band is surprised by Jack's presence at breakfast. The day is spent doing press and other public relations things but it was different than any other day for they had a television interview and performance which allows them to travel to the next city. 

Backstage, Frank takes a photo of himself in his tight thin white button-down shirt. He's got eyeliner and red eyeshadow smudged on his lids. Pulling a bud light from the ice chest, he cracks it open and downs half of it. He glances around and makes sure no one notices. He sends the picture to Brock with a heart emoji. He takes a breath and picks his guitar up then follows the boys on set. 

After the performance, Jack suggests getting food and the entire band agrees. The bus ride from Chicago to Milwaukee is quick and allows the band to spend the rest of the night messing around. They record music then each of them hole up only to wind up playing their world domination game together. 

Frank checks his phone again and waits to hear from Brock. The longer he doesn't the more he worries. The voice in his head tries to reason with himself but he won't listen. He closes his laptop and lies on his side. He decides he is going for a run in the morning. Maybe he will stop by a bookstore and pick up a new book. He's getting a tattoo in Minneapolis. He tries to sleep but he can't.

His head flips and jumps through the hoops of despair and sadness. Getting up, he finds a beer from the fridge, thankful for the minibar. He pops it open and chugs it. He picks up his phone and dials his mom but she doesn't answer. He sets his phone on the nightstand and decides to lie in silence until he passes out.

** Milwaukee: **

Frank wakes early and goes out for a long run. He returns and showers. His day is planned out in his head. Food. Then he's going to find clothing for meeting the parents. During his run, he passed a place he needed to visit. He sends a text to Jack. 

_Frank: I'm going shopping before soundcheck. Want to go?_

He assumes Jack is sleeping as he picks up his wallet and phone. His room key is tucked into his pocket

_Jack: Sure. Where do you wanna meet?_

_Frank: lobby?_

_Jack: Sure. Be there in five._

Frank slips into the lobby and sits in a comfortable chair. He pulls his phone out and checks for messages but has none. 

_You shouldn't waste money on this. You're not going to be with him long._ Frank thinks Brock's not going to reply. He's busy. 

He stands up and paces a little. He can feel himself moving to the small little bar. He wants a drink. ' _Were too close'_ echoes in his head. He's gonna drink himself to death. 

Jack steps out of the elevator and heads over to him. He grins, "Hiya."

"Hey!" Frank jumps a little then grins. He flattens out his shirt, "I wanna get a Frankenstein and nice clothes." 

"A what? Cool on the nice clothes but… what?"

"A Frankenstein. A tattoo of him." Frank grins up at him, "I figure I could dress nicer once in a while."

"Oh. Are all these daily tattoos your way of being angry at Brock?" Jack asks. For once he's not in his usual business casual and instead he's wearing a tee and shorts. His hands slip into his pocket as they head outside.

"Yes. It is." Frank says bluntly, "You look nice casual." 

"Thank you. Why are you angry at him?" 

"Cause he left." Frank grumbles, "It's childish."

"It is," he replies nonchalantly.

"I should slow down." Frank sighs, "I'm asking you for help as my well dressed big brother, where does one go for nice clothes?"

"Not places like Goodwill that's for sure. I'm not even sure what Milwaukee has for upscale shopping," Jack laughs.

"I'm sure they have a mall!" Frank laughs. He feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out to check. It's Brock.

_Brock: I love you, tesoro. I'm sorry I did not respond earlier. You are still beautiful as ever._

Frank replies before looking up at Jack, "Will you take the challenge of making me into a real boy?"

"Not a challenge, but sure." Jack pulls out his phone and searches for a store they can go to.

"I'm glad you are confident. As a street rat you have your work cut out of you." Frank says glancing around. His urge to smoke is high. He itches his nose and looks at Jack, "Tell me where and I'll get us a car." 

"Place called Harleys. No, not the Harley Davidson store, though they have a motorcycle museum here. That's cool. There's also a place that sells Amani."

"Okay. I don't know who that is." Frank says blinking.

"Italian clothing designer. High-end. Good quality stuff. Brock likes them, usually." Jack puts his phone away.

"Oh! Okay!" Frank says with a smile. 

They load up into a taxi and head to the clothing store. It's a relatively quick trip and soon they are entering the building. Several tables littered the sales floor, each with various folded shirts and pants. Mannequins modeled several different fashion styles. Jack led Frank first to the shirts and pants section, leaving the shoes and accessories for later.

"They are going to think I'm stealing." Frank says softly, "They always do."

"Yeah, if you act shady as fuck they will. If you act like not only can you afford this but also deserve it, then they'll leave you alone. It's all about presence, bärchen," Jack says quietly.

Frank nods and puffs his chest up a little, "I can afford this." He picks up a white button-down. "Sixty-five dollars!" 

Jack goes over to a rack of shirts and flips through several before pulling out a dark navy blue button-down with a houndstooth print. He offers that to Frank. "What do you think about this?" 

"Uh. It's nice, I could pair that with black pants? What if I pair this with a nice pair of khaki pants and a blazer?" Frank holds the white shirt up and offers. He's got no idea what he's doing.

Frank holds the blue shirt and white button-down. He wanders to more casual shirts. He pulls a light blue polo shirt and a coffee-colored Henley. He and Jack argue over the blazer and decide on a navy jacket. 

Pants are harder. He is short so it's a struggle to find pants that fit right but after a little digging from the very cute shop girl with big brown eyes and soft-looking lips, they find him three pairs of pants and two real shorts. When it comes to accessories, Frank is dismissive. He knows that he can't fool anyone by wearing a fancy watch. Plus, he doesn't have the money to afford it. He's not Rumlow rich.

"So, we don't actually have a show here tonight. It's just a day off. We have been playing shows every night for almost a week straight." Frank explains to Jack, "So we don't have any time restrictions."

"Sweet. I bet you're happy about that. It's good to relax."

"Yeah. It's supposed to be a travel day but the next city is four hours away. So, we can fuck around for half a day and then be in a new city and mess around." Frank says with a smile, "Thanks for helping. Back there." 

"My pleasure. It's a shame they weren't able to do any tailorings today. With your body type, custom-fit clothing will be better for you. But this works and you'll look sharp. Brock will love it," Jack says with a smile.

"And by body type, you mean small and short as hell." Frank chuckles, "It's also going to make me look more put together for Christmas...In Capri."

"Yes."

"Anything you wanna do while we are out?" Frank asks.

"I'm low maintenance. I'm okay with whatever you want to do. I've got no plans and I'm quite content following you on your errands." Jack offers a smile as they walk. He looks around and takes in the views as well as keeping one eye out for dangers. Or cows. "Tomorrow is Brock's birthday. I don't think I have a gift for him. Want to help me?" 

"Sure!" Frank says with a smile, "I got him two pairs of custom Ray Bans and a new bed set. In a color not just white or grey.

"Bed set? As in you replaced that stupid ass furniture he's got? Oh thank God," Jack laughs.

"I'm working on the living room at the moment. I hate his couches. Modern bullshit. Bleh. But I got him a sheet, pillowcase and comforter set. He'd kill me if I messed with the bed." Frank chuckles.

"Yes he would. Don't ever change the mattress set. The rest of it, I know he doesn't give a shit about. He'd probably be all mushy about you redecorating. It's domesticated."

"Yeah. He's been working on housebreaking me for a while." Frank chuckles at his own joke, "But I've been making plans for each room except his office. I don't touch that room. It's a weapons cache. I already know that."

"Good boy," Jack chuckles in reply. 

"What are you thinking of getting Brock?" Frank asks, "Or are you lost? What do you usually get him for presents?"

"Well, if you think about it, the family going to Disney was my gift. But I like to get something small as well. He's hard to shop for. When you can buy pretty much anything in the world, what could he possibly want? But his tastes are also rather simple. So I usually go with food, chocolate, wine. The basics. Once, I got him a call-boy for a night "

"The Brock Trinity." Frank says as the words process, "You bought my boyfriend a hooker?! Was it Tyler?" 

"Hell no. He found that trash all on his own. Mine was a much classier trash," he replies looking mildly affronted. He's also grinning though.

"He broke his cuff links at Disney world. The night we went to dinner at Vito's." Frank says softly, "Also. I wanna get him new pillows. His is as flat as a board. That can't be comfortable." 

"Be careful with that," Jack warns, "because the pillows are like the mattress. They need to be a certain way. It's something he probably should pick out, but if you are planning on buying some anyway, go with a high firmness."

"But I have a plan, my good man. See when he enacts octopus mode, he pulls my pillow in, which he ends up sharing. That's how I'm gonna get him new pillows. He bitches about my pillow. So a little covert pillow change…" 

Jack shakes his head with a chuckle. He's fairly certain that's going to backfire but hey, maybe Frank will be successful. "He likes firm pillows. They hold more support for his neck and back. Maybe you two can find a middle ground. But, either way, good luck."

"Eh, we'll figure it out or the guest bed will get new pillows." Frank shrugs. 

"Have you thought about if you guys are going to move out of the apartment once you guys are married?"

"He wants to build a house on property. I know that he's been making plans of some sort. I've woken up to him on realtor websites." Frank hesitates for a moment, "If we have enough room, I suggested a brother-in-law house… if said brother-in-law would be interested."

"Oh? Are you asking me to move in with you guys but next door?" he asks with a 

grin.

"Jack, will you be our next-door neighbor?" Frank says as he takes a step in front and grabs Jack's hand as if proposing.

He can barely keep the snickers in. Frank's such a dork. "Yes, you doofus. Gotta keep an eye on your two anyway. Now move before we get lynched or something."

"Oh my god! They aren't going to… you are. I can't." Frank's brain can't form words, he's been caught off guard.

Cackling, Jack just walks away, leaving Frank to sputter by himself. It was good to see his little brother flustered and having fun. He turns and walks backward, mostly to keep an eye on him but also to taunt some more. Brock would kill him if he failed in his job. And if he didn't, well he would do it himself. "Don't let your mouth hang open too long. You might eat red meat and blow up. Or gain a pound."

"Oh my god! Ass!" Frank says as he catches up, "Red meat doesn't make me turn into a bomb."

"Puke bomb."

"So I'm a bear humping, walking and talking puke bomb?" Frank snorts.

"Is it a puke bomb? Or is it an ass bomb? I don't know because I've never seen you eat red meat." 

"Puke usually."

"Nailed it. So yes. You're a bear humping, puke bomb."

"Did you have an idea in mind for my husband's… Brock's birthday mini gift?" Frank corrects himself. His head makes him.

"Your _husband_ will probably just get something random I find at the last second just because I like to remind him I'm an ass every now and then. We do that every few years. Airport gifts. Maybe a gag gift. Get him a cane or a box of adult diapers." 

"With Bengay and a miracle ear brochure as well." Frank raises an eyebrow. He likes the idea of a gag gift.

"Sure. Gag gift it is. Of course, I can't actually give him a gag. It wouldn't be a gift for him but for you… "

"Yes. It absolutely would." Frank's cheeks flush a little, "I mean, it's not like you're gonna get a giant butt plug and suction it to Black Betty."

"He might kill me if I do that. Unless… if you were riding it." 

"Not even. He loves that car more than both of us." Frank snorts, "You could get him boner pills with the diapers, cane, and Bengay. Just to drive home the old guy stereotype." 

"Considering that Brock has very few physical possessions that he actually cares about, I'm almost inclined to agree with you. However, I don't think he loves the car more than us. You'll find that he would give up everything for the people he loves the most. Objects can be replaced. Love and friendship cannot."

"I was half kidding…" Frank glances around. He motions across the street, "There's a pharmacy." 

"Do you think Brock's coming back tomorrow?" Frank asks quietly.

"Depends on his countenance." Jack replies softly, "Hurting you, hurt him."

"I know. I have a feeling I'm not going to see him for a while." Frank says looking up at Jack, "If that's the case… you don't have to stay with me. You can't put your life on hold because I didn't want to deal." 

"And what about now? Are you ready to deal?"

Frank exhales, "I don't have much of a choice. I'm gonna have to. It's the only way I can keep my boyfriend, _mine_."

"He's never going to actually leave you," Jack says firmly.

"I also don't want to be an inconsiderate partner. So, I gotta work on that. I gotta be a better listener and more considerate." Frank says softly. He pulls his phone out and sends a text to Brock. One to check if he's awake. The next one to check in with him. See how he is feeling. His heart aches just seeing his name on the screen of his phone. His phone buzzes before he can stuff it in his pocket.

_Brock: Yes._

It's a one-word answer which puts him on edge. The phone goes back in his pocket until they reach their destination.

The two of them head back to the hotel to drop off the bags. Frank jokes he's going to need another suitcase or large duffle if he's not careful. His current bag was already full as hell. Maybe he should go look for another bag but instead, he gets distracted with the idea of lunch. He takes Jack to lunch at a restaurant across the street from the hotel.

"You know, I was gonna ask you to be my best man… but Brock called dibs." Frank smirks after the mention of the future wedding.

"That's because he's greedy as hell and wants two. So, who are you gonna pick? Unless I de facto."

"I picked Gerard. I might also ask Mike. If Brock gets two. I should get two." Frank shrugs as he takes a bite of his fry. He pulls his phone from his pocket, "I was thinking of doing a paintball tournament weekend or something. But I'd have to bring Brock because I feel like we can kick butt this go-round."

_Brock: No. But I will be. I love you. I miss you. In Rome today._

"Okay cool. I'm totally down for that," Jack grins happily as he takes a bite of his burger.

"I am determined to not get defeated." Frank returns the smile, "I think Brooke is taking Brock out and about today. He says he's in Rome?" 

_Brock: Good. She's trying. And no, it wasn't built in a day but neither was our love. I hear good things take time._

Frank replies with a corny half-joke and a heart emoji.

Jack notices that Frank's phone seems to be blowing up. He's assuming it's his brother. "You sure are popular. Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I think it might be a better day than before for my love." Frank says with an unabashed smile. 

_Brock: How can I? You are my true North. I'll always find my way with you and to you._

Frank feels himself becoming the stupid heart eye emoji as he replies back to Brock. "So. Do you think I can convince the guys to go visit Paisley Park in Minneapolis?"

His phone buzzes again and pulls his gaze to the screen.

_Brock: I love you more, polpetto._

Frank looks up at Jack, "He just called me his meatball." He replies in the cutest way he can. But his brain gets stuck, what is the word he wants. Fuck.

_Brock: Passerotto._

"That's the word!" Frank exclaims and looks up with reddening cheeks. He looks down and replies, "So you think a paintball bachelor party weekend is a good idea? Like two days of play. Whichever team wins picks the honeymoon spot?"

"That's adorable. But isn't it the best men's job to plan the bachelor parties?" Jack asks with a wry smile.

"I love Gerard but I don't… have _faith_ in him for my bachelor party." Frank says with a gentle voice.

"Ouch. I won't tell him. I could do it?" 

"You want to plan my party?" Frank asks before taking a drink of his tea.

"I could. Do you want strippers? Or Chip-n-Dales?" Jack laughs.

Frank throws a fry at him. "If I wanna see a man dance I'd ask Brock. Strippers are the way to go." Frank gives him a wink, "Maybe find you a nice girlfriend." 

"I'm not going to find a girlfriend. And she certainly won't be a stripper," Jack chuckles with a small shake of his head. 

"It could be fun. Like independence day without the aliens!" Frank raises an eyebrow, "Though… you need the aliens to actually have a plot but we'll work on that. Oh, can her name be like Candi? Or Diamond."

"Bold of you to assume I would hire off-the-street hookers. Why do that when you can have actual class?" Jack smirks.

"Class?" Frank's head fills with a hot for teacher montage of the hot bartender from Charleston, "Like, teach me class? Or _Charles, the peasants are looking at me, dear_ , class" Frank's posh voice needed work but it got the point across.

"High class strippers. The ones appropriate for a Rumlow. The best in the business."

"Oh! Gotcha. So the ones who sign NDAs and have black books." Frank nods, "I'm telling you I'm low maintenance.. just not whatever Gerard would plan. It would be… more Brock appropriate than me… maybe."

"Think like, vineyard, art gallery, and wine tasting." 

"Now _that_ is more Brock but not for a bachelor party. Either way, we have plenty of time to come up with something." Jack gets up and throws away his trash before returning to his seat.

"True. Unless Brock and I elope." Frank jokes.

"Please don't, that wouldn't be as fun as throwing you a party you'll hopefully forget," Jack snickers.

"Well, like everything, I trust you. So yeah, if you wanna plan my bachelor party. It's all yours." Frank says as he dumps most of his food. His appetite isn't back. But at least he can eat… sober anyway.

"I'll coordinate with the other guys. Now, all we gotta do is get Brock to propose. What kinda ring do you want? Something shiny that will blind fans? It could be a good weapon against the rabid ones. Just flash them like a laser and they run away."

Frank throws his head back at the idea and laughs, "Shiny is fine. Simple works too. I'm not looking for a baseball-sized diamond. Maybe something meaningful. His and my birthstones? I dunno."

"What about golf ball sized, then? Easier to carry around and not break your hand." Jack laughs, "You can use it to whack people on top of their head!" 

"Oh my god. No! Could you imagine? Brock wouldn't let me leave the house without him or you." Frank pauses and lowers his voice to do an impression of Brock, " _You already scream victim, tesoro_! _Let's not add a shiny laser to attract more attention."_

Jack chortles. "He so would say that!"

"He said it to me when I threatened to do something silly that would draw attention to me. Like color my hair pink or something."

"Well to be fair, you do tend to attract all the wrong people," Jack laughs. "But yeah, let's not provoke the bear." 

"Yeah the less attention the happier my husband will be." Frank smiles softly, "Brock said something about a family jewelry guy."

Jack nods in reply, "Yep. He's a master artisan and the family has been using him and his family for generations."

"I assume that is what he is going to do. Do you have an idea of what he's getting me?" Frank asks.

"No. But is there something specific you would want? I can make sure he knows."

"No gold." Frank says with a nod.

"Are you allergic to any metals and such? Hate to offer you silver and you burn… like a werewolf," Jack snickers.

"No. I just don't like gold on me. I don't want to look stereotypical." Frank says before sneering, "If anything I am clearly a vampire." 

"So no garlic knots in the wedding band?" He snickers again.

"Oh no. The more garlic knots the better." Frank grins, "Garlic makes you taste better… not like that. Damn it." 

The two men casually stroll back to the hotel and into the lobby. Frank is thankful to have Jack around. It makes the moments where he's got to deal with Ray, bearable. His head screams at him that he, Raymond, is why he's alone. 

Ray approaches the two of them with an idea of dinner before they leave for Minneapolis tonight. The two agree and plan to meet in the lobby at seven. They head up to the room where Jack does some work while Frank cruises the internet for hobbies he can have. 

"Would it be weird if I picked up a hobby like painting or knitting?" Frank asks Jack quietly.

He's gotta figure out how to do this alone thing… alone.

"I can't imagine you knitting but if you wanna try it, go for it. Do you even have any art skills? Like at all?" Jack asks with one arched eyebrow.

"I cook and can do laundry. I can play instruments and write music." Frank shrugs, "I need a hobby."

"I swear I sound like I'm auditioning to be someone's nanny or future husband… Well. I guess I am," Frank says thoughtfully.

"So why not turn your current skills into a hobby? You can cook. Cooking is a great hobby. There's chemistry involved."

"Who am I going to cook for myself?" Frank says softly, "I mean I could feed you." 

"Your husband, perhaps?" 

"I don't think the food would stay good shipping to Italy."

"Oh, you mean you want to do this now? Not after he returns? I see," Jack nods. "Perhaps then some reading on learning extra cooking skills? Cooking class? Or painting class. Up to you, really."

"I suppose I could do that. I mean. Eh, what else am I gonna do? Right!?" Frank smiles, "Maybe Gerard can teach me how to draw." 

"Ever fired a gun or thrown a knife?"

"Nope. Nope." 

"Wanna learn?"

"Yeah! Why not!?" Frank grins wide.

"Defensive skills only. Brock might actually kill me if I teach you too much," Jack chuckles.

"Too much? It's not like you're gonna teach me how to lock pick and slip past alarm systems… sheesh." Frank snorts, "Maybe you could help me clean up my fighting skills."

"Sure. I can do that."

"Hell yeah! I can get behind this! It's gonna be fun!" Frank grins even wider, "When are we starting?" 

"When do you want to?"

"I am ready when you are. I am all ears and eyes." Frank nods eager. _This_ was going to be fun.

"Let's work on that tomorrow, shall we? Since I still have work?"

"Ok. Sounds good to me. I really would like the last couple of shows to be canceled. I wanna go home," Frank sighs. 

"You're almost there. Then scott free for a while. Maybe consider a year off? Since half the band is popping out kids?"

"We are gonna record music but no touring. Honestly, I don't know how it's gonna work with all the babies. Maybe I can just bring a dog home. How much trouble would I be in?" Frank gives him a devilish smile.

"Just let Brock babysit while you guys record. And maybe not get a dog unless you quit the band?"

"That's a good idea. He is dying for baby time. I already know that… but hear me out on the dog thing. It could be my running partner." Frank nods, "I already know he's gonna shut me down. But I'm still gonna try. Everyone else is having puppies… I want one."

Jack shakes his head. "I can see a ton of things wrong with that idea. Maybe fish or a hamster?"

"You can't love a fish. Or a hamster plus I think Brock would hate the idea of having a caged rodent in our home." Frank sighs, "I'll just drop it. Not worth the fuss and inevitable fight. I wanna keep my husband happy… not provoke him."

"I'm sure that once you two move into an actual house with a property, he'll be open to the idea."

"Yeah maybe." Frank shrugs. 

Frank and Jack spend the rest of the day working quietly on their own laptops until it's time to load up. Frank checks his phone a few more times before pocketing it. He wants Brock to message him back and the longer he doesn't. The more he panics. The voice nagging at the back of his mind fills him. _You drove him away. You're gonna die alone._

Dinner time comes quickly and the gang finds a nice bar and grill down the street from the hotel. Frank gets a beer with his food but in an attempt to forget the noise in his head he sneaks to the bar and throws back two shots of whiskey. He can't comprehend why Brock wouldn't reply. He was only a few hours ahead. 

_Unless_.

No. He tells himself to hush and orders one more shot. He can't remain calm and by all appearances, look sober. He's just gotta quiet that evil voice in his head that says Brock isn't coming back. 

"You look like someone kicked your dog." The bartender with long blonde hair wearing a name tag that reads Nichole smiles at him. 

"No. Just the love of my life ran away to Italy. Leaving me here and saying that we have to learn how to be our own people in our relationship." Frank sighs. She wasn't his type per se but she was pretty. She was petite and toned. She probably had to be. 

"Sounds like this person doesn't deserve your love then." She says wiping the bar before leaning.

"But. The thing is. I'll come running the second that he walks through the door." Frank sighs.

"He doesn't deserve you."

"But he does."

"Honey." 

"Thanks, Nichole." Frank sighs and nods before throwing back his last drink. He needs to get back. The cute bartender didn't help. He moves from the seat. He'll wash his hands and join the guys. He takes a breath. He needs Brock. Brock is his husband.

He dips into the bathroom then hurries out. He slips in his seat and plays it cool. He glances at Jack. Guilt sends a sting across his chest.

Jack offers him a smile and a reassuring pat on his back, palm coming up to grip the back of Frank's neck tightly. He saw but he chooses not to say anything. Not yet anyway. Instead, he lets Frank go and returns to the meal.

_Brock: You are skinny, yes. But you will never be wet noodle skinny._

Frank pulls his phone out and scans the text with a little smile. He decides to wait to reply. He picks up his beer and throws back a large drink. 

Jack leans over and whispers in his ear, "That's enough. You've had far too much already. Eat." 

Frank tenses. Shit. He looks at Jack and feels his face turn a little whiter as the color drains. He gives Jack a small nod. He puts his beer down and takes a bite of food. He feels his phone vibrate and doesn't look at it. 

"Good. Thank you," he replies gutturally, pulling back. He promised Brock that he would keep Frank on the right track but he's not going down this path for him. He pulls his phone and reads Brock's response.

_Brock: I'm alive._

The rest of dinner Frank doesn't touch his beer. He eats as much as he can but it isn't a lot. The group head back to the hotel and begin packing their things. Frank quietly packs his backpack. 

"So..." Frank says unsure how to ask how much Jack knew. He stuffs his bag and zips it up. Maybe it was just a shot. "Dinner was _fun_." 

"Seemed to be more fun to you than the others," Jack comments.

"I wasn't having _fun_ ," Frank grumbles. He sits on the bed and crosses his arms over his chest. He pulls his phone out and replies to Brock. 

"Right. So you going to the bar was a figment of my insane brain?"

"No that… you weren't supposed to see that. But you didn't make it up. But it wasn't for fun. It was _drowning lessons_ ," Frank rambles a little.

"You don't need lessons in drowning yourself, you're doing that just fine on your own. In fact, you need to stop all this nonsense and being angry with Brock. The only person you are hurting is yourself," Jack says firmly.

His phone shakes his hand and his eyes scan the screen. 

_Brock: How are you?_

Frank wants to reply to Jack with fire but doesn't know if that's right, or fair. "Well, what the fuck do you want me to do? Bake a pie and tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree? If I cry, I'm weak. But being angry isn't allowed. I'm at a loss here Jack." Frank sighs, "My head is winning. And my heart is sinking." 

He replies to Brock honestly. He's terrified that Brock isn't coming back. He is trying to be positive. He's trying not to fall apart again. He wishes he didn't feel a damn thing. 

"You need to not let it. I can't do this for you, Frank. Nobody can. This is a battle only you can really fight. You gotta pick yourself up and keep moving. I can't tell you what to do or how to feel because I'm not in your shoes. This is something you have to figure out by yourself. I can only help you and guide you."

"The one thing. The only thing I know how to do when shit like this happens is to stuff it down. He told me _not_ to. But it's the only thing I know how to do."

"Then treat this as a lesson on learning to let go and not shove it away. He's right. You gotta deal. This is a choice you have to make. It's fighting for him. Not running."

"I made my choice 8 months ago, Jack. But you know what you're right. Only way out is through." Frank nods. 

"I'm not leaving. And I'll do what I can. But this is an inner battle I can't save you from. My goal is to be your cheerleader in the ring and give you water and a towel. Motivate to get you back up on your feet. You've spoken to him. It's not the end of the world. He's coming back. Love him but live for yourself so when tragedy strikes, you both won't drown. I'm hoping he's doing the same."

"I know. I know what I need to do." Frank nods. The idea hurts his heart but he commits. Brock's gone. He's gotta act like he's a widow. Be his own man. "So. If I am learning to live again. I wanna blow some shit up. I also wanna stab something. And play some guitar. And I'm getting a tattoo. Another one. Wanna help me?"

"If you think those things will be cathartic for you, then sure… Get it out. I don't recommend another tattoo. But, I will help," he replies rather reluctantly.

"You don't have to help. I just appreciate you being here. I gotta stop being a prick." Frank sighs.

"Have you spoken to Sam recently? Or maybe look into couples therapy? Called your mom? I want to help, I do. But. I'm not a professional and I don't want to accidentally lead you down the wrong path. For all we know, everything I've been suggesting is counterproductive. You wanna take your anger out on Brock? Sure, maybe we go find some life-size dummies and you beat the shit outta them."

"Sam never answered me. My mother never called me back. Couples therapy is a great idea if we get back together." Frank says with a nod, "I'm just going to let it all go. It's pointless to be angry." 

"There is no _if_. Talk like that is what feeds your head demons and muffles the heart. Remember what I said about being louder than the storm?" Jack crosses his arms and leans against a table. "Don't give up. Try Sam again. And your mom." 

"I'll try them again and in the meantime, I'll look for a therapist for _when_ he comes back." Frank repeats himself.

Jack nods, satisfied. "Nowadays they offer online sessions so you can video chat while on tour. Better than seeing a different one in each city or something."

"That's a good idea. You deserve a long vacation for putting up with my bullshit alone. Not to mention Brock's. You ready to board the bus and head to Minneapolis?" Frank asks with a smile. 

"Ready as I'll ever be."

**Minneapolis : **

The drive to Minneapolis is quick. The second they roll up to the hotel is the moment that Frank is looking around for Brock. He's supposed to be back, even if that voice in his head says otherwise. 

Before they check into their rooms, Frank pulls Ray to the side and asks him to get a room for Jack, just in case. The look Ray gives him breaks his heart. Ray agrees and rubs Frank's shoulder. 

Frank turns to Jack and his expression breaks from being stoic to hurt.

He quietly follows Jack up to their room. He flops in the bed and stretches out. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe Brock will still come. Maybe he's just running behind. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages. He'll be here tomorrow. 

Frank begins doing some reading on how to be a better submissive. He's determined that he's going to be the best he can be for Brock. He's going to give up control to Brock even if it was that fire that he once loved. 

His brain diverts from the idea and decides to look into couples therapy. He finds a couple in New York that he plans to call then reads articles on what the best couples do. The more he dives in the harder he feels himself dropping. He looks at Jack who was engrossed in his game and takes a breath. He sets his phone down and goes to shower.

After a long cry in the shower, he changes into sleepwear and curls up in bed. He doesn't expect Jack to join him. In fact, he's surprised Jack even wants to. He lets himself feel pitiful for one more night. Tomorrow is new. He listens to Jack using his laptop and falls asleep.

He's woken up by the sound of the door being knocked on, Frank springs from the bed and pulls the door without looking. He can't stop smiling, Brock came back. He's here and everything is going to be ok!

A man dressed in a suit blinks at Frank then locks his eyes just above him, "Uh. You had mail delivered." He hands a white envelope to Frank and nods before turning away. Frank's forehead wrinkles as he reads the front and immediately recognizes Brock's handwriting. Frank traces the letters with his fingers. Fuck, he misses Brock.

He sits at the end of the bed and takes a breath before flipping it over and carefully opening it. He pulls out a white card with two little cartoon looking s'mores with pink foil hearts. _Love you_ and _Love you s'more_ are written under each s'more. He touches the marshmallows and smiles. Little cotton puffs with smiles drawn on them. It made his heart flutter a little. He opens the card and sees _Love you most_ printed with more of Brock's writing underneath. 

_'My love for you is greater than all the stars in the galaxy. To infinity and beyond, you are my center of the universe. I saw this and thought of us. I love you the mostest.'_

Frank sniffles a little as his eyes get watery. It was a really cute card. He fucking misses him. He flops back and stares at the ceiling. "Please come home," Frank says quietly. He crawls up the bed and does his best to not disturb Jack as he reaches for his phone. 

He sees the little digital envelope at the top of the screen. Quickly Frank retrieves the voicemail and listens. The sound of Brock's voice like a balm on his aching soul. Until he hears the words.

_"I want to come home. I need you in my arms. But I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be the man you need me to be. The man you deserve me to be. One that doesn't control everything. I need a little more time, my love. Hopefully a few more days. I am so sorry. I miss you. I know you are hurting, and it's my fault. I'm trying to be a better husband for you. For our future. Call me, when you get this. I miss your voice."_

"Rad," Frank says, putting his phone down. He rubs his face before dropping his head. He's trying to fight back the urge to cry or throw the phone. He needs out, "I'm going for a run, Jack."

He picks up his phone and replies to Brock. He places it on the bed beside the card. He stands and changes into shorts and a muscle tee. He ties his sneakers. He takes a room key and heads for the door. 

"What fer?" Jack mumbles sleepily as he rolls over. He stayed up too late. "Is too early." 

"For health. Go back to sleep, I'll be back at some point." Frank says coldly, "I'll bring coffee back."

"Some point?" Frowning, Jack sits up and assesses Frank's body language, wide awake in an instant. There's something wrong. He slips out of bed and begins to dress. "No. I'm going with you." 

"Jack. You were up until 3 on your laptop. Stay. Get some rest. I don't know if I'm doing a mile or more. That's all." Frank says softly. Mentally he's trying to build a wall around everything he's feeling. It's tissue-paper thin and is going to crumble if he's not careful.

The words are meant to reassure but Jack's gut tells him Frank is in danger. There's something about him that he can… feel that is off about Frank. This doesn't feel like a normal run. He pauses in his mid-state of dressing and tries to determine if Frank is lying. And why.

Frank's eyes gravitate to the card then his phone. The soft feeling of the card quickly dissipates at the darkening screen of his phone, "Besides, I didn't think you'd be the running type. Unless being chased of course." He's trying to play it off.

"I workout. Just not the same degree as Brock. What happened?" He'd seen the track of Frank's eyes and noticed the phone still on the bed. He's curious but wants Frank to explain.

"Sourpatch Brock." 

"I don't know what that means."

"He sent a cute and sweet card then follows it with a 'he's not coming back' call." Frank says with a slight pause, "So, I'm going for a run. Passcodes his birthday if you wanna hear." 

"I want your word that you're going to be back. That you aren't going to run away. I'm sure he has his reasons." Jack grabs Frank's phone and quickly glances over it. 

"Only place I wanna be is across the Atlantic. I'll be back. Black coffee, three sugars right?" Frank asks.

"Yeah…" he replies absently, listening over the voicemail more thoroughly. "Why didn't you call him?" 

"I'm not ready. I'll either cry or scream at him. Neither reaction is what he needs." Frank says looking away.

"He says he needs _you_. I think that's a pretty clear indication he doesn't give a shit about how you'll react, just as long as he hears your voice," Jack replies, looking at the phone. Frank's reply is the shortest he could possibly make it. A simple _Okay, rad. See you if you come back. Happy Birthday, Brock_ is all he wrote. Shit. Jack could practically feel the anger in those words. No, not anger so much as bitter dismissal. 

"I'll call him after I run. His head is already fragile like ice and I don't want to be the reason it cracks." Frank says flatly. 

"Maybe it has and he needs you to put him back together? He clearly wants to come back. I can _hear_ the pain in his words. How do you not?"

"I had an ex. You might have met her. She would take breaks from our relationship. When she'd get bored. When she'd met someone and wanted to fuck them. She'd say 'I want to come back but I have to work on myself' or 'I don't feel like you are in this relationship seriously'. This is how it starts. I've fallen down this rabbit hole, Jack. Except at the bottom is a bear trap." Frank explains as a tear rolls down his cheek. 

"So, it's true then. You really don't trust him. And I think he knows that. He can't trust you to not hurt yourself or do dangerous things. Or run. So he tightens his control to keep you." Jack shows him the phone, "He even says it. 'One that doesn't control everything.' He's trying to let you be you and not a control freak. He doesn't trust you because you don't trust _him_. He's not that bitch and I'm surprised you would compare him to that. I thought you knew him better."

"Fuck. Jack, I do. I trust him but what if I'm wrong?!" Frank feels his knees soften and sit on the end of the bed, "I just need to call him. When? What time is it in Capri?" 

A frantic feeling in his chest makes his hand tighten into fists. He feels like he can't catch his breath. Lightheaded and spinning as he realizes he could have sent Brock backward with his cold reply.

"Should I?" Frank hesitates. 

"Yes. The fact that you worry you are wrong is the part of you that you hold back from him. From fully trusting him. Hell. You probably don't trust me. I get that. But I also bet that your demons feed on that part. Call him now. He's waiting for you, it doesn't matter the time."

Frank puts his hand out for his phone, "You're right. But I do trust you. I wouldn't sleep in the same bed if I didn't." 

"Trust me with your body but not with your heart and soul. You keep a part of yourself hidden, ready to run if there's an indication that what happened to Janis will happen again. It's a survival method and I don't blame you. I don't think my brother does either." Jack hands over the phone and sits on the bed.

Frank nods, "You're right." He pulls Brock's contact up. He smiles at the picture remembering how much Brock protests. He hits the phone and watches as it rings before putting it to his ear.

" _Tesoro, amore mio. Mi sei mancato. Sono così dispiaciuto,"_ Brock's voice was thick and rough.

"Uh...what?" Frank says softly, only understanding the first sentence, "Brock. I don't understand." 

" _Non volevo ferirti. Non intendevo che nulla di tutto ciò andasse così male. Mi dispiace. Per favore, perdonami, piccolo._ "

Jack leans forward closer to the frame in an attempt to hear what made his little brother so confused.

"Brock. My love, I don't speak Italian. I don't know what you are saying. It sounds nice but you could be reading a recipe to me and I wouldn't know." Frank says with a small chuckle.

After a moment of silence in which Brock is trying to remember English, he speaks again. "I'm sorry." 

"I mean, you are in Italy. It only makes sense." Frank says in return, "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry. Only much more… winded."

"I'm sorry too." Frank replies, "Jack had to knock some sense into me." 

"Literally?" He asks with a slight lilt to his voice. His accent is heavy and strong, having only spoken Italian since he arrived.

"Not yet but I feel like I might be cruisin' for a bruisin'." Frank says with a smile on his lips. The accent is hot and a little distracting at first.

"I'll do it and you know it," Jack snorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank gives him a smile. He's got a comment for that later, "So… you're not coming back huh?" 

"I can't. Something came up that I can't talk about just yet. And, as I said, I'm not ready," he says softly.

"Okay. Take your time…" Frank says, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"We both don't want that. _Cristo_. I don't want to be here. I want to come home," he says wetly. 

"I know. I want you here." Frank says with a shake to his voice, "You start crying and I'm going to. And there's no crying on your birthday. It's a rule."

"Fuck my birthday. I hate it. I'm not there with you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. This wasn't the plan. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'm sorry Frankie. I love you." Brock rambles, tears evident in his voice.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! I forgive you. I'm sorry for bringing it up." Frank says trying to keep himself from breaking, "I love you more. What's… what's the weather been like? We are in Minneapolis and there's a chill in the air." 

"Bright. Sunny. Hot. So hot it seems to seep into your bones. Not humid so you sweat but just perfect for soothing achy muscles. It's perfect. I needed that when I was at Christa's. I need you. How… how are you? Truly?"

"Uh. Well. I'm." Frank looks at Jack. He does not want to say that he is devastated and hurting. That can make it worse. He mouths the word help at Jack with wide eyes.

"Tell the truth," Jack whispers. This was a good time for Frank to be honest with himself and tell Brock how he feels.

"Not great. Sad. Angry. Confused. At the moment sober. I got in trouble last night for drinking. I quit smoking. Again," Frank starts with a small exhale. "I have one more paid-for tattoo to get then I've been told I need to cool it, cause hurting myself to hurt you is apparently ineffective. Sam isn't talking to me. My mom isn't either. Jack and weirdly enough, Gerard, have been the only ones who make me feel like I am not going to either sink or explode.

"But I don't want to tell you any of this cause I don't want to make you worse. I don't want to hurt you. I am not supposed to do that, as your boyfriend," Frank finishes his thought. The silence on the other end makes his empty stomach flip. He fucked up. Oh god. He's gotta apologize. He waits another beat before opening his mouth, "Sorry." 

"Thank you… for being honest with me," Brock says softly.

"Sorry." Frank says again, he can't stop. He broke the dam. He should have said, he's been sad and lonely. Left it at that. Brock doesn't need to know that he's on a spiral of self-destruction. "Tour's almost over...so that's good. I'll be going home soon..." Frank changes the subject. He's grasping at anything to keep Brock talking. "Is Maria happy to have you home? What about your dad? I'm sure Brooke is too."

"I miss our bed. Or any bed with you in it. Tiger only does so much. At least, when you are home, you can spritz Enzo bear. Hopefully, he's helping. The family… it's complicated right now."

"I'm sorry, baby. Anything I can do, just say the words. You know I'll be there. Your brother has accused me of inappropriate behavior with Enzo bear." Frank shoots a look at Jack.

"I'm not sure if it's safe for you to come here right now." Brock frowns, "What were you _doing_ to that poor bear?"

An alarm bell goes off in Frank's head but he says nothing. He replies a little playful, "First, rude. I wasn't and haven't done anything bad to the bear. I just cuddled it when I was alone. And second, why do you assume automatically I was doing _something_ to EBee?"

"Because you said Jack said something?" Brock asks.

"He accused me of fucking the bear. I'm not. I'm not that lonely…" Frank says bluntly.

"Oh. Good. Sorry."

"Do you need me to let you go?"

"No. Not yet. Sorry." He pauses, struggling to find words. He's doing better than he was a week ago but it's not… enough.

"You just sound _occupied_. I don't wanna. Be a bother."

"You aren't. Promise. I'm just not… Myself. Again. I'm trying though. I've got plenty here to keep me occupied though."

"Oh ok. I'm glad you're trying to stay busy. I was scared you were gonna stay in bed. Isolate yourself. Pit of despair." Frank's thrown off by the 'plenty to keep him occupied' comment. He won't ask. It's Janis all over again. He will however probe Jack for answers to questions. Maybe. Jack can be just as secretive as Brock. 

"Yeah, work has kept me very busy." 

"Good, I guess?" Frank asks, concerned. He isn't sure what to say. He's been working. The wheels turn in his head a little faster. 

“Yeah,” Brock trails off with silence. A heavy sigh escapes.

Frank wants to ask what his name is but keeps that inside. He also wants to beg him to come home. He feels so torn and lost. He hates this. 

"I have been playing music. Working on my uh, drinking skills. You know, sex, drugs, and rock and roll..." Frank gives a weak chuckle at the end. He feels like there is a disconnect between them. 

There's silence on the other end of the phone for a while. "Okay." 

"Jack's been a huge help. I promise. I am ok. I wouldn't be talking if it weren't for him..." Frank smiles at Jack, "I'm getting better."

"That's good. I'm sorry for all of this." 

"It is what it is." Frank sighs, "I'm just happy to hear your voice." 

"You said you were angry and confused. Wanna talk about that? I want to explain myself. If I can. I just want… I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Ok. Yeah. We can talk." Frank nods. He looks at Jack. 

"Need me to stay or leave?" Jack asks both men.

"If you wanna stay, I'm cool with that." Frank smiles. 

"Stay. We'll probably need a mediator," Brock whispers roughly.

"So. Yeah… I'm angry and confused. But I'm not sure where to start." 

"Pick one emotion and start there?" offers Jack.

"Angry. I'm pissed that you fucking left," Frank says softly.

"I'm sorry." 

"That's all I get? I'm sorry. Why?" Frank says with a trace of attitude.

"......I didn't know what else to say." 

"Brock. What made you think that leaving was going to fix this?" Frank asks.

"It was supposed to create space to let us live without… being too attached. It's unhealthy. We moved too fast. The distance was to make it easier to work on the issues without distraction. Normal couples aren't with each other twenty-four seven."

"Spoiler fucking alert Brock. We are far from a normal couple. But fine, I'll give you that. Maybe you and I did crash course this relationship, but I think it was pretty fucking cruel to do it how you did it." Frank sighs, the lack of emotion in Brock is frustrating.

"I know. And you have every right to be furious at me. I knew you would be. But I also knew you would be utterly miserable leading up to me leaving, had I told you. Or persuaded me not to go and I know this is the right thing. I tried to make it so you knew that I love you."

"I also didn't know we had so many issues. But it's fine. You know what's not fine, breaking up with your partner and then subsequently getting depression so deeply that you can't fake excitement when you talk to your partner." 

"Are we broken up? I didn't break up with you," Brock's voice cracks.

"Sorry, taking a break from your partner." Frank corrects himself, "I still wanna be with you. I'm here as long as I'm wanted." 

"Forever. I'm sorry for failing you. I'm sorry for hurting you," he whispers wetly. There's a wet sniff and a muffled intake of air.

"You didn't fail me. Damn it, Brock." Frank sighs, "Brock. You didn't fail me. Baby, I love you. Take a breath. It's gonna be ok." 

"You don't think that; I know you've been off the deep end. You've told me. Ray has told me. Jack is there because of it. And it's my fault," he cries.

"Brock." Frank lowers his voice, "Listen to me… okay?" 

"Okay." 

"I don't like that I have to have a hall monitor BUT that's beside the point. You didn't fucking fail me. Can you tell me what exactly you want me to do, to learn from this? I know we talked about learning how to be my own man. What else can I do? I have things I'm going to do to keep myself from reeling. Like cooking or _other_ things." Frank feels like he's babbling.

"I'm not a hall monitor. Not like that, anyway," Jack protests.

"Not you. Ray." 

"Ray kept tabs on you because he cares about you and he didn't want you to spiral so far you didn't come back. He asked me to come because you were spiraling and was pushing him away," Jack says gently.

"I asked him to let me know to give me peace of mind," Brock murmurs. "I'll ask him to stop."

"It's fine Brock. If it makes you feel better."

"It's controlling. Just because something makes me feel better, doesn't mean it's good for me or the right thing to do. Staying would have made me feel better. Leaving temporarily was the right thing to do."

"I want to go to therapy. With you." Frank says firmly. 

"Okay. We'll set something up when I come back." 

"Ok. Thank you." Frank says cooling down.

"So what does Frank need to do?" Jack asks into the silence.

"Yes. That is a good question. Thank you, Jack." Frank smiles at him. 

"Stay safe. Stay healthy. Trust me. Take care of yourself; not just 'cause I want you to but 'cause you are an adult and responsible for your health. Learn to live alone. Are you gonna be my sub? Or no?"

"I do want to be your sub. I've been doing reading and it's what I want. I can do this." Frank says quietly. 

"I know you can. You can be a good submissive and still be unchained. If you think that," Brock says softly.

"I know I can. I'll be a good boy." Frank says with a nod. 

"I love you, but that's what part of the issue is. You fight me. You disobey me and apologize for getting caught. I didn't know at first. Why _did_ you feel the need to do exactly what the doctors and myself told you not to do, in Mexico? Whatever it is that keeps you from trusting me and rebels; you need to discover and address what that is. That's the core goal. The rest will happen on its own and we'll continue when I come home.

"Ok. I'll work on it." Frank says thoughtfully.

"I told Frank, this was a sort of trust exercise. I get what you're saying. What does he get?" Jack asks even though he's fairly certain of the answer, having mostly learned that from his talks with his brothers. God, he feels like Switzerland.

"It's true. I don't trust you either. I don't trust you'll do what I say and trust me that I will take care of things. I worry about a lot of things and you are at the center of most of them. I need you to trust me so I can trust you and by doing so, I don't cling too tight. I'm learning it now. The hard way. I can't control everything."

"Okay. I need to trust you wholly. Not just halfway. I'm sorry, I haven't been fair to you." Frank nods. He looks at Jack and takes a deep breath. Jack's not lied to him yet. 

The silence on the other end of the phone gives Frank a pause. He looks at Jack and frowns. "Brock." 

Frank waits another minute before he mouths to Jack, 'Is he asleep?'

Jack nods. Frank hangs up and sends him a message to Brock saying to call him or message him later. He adds how much he loves him and apologizes once more.

He sits quietly for a moment, "I fucked up. I gotta make this right… I should just quit the band. I should be with him. But I can't." Frank sighs and rubs his face, "I have to wait and work on it." 

"Patience is a virtue. Sit with me. Consider this your first lesson in submissiveness," Jack motions to the space next to him.

"First lesson, eh?" Frank snorts. He sits on the edge of the bed, "Did you think 8 months ago that you would be sharing a hotel room with your brother's boyfriend, steering him from disaster cause he's a rolling dumpster fire?"

"No. But I don't regret it if you are wondering."

"You don't mind being my nanny?" Frank laughs as he leans back.

"I don't mind being your brother and friend. No matter what it takes. Never turn your back on one of your own." Jack looks at Frank and gently bumps their shoulders together.

"I love you, Jack. What's your middle name? I don't think I even know." Frank asks, looking at him.

"Stefan."

"Jackson Stefan…?" Frank asks. 

"Not Jackson. Just Jack. Like your name, it's not a shortened version of another."

"I know. I know." Frank snickers, "JSR. Like yessir" 

Jack wrinkles his nose. "That's… terrible."

"I'm FAI." Frank says softer at the end, "I'll be FAR if I'm lucky. Or FAIR." 

"Iero-Rumlow? Not… bad. Kind of has a ring to it."

"I was thinking that too." Frank sighs, "I tease Brock that all he needs is another middle name after Enzo. And he can really be a BEAR."

Chuckling, Jack nods, "That would be cute. He really got the lucky initials."

"Yeah. I suppose he did." Frank says, "Fuck. I hate this so god-damned much. I hate not having him here. I have to get up and go. I have an appointment. You coming?" 

He slaps Jack's knee and gets up. He showers and changes into jeans and Brock's boxing gym shirt. The two head for the tattoo shop. He gets an ornate spider on his elbow. The head of the spider is bright red like a ruby with gold and teal accents. He marvels at it in the mirror and grins at Jack. He's satisfied with it. It's pretty and is a nice addition.

The time between soundcheck and the show seems to fly by. The concert was another amazing one. The energy in the room zinged with every note played. He felt a different way than he had in a while. Like a new chapter was opened and he was beginning new. 

They grabbed dinner to-go at a diner and hit the road. The night air had a nip to it that seemed to work its way into the bones. The bus cruised along the highway. Frank curled into his bunk with Jack sleeping below him. He reads another page from a website about the Dom and sub dynamic. 

The bus shudders and shakes hard beneath them as it grinds to a stop. The photos of Brock and him drop to his chest. He sits up and rolls out of the bunk. He's in boxers and a shirt he snagged from Brock. 

Jack is already out of the bunk and headed up the aisle towards the driver. Frank hangs back by the kitchen and searches for a flashlight in the cupboard. He knows Brock put one in the bus, once he finds it. He joins Jack, the driver Daniel, and Ray outside the bus.

"What did you hit, Dan?" Ray asks looking at the two flattened tires. 

"I don't know." The driver says, "I called a tow company. They are on the way."

Frank shivers as a harsh wind blows between them. "I'm gonna go put pants on and tell the guys." He hands Jack the flashlight and heads back inside. He explains what happened before pulling on sweatpants. He turns and sees Jack board the bus. 

"We have at least an hour. So, we're hanging out until help gets here." Jack says with a yawn. 

Frank rubs his eyes and sits on the bench seat. He pulls his phone out and texts Brock about the tires. Ray returns to the bus and leaves the driver outside. Bob and Gerard go out to join the driver for a cigarette. 

Ray and Jack chat quietly as Mike joins the group sleepily. Frank can hear Lindsey snoring softly in the bunk. Headlights shine crisp white inside the bus casting shadows along the walls and ceiling. 

"We're saved." Frank says happily. But the joy is short-lived by the sound of a clipped cry from outside. It sent a chill up Frank's back. He looks at Jack, "That's not good." 

"No, it isn't," he replies, rising to his feet. Instead of heading directly outside, he heads to his bag and grabs a gun and a knife, hiding them both under his shirt, just in case. He could be wrong. He hurries out the front door and into the snow.

Frank takes his time to move to the front of the bus. He doesn't know if he should go out there. He steps down the stairs and peers out into the cold. Something dark catches his eye at the front of the bus. He steps off the bus and heads that way. A strong and cold hand covers his mouth as something small and hard rams into his ribs.

"Keep walking pretty boy." A deep voice growls as they move. The hand smelled like cheap cigarettes and exhaust. It turns Frank's stomach as he realizes it's a gun in his back. The two men round the corner of the bus and join Gerard, Jack, and Bob. Dan is lying at their feet.

"I'm gonna make this simple gentleman. We don't wanna hurt anyone but we will if we have to. In fact, my buddy Clarence here has picked out the prettiest one of the bunch of you and he'll be the first one Clarence will kill if any of you does _anything_ stupid."

"Sure will, Larry." Clarence, the owner of the deep voice replies, "I'll make sure it's nice and slow too, pretty boy."

"Hey Terry. Board the bus and gather the rest of the little pigs." Clarence says to the third man.

Jack snorts loudly. These assholes were as dumb as they seemed. Dumb and only a little bit dangerous. A plan forms. He grins and chuckles a little. 

"What are you laughing at, king curls?" Larry hisses at Jack.

"Just wondering how we got the three stooges trying to rob us. I guess _Clarence_ there is your Moe. You have a gun at my brother's back. You can't kill him slowly with a _gun_ , you moron."

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me," Jack fires back quickly. These assholes didn't even frisk him. Or make him keep his hands up. His arms go behind his back, mocking being tied up. His fingers slip under his shirt and grab his gun. "In fact, I'll give you a promise. Clarence is the first one I'm going to kill. Then Terry; then Larry."

"Only thing you're gonna do is stand there and shut up." Clarence says removing the gun from Frank's back and pointing the gun at Jack.

"Frank. Second lesson, immediate obedience. Close your eyes. Do not move a muscle," Jack orders.

"Okay." Frank says softly and closes his eyes.

Jack whips his gun out from under his shirt and seamlessly raises the gun. He fires as he aims, hitting Clarence in the forehead. He doesn't give the other a chance to react before he runs at Larry and sucker-punches him. He's not sure if the remaining two stooges have guns but he wants their focus on him and not the boys.

The side of Frank's face gets misted with wetness after the sound of gunfire and Clarence jerks him back. He goes back with the man. He hears a skittering sound before he hits the cold floor. His eyes pop open to see Jack attacking one of the men while Bob and Gerard run like hell for the bus. Frank flinches at the sound of another gun going off. He sits up and stares at the men fighting in shock. _Did Jack get shot?_

Frank scrambles to his feet and rushes to the side of the bus. He wants to help so badly but he also knows that he shouldn't. He's not supposed to. Brock is already going to be furious.

Jack punches Larry several times, hearing and enjoying the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. Terry swings a heavy fist and connects with Jack's side, who grunts in pain. His side burns like fire and he rolls off Larry, grabbing his knife and throwing it at Terry, hard. It lands with a thud in his chest and the man drops into the snow, unmoving. With a harsh yell, Larry gets up and kicks at Jack, making contact with his ribs and knocking the air out of him. He curls up a little, playing up the injured look, and giving him time to catch his breath.

Frank inhales quietly. That hurt his Jack!

Larry reaches down and hauls Jack up, sneering, "If you just followed orders like a good little bitch, I wouldn't have to kill you and all your little boyfriends."

Jack spits blood into the snow. It may or may not be his. He grins, "How can you still be so cocky? Knowing that I've killed two of your men? You're next."

"Confident for a man who had a gunshot into his side," Larry says out of breath.

"I've had worse." Jack twists in the man's grip, kicking out to the side and shoving his boot into Larry's knee, shattering it. He sidesteps and punches him in the stomach, enjoying the way Larry screams and doubles over. Jack stalks around him, wrapping an arm around Larry's neck, choking him.

"You know what your mistake was, Larry?" Jack hisses. "You chose the wrong bus to jack." 

Larry wheezes and claws at Jack's arm.

"See you in hell," Jack hisses before his other arm comes up and snaps Larry's neck. He drops the body into the snow and takes a few deep breaths. He winces and pulls up his shirt. He'll deal with it later after he cleans up. 

"Jack?" Frank asks as the commotion quiets to silence.

"Can you grab me a clean shirt from my bag? Something cotton. Please."

"Yeah. Anything else?" Frank asks softly.

"Grab a first aid kit and set it out. I'll be in shortly." 

"We need to go to the emergency room." 

"No, we don't. I'll be fine." Jack moves and hauls Larry's body off the side of the road. The snow is falling harder now and he needs to hurry before the tow truck gets there. With some help from mother nature, they'll be covered and frozen before the tow arrives. Hopefully never to be discovered.

Frank rushes inside the bus. His hands shake as he moves for Jack's bag.

"Frank? Where are you hurt?" Ray asks Frank.

"I don't think I'm hurt." 

"You're covered in blood," Ray says softly. He doesn't want to panic the kid. 

"Check him." Lindsey says slipping from her bunk and an oversized band shirt.

"Can you get in Jack's bag, Ray? He wants a cotton shirt. And someone get the first aid kit." Frank says with a shaking voice.

Ray pulls a blue shirt from Jack's bag and rushes it out to him. 

Lindsey pulls Frank's shirt up and checks him for wounds, "Besides a scraped elbow. You're ok. Who's blood is this?" 

"Bad guys'," Frank says coldly.

Jack is dragging the second body, Terry, into the ditch when Ray steps out. He hears the air release of the bus doors and turns to him, "Don't step in any blood."

"Oh. Ok. How bad are you hurt?" Ray asks calmly.

"GSW lower right abdomen," Jack grits out, heaving Terry over the bank.

"You're a Rumlow and all but I'm gonna suggest once that we go to the hospital."

"I don't need to. I'm trained to treat it myself. If I can't, then I'll go." Jack moves to Clarence and begins hauling him. He can't lift them with his injury but this will have to do.

"Okay. Do you need help?" Ray asks.

He grunts with the weight of the heavier man, "I'd rather keep you and the others out of danger. How long until the tow arrives?"

"Forty-five minutes." Ray says, "I have things for you. Frank's getting checked out by Linds." 

"Good. I don't need that right now. Gimme moment. Check on Dan?" Jack asks. "See if he can be woken up."

"If not we have smelling salt in the bus." Ray says moving carefully to the driver. He checks his pulse and shakes him a little, "DAN! Get up, dude. You're soaked." 

The driver takes a few minutes to wake up from his blackout. He snorts and sits up quickly. Ray calms him down and explains what happened without any detail. He says that he should wait on the bus. 

Ray gets inside and looks at Frank. "I need a trash bag for your clothing." 

"Is Jack ok?" Frank asks anxiously, "I gotta call Brock, fuck he's gonna be pissed. Fuck..." 

Jack enters the bus moments later, after driving the robbers' car into the woods, struggling for air and soaked with snow. His left hand is pressed tightly against his bleeding side. 

"Jack. What happened?!" Lindsey says with her voice slightly raised. 

"Get him towels. There's a bottle of scotch above the sink. Frankie, bring the medkit and the sewing kit too." Ray says confidently, "You. Strip, now."

Jack raises his eyebrow but he can't really argue with the things Ray said. "Do we have rubbing alcohol instead of liquor? I need to wash my hands first."

"I don't know, I'm fairly confident we do. Scotch is for nerves." Ray says looking him in the eyes. 

"Good. Let's start with the isopropyl alcohol first then." Jack makes his way to the bathroom where he carefully strips off his shirt and uses it to staunch the bleeding temporarily while he washes his hands. When the water runs clear, he rejoins the group.

"We have to call Brock," Frank says in a whisper.

Ray hands Jack a rag. He gives him a look.

"I'll take care of that, don't worry. You did good out there. Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine." Frank says shaking his head. He knows Jack has it under control but his heart says he needs Brock. But he's gotta be independent. Right?

"Good." He sits down on the bench seat at an angle. "Someone got a mirror? And isn't squeamish?"

"I have the mirror but I can't hold it." Gerard says quietly. 

"I'll do it." Frank says quietly. He takes the mirror from Gee and waits to be positioned, "Where?" 

"Over the wound. At an angle, so I can see. We got the alcohol?" 

"Yup." Mike hands it over. He shakes open a plastic bag. "For bloody rags, clothing, and or trash." 

"Thanks," Jack says breathily. He takes the bottle. Frank angles the mirror and stays as steady as possible. He nods at him to indicate he was holding it just right. Jack tries to keep his breathing under control as he removes the dirty tee-shirt, blood pouring. He uses the dirty tee to mop himself up while he pours the isopropyl alcohol over the bullet hole. A tense, hard noise escapes as he suppresses a scream. His fingers shake as he digs into the hole and searches for the bullet. 

"I have needle nose pliers… I used them for… things." Gerard offers.

Sweat breaks out across Jack's pale body and tears well. He shakes his head, unable to form words. Pliers would do more damage to the soft tissue and muscle than his fingers. It takes him a bit of wiggling but he manages to pull out the bullet. He drops it into his lap, uncaring, and pours more of the alcohol into the wound. A real scream rips out of him before he clamps himself down. Shaky, he quickly but carefully sews up the wound.

"Clean rag." Frank hands it over. His heart is in his throat. Jack is pale and drenched in sweat.

"It's not helpful. But breathe." Ray says holding out another rag. 

Jack laughs with his eyes, trying to tear the rag into a long strip bandage. Instead, he uses it to put compression on the wound.

"I have period pads." Lindsey offers from the back.

"No," he breathes barely audible. "Tee. Cut. One long strip. Gauze?" 

"Got it." Ray says ripping the shirt a little then cutting it with scissors. He hands it over to Jack. 

"Gauze." Lindsey tears open the packaging for Jack and sets it beside him.

Frank never imagined that he would be doing this. He watches in an almost out of body way. Nothing seems real. He never imagined that Jack would be shot. What would have happened if Brock would have been here? He can't think about that. His skin itches and he smells like a damn penny. He sure as fuck isn't playing the Winnipeg show. He can't. 

"Frank is in his head." Ray comments as he unscrews the cap from the scotch and takes a big drink, "Iero. Come back." 

Jack quickly packs the wound with the gauze before carefully winding the clean tee around his waist. He struggles for air and movement. "Help." 

Frank snaps out of his gaze. He places the mirror down and gives Jack a smile. Frank helps to secure the gauze, "We have medical tape, even waterproof tape. Your brother insisted we get a full medkit. Want it?" 

"Yes," Jack wheezes. "Make sure it's taped good and tight."

Frank nods, pulls the tape out, and does his best to keep it as tight as possible, "You have to keep breathing big brother." He gives Jack a soft confident smile. His own head is a little floaty but he's not gonna share that with him. 

"I'm good," he nods, taking sharp but steady and slow breaths. When he's bandaged up, he shifts and begins to clean up the mess.

"I got it. Chill." Frank says putting his hand out. Frank picks up the garbage and bloody rags. "You know. You are the one injured. Maybe. Just maybe, you can let someone help."

"When you are ready, we will get you up and wash your hands." Ray says with a nod, "Maybe change your clothing." 

"I am. But you aren't trained to clean up this sort of _mess_. But, yes, a change of clothing would be good."

"Ok." Ray says with a small smile, "I'm assuming you're talking about blood and bullet mess, it's fine. You need to relax. Unless." 

Frank flashes Ray a look to shut up. 

"I'll get you pants and a new shirt." Ray nods. 

Frank watches Ray disappear before turning to Jack, "Scale of one to ten, your pain? How much shit are we in?"

"Twelve and _you_ _guys_ are fine. I might not be but that's okay. We'll cross that bridge later."

"Y'all need to hire a _cleaning_ crew." Frank says cautiously, "I'll fish around for pain meds. Do you need anything else?" 

"Who says we don't? Don't worry, they'll be able to save my shirt. They are good at laundry," Jack says lightly. "Give me my phone?"

"Honestly. If you didn't I would be shocked. All three shirts? It's a big mess." Frank says softly. He passes him the phone with a smile. 

"Eh. I've seen worse," Jack shrugs as he dials a number.

"So like are those guys dead?" Bob asks bluntly with a straight face.

"If they aren't, they will be in snow," Jack says coldly, the phone ringing in his ear. There was only one guy he wasn't one hundred percent sure was dead, but he doubted it. Either way, Terry would freeze by the time he was found. Jack buried them pretty deep under snow 

"Good." Bob said with a nod. 

Frank gives Jack a look of consideration. Maybe the whole band needs to be filled in. "Do you think?" 

"Yeah, that's probably a good–" Jack cuts himself off as the other person answers his call. He switches to Italian and speaks for several minutes.

Frank watches Jack's expression. He dances through emotions and each second makes Frank curious. Lindsey called for him to come to the back of the bus. He needs to change his shirt and she'll bandage up his elbow. 

Ray quietly hangs upside down from the bunk, "Yeah. It's bad. All of us. Oh god… no thank you! yeah just take it from our cut. I'm so sorry." 

A few moments later and he flips from the bunk, "Winnipeg and Ottawa are canceled. Buys us two free days to get to Toronto." 

Jack hangs up the call and immediately calls Brock. He speaks softer, gentler. After explaining what happened, he switches back to English.

Frank's attention is on Jack once he realizes it's Brock. He's curious about what his husband will say about everything. Frank hands Jack a bottle of water and sits across from him. He notices the blood on his own hands but disregards it. 

Gee and Lindsey sit quietly at the table. He carefully pets her head and whispers in her ear. The sight makes a piece of Frank ache for Brock; for the tenderness. 

"Thanks," Jack says softly. He takes the bottle and offers the phone to Frank, "Wanna say hi?" 

"Sure." He put his hand out for the phone, "There's some pain killers in the bathroom."

"Thanks," says Jack, handing over the phone. He swings his legs over the bench seat and gently eases himself up into a standing position. After a few deep breaths, he shuffles to the bathroom.

"Hey, baby." Frank says into the phone. A small flicker of anxiety runs through him.

"Heard you had a scare. Are you okay?" Brock asks.

"Yeah. I'm ok. Scraped up my elbow but I'm good." Frank says quietly. He's trying to convey that he's not freaked out at all, "Your brother didn't want to go to a hospital."

"Figures. He's usually pretty good about field dressing though, so I'm not worried."

"Ok. Sorry to bug you. I'm sure you are tired." Frank says quietly.

"You are never a bother, _amore mio._ I miss you. Sorry for passing out on you last time."

"It's okay. You're across the Atlantic from me." Frank replies with a smile, "I miss you too, baby." 

"Everything else okay? He said you were gonna miss the last two shows. Are you going to go home early?"

"Yeah. We are playing Toronto then going home. I mean, I have never been held at gunpoint nor have I had to experience… what I did first hand… I'm a little shaken." Frank exhales and glances at Jack, "My ears are ringing a little."

"I'm sorry baby. Anything I can do, sweetheart?"

"No. Not really. Nothing I can have. Maybe call me later if you can?" Frank asks, "I'm kinda glad you weren't here."

"Why?"

"I'm your weak spot, maybe. I dunno. Nevermind." Frank says. He needs to shift topics but doesn't know what to do. Why is he being weird?

"That's partially true. You're both my weak spot and my strength."

"I know. It's not important. I love you. Did you wanna talk to Jack again?" Frank rubs his neck. 

"Trying to get rid of me already, _tesoro_?" Brock teases gently.

"No! Never. I haven't gotten that prenup…" Frank jokes with a smile. 

"Who says there's gonna be a prenup?" Brock laughs.

"True. I suppose our prenup is literally death do us part." Frank snickers, "Cause I now know your brother has no issues pointing a gun at me."

"That was to save your life," Jack grumbles loudly, making his way back to the bench. 

"Hush. It's my story." Frank teases with a wink.

"In your story, am I more or less badass?" Jack snickers, sitting down as gently as possible.

"You're a bigger badass. Just a little ruthless." Frank smiles wide, "Like you'd have your own theme song." 

"Sweet," replies Jack. He leans back in the seat and works on breathing through the pain.

"How are you feeling, Brock?" Frank asks. He ignores the sound of the others messing around on the bus. 

"Stressed from work but it's keeping me busy. So, okay, I guess?" 

"Good. I love you." Frank leans back, "What time is it there? It's gotta be 7 am." 

"Sounds about right. My sleep schedule has been thrown off. I'll probably sleep later."

"I'm sorry work is stressing you out. I have a feeling I'm gonna be up for a while then just crash." Frank looks at Jack and gives him a small nod, "I'll hand you back to Jack. I love you, baby. Call me if you want later?"

"Did you want to text me until you fall asleep? Or… I do?" Brock has a hint of humor in his voice. 

"It could be a race? Or a bet?" He bites his lip before smiling at Jack.

"Oh I think we both know who is going to sleep first," Brock chuckles quietly.

"Yeah. I know. You're just a sleepy bear." Frank teases, "Next time you pass out on me, I'll just send you nudes." 

"You can do that anyway. And I'm not a sleepy bear," he teases back.

"You're my sleepy bear!" Frank grins wide, "You _want_ nudes? I'm happy to oblige but I'm just making sure."

"Not a sleepy bear," he grumbles. "Maybe send me a warning text before the photo so I know not to let someone else see it?"

"I can do that." Frank grins, "I love you grumbly bear."

Brock makes grumble noises and the sound of rustling sheets fills the phone. "Are not." 

"Oh if you were here, you know that I would crawl in your lap and make that grumble crumble." Frank's voice gets playful.

"You're not wrong."

"Tow truck is here." Ray says to Jack, "Hey Brock!" 

Jack nods and carefully gets up, following after Ray.

"What are you doing today?" Frank asks 

"I'm essentially doing nothing. Which is fine by me. Hopefully, I'll be left alone by Brooke. Or mom. Or dad. You're ok. Tiger doesn't talk back to me."

"I'm glad that I'm ok. As your future husband, it's quite reassuring that I've reached ok status." Frank says with a smile, "Be careful Jack." 

Frank watches Jack move out of the seating area and towards the front of the bus. He wonders if he needs painkillers. Frank wants to sleep next to Jack. He's worried.

"You're more than okay," Brock snorts.

"Yeah? I think you're pretty great too, _polpetto._ " Frank says. 

"I love you, _tesoro_ ," he replies.

"I'll bug you later. You can call me or text. I've got two days off. Granted I'm in Canada and on a bus. But. Free." Frank says with a bright tone, "I love you Brock Enzo."

"I love you more, _tesoro mio,_ " Brock yawns into the phone. "Good night."

"Night sleepy bear." Frank replies before hanging up. He puts Jack's phone down beside him and leans back. He fucking misses him. 

It takes over an hour to get the tires changed. The bus rolls along the road. The band settles in and tries to get sleep after the strangest night they have had in a long time. Frank convinces Jack to sleep on the bed in the back of the bus. He leaves his curtain open and checks on Jack. His head tells him he needs to make sure his brother is breathing. He leans over him for the second time that night and puts a hand near Jack's nose. He's mouthing a prayer to whatever is out there. 

Once he passes out for good, it seems like he didn't sleep a wink. The driver announces their stop in a place called Thunder Bay. Frank crawls out of the bunk and slips into the room where Jack was sleeping. He's exhausted. His body hurt and his vision was blurry. He checks Jack and feels satisfied that his hour check is completed. His head tells him to check the wound. What if he is bleeding out? 

His fingers pull at Jack's shirt carefully and slowly lift it. His other hand lifting his phone to light the wound. He doesn't want to wake him. Not like this. He's thankful the bus has stopped moving. It isn't bad like he imagined but it's still not great. Jack should have gone to the hospital.

Frank backs off and leaves Jack alone. He texts Brock and tells him that he's worried about Jack's injury. Jack being so cavalier about it freaks him out and he can't rest. He lies in the bunk and thrashes around until he decides he needs to get up. 

"Maybe I'll go for a run. Since I didn't yesterday." Frank yawns, "I did have a stressful day. I'm talking to myself. That's not great." Frank says out loud. He looks in the mirror and nods. He changes into running clothing and heads out. He runs in a straight line. He's gotta be back in an hour. Make sure that Jack is ok. The longer he runs the more tired he gets. His head begins to flip around. 

"Brock did this for me. I was Jack. Oh. Shit. I acted like it was nothing…" Frank pants out. He slows down and heads back to the bus, "I do it all the time. I act like I'm invincible. God, I'm a prick. I would leave someone who did that shit."

"No. Actually, I let her control and abuse me. I was scared of her." Frank answers himself, "Brock was right to leave." 

Frank finally reaches the bus but stops talking to himself as he passes by people. Once he's inside the bus, "I've just gotta stop being so aggravating. Be a good sub. Trust him fully and give all of it to Brock." 

He peers in Jack's room. He sees him lying on the mattress. Go in or stay out. Go in; wins. He slips in and checks Jack's breathing.

With a pained groan, Jack shifts and slowly opens one eye. He groans, sleepily, "You stink. You gonna stand there 'n' watch me sleep or join me?" 

"I was making sure you're still breathing." Frank hisses.

"Not dead yet. 've been shot before. I'm tough. Get in, squishy. Sleep."

"Squishy?" Frank says confused, "Let me change from running clothes." 

"Yeah ok," Jack mutters, drifting off. One hand reaches up and pulls the blanket up higher. He's out a few moments later.

Frank strips out of his clothes and wipes off his body with a baby wipe before lying beside Jack. He lies there and listens to Jack breathing.

"Just don't die." Frank says quietly. He means it for Jack but it's appropriate for himself.


	27. The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank copes with being home alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place several days _after_ the Toronto show. It's basically the 2nd week without Brock in the picture and Frank has to deal with being home alone.

The last few days felt like a fever dream. But he'd never been happier to be back in the apartment. Frank turned on some music that was different than normal for his mood, a little Tragic Kingdom to keep the space from feeling so… _empty_. He bounced around the house to the happy music while his coffee brewed. 

Frank had the living room gutted of all furniture. He'd spent hours the day before on the showroom floor of a furniture store debating on the kind of decor for the living room that Brock would like. He'd spent his own money and created a space that his man would love to come home to. The movers were bringing in and setting up the sofas as Frank sipped his coffee. 

He kept the weird bowls that had been on the built-in shelves by the television, which he replaced with a bigger one. Instead, putting books and pottery that Christa picked out. He put framed photos of Brock's family back in their rightful places. He tosses the bright navy colored pillows over the white couch with grey pillows. adding another plush throw blanket in a stone grey to the chair. He places candles on the shelves and the new sleek coffee table. 

He replaces the old kitchen table with something that fits the kitchen. It's longer and the chairs have only been replaced by newer versions of the ones before. He's got a guy coming to update the speakers. He changed the sheets and integrated his new pillows.

He sits on the new couch and exhales. He misses Brock like crazy. He texts Jack about dinner. Since being shot, Frank's had the urge to take care of the man. He was probably sick of him. He knew that Jack has a job and that doesn't involve hanging around with him. He can't spar with him. He's sure that Jack wasn't serious about learning how to use a gun or anything else. So, he can cook. That's what he'll do. 

_Frank: Come over for dinner, I baked too_. 

He gets up and gets changed. He's gotta run. He has to do something. He can't just sit here. Once he changes into sweats and a thin hoodie, he's out the door. It's already starting to get cold in the mornings, meaning the snow isn't far behind. During his run, he passes by a gym like the purple-themed one Brock joined. Maybe he'll join this one. He's not a boxer so he can't join Brock's gym. He slips inside the gym and signs up for a dollar.

_Jack: Whatcha cooking? I don't want to be poisoned. Can you even cook meat?_

_Frank: I can cook anything. Tacos. Maybe pulled pork ones. Idk._

_Jack: Anything? You learned how to cook a lobster tail in just a few days?! That's amazing! You're a cooking genius! Go be a chef! BBQ tacos sound weird but interesting. I'm down._

_Frank: you're funny. That hole in your hips brought out that comedian in you. Dinners at six. You can always come visit early. I have beer. Good beer._

_Jack: Okay! Ttyl_

Frank smiles at his phone as he walks around the gym with the cute gym trainer. 

He gets his pass and heads back out in the cold. He runs through the park and heads back to the apartment, tired and sweaty. The doorman asks when Brock's returning to which Frank shrugs and says soon, hopefully. 

He sends a message to Brock about the doorman and a tenant meeting on the 15th, he steps out of the elevator and into their apartment. 

"Maybe I should try cooking lobster. I mean, I think it's gross but Brock and Jack like it. Hmmm." Frank says putting his phone and headphones on the kitchen island and heads for a shower.

He pulls out an amp and sits at the kitchen table and works on music for the new album. He's got nothing to do. Might as well work on music. An hour later, he puts the guitar up. 

"FUCK I HATE THIS!" Frank groans. He throws himself on the couch before throwing a tantrum. He flops around before getting up and heading to check the mail. He smiles at the blonde pulling mail from her box. 

"I hate that the mail guy overfills the box with junk." She sighs as she glances at him.

"Yeah. That's why the garbage is so full of junk." Frank smiles, "Here. Let me help." 

"Thanks." She says stepping aside, "I'm Lisa. I'm on the second floor."

"Frank. I'm on the top floor." He smiles as he un-wedges her package.

"Oh. Penthouse, eh?" She says, raising an eyebrow.

He hands her mail to her, "Yeah." 

"You're new to the building huh?" Lisa asks with a big smile.

"Yeah. Kinda. I've been on the road so I haven't gotten a chance to meet the neighbors."

"I'm new here. To like New York. It may be a bit forward, but would you wanna hang out. I know no one." She asks with warm brown eyes and a soft smile.

"Sure, why not. I don't have anything to do until like 4." He tucks the mail in his pocket and follows her into the elevator. 

"I've only been to the grocery store and Ikea." She says with a little laugh. 

"Well, you're missing out on a lot. The park is great. Don't go there alone after dark though." Frank says with a smile, "You should do the tourist things."

"I know. New York is way different than Cairo." She says as the door opens to her floor. 

"Egypt?" 

"No! Illinois. It's a blink and you'll miss it town." She smiles and opens her apartment door with her keys. She tosses them on the table by the door. 

"Your apartment is… different." Frank glances around. Her furniture is a bit rustic looking with mismatched pillows. In her kitchen, the table is well worn. The cabinet holds random dishes.

"Yeah. It's all random. My mom says it's a nightmare." 

Frank pauses, the skeptical brain in him says this is fishy, "How can you afford this place?" 

"Oh, uh. Well. I'm a trust fund kid. I'm a painter. I've sold some pieces too. How do you afford this place?" She teases, "Coffee or tea?"

"I'm good." Frank puts a hand up, "My uh, boyfriend owns the apartment. But I am in a band." 

"Oh. That's nice." She smiles, "Wanna show me the park?" 

"Sure. Get a jacket. It's chilly." 

The two stroll through central park and chat. She tells him about growing up in a small town. Middle child of a strict Catholic family. She talks about her art. She goes quiet for a few minutes. 

"You and your partner should come over for dinner and wine." Lisa offers.

"He's not in the country."

"Oh. So how long have you been alone?" She asks.

He smiles. He appreciates how blunt she is. "We are on a break. So I don't know when he's coming back." 

"Oh. I'm so sorry, what did he do?" Lisa asks.

"Oh, I like you. But no, I'm the reason why we are on break." Frank smiles at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't..." 

"Nah. It's good. I'm working on it." 

"Well, he's a fool for running away." Lisa nods as she pulls open the door for their building. 

"Eh. He is doing what's best for us." Frank smiles, "We should exchange numbers."

"That's a great idea! I had fun with you today Frank!" Lisa says, pulling out her phone.

After they exchange numbers, they part ways. Frank grins as he enters his apartment. He begins to pull out items from the fridge to cook. He hums along with Sinatra as he shreds the filling for the tacos. His phone chimes and the sound makes him smile. 

"Finally you message me back." Frank sighs. He picks the phone up and frowns. It's Lisa. 

_Lisa: I had fun today. Thanks for being my tour guide._

_Frank: anytime! We should get breakfast. I can show you a great place around the corner._

_Lisa: it's a date. 930am?_

_Frank: perfect. See you tomorrow._

Frank continues to cook and chop veggies. He wonders what Brock is up to. He cuts into the lime and slices his finger slightly. Cussing and hissing as it burns he rinses it off in the sink. As he holds pressure on the finger, his memories of him and Brock in the kitchen fill his head.

He shakes his head and takes a breath. 

"Gotta stay out of there." He says to himself. 

He messages Gerard and asks if they can go record shopping in the next day or two. He just needs interaction or he might go crazy. "Maybe I'll get a job..." Frank says out loud. 

He texts Jack. 

_Frank: can you bring a lime when you come? I got blood on mine… I'm a good cook. I swear. I was just in my head._

_Jack: ROFL yeah alright._ _You good?_

_Frank: yeah, it was just a little slice. You're gonna be amazed by my cooking._

_Frank: I think I'm gonna get a job._

_Jack: You have a job… making music. Did you forget that while you have been redecorating?_

_Frank: no. I know I make music but I'm bored. A part-time job wouldn't hurt. It's what normal people do._

Frank mixes the salsa together and places it in the fridge. He sighs and waits as the meat marinated in the fridge. He's got an hour. Fuck, how did he live before? He turns on a movie and zones out. 

_Gerard: hell yeah I'll go shopping with you!_

_Frank: Rad! I'm stoked to have company._

_Gerard: I can come over and hang out. We can play video games._

_Frank: please. I'm so fucking lonely._

_Gerard: Maybe it can be a sleepover_

_Frank: you had me at maybe. Tonight?_

_Gerard: deal!!!_

Frank watches the movie and finds himself drifting into sleepiness. Once five o’clock rolls around, he starts cooking. Jack should be by within the hour. Maybe he'll go to bed early. What else is he gonna do?

The biometric lock whirrs and the door opens. Jack enters with a grin and the bag holding a single lime. "Hello?" 

"Jack!" Frank cheers, "Come in! Wanna beer? I made chips." 

Frank put out a bowl of fresh and crisp chips with homemade mango salsa. He pulls a Mexican beer from the fridge, "Thank you for the lime! Come sit! Enjoy!" 

"You sound like a housewife on TV. You _made_ chips?" Jack teases and trades the lime for the beer. 

"It's my dad's recipe for the chips." Frank grins. "I just have time on my hands. So, I'll go all out. I made dessert for us."

"Nice. What did you make?" He looks around the apartment at the finishing touches. 

"Tres Leches cake." Frank looks up at Jack, "Don't spill on the new couches. Taco filling is just about done." 

"Okay. One, I'm not going to spill anything. Two, dessert sounds good. Thanks."

"Do… you think he'll like it?" Frank asks as he rubs his neck, "I wanted to do fried ice cream but changed my mind."

"I like it. You did good."

"Cool! Good. I'm stoked to have company." Frank smiles as he pulls the shells from the oven. He pulls three plates from the cupboard, "I thought pulled pork tacos would be hard but it was super easy, I suppose it's closer to jerked pork." 

"Nice. Are you putting barbeque sauce on it?" Jack leans against the island.

"Nope." Frank smiles up at Jack, "Two? three? Four tacos?" 

"I'll do two to start. Why no barbeque sauce? Or are we not doing barbeque tacos?" Jack frowns and sips his beer.

"It's got a barbeque flavor but I haven't used any." Frank smiles, "I can toss it in some if you would like?" 

"I can always add it later. Did you shred the pork itself or did you buy it like that?" Jack asks as he watches Frank flutter about the kitchen.

"I shredded it myself," Frank says, pulling out the fancy barbeque sauce that the husband picked out. 

"Nice. What do you have planned for the rest of the night?"

"Gerard is coming over for video games. He might stay the night." Frank says putting the cheese out. 

"Cool. Whatcha playing?"

"Super Smash Bros." 

"Fun. What else have you been doing to keep yourself busy?" 

"Running. I joined a gym." Frank pauses, "Have you met any of the neighbors?" He passes Jack's plate to him, "You can add your fixings. I made a small batch of guac too." 

"Thanks," he replies, taking the plate. "I've met a few on my side of the building but not really worth mentioning. Why?"

"I met the girl who lives on the second floor today." Frank says as he stabs some of the taco meat and takes a bite before assembling his food, "She seems nice but dating your brother's made me wary of strangers. She's cute though."

"Yeah, that does come with the territory." 

"So instead of bringing her into the inner sanctum. I went to her apartment." Frank says softly. As he picks up his plate and beer, he sits at the table, "Anyway, she seems nice. I can't tell if she is truly an innocent kid or if she is just playing it up."

"Smart. Brock would probably freak out if he found out you brought someone not vetted and approved back here." Jack takes a bite of the taco. He gives a hum over the flavor and texture combination. "Where did you get the meat? It's not bad but it's different. Could be the spices though."

"I got it at Whole Foods. It's probably the spices. I added a little smoke flavor to it. I might have been a little heavy-handed." Frank comments. He wants to wait until Jack at least eats the full thing before he shares the recipe.

"Hm. It's not bad. The smokey flavor is good," Jack says through bites.

"I'm glad you like it. But everything vegan is cardboard." Frank smiles before taking another bite.

"This is better than cardboard though." 

"It's jackfruit."

Jack pauses mid-bite at the foreign word. "Say what?"

"It's jackfruit." Frank smiles. 

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a fruit." 

"Why the fuck am I eating fruit and not real pork?" Jack asks, totally flabbergasted.

"It's something different. It's not bad." Frank shrugs.

"But I wanted pork."

"It's just like pork. Just Frank friendly." 

Jack grumbles at being tricked but continues eating, albeit with the occasional mild glare at Frank. "Jerk." 

"It's good! Jack, don't be grumpy. I made actual pork if you want it." 

"You tricked me. Imma be grumpy if I want," he sticks his tongue out at Frank. 

"Oh, it could be worse!" Frank snorts, "Besides, this is better for you than meat." 

Jack blows a raspberry at him in protest but finishes off the taco and starts in on his second. He doesn't like to let food go to waste.

"Thank you for letting me experiment on you. Next is my husband, he's the tough one." Frank smiles at Jack. "But you can make jackfruit taste like chicken, beef, or pork. It's versatile."

"As an unwilling and unexpected participant… I guess you are welcome." He makes another face but this time it's in humor. "I'm eating the real pork next taco, though." 

"Yes please!" Frank nods with a mouthful of food. Frank feels his butt vibrate. He pulls his phone from his back pocket. He unlocks the screen.

_Brock: Hi tesoro. How are you?_

_Frank: Hi baby! I'm good! How are you?!_

"It's Brock," Frank says looking up at Jack.

"I can tell by the goofy grin that broke out all over your goofy face," Jack teases with a grin.

_Brock: Not too bad. Mom sent me on an errand. Makes me feel like I'm ten again. What are you up to?_

_Frank: Not a lot. Feeding your brother. You're on an errand, eh? What kind of errand?_

_Brock: Make sure you water and take him for a walk too lol. Florist. Wants flowers for the drawing-room and the parlour. I'm staring at a display rather lost. Got any suggestions?_

_Frank: I have been throwing a tennis ball for him to fetch. Buuuttttt, what color is the drawing room and parlour?_

_Brock: White marble for the parlour. Yellow and blue for the drawing-room. Why?_

_Frank: the parlor maybe white hydrangeas and pink peonies. Maybe sunflowers for the drawing-room? Depends on the decor of course._

_Brock: Sunflowers are a good idea. I like that. Thanks. Not sure if they have peonies but that's mostly because I'm not sure what that is. I'll ask the shopkeeper. Got any favorites? Maybe I'll put something small in my room._

_Frank: I love lilacs. But roses are always good. I like lilies but I'm allergic._

_Brock: Who doesn't love roses? Lilacs are cute. Just like you. Found the white hydrangea. Thanks!_

_Frank: you're welcome. Glad I can help. How are you feeling?_

Jack gets up and fixes his own taco because Frank got lost on his phone. He nudges him and grabs another beer. "Hi, Brock." 

"Sorry, Jack! I'm being a bad host!" Frank looks up at him, "How's your gunshot wound?"

"Eh. You're family. That kinda excuses you from hosty things. Healing, thanks. I just gotta be careful moving for four more weeks. Sitting is both a relief and a nightmare."

"Would like a doughnut help? I'm sad that we couldn't be working on my skills."

"There's always later. Once I'm healed more, I'll take you up to a gun range or north to a spot away from people. I can't teach you anything physical other than fist work until I'm fully healed. So that will sadly have to wait until after your birthday."

"That works for me. I'd rather you be healthy. It will be a late birthday gift." Frank smiles, "Brock says hi. He also wants me to take you for a walk too." 

_Brock: Better_ ❤️

_Frank: That's fantastic baby! Jack says hi! I don't know if you know this but I miss you._

"What? I'm not a freaking dog, Brock," Jack mutters to himself. He grumbles a bit more before sulking a little and focusing on eating his real taco.

"I told him I'm feeding you and taking you to the park to chase a ball after dinner." Frank shrugs with a big smile.

"Jerk."

_Brock: I miss you too, tesoro_

"Love you, Jack." 

_Frank: I joined a gym._

_Brock: Why? You're perfect the way you are._

"I can make coffee to go with dessert if you want." 

"Sounds great. Thank you for dinner," Jack smiles. "Want me to help you clean up?"

_Frank: cause I'm not running during the winter. I wanna get supermodel svelte, babe._

_Brock: Gross. Stop. Lol_

_Frank: I could lift weights and get jacked?_

_Brock: How about you do nothing? Like, just be natural?_

_Frank: how about I don't work out to lose weight but to stay my size and increase my stamina? For sexy and not sexy purposes_

"Lisa. Neighbor. She's cute. Young. Big Chocolate brown eyes. Bubbly personality… she's single." Frank pumps his eyebrows once at Jack, "You should come to breakfast with us…" 

_Brock: Sex does the same thing_

_Frank: Well, see. The only person I want to have sex with happens to be on another continent. So, I gotta burn off my energy in a positive way. Do you see the problem I have?_

"Will you please stop trying to set me up, bärchen? I don't want a girlfriend." 

"My brother. I was thinking that she could just be a bed buddy. She would _never_ last in this family." Frank snorts, "Just dip your little stick, my dude."

"Dude, my stick is not _little_. And it's really not on the agenda at the moment considering there's a hole in my stomach."

"I'll vet her a little." Frank gives Jack a teasing smile. He really loves seeing him get flustered. Lisa looks more like she's attracted to skinny hipsters, not muscles and guns.

"Please don't. Goofball. Besides, I just told you, sex really isn't an option."

_Brock: No, I'm afraid I don't. Sorry._

_Frank: Does that mean you're just fine away from your husband?_

_Brock: Now why would you think that?_

_Frank: cause you don't see the problem with me having pent-up sexual frustration and wanting to use it at the gym._

_Brock: Don't the Americans have some saying about hammers and problems?_

_Brock: Wanna get hammered or nailed? Hahaha_

_Frank: Are you hammered?_

_Brock: Did I say it wrong lol?_

_Frank: no baby but it's more of a pick up line?_

_Brock: Well, if I recall right, I did say I was better at other things than pick up lines when we met._

"So, when he comes home, how Italian is he going to be?" Frank asks. He's not sure how to phrase it.

Jack finishes off his beer and throws away the trash. Carefully he begins to clean up, putting the leftovers in little containers, and storing them in the refrigerator. "Can you get more Italian? Like, is that a thing? I don't think he's gonna turn into the Chef-Boy-Ardee dude or like every stereotype ever."

_Frank: you did warn me. But again. The only person I wanna get nailed by is in Italy._

"I've never had a partner visit let alone stay in another country. I don't know what to expect." Frank says filling the sink with water to wash dishes.

There's a door knock and Jack moves to answer it. "Worst case scenario is he might want home-cooked meals more and forget English? I wouldn't know. This has never been a problem?"

"That's probably Gerard." 

"Yeah, probably. Or the chick you tried to invite up here," Jack snorts.

"Your new girlfriend, Lisa? I didn't invite her up here. I went to her place."

"That was a joke and she's not my girlfriend." 

Jack opens the door after checking to see who it is. The door shuts softly, the biometric lock clicking into place.

"Jack? Who was it?" Frank says scrubbing the pan. There's no answer so he tries again. "Hey?"

"Hello, _tesoro_."


	28. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock's return has benefits and disadvantages.
> 
> A Happy New Year special for our few devoted fans!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Posting this a little early as a gift for our fans!
> 
> Please see the new, updated warnings associated with the chapter.

Frank steps away from the sink. He must be hallucinating. 

Brock stands in the living room, hair slicked back and wearing a black suit. In one hand is his duffle, which softly thunks to the floor. In his other hand are two dozen red roses.

"Brock? What… why?" Frank stumbles over the words. A stupid smile hasn't left his lips. He moves slowly towards him, afraid if he moves too fast, he'll disappear, "Hi baby." 

"Hi, baby. I'm home," Brock says with a smile. His arms open a little. 

Frank loses control and quickly closes the space between them. His arms wrap around Brock's middle and squeezes.

"Ohmygod! You're here!" Frank says into Brock's chest, "You smell so much better than I remember."

Brock returns the hug for a moment before tipping Frank's chin up and kissing him, slow and sensual. Relearning and remapping his mouth. 

Frank kisses him back. His heart was beating loud in his ears. His fingers curl into his shirt. He can't believe it. He must be dreaming, he pulls back slightly. "Running an errand, eh?" 

"They didn't have lilacs and roses are much better," Brock says softly. He offers the roses.

"I like the roses but I love you." Frank beams up at him before kissing him again.

"Good. But I love you more. And I'll always love you. Through the good and the bad. Through the darkest nights and the brightest days. I love you, Frank Iero." Brock kneels on one knee and pulls out a small black box. He opens it up and looks up at Frank. "And I don't want to wait for my eternity with you, any longer. You are my love, my life, my joy, and _my treasure_. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, Brock!" Frank doesn't hesitate, he grins wide as he nods his head. This feels like a dream. It isn't real. He's gonna wake up and be alone in bed. 

Brock stands and lifts Frank into a kiss, dropping the flowers and spinning him a little. He sets him back down and slips the ring on his finger. It's a perfect fit. A single diamond rests in the middle of a two-toned white ring, divided by an angular swoop. The top half is in a matte finish with the glossy bottom catching the light. Two more diamonds sit on either side of the center diamond, off-centered and at an angle. In the inner band, written in a script, are the words _My Treasure._

"Brock, it's beautiful," Frank says breathlessly. He cups Brock's cheek, "I love it. I love you! I can't believe you're here!" 

"I'm glad you like it. I love you. So much. I've missed you," Brock pulls him into a hug and nuzzles him. 

"You look quite dapper all dressed up." Frank grins, "Have you eaten? Are you hungry?"

"Thank you. No, I’m good."

Frank leans up and kisses him, "I am speechless." His hand rests on Brock's chest. He eyes the ring and smiles. He kisses him again, this time a little deeper.

"You're not allowed to leave again," Frank says playfully. 

"I won't. At least, not without telling you first. I'm sorry things happened the way they did. I hope we never have to experience that again." He holds Frank tighter.

"Not under those circumstances." Frank smiles up at Brock. 

"Never again." Pulling away, he looks away, actually noting the furniture changes. "You redecorated." 

"I did. Is… it ok?" Frank asks.

"It's beautiful. I like it. Is it just this or does it extend to the rest of the apartment?"

"I got a new headboard for the guest bed. And new sheets for our bed." Frank smiles satisfied, "I didn't want to mess with the bedroom." 

"Very nice. And thank you. I'm going to put my duffle away, okay? And change into something comfy. Be right back, love." Brock pulls away, kissing him on the cheek.

"Okay! I'll clean up the kitchen." Frank grips his wrist and pulls him back for a moment, " Hey..."

"Yeah?" 

"Welcome home, baby."

"Thank you, _tesoro_." Grinning, Brock moves and grabs his duffle, heading into the bedroom to get settled in and change.

Frank cleans up the kitchen. He pulls the cake he'd been keeping warm in the oven out. The opening of the door lets out a caramelly warm smell that fills the house. He places it on the counter with an oven mitt beneath it. He puts the jackfruit in a container and marks it JF. He pulls his phone out and sends Gerard a message saying he is running behind and that he'll text him in a bit. He put his phone on the counter, placing his ring on top of it, and finished washing the dishes. He rinses them and places them on the drying rack. 

"Babe?" Brock asks, making his way into the living room. He's changed into sweats and a tee shirt.

"Yes, love?" Frank replies as he places the last dish down and dries his hands then slips his ring back on.

"Why are the sheets neon green?" He chuckles, sitting on the couch. In his hand is his tiger, who gets a seat next to him on the pillow.

"It's not neon green. The package described it as emerald in the sun. And why not? I can change it if you don't like it." Frank offers casually.

"Just wasn't what I expected, that's all," he chuckles.

"Sir. There's no pets on the couch." Frank says leaning over and kissing him.

"Does this mean you have to leave then?" He teases with a little grin. "Why isn't Enzo bear out here?" 

"Because he's in bed. Has Tiger had a bath?"

A somber look crosses Brock's face as he holds his tiger in his lap. "Tiger has never left my hands in the last two weeks. He was my rock and compass. I put him in the duffle just before I knocked. It was the first time I let him go. In short, no. He's not had a bath."

"Hmmm." Frank hums as he sits beside Brock, "What if… I throw him in the wash and I can occupy your time."

"Not going to lie, I'm not sure about that. Mostly because he was the only thing that kept me afloat. He was your substitute and my life raft. I know you are here and I'm home but it doesn't quite feel like it just yet. I've been rescued at sea but it hasn't clicked that I can let go of the raft. Maybe tomorrow? Is that okay?"

"That's fine." Frank smiles as he strokes Brock’s cheek, "You sure you don't want anything? I promised your brother cake and coffee." 

"He left though. What kind of coffee?" 

"Brewed… coffee." Frank wrinkles his nose with a little smile on his lips.

"So regular and not, say, a latte or espresso. Traditional coffee and not a dessert," Brock shakes his head.

"Mexican, actually."

"Point still stands, _tesoro_." 

"Yes. Traditional coffee." Frank replies with a sigh at the end. It _could_ be a dessert, "My point being anything you want, I'll get it." 

"Maybe I'll try a vanilla cappuccino. If we have it?"

"I'll go look." Frank kisses his cheek as he stands up. He goes into the kitchen and makes a drink. 

While he waits, Brock relaxes back into the new couches and takes in all the changes Frank made while he was home alone. None of it was anything he would have chosen but that was simply because he has no style or an eye for decor. Frank's choices were much nicer than the display set he had.

"I made a friend." 

"Oh? That's cool," Brock says, turning his head to look at Frankie. "Are we talking animal, human, imaginary, or plush?" 

"Human. Her name's Lisa. She lives on the second floor." Frank snorts, "I had to unstuff her mailbox." 

"Why do I feel like that is a hip lingo for sex? Or could be. Like Netflix and Chill. Which only took me four months with Rabbit to learn what that means." He snickers quietly.

"She knows I have a boyfriend… now fianceé. And I literally unstuffed her mailbox. Perv." Frank says coming around with Brock's drink in hand. 

"I knew what you meant. I'm just saying that could be the new slang. You should start a trend with that." He takes the mug from Frank, "Thank you."

"I could start a trend. But I met her today, she's new to the city." Frank says sitting beside Brock.

"Ah. Fresh friend." Brock blows on the mug before taking a hesitant sip. It's still too hot and so he sets it on the new coffee table. Sitting back, he pulls Frankie into his lap, keeping Tiger close. 

"She's nice. I think you'll like her." Frank says softly before kissing his cheek, "Issa good thing you came home. I was gonna get a part-time job."

"Gross, work. You have a job. Little thing called music and being a housewife. Househusband? Doesn't have the same ring to it." He kisses Frankie quickly. "Speaking of rings… That looks really good on you." 

"You have a very good eye. I love it, it's perfect." 

"Good because that's your actual wedding band. I decided to forgo the engagement ring because those are marketed towards women. I have a matching one, minus the diamonds. Did you read the inscription?"

"I did. I love it so much!" Frank holds his hand out and smiles wide, "Shit! You never got your birthday present from me… it's on your desk, do you want it?"

"Sure!"

Frank kisses him before crawling out of his lap. He scurries into the office and returns with two medium-size boxes, "Can I sit?" 

"Why wouldn't you?" He asks, taking the boxes. His eyes track over the bright red stripes that spread out over Frank's elbow. The moment he realizes there is a new tattoo there, he suddenly sees the rest. He'll ask about them later. For now, he's interested in his fianceé and the boxes.

"Do you need a knife?" Frank asks.

Using a fingernail to scrape at the tape, Brock gives up trying and nods, "Should have a box cutter in the office." 

Frank turns and heads for the office. He grabs the box knife and returns. He's antsy.

Quickly, Brock slides the blade through the tape on both boxes and sets the knife aside. He pulls open the box in his lap and carefully pulls out a gift box surrounded by shipping bubble wrap. Lifting the lid, his eyes widen in delight at the stunning pair of Ray-Bans inside. Once he lifts them out and looks over the dark gray gradient aviators, he realizes they have been custom engraved. One side says, _4 My Love_ , while the other has _XOFRNK_. The gray leather carrying case is nestled in with the shades and has his initials engraved in it. 

"Baby, these are amazing! I love them! Even if they spelled your name wrong!" Brock beams wide at his love.

"I did that on purpose. I ran out of room. Keep going!" Frank kisses him. 

Brock asks in disbelief, "What? There's more?" He laughs a little and sets everything aside carefully on the coffee table. Grabbing the second box, he peers in, laughing when he sees another gift box with yet another pair of custom Ray-Bans. These have a bright green gradient lense in the aviator style. 

"You don't have a green gradient pair!" Frank says happily.

"These are so cool, baby," Brock exclaims happily. They are engraved on the inner ear pieces just like the ones before it. _I L Y_ is printed on the left ear and _XOFRNK_ is on the right. A black leather carrying case stamped with his initials joins them in the gift box. "I can't believe you did this." 

"I knew you'd love it. And maybe I could have a place in your collection." Frank smiles and says softly, "There should be one more."

"There's more?" Brock asks, shocked. He sets the items to join the first pair, noticing the third box. Shaking his head, he grins at Frank before opening it. 

"I took a leap with these," Frank whispers. He's giddy, his knee bounces a little. 

The last pair were more in the traditional style of shades. Dark blue in a high gloss color framed a dark gray gradient lens. The front of the frame transitioned from dark blue to white and the earpieces were engraved with the letters _HBD and XOFRNK._ Brock holds them up to the light and grins wide. "I love them, baby. These are all amazing. I love you. Thank you!"

"You do? Happy birthday, baby." Frank kisses his lips softly.

"Thank you for supporting my Rays addiction," Brock laughs into the kiss. 

"If it makes you happy. I support it." 

"I can't wait to wear them. They are amazing, just like you," Brock says, carefully putting everything onto the coffee table. He'll clean up later. Instead, he tries another sip of his coffee, finding it cooled off enough to drink. It's warm and sweet on his tongue. It takes great but he forces himself to take it easy. Start small. Setting the cup back, he curls up with Frankie and Tiger. "I love you." 

"I love you more. I am over the moon right now." Frank smiles, "But baby… we should invite your brother back. He, if he doesn't already know, will be excited to celebrate with us."

"Nobody knows, yet. But sure, I'm okay with that."

"Sorry," Frank says softly. He pulls his phone and sends a message to Jack to come back.

_Jack: Done with the hanky panky already? ROFL! I'm hobbling back._

_Frank: no hanky or panky. Just some kisses. Come on back, hop along._

_Jack: Jerk._

Brock leans over to be nosy and to read Frank's texts. "Did he agree?" 

"Yeah. He's coming back. Slowly. He's a lil limpy baby right now." Frank kisses Brock's cheek.

_Frank: Bitch. Don't keep us waiting. Double time, limp faster._

_Jack: Fuck off, bugger. This is all your fault. Next time I won't save your skinny schmoe ass_ 🤣 

"Yeah, how's he doing with that? Do you know," he asks.

"He told me he should be back to normal by my birthday. The first night was… rough." Frank leans his head back and rests on Brock's shoulder.

_Frank: I didn't ask you to get a hole in your hip. You went all Die Hard on them. Though I am glad you have a phenomenal aim._

_Jack: Just want to point out I'm teasing and in no way do I actually blame you. I blame the three stooges. They tried to jack us and so I had to Jack them up. And Die Hard is awesome so STFU. You're welcome. Love you, jerkface._

"You really should make your brother get that hole checked, though." Frank says before kissing Brock's ear, " I imagine that you are just like him in the no hospital thing?" 

"Depends on the circumstances and the injury. If I know how to treat it, I will. Unless it's major and then I'll go. We do like to avoid questions of how we got injured though. How was the first night?"

"He slept like a dead guy. I was too worried to sleep." Frank says as he rubs his nose, "Like I tried to even go for a run but my fear got the best of me." 

"Ohhh. I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry that I ever left. Even if it was for the right reason." Brock pulls him in tighter and plants a soft kiss on his temple.

"Hey." Frank says softly, "It's okay. The break was painful but good. Don't be sorry. It made us stronger. And I'm glad you weren't there. If both of you got hurt, I'd have been wrecked."

"You have a point. Nothing good comes from playing the _what-if_ game. In the end, you always lose."

"Exactly. I got my baby back. I'm the happiest man in Manhattan right now."

"Hmm, that's debatable. I might be the happiest man in the world. You could be a close second though," Brock grins, leaning over and kissing him lightly.

"I do usually _come_ second..." He grins and bites his lip.

"Hey now," Brock warns, teasingly. "You come _first_ in all the ways that matter." 

"I'm more than happy to come second but only for you." Frank says with a nod, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure, love. Anything. What's on your mind?"

"How much weight have you lost?" He asks quietly. It's been weighing on his heart and mind for the last few minutes. He can see it in Brock's face.

"It's that noticeable huh…." Brock looks away and says softly, "Just under ten pounds. Or something like that."

"I love you no matter what weight you are but I can see the change in your face." Frank says taking two fingers and turning Brock's face back, "I love you but I worry. Okay?" 

"I'm getting better, I promise," Brock whispers. 

There's a knock at the door before the lock clicks open and Jack carefully eases himself into the apartment. "Hello again." 

"Welcome back, Lieutenant Dan." Frank teases.

"I have such an odd deja vú feeling," Jack snickers. He makes his way over to the couch, easing himself down. "Hi, Brock. I'd hug you but no." 

"Hims holey." 

"That's alright. There's always later. Other than the hole aspect, how are you? Is it healing alright?" Brock inquires with a slight tilt of his head.

"Seems so but I'm good. Doing alright all things considered. Glad to see you. You alright?"

Brock nods, "I'm ok."

Frank nuzzles into Brock's neck. He places soft kisses on his skin as Brock answers his brother. He's back. He's tangible and Frank can smell him, feel him. He can feel his breath on his own skin. The way Brock's fingers curl into his side feels comfortable and safe. He can't wait to show Jack the ring. He can't wait to celebrate this amazing day. 

"Good. 'Cause you look like hell. But that's probably from the flight. Or from him pouncing you. Frank fed me fake barbeque tacos. I came back because he promised me cake and coffee. I didn't want to interrupt," Jack nods.

"It's okay," Brock replies. He takes another careful sip of his coffee.

"They weren't fake!" Frank protests.

"It wasn't real meat. It was a _fruit_. That's fake. Sneaky trick."

Brock tilts his head and wrinkles his nose. "Fruit tacos?"

"That isn't what it sounds like...it's Jackfruit. It's similar to pork or chicken texture."

"Sounds like a fruit to me. It's in the name."

"Yep."

"If you were hungry, I would have you try it. You can't tell." Frank sighs, "Better than black bean burgers." 

"Why didn't you just use real pork? Or chicken?" Brock asks Frank.

"It was an experiment. I worry about my boys eating too much meat. If it went over well, I'd suggest a vegetarian day meal…" Frank shrugs, "I looked at a few meatless meals I can make that you'd like…"

"Frank, we're humans. We are carnivores. Eating meat is what we do." Jack shakes his head, "I don't wanna go vegetarian, dude." 

"There are nutrients and protein in real meat that is important to building muscle mass," adds Brock.

"It was an idea. I'll drop it." Frank says softly.

"Relax, _tesoro_. We're just giving you a hard time. It's okay."

"Okay. Just think about it." Frank says with a little shrug before he kisses his cheek.

"I will." 

Frank's phone buzzes against his leg and Brock's. He leans to the side and pulls his phone out. 

_Gerard: I am thinking that I will stay home tonight. But are we on for record shopping tomorrow?_

Frank turns to Brock, "Can we have the boys over tomorrow to show them..." Frank tilts his head.

"Of course, if that's what you'd like. Though, I did expect you to already have said something," Brock says with a small smile.

"I'm not gonna tell them anything. Just invite them over for dinner, then surprise!" 

"What's the surprise? Brock being back?" Jack asks. He's slowly getting up to get his own damn cake and coffee.

"Uh, well." Frank says putting his hand out for Jack, "I get to be your brother for real." 

"Holy shit Brock!" Jack stops mid-stride to gape at the ring on Frank's finger. "It's… holy shit, dude. Stand up and give me a fucking hug cause I can't."

Frank rises to his feet and puts his arms up. Jack pulls him into a tight hug. "Congratulations!" 

"Thank you! I wasn't. I never thought." Frank hugs Jack back, "I get to be your brother."

"You've always been my brother. This is just the legal stuff. I love you. I'm proud to have you in the family."

"I am happy you want me in the family." Frank says with a big grin, "You should hug your brother too. I'll go bring us cake."

Jack grins, letting Frank head into the kitchen as Brock rises to hug Jack. They hug tightly, Brock being careful of his brother's injury. Jack says into the hug, "I'm so happy for you two. Love you, Brock." 

"Thank you. I love you, too, little brother," Brock replies, pulling back a little. He helps him back down on the couch before retaking his seat. 

Frank brings back the coffee first. He hasn't stopped smiling, "Cake next." He leans over and kisses the top of Brock's head.

"Thank you," said Jack, taking a sip. "So have you thought about dates and where yet?"

"Brock had the idea of marrying on the day we met." Frank comments.

"True, but I hadn't worked out any of the details yet. Still don't."

"We will get there. I'm sure the families will have some say." Frank says softly. 

"Well I know I want it before Christmas," Brock comments.

"This Christmas?" Frank asks. He nearly drops the cake in his hand. That's two months away. 

"And not on a holiday or your birthday. But yes. Middle of next month or early December?"

"A month. Do you want like a courthouse wedding?" Frank asks. His head is spinning.

"No? Why?"

"I'm just checking. You meant it when you said you don't want to wait." Frank smiles.

"Well… if you think about it, I've been waiting for nearly a year already." Brock grins up at Frank, adoration in his eyes.

"Ok. So next month. I'm in." Frank grins at Brock before handing the cake to Jack, "Am I pregnant and I don't know it?" 

"You don't look like you've gained weight. So I think you're safe," Brock grins.

Frank sits beside Brock, "Thoughts Jack?" 

"A month is a little short to get everything arranged. Perhaps wait until the start of December? I think you're underestimating how long planning a wedding actually takes."

"I mean, I wouldn't know. I have never been married before. But we'll figure it out," Brock chuckles.

"I mean we can always get married in Ray's backyard." Frank suggests, "Chris has made it like a fantasy escape." 

"That's not a bad idea," Brock nods.

"Are you guys gonna have a theme?"

"I don't think so. Maybe colors? Like black and red or something." Frank stabs at the cake and offers a small bite to Brock, "Will you at least try it?"

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before leaning over and taking the offered bite. He eats it slowly, savoring the flavor. "It's good. You made this?" 

"Yeah! You like it?" Frank grins.

"Yeah, you did good. Nice flavor." Brock leans over and kisses him. "Well done, baby." 

"Thank you. You good Jack?" Frank asks with a happy tone.

Jack looks up from where he has been shoveling the cake into his mouth, plate under his chin, and nearly empty. He's got a few crumbs on his cheek. "Yeah. Totally." 

"Seems your cake has won the approval," Brock says, shaking his head at Jack who has gone back to shoveling food in his mouth.

"Good. So my plan of fattening you Rumlow boys is going to work." Frank leans up and kisses Brock's cheek.

"Excuse you, I'm not skinny," Jack protests, "I'm lean muscle." 

"Mmmhmmm. Sure. I'm gonna fatten you up." Frank teases, "Brock, what about November 30th or December 10th?" 

The idea of marrying Brock in a month was thrilling but also a bit nauseating at the same time. What if… 

_'Stop it.'_ Frank tells himself.

"Hmm. What about December 3rd? Kind of in between both dates?"

"Okay. That works for me." Frank says leaning up and kisses his cheek, "December 3rd is perfect." 

"Great. We have a set date. Awesome. Now what?" Brock laughs.

"Are we marrying in Ray's backyard?"

"If they'll let us. Unless you want to go to an out-of-state location. Like the Caribbean. Or Scotland. Someplace exotic and not cold?" 

"Ohhh, I see your hesitation. Do you wanna get married in Italy?"

"Our winters average in around the sixties Fahrenheit. Sometimes as low as the forties. Better than here, but I'd rather be elsewhere. Someplace we've never been, maybe?"

"Ok. I like that idea. Scotland sounds nice. But let's check their temp before we agree." Frank nods as he sets his half-eaten cake on the coffee table. 

"What about Australia?" Jack offers.

"Okay!" 

"Where everything in nature is trying to kill you?" Brock grimaces at the idea that both animals and plants could kill all of his guests.

"New Zealand?" Frank suggests with a smile.

"Ohh. Now that place has some amazing views. Lord of the Rings background for the wedding photos would be awesome. I like the sound of that. How warm are they in December?"

"64 degrees on average," Frank says looking up from his phone.

"You guys could get like those super long fur coats that are badass and wear that? Go kinda medieval," Jack offers at Brock's expression.

"Ohhhh! Crowns!" Frank grins wide, "Baby. I love the idea of a medieval-esque wedding. And we can totally do it!"

"As long as it's done tastefully, I'm okay with this," Brock grins and nods.

"Of course!" Frank smiles as he drapes his legs over Brock's lap, "It's your wedding too. What do you wanna do?

"Cause I don't mind going to the courthouse and marrying you that way," Frank adds.

"What if we did both? Get the legal stuff done and out of the way and then take our time with the ceremony? I like the idea of something on the beach… or something with water as our backdrop… springs or a waterfall."

"Ok! Let's do that!" Frank smiles. He pushes the concern away, "When do I need to get a suit for the courthouse?" 

"Shit baby, if it were open, I'd take you down there tonight. I can't wait to call you Frank Rumlow, my husband," Brock nuzzles his neck and kisses him lightly. 

"Or Iero-Rumlow. Which might be good for your music career to just leave it as Iero. Or use the hyphen," Jack suggests.

"Would you mind if I was Iero-Rumlow?" Frank asks.

"No, not really. It does have a ring to it. Kinda rolls off the tongue."

"My initials would be FAIR." Frank grins at him, "So like would you wanna maybe… go tomorrow to the courthouse?"

"If you are sure about doing it backward. I'm okay with waiting a little longer. Maybe we give it a few days, hm? Let the others weigh in." Brock pats his knee and gives him a tiny squeeze, "I love you." 

Jack heaves himself up off the couch and into the kitchen, taking his trash and mug with him. "What about Fiji or Hawaii? Don't think you need thirty or so passports to go there."

"I've never been to Fiji." Frank says with a small grin, "If you want to wait and see what the others think, _I guess_ I can wait. But I don't mind doing it backward. As long as I get to marry you." 

"Did I get approval for having the guys over to surprise them?" Frank asks as he pulls his phone and opens the group chat.

"Yeah, totally. I can't wait to see their faces in shock. Don't tell them I'm back though. I'm a ghost and I kinda like it," Brock grins.

"Okay!" Frank chuckles. He sends a message in the group chat.

_Frank: would all wanna come over tomorrow for dinner and gaming?_

Frank looks at Brock, "Maybe read it but don't respond. Or do. Fuck with em…"

_Ray: I'm in. It might be my last boys’ night._

_Bob: yup. What time?_

_Gee: Yeah, I'll be there._

_Mike: I'll bring pizza!_

**__** _Frank: this apartment is lonely without Brock here. Jack's been helping but I'm lonely._

_Brock: I'll have to decline, but perhaps you could invite the wives club as a substitute?_

Brock sends his text and chuckles, "How's that? Get the ladies involved. Do they know you redecorated? Lure them in with the promise of seeing new things…"

_Jack: I'm in_

"But I'm out right now. Thanks for the food and dessert. Glad you are back home, brother. But I am ready to go home, take some painkillers, go to bed, and crash for the night. I love you both, I'll text you guys in the chat as long as I can. I'll see you tomorrow," says Jack, moving for the front door.

"Love you too, Jack. See you tomorrow," Brock calls after him.

"Love you, Jack! Thank you for the company!" Frank shouts. He starts a text to the wives club.

_Frank: Come over tomorrow for dinner. Wine will be flowing. Also I got new things!_

_Lindsey: I'll be there. I have to go back on the road in a few days so I am totally down for company._

_Christa: I can't do wine but I can do food._

_Kristen: me and Mike will be there._

_Frank: Brock is gone and I'm alone. I need company!_

"Are you trying to make me feel bad?" Brock chuckles. 

_Brock: You know I'm in this chat, yes?_

_Frank: Ok? You wanna come?_ 😘

"That Brock yes. My Brock no. They all know how I felt about being in his apartment alone." Frank strokes his cheek, "Doesn't matter. You're here. My heart's full." 

"That Brock and myself are the same. And I'm sorry you had to be in this place by yourself," he whispers, kissing Frankie's palm.

"It doesn't matter, it's in the past and you're here." Frank's hand touches Brock's neck then grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him close to kiss him, "Hopefully, you don't get sick of kisses cause you're getting a lot."

"Well…. I did get a lot while I was in Italy," Brock teases.

"Mmm, but they weren't Frankie kisses." Frank smiles as he whispers, "Besides, what else are you gonna do?"

"True..." Brock pretends to think for a moment. "What _should_ I do?"

Frank grins wide, "Me?"

"Oh? Maybe you should convince me."

Frank moves on Brock's lap until he's facing him. He bites his lip before asking softly, "Convince you?" He leans into Brock and kisses him softly on the lips. His arms carefully slide over Brock's shoulders. His fingers rake over Brock's scalp as he kisses his lips. He shifts his hips as he rests on Brock's thighs, "I dunno... if I can convince you of how much I need you to touch me." 

"Oh, I think you can. I have faith in you," Brock purrs softly in Frank's ear.

Frank grins wider. He places kisses on Brock's neck and jawline until their lips. Frank kisses deeply with a little moan. His hips rolling into Brock's. A hand moves from his scalp and slides down his chest. He's not sure what he's gotta do to convince this man aside from stripping down and begging for him to touch him.

"Please touch me," he whispers against Brock's lips.

"Oh I'll definitely do more than that," Brock whispers back, holding Frank tightly and standing up. He carries him into the bedroom, pausing to take Tiger with him. Frank's arm holds tighter to Brock as he gets carried away. 

~~

Frank yawns as he stretches a little. He's draped across Brock's body with a firm hand gripping his back. He lifts his head and carefully rests his chin on Brock's chest. He watches him sleep with excited admiration. He still can't believe that Brock is back. It felt like a dream. He lifts his hand and stares at the ring on his finger. He's engaged. Engaged to Brock. A small tuft of orange fur peeks out from the other side of Brock's body. _Tiger, smelly. Smelly tiger._ Frank traces a finger along Brock's skin.

Brock sighs in his sleep and he rolls over, fingers gripping soft orange fur so tight, his fingertips were white. A soft snore escapes as his knees pull up close to his body.

Frank gets left behind in Brock's movement. He lies there for a moment then sighs. Frank gives up and decides he's gotta pee, crawling out of bed and slowly walking to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror and exhales before crawling back into bed. He pulls the stupid bear in and rests his head on a pillow. "Welcome back," he grumbles.

The movement triggers Brock's response and arms immediately wrap around Frank and pull him into the curve of Brock's body, spooning him tightly. Tiger gets squished between Brock and Frank's back.

"Stinky tiger," Frank grumbles quietly. He pulls the arm around him a little tighter and pushes his butt into Brock. He closes his eyes and exhales. He's home. He's there, stop being bratty. He must be tired.

" _Stay still, love_ ," Brock murmurs, still ninety percent asleep.

Frank shifts a little. He wants to hear the next line. He is feeling a little bratty but playful. He pushes against Brock.

" _Go to sleep,_ " Brock mumbles and pulls Frank in tighter. He will keep his love from moving.

"No. Wake up." 

Brock groans, "No. Sleepy." 

"You need sunlight. Food. Your bouncy and loving husband to wake up you..." Frank kisses his arm.

"But I'm comfy," he protests, sleepily and fighting to return to sleep.

Frank struggles to turn a little, "Baby...oh fuck!" His breakfast with his new friend, "What time is it?"

Brock grumbles something unintelligible. He's not facing the clock. With a sigh, he lets Frank move, loosening his grip. 

"Baby… what do you think about breakfast?" Frank squirms and sees he's got thirty minutes, "Come with me to breakfast." 

"Or at least keep me Interested in staying in bed…" Frank offers.

"Sleep is not enough?" Brock groans and sighs. He gives up on sleep, instead, he rolls over onto his back. Turning his head, he gives a sleepy grin. "I thought you loved me. Why can't we sleep in?" 

"Do you really wanna sleep?" Frank asks and drapes himself over Brock.

"I'm still a little jet-lagged and tired, so yeah. But, I'm up." Brock tilts his head up and pecks Frank. 

"You sure? You can stay here and sleep and I can go to breakfast." Frank offers. He snakes up a little and kisses his lips.

"I'm already up. But why so early?" He yawns before kissing him again.

"I told my new friend 9:30 for breakfast." Frank says softly as he strokes Brock's cheek, "I'll make it up to you. It’s your day after 10 am. Whatever you wanna do, we do." 

Brock playfully perks up and grins, "Nap?" 

"If that's what you want, then we nap… at 10 am." Frank leans up and kisses him deeply with a little moan, "But that means, you gotta get up, lover." 

"Alright, _amore mio_."

Frank grins at him, "Thank you, baby." He crawls out of bed and offers Brock his hand, "Come."

Frank squeezes Brock's hand as they enter the restaurant. The place is lit by the sunlight that's pouring in and has a soft hum of people just barely louder than the easy jazz music playing. He scans the restaurant for Lisa, locking eyes with her and watching her wave, "Is that table gonna be ok?" Frank turns to Brock and motions to his friend. He walks with Brock to the table. He watches Lisa's face turn from excitement to confusion.

"Hey, Frank… morning," Lisa says with a confused but cheerful voice.

"Hey! Lisa so this is my partner Brock. He came home. So Lisa, Brock. Brock, Lisa," Frank grins at her and turns to Brock. She extends her hand out to Brock.

"Ma'am," Brock says, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you. Franks told me all about you!" She says with a smile. Her eyes scan Brock's face, "Please have a seat!" 

Frank pulls a chair for Brock before sitting down, "He came home last night and surprised me." 

"Oh. That's great. I'm glad you guys were _reunited_." She says softly but there's a tone in her voice that's a little cool as she watches Brock.

Brock whispers to Frank as he sits, "Thanks, baby." He turns to Lisa and smiles, "Thanks. It was long overdue." 

"I had an ex who would rabbit when things got messy…" she says casually, "He always came back until he didn't. But that's not the case."

"Sounds familiar. I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Brock says, voice full of empathy.

Frank's hand rests on Brock's knee, "Seems we usually have to weed out the rotten ones to find the perfect man." 

"How long have you been together?" She asks, lightening up a little. 

"A little under a year," Frank says with a smile.

"How'd you guys meet? That's something I didn't ask before." Lisa asks before taking a sip of coffee.

Frank looks at Brock with a smile, he loved it when his husband tells the story. Brock can't help the snicker that escapes and he grins wide at her, "So, I completely body checked him, like, ran into him and this poor, lightweight, homeless-looking kid goes sprawling to the floor at Macy's, taking half the rack of jeans with him. Naturally, I apologize and offer to replace the torn jeans he's got. Didn't realize they were like that on purpose. Turns out it's a hipster thing and not a death metal punk thing. So, yeah. I knocked him down."

"So, after a quick flirty, exchange and we parted ways but a week later, he shows up and kidnaps me." Frank grins up at him.

"He pineapple'd," Brock clarifies with a goofy grin. "I didn't legit kidnap him." 

"Pineapple'd?" Lisa asks with a head tilt.

"It was the first word I could think of and it's been our safe word ever since." Brock turns to Frank and takes his hand, smiling.

"I fell in love with him the second I met him… I can't imagine my life without him now." Frank says softly looking at Brock with loving eyes. He strokes Brock's face with his fingertips.

"Me too, _tesoro_. I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world."

"You two are adorable. Brock, how long have you been in New York?" She asks.

"A little over twenty years. Joined the military. What about you? Frank said you were new."

"Four days." She says rubbing her neck. "It's much different than home." 

"Yeah. New York is way different than any city." Frank says with a happy sigh as the waitress approaches. She takes their order and disappears. Lisa and Brock chat over coffee. Listening, Frank enjoys their interaction. She reminds him of Brock. She's headstrong but vulnerable. She's got a lotta heart but there is a fire that burns in her. Lisa tells them about her latest piece of art she was working on and her family. She and Brock talk about being kicked out of the church briefly. 

After the meal is over she hugs both of them and heads off for an interview at a museum, she tells Frank to message her about hanging out later and disappears into the crowd of New York. Frank follows Brock back to his car and waits for Brock to unlock the door for him.

"Thank you for coming to breakfast with me. I really appreciate it." Frank says warmly as he leans over and rests his hand on Brock's thigh.

"You're welcome. She seems nice." He places his right hand on top of Frankie's left and interlocks their fingers. It's a lovely day out, bright and crisp, and Brock debates on lowering the top.

"She is. So, what's next?" Frank replies, "I swear you can make friends with any person."

"Now that's not true," Brock grins. "I can name three people who hate me to death."

"Oh really? They are idiots." Frank says with a nod.

Brock nods, "Yeah. I agree. But to be fair, I hate them too. So, it's even. Are we going back home?"

"It's your day, your call. But who hates you?" Frank asks, his curiosity getting the best of him. He's got a feeling one is the ex.

"Alan. Jamia. And Sebastiano Gotti." 

"Who?" Frank's head turns to face Brock and tilts. 

"He's the Underboss to the Gambino Family, one of the Five. He visited the villa. I pissed him off."

"Oh. I see. Is this a pissed him off and we should be worried, kinda thing?" Frank isn't sure how to ask but Brock usually got his point.

"It made some waves but until I know more about how my rejection will be taken, I'm not worried about it. It shouldn't be a big deal."

 _Rejection?_ He watches Brock's face for a moment before he responds, "Ok. I trust your judgment." 

Brock smiles at him, stopping at a red light. "Thank you, baby. Now, we can go home. Or we can do wedding planning things. Or house hunting? Do you have any plans for the day?"

"Only things I had to do are Lisa, go for a run and record store with Gee… that's not until later this afternoon because he is a vampire. So I'm all yours. What is on the top of your list?" Frank asks with a little smile.

"Nothing, honestly. I'm content to be a couch potato today."

"We can couch potato and we can do internet wedding planning." Frank shifts in his seat.

"Works for me." Brock steers them home and pulls into the parking garage. Parking, he gets out of the car and meets Frankie, taking his hand and heading up to their home.

"How's your tummy?" He asks as he grips Brock's hand, "Also, next trip out that we take, can I drive?" 

"Sure. The Lamborghini or the Porsche?" 

"Well, I say this respectfully but I don't like driving Black...beauty. She's your baby. And Stella hasn't been used to her full potential."

"Okay. You've never driven my car and I'm okay with you doing so. It's your choice."

"Aside from your guns, that car is precious to you. If I harm her, by accident, I'll jump off a bridge. It'd be like if you broke the neck on Pansy. I wouldn't be mad but it's my baby."

"Frankie… if you harmed the car, I'd get it fixed. It's just a car. No matter how much I like it. It's replaceable. Would I be bummed? Of course. Is it the end of the world? No." Brock nods to the doorman as they enter the building before entering the elevator.

"Did you ever call the building manager?" Frank asks softly, "Also, that was kinda my point, in a weird way, with my guitars." 

"I think I made Jack do it on my behalf. I don't remember honestly." 

"I went to the meeting for you. They are doing a renovation to the building. The knocking you'll hear is the HVAC being replaced. They are allowing cats in the building. And garbage collection is going up a dollar." Frank says then takes a big breath in, "If you want to make your own renovations, they have a list and you can submit the bills to the property owner."

"Wow," Brock says, impressed. "Good memory. None of it really affects me other than the sounds of construction. Our place already has the renovations I needed a long time ago so unless you wanted something done, we're good on that front. Besides, I thought we were moving?" 

"We are moving. A lady named Phyllis in the office asked me where I lived then yanked me into the meeting. I was told to relay the message to my _roommate_." Frank smirks.

"Roommate," Brock scoffs playfully. He liked Phyllis. She was a good old bird of a lady. No nonsense. Does what she wants most of the time. "That's an insult and a half." 

"Her words not mine." Frank laughs.

They step out of the elevator and enter the apartment. Brock gravitates to the couch. "It'll be kinda weird to sell the penthouse." 

"I bet. This has been your safe space." Frank says from the laundry room, "Are sure you want to?" 

"It'll be nice having a house with a yard and pool. And by the yard, I mean at least an acre of space. Always wanted a custom pool with a waterfall feature. It'll be great when the Band Babies are older and they come to visit."

"That would be cool! Go visit their uncles and have a pool party. Also, just to have wide-open spaces with privacy. Maybe Jack could move nearby?" Frank asks as he steps out, "Tiger will be done in an hour." 

"Thank you." 

"Are we building a new house?" 

"I kind of want to. I feel like it would be easier than to rearrange an existing foundation. Rewiring or repiping a structure can be quite a hassle. I'm sure you'd want to make a few things your own, yeah?" Brock asks as Frank joins him on the couch. He pulls him in close and holds him tight.

"I mean, my own music room would be pretty sweet. Soundproof of course. Maybe a home gym?" Frank asks looking up at Brock's face with bright eyes and a smile, "I don't even care though, as long as I am with you. I'm pretty content."

"Both of those are a must."

"Are we staying in New York?" Frank asks quietly.

"I'm not sure," Brock sighs. "I want to stay near our friends and your family. But I'm not sure if there's good land around here to build on." He kisses Frank's temple.

"Did you wanna look for a house first? Or at least browse." Frank presses his head into Brock, "I know you don't want to live in California. There's Jersey or Delaware? We could be Cape Cod gays…"

"It doesn't matter where we go. " Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, "I'm going to grab my laptop and we can do some work." 

"Okay."

Frank is only gone a moment and returns with water for Brock and his laptop, "I got a new sticker." He points to a red print that reads 'Hail satin' with a pentagram above the 'i' sticker among the mess of other stickers, "Where to first, love?" 

"Cute. What about your new tattoos?" 

"Do you wanna see them?" Frank grins wide at Brock. 

"Of course!"

"I got this one in Minneapolis." He lifts his elbow and shows Brock the bright traditional style spider, "Thoughts?" 

"Why this?" He traces the ink with a finger, pointing out the vibrant colors. "And why a spider?" 

"It's something different and spiders are disgusting but kinda interesting. They are hearty little things especially when they get to be like tarantula size." Frank smiles, "I have to take my pants off for the other two." 

He crawls off Brock's lap and shimmies out of his jeans. "I sent you a picture of the hard luck tattoo." He lifts his leg and places his foot on the couch. He shows off the upside-down horseshoe again.

Brock reaches out and places a hand on the tattoo. His thumb swipes over the edges before moving his hand upwards. Thoughts creep into his mind, reading into the symbolism of the tattoos. A slight pang hits his chest. These were because of him. Frank felt like he needed to toughen up because he was alone and down on his luck. Probably had thought that Brock was never returning. Another new tattoo caught his eye, high on his thigh, and Brock's hand slid up to touch it. Two-faced demon. It's ugly as hell. He knew immediately that it was him. Frank compared him to a two-faced demon. For leaving. For abandoning him. For not coming back. For breaking his promises. Brock can feel the hatred and pain in the ink. 

"He wards off the evil eye and is a protector in mythology. It can also be the faces of good and evil..." Frank says in a voice just above a whisper. That was his anger tattoo. He can see the look on Brock's face, "You don't like this one." 

"You didn't get this because of the mythology." It's not an accusation, but more of a statement. Brock knew the reason for it. It was the first tattoo and probably right after he left. It was more impactful to him than if Frank had punched him for leaving. This was permanent. This was going to be a reminder that he broke his promise and what Frank thought of him every day for the rest of their lives. He stares at it, his face carefully blank. 

"If. If you don't like it, I can get it covered." Frank says sitting beside Brock, "I– I was hurting. And I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"Yes, you did. Maybe not now, but then, yes. You got this to hurt me, and it's worked. You really think I'm a two-faced person for what I did to you. And I have to live with seeing that now. This… it's penance for my mistakes." Brock wipes his face clean.

"No, I'll get it covered. I did it out of anger and it's not fair to you." Frank keeps his voice soft and gentle, "At the time, I did think it was a pretty terrible thing you did but I understand now. I don't think you are two-faced." He rises and pulls his pants on. He makes a mental note to keep the damn thing hidden until he can get it fixed. 

"They say that what we do when we are angry, our thoughts and actions, are our true selves. Our true feelings. These three tell a story." Brock traces over the tattoos in order as he speaks, the demon, the luck, and the spider. "I hurt you. I left you. You felt it was just the same as your ex. And you felt that you needed to be tougher, stronger, to build walls so that you never needed to feel this pain again. And above all; it's my fault."

Frank's face falls. He knows Brock isn't wrong. He was hurting but he doesn't feel that way anymore. There's no need, "Only two things that I am going to point out is that the hard luck tattoo is going to have a good luck tattoo on my other leg. And I think that anger being the true way we feel is a load of shit; anger's a sister of fear. And fear's a little bitch. So, I disagree. Now, drunk is another story. Lowered inhibitions and all that."

"Fear is the absence of trust," Brock says softly and simply.

"I'm getting my thigh one covered up," Frank says without emotion. He's decided and he can't be swayed unless he's explicitly told otherwise.

"Do you like it? It's your body. If you want it, keep it."

"It's fine. I'll repurpose it. Make it something less horrific and visually appealing. It is kinda ugly." Frank says with a shrug. 

"I can't pretend that decision doesn't make me feel a little bit better but I also don't want to make you think you had to, simply for me. I'm trying to be better."

"Well. I'm looking at it like this. I made an ugly wallpaper choice and I need to try again. It clashes with the furniture." Frank smiles and strokes his cheek, "I don't want you to feel anything negative when it comes to my body. It may be my choice but you do have to look at me, I'd rather not hurt you."

Brock nods and whispers, "Thank you."

"Thank you for being understanding." Frank leans up and kisses him, "Believe me that I don't think you are two-faced. You are the love of my life. Maybe we can design it together."

"I'd like that. I love you." Brock kisses him.

"I love you more. I'm sorry that I made a decision that hurts you. I never want to do that to you. I love you. Please forgive me." Frank says, stroking his husband's face. He pulls Brock's face to his and kisses him softly.

The two of them spend the afternoon on the couch with the laptop between them. They lookup wedding locations, places to buy acreage, and different home designs. Frank takes a moment to steal some attention from Brock as the laptop takes a moment to load. With nervous hands, he pushes it to the side and crawls into Brock's lap and kisses him. He has a lot on his mind but no way to push out all the ideas. He sits back slightly and opens his lips but stops himself. 

"What's wrong?" Brock murmurs.

"I was thinking." Frank pauses before kissing Brock again.

"Hmm? Is this dangerous thinking, _tesoro_? Or something a little more fun?" Brock teases gently. He quickly sneaks another peck.

"Mmm. I think it's something fun." Frank grins. He takes one of Brock’s hands and places it on his lower back, "But I need your undivided attention." 

"I can do that. Talk to me, _amore._ "

"Do you remember when we took a time out and you asked me if I wanted to be a sub, your sub?" Frank asks, leaning in and kissing Brock.

"Yes. I had realized that when we started dating, I had put you into the category that I expected you to fit or wanted you to be, without asking you what you wanted."

"So after doing some research, I realize that I do want to be _your_ sub." Frank says with a small smile, "But I don't know what you want from me, since this is new to me." 

"That's something we can work out. Figure out what we want our relationship to look like," Brock grins 

"Okay! I just didn't know if you would want it anymore?" Frank leans in again and kisses Brock, "I love you, very much Brock."

"I love you too, Frank. So very much. I do want this. But I don't want you to… feel like I'm too controlling. Too smothering you. That's why– that's in part why I left. To not be in control. Because I figured that was the reason you would rebel in a way. You didn't have enough freedom. I didn't trust you enough."

"I've done some introspection and I think that if we talk about things a little better. I think it can work." Frank nods as he strokes Brock's cheek, "I didn't listen because I was an asshole who didn't take things as seriously as I should and I'm sorry." 

"So we can do this? And get married and build a house? And maybe… just maybe. I can get you to eat something." Frank leans in and presses his forehead to Brock's before kissing him. 

"I attempted breakfast," Brock says softly and weakly.

"I know. You did and I'm proud of you. Maybe we could start with something small like breakfast. Maybe soup." Frank suggests. 

"I don't know what's wrong… I try, I do." He sighs, "I'll try the soup. You'd think the oatmeal this morning would have been fine."

"Maybe we should go see a doctor?" Frank wrinkles his forehead, "I'm really worried, baby."

"Let's give it a few more tries before calling the doc, okay?"

"Okay…" Frank hesitates, "When's the last time you ate like actually ate more than a bite or two?" 

"A full meal?"

"A full meal."

"I'm assuming the dinner at Vito's doesn't count… so lunch that day, before I started to panic about… you know."

"Brock."

"I got sick. On the plane to Christa's; got some bug that gave me a fever and every time I ate something, I vomited. After two days, I didn't want to take the risk of being in more pain…" Brock tries to explain.

"You haven't. In two weeks." Frank says speechless.

"Mom tried to feed me but I just puked after. My stomach won't take food. At some point, I just stopped trying. I don't feel hungry anymore. Breakfast this morning was the most I've had since I left. And I couldn't finish it and I still threw it all up in the bathroom."

"Nope. Get up. That's not good." Frank leans back against Brock's hands. 

"Up? Where are we–?" 

"We're going to see a nurse. Someone. Two weeks is…"

"People fast for months. Jesus fasted for forty days and nights and it's been recorded that other people can and have done the same. It's not healthy, but it won't kill me. Just. Just for the record."

"My husband doesn't. My husband isn't Jesus. My husband would eat three square meals. He would train in a gym. He wouldn't hardly be able to handle oatmeal..." Frank frowns, "You grumble at me about my eating."

Brock sighs in defeat. "I know. I know baby. I'm _trying_. Maybe it's residual from whatever bug I caught?"

"I'm scared, Brock." Frank whispers, "I just got you back and..." 

"I didn't– I didn't try at all during Italy. So maybe I just need to get used to it? Again?" 

"Brock." Frank tilts his head, "I dunno. I'm worried, baby." 

"I don't know either. I'll… I'll keep trying until it stops?"

"Let's call my mom, she might be able to help," Frank suggests.

"Okay. Though, she's really not the right nurse for this," Brock wrinkles his nose.

"Maybe she knows someone? I dunno." Frank sighs with a lazy smile, "Maybe she'll have a nice white jacket for you while we're at it."

"If you can't keep food down two days from now. We go to a doctor, okay?"

"Okay."

"What about baby food?" Frank suggests; he's throwing out ideas.

"I'm not eating that shit. No. That's just– ew, no. Nope. I might throw up just from the smell of that stuff. I love you and thank you for the idea, but I'll pass," Brock shudders a little.

"Alright. You should probably hold me before I start googling and make it worse in my head." Frank smiles.

"Okay," he replies, pulling Frank tight against his chest and wrapping his arms around him again. He sighs deeply, feeling a little drained of energy. Must be the mid-afternoon crash. Closing his eyes, he buries his nose in Frank's hair and nuzzles him.

"Wanna go snuggle and take a nap?" Frank asks as he runs fingers in Brock's hair.

"Read my mind. I don't want to think about placemats and wedding invitations for the rest of the day. That'll be tomorrow. Maybe later, I'll obsess about guests and where they will be sitting." Brock stands, keeping a firm grip on Frank, and walks them towards the bedroom.

"I'm getting lighter to carry?" Frank asks softly.

"Huh?" He asks, lost. "You were never heavy. Is this because you are running now?" 

"I have to buy new pants. My skinny jeans are not tight." Frank says with a shrug.

"Wow. Okay. Tomorrow? Since we need to start getting set up for dinner." Brock pauses in the doorway of his bedroom, glancing down the hallway towards the laundry room. He wonders if he could get Tiger without it being weird.

"Did you wanna check on Tigra?" Frank says softly before placing a kiss on Brock's throat.

"Can we? I know it's not ideal, and I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Go grab the kitty. She's just gotta learn her place." Frank says playfully. He giggles as Brock steers them into the laundry room. He grips on Brock's neck as they bend to pull the tiger from the dryer. Frank made sure to use fabric softener and dryer sheets to make the kitty smell good. He puts the cat between him and Brock as they move back towards the bedroom. 

"You know, Tiger _is_ a boy," Brock says.

"Huh. Okay. He must learn his place." 

Brock drops him playfully on the bed before crawling over him. Frank pulls Brock down and kisses him a little needier this time, "You should pull my jeans off me." He bites the tip of his tongue. He's got nighttime ideas on his mind. 

"Why? Got any more tattoos I don't know about?" Brock smirks playfully as he unbuttons and unzips Frank's jeans. He tugs the fabric down slow and haltingly, purposely making it a struggle just to make Frankie wiggle. Straight down wasn't working. Maybe if he does one side at a time… a snicker of a giggle escapes.

"Maybe you need to take a closer look?" Frank offers. He lifts his hips a little and does a slight shimmy to help get the pants moving. He doesn't realize for a moment that the tiger is resting on him, too taken by Brock's pretty face. His fingers stroke the soft orange fur.

Brock grins wide, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth. His eyes dance with mirth and joy. "Sure. I'll be the official FBI. Frank Body Inspector."

"That's the only kinda FBI I want." Frank chuckles. He can feel a little frustration building in his chest. This attempt to be sexy has backfired. Brock's silly smile changes the mood. His hips shift against the mattress a little more. 

Still laughing softly, Brock gets Frank's jeans off properly, tossing them to the side. He keeps his eyes on Frankie's, running his hands up his legs and trying his best to mentally ignore the thigh tattoo. His hands stop at the waistband of Frank's underwear. "Are we doing naked cuddles for this nap?" 

"I believe a wise man once said, no clothes in bed," Frank says leaning up with a little playful smile. 

"Thank you for not saying _old_ wise man," Brock laughs. His fingers slip under the fabric and begin to pull the underwear down and off. They get tossed to the side as well.

Frank's body responds to the soft touch by rising slightly, "If anything it would be a wise _old_ man who said it."

"Did you–? Did you just _correct_ my English? You little shit!" Brock laughs and gently swats Frankie's thigh, "I am not old!"

"I did correct your English." Frank says with a grin before a little giggle slips out, "Didn't you go to high school with Marco Polo?" 

"Eh, it was more like a knock-off of Leonardo Da Vinci. Since I went to private school," Brock says sassily. 

"Oh true. I forget you are a little old prince." Frank teases, "I love you." 

"I love you too, _tesoro_. Even when you are a little shit. I'm not old." 

"You still have clothes on… did you _forget?_ "

"I will tickle you to death," he warns, pulling back and pulling his shirt and pants off.

"No! I'll be good!" Frank grins wide with big brown eyes looking up at him, "I want kisses… and touches " 

"Ohhh. Do you now? I think I can manage that," he smirks, looking down at Frank.

"I do!" 

"Hmm. I love hearing those words. Can't wait to hear them again. Do you want to marry me?" Brock's grin fades and he slips off his underwear before blanketing Frank's body with his own.

"More than anything, I do. I wanna marry you." Frank says softly before kissing him, "You still wanna marry me right?" 

"I do." Brock interlaces their fingers and slides their joined hands above Frankie's head. Leaning down, he kisses him soft and slow. His knees press into the bed, working Frank's legs apart and scooting their bodies upwards onto the bed better. Once they are exactly how he wants them to be, he presses their bodies together, hips slowly moving in a rolling motion.

Frank lets out a soft moan before kissing Brock. He pushes back against his husband's hips before curling his legs around Brocks. He tips his chin up slightly and whispers, "I can't wait to have your last name." 

"Me either. I love you." He kisses him again before pulling away to grab the lube. Maybe they should invest in bracelets or something.

Frank shifts a little on the mattress but can't move much, "Baby. Can we shift slightly?" He leans up and kisses Brock a little harder as he rolls his hips into his husband’s. 

"Sure." He moves off of Frank and stands, letting his love get comfy.

Frank moves until he is resting on the pillow. He gives Brock a wicked little grin as he puts the tiger on a pillow near but not on them. He opens his legs slightly, before sitting up and looking at his husband. His eyes wander Brock's body. His frame was thinner. It would be barely noticeable from an outsider's perspective but he can tell. Brock's muscles are shrinking a little but his skin has that gorgeous summer glow that made him ache a little harder for his touch. "Come play baby." 

Brock looks at Frank and his Tiger with wonder and adoration in his eyes. How lucky is he? To have such an accommodating fianceé that looks at him without shame or condemnation baffles and amazes him. He loves this man more than anything. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" 

"You have but I always love hearing it." Frank grins eagerly.

"You are so amazing. Do you know that?" He grabs the lube and begins to coat his fingers.

"I don't think I am that great but I _do_ know that you make me a better man," Frank replies with an easy smile. His eyes stay locked on to Brock's. He can feel the excited flutter in his body. He's thankful that feeling still hasn't left him.

"You make me a better man too. You bring such joy to my life that I had long since given up on. You are the best that's ever happened to me." With a soft smile, his fingers probe at Frank's hole before pressing in slowly. His eyes never leave his love's face, enjoying the expression of pleasure.

Frank's head tilts back slightly as his mouth falls open while a quiet moan comes out. His urge to close his eyes is pushed back in his mind as he enjoys the feeling of Brock's fingers inside of him, "I love you so much. I can't believe you are mine." The words come out as a moan but he means it. 

"I love being yours. I love you," he whispers in reply, fingers slowly working Frank open. 

Frank's legs shake a little as the slow-wave of pleasure rolls over him. His fingers curl the bedding into his palm as he tightens around the digits inside of him. He wants to kiss Brock. The excited flutter now is a growing swarm. He's gonna be a two-pump chump if he's not careful. A louder moan pushes out of his mouth, "Oh god, I love your hands." 

Brock can tell Frank is racing to the edge and he smiles inside. He shifts his body so he's mostly laying on his side, fingers still thrusting in his husband. Hot breath is ghosted over Frank's cock and Brock tries not to smirk at the way it jumps. He breathes his words over Frank's tip, "Wanna come like this?" 

Frank moans as his hips shift a little, "Fuck. I wanna..." He struggles to get the words out as he moans again, "Wanna come on your cock. Wanna make you come with me… please!" 

That was all Brock needed to hear before he's rising to his knees, coating his cock liberally, and sliding into Frank. A moan bubbles out of him at the intense tightness. He stills for a moment, giving Frankie time to adjust. 

His back arches from the mattress slightly as he lets out a small pleasured cry of Brock's name. How his husband's cock always filled him up was amazing to him. He tightens and relaxes around Brock letting himself mold around that perfect cock. Frank's fingers curve around Brock's neck and gently pull him down into a hungry kiss before whimpering out, "You're amazing, baby..." 

"You're perfect, tesoro. I love you," Brock breathes out, taking Frank's hands in his own again. He keeps their bodies pressed together as he slowly rocks into Frankie.

Frank's fingers tighten around Brock's hands as he moans louder. He enjoys the feeling for a moment letting Brock build slowly with his hips. He places kisses on Brock's skin anywhere he can reach, the need for him growing harder to contain. He pushes back against Brock and makes himself whine from the action, "Fuck baby!" 

"I love you, Frankie. I love you," he sighs, a soft moan escaping.

"Brock!" Frank whines as he tightens down around Brock's cock. He likes the slow roll of Brock's hips into him. This is the perfect pace for this. It's what he's been wanting for days. Better than the first time they made love on the couch. He gasps for air as a wave of pleasure runs through him. He can't hold out much longer.

Brock moans low, lips finding Frankie's and kissing him hard and deep. An urge rises in him. He fights it instead, forcing himself to keep the same slow and steady pace. This isn't about fucking Frank. They do that often. This is special. This is lovemaking. Breaking the kiss, his mouth greets Scorpio. He's missed his favorite tattoo. His tongue licks over the ink first before he nips gently, then sucking. He doesn't want to make a mark. This time it will be gentle just like his hips.

"Baby." Frank moans softly, " 'm close." He can feel every piece inside of him clicking into place. His stomach muscle tightening as he tries to hold back from falling over the edge. He pants harder as he struggles. He doesn't want to come without Brock. 

"Come for me baby," he whispers in Frank's ear.

Frank whimpers as he nods eagerly. His hips pushing into Brocks. The slow deliberate pushes and hot breath on his neck from Brock break him. He tightens down hard on that beautiful cock inside of him. His stomach pushes against Brock's for a moment before he softens and comes with a small cry that he buries into Brock's shoulder.

"Oh fuck Frank!" Brock gasps against his neck, feeling waves of pleasure at Frank pulsing around him. After a few more thrusts, Brock tenses and follows his love over the edge and into the bliss, a low reverberating moan escaping.

Frank places kisses on Brock's skin. "I love you," he whispers as his husband's hips still. His head doesn't want this to end, a panicked feeling bubbles in his chest as an irrational thought fills the corners of his head. A little tear rolls down from the corner of his eye. 

Planting butterfly kisses wherever he can reach, Brock is surprised to find a touch of wetness on Frankie's cheek. He pulls back and looks at his husband, brows furrowed and eyes soft with concern. " _Tesoro_ , baby, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing, I'm fine," Frank says with a soft shake to his voice. What would he even say, _I'm being mean to myself?_ "I love you. I'm just lucky." 

"Sweetheart..." Brock gives him a little look. 

_Don’t kill the mood._ He thinks before speaking with a little sigh, "I'm ok. I'm just…being mean to myself." 

"Well. Perhaps you should apologize to yourself first, and then say something nice to make it up to yourself. You deserve it," Brock smiles softly. 

"You're quite adorable." Frank replies with a sigh before he smirks, "I'm okay. But I do have to say, I like when you squish me like this." 

"Oh, so it's okay if I take my nap like this, then?" 

"Am I comfortable enough to sleep on?" Frank laughs, "I've been told I'm bony, I haven't had the time to get some big strong muscles."

"No, not really. You are a little, but it's not enough. I suppose if I was really exhausted, I could." Brock huffs a laugh before pecking Frank and rolling to the side. He pulls his husband into their normal sleeping position. He sighs in warm, comfortable, content.

"We have a bathtub and new bombs too." Frank sighs happily as he snuggles into Brock's hold, "Tonight after the Brock reveal and surprise engagement, we should take a bath." 

"Sure. I like the sound of that," Brock murmurs sleepily. He's ready for his nap now. His hand shifts and pulls the covers over them so they don't get cold. He buries his face in Frank's neck. Sleep threatens to overtake him

Frank nods off in Brock's arms listening to him breathing. He's pulled from his sleep at the sound of knocks on the front door echoing down the hall towards their room. Brock's hold has softened and allows for him to sneak out of bed to see who it is through the peephole. Frank opens the door with a sleepy sigh. 

"Are you ready to...Where are your clothes?" Gerard asks looking away at the realization of how much skin he was seeing.

"I was changing. Gimme a minute." Frank says with a yawn.

"Yeah. Okay. I'm gonna snoop."

"Stay out of the office," Frank warns him. He slips into the bedroom and quickly crawls across the bed. He softly shakes Brock, "Baby." 

He waits but gets a snort and Brock’s arms reaching for him to hold him tight.

"I'm going out. I love you." Frank whispers before kissing his cheek. He's gonna leave a text for Brock. He pulls clothes on and heads back to Gee who had found the guest room.

"What's in the office?" Gee asks.

"Gun, bombs, and bodies," Frank replies sarcastically as he picks up his wallet and phone. He ushers his friend out of the apartment as he sends back a message.

"Cute. We all know Brock wouldn't leave you alone with bombs," Gerard snorts.

"This is true." Frank laughs as they enter the elevator. The two men walk down the street for the record store nearby.

"I wanna pick out a couple of new pairs of pants. When we go to Italy, I want to make a good impression. I can't roll up in a misfits shirt and ripped jeans." Frank chuckles.

"Oh, so you want them to think you are high class and not a kid from Jersey." Gerard laughs as he pulls the door open. 

"Kinda. I just want the dad to like me and approve." Frank says softly. He realizes that he's got Brock's ring on. He's not going to take it off because he doesn't want to lose it and, truly, the only times it's coming off is when he's showering or washing his hands. Frank pulls his phone out and shoots a message to his sleeping husband.

_Frank: hi baby. I went out with Gerard shopping. I should be home in a couple of hours… I love you and can't wait to see our friend's reaction tonight._

The men spent the afternoon. Shopping and talking about the band. When the subject of Brock came up, Frank tenses a little.

"Have you talked to him?" Gerard asks as they round the corner to the apartment.

"A little. We check in every day," Frank says as his thumb runs over the band on his finger.

"Is he coming back soon?" Gerard asks. 

"Dunno. I have a feeling Jack's gonna tell me to pack a bag and I'll be taken to Italy. Not sure if that's good or bad." Frank chuckles.

"Oh. That sounds ominous." Gerard says with a nervous laugh.

"Nah. Brock wouldn't let anything happen to me," Frank says with a smile.

"You know that your little dinner party starts in like an hour." Gerard reminds him, "So, I'll be back in an hour…" 

They stop at his car. 

"Okay. I suppose I should clean up and start cooking. Fuck I'm starving, I napped through lunch." Frank says touching his stomach with the non-ring hand. He doubts Gee would even notice if he did show the ring hand, "I will see you and that lovely lady of yours soon then." 

Frank slips inside the building and upstairs. Once he's in the apartment, he's shocked to find Brock still sleeping. He sets the bags down and heads into the bedroom.

"Baby." Frank says as he approaches the bed, "You should get up and shower." 

He carefully shakes his shoulder.

A sleepy mumble answers him and Brock snuggles Tiger harder. One eye cracks open and tries to focus. Another mumbles escapes.

"Our guests are gonna be here soon." Frank sighs, "And I don't speak Italian but I have a feeling you're cussing me."

Brock turns and stretches, a large yawn escaping. "No." 

"Just no, lazybones?" Frank asks sitting at his feet.

"What you said. No. Not cussing." Brock blinks a few times, trying to wake up from his deep sleep. Another yawn hits him before he's sitting up.

Frank runs fingers in Brock's hair, "Morning beautiful." 

"Hello, handsome." He scoots closer to Frankie and squeezes his eyes shut from the hair pets.

"You wanna shower with me?" Frank asks softly, he leans over and kisses him.

"Okay." 

Frank pops up and pulls Brock up and into the shower. He shimmies out of his jeans and pulls his shirt off. He runs a hand over Brock's chest before stepping into the shower. It ends up being a longer shower than Brock ever takes because Frank wants to fool around a little. 

After the shower, they get dressed and Frank buzzes around the kitchen. He starts boiling the water before heading into the bedroom to get dressed. He hugs Brock from behind and kisses his back. He pulls undies on and jeans follow. 

As Frank adds the angel hair pasta to the water, the door lock buzzes and whirrs as the door opens and reveals Jack. He watches his brother make a b-line for the bedroom.

"Hiya, bärchen," Jack quips happily. 

"Hi, Jack," Frank says softly. He pulls a pan out and dumps olive oil in the pan. Once it's heated he drops cherry tomatoes into the pan. He expects Brock to emerge but is a little disappointed when he doesn't. Once the tomatoes have reduced, he adds garlic and seasonings. He's curious about what's going on in the bedroom. The last time this happened Jack didn't think he was a good choice for Brock. He snorts. Look how they turned out. He's gonna marry Brock soon. 

Frank drains the water from the noodles and quickly tosses them into the sauce. He adds basil and parsley. He absentmindedly hums the tune to an opera song Brock loves. He travels down the hallway to the bedroom. Frank enters the bedroom. He enters the room and pulls a red band shirt on.

"How's it going?" Jack asks Frank as he enters the bedroom. Both Rumlows are sitting on the bed.

"Oh fine. Should I dress nicer? Also, are you just gonna surprise everyone or you come out after they all arrive or are you going to Jack's?" Frank asks. He can feel how antsy he is. 

"What do you want me to do?" Brock asks.

"I don't have a preference. Though, it would be kinda cool to have you make a big entrance. I don't know." Frank looks at Brock a little frazzled. 

"You're stressing," he comments. "Why?" 

"I don't know." Frank frowns and runs his hand over his face.

"What are you most worried about? That they won't be happy?" Brock stands and goes over to him, pulling him into a hug

"Yeah. That's a big part. This is a memory. I want it to be a good one. I want it to be perfect." Frank says softly as his fingers stroke Brock's back, "I have the right food to pair with the wine I got. Though Mike's bringing pizza…" he trails off in his head. He pulls his phone and asks Mike to bring french bread instead. Then messages Bob to bring a salad.

"Well, you can't fake your surprise of me showing up again. Or proposing…"

"That's true. Maybe we should just have you greet them?" Frank rubs his nose on Brock's chest.

"That's not a bad idea. Or wait until they all show up and just walk out of the bedroom? What are you going to do about the wedding ring?" Jack asks.

"I wore it all day with Gerard and he didn't notice." Frank shrugs, "I could always give it to Brock to hold until they all arrive? Or just wear it. I'm not trying to hide it."

"Sorry, Jack. How are you? You look nice and less hobbling." Frank says peeking out at him from behind Brock 

"I'm okay today. Took meds just before I came over. They've been helping with movement."

"That's good! It's almost like that's their intended goal." Frank smirks like a smart ass, "What do you think?"

"No, their job is pain relief. That's why they are called painkillers. And can be found in the pain section in the stores," Jack smirks and rolls his eyes playfully.

"What if I scared them all?" Brock asks thoughtfully.

"Scared?" Frank asks, tilting his head.

"Wait until everyone is seated and eating, then Jack can get up and go to the bathroom and flip the breaker to turn off the lights. I dart out and take his seat and Jack turns back on the lights."

"I mean… we have been having rolling blackouts." Frank says softly, "It's better than what I figured you were gonna suggest." 

"Which was?"

Jack pipes up with a raised hand, "For that to work, you gotta wait until full dark and close the curtains."

"I may have snooped in the office and seen some of your _gear_. Pull some SWATesque entrance or something. Again. Your idea is much better."

"I could do that but I don't want them to actually panic. Or hate me for terrifying them," Brock chuckles.

"True. That's why we wait for Halloween." Frank snorts, "But I like this idea."

"Oh absolutely. Halloween and your birthday will be fun." He turns to Jack, "We'll use earpieces to coordinate when I need to make the switch. You just got to be sure to sit in _my_ seat."

Jack nods and moves to grab the items. "I can do that."

"Just sit at the head of the table." Frank suggests, "Also baby why don't you flip the breaker instead of Jack." 

"I could but someone has to flip it back on. I could turn it off he'd still have to get up and turn it back on. It would look rather odd if he were wearing night-vision goggles over his glasses. Mostly though, he can't run and dart and I don't know who would get up first to go check on things. It's not like our friends are going to stay put."

"Okay." Frank nods, "I'll let the experts handle this." 

Jack returns with a set of earbuds that can be easily hidden. He gives one to Brock and they spend the next ten minutes setting up the connection and doing a practice run. 

Frank disappears into the bathroom. He washes his face and takes a breath. His phone buzzes.

_Ray: just about to park. Christa made a fruit salad._

"Ray's here!" Frank announces loudly.

"Okay!" Jack calls back. He exits the bedroom and lightly pulls the door shut before joining Frank. "The bear is in his cave." 

Frank snorts, "He really is a big bear." 

_"I am not. You tell him that,"_ Brock says in Jack's ear. Jack chuckles and shakes his head. 

"He can hear me but can't do anything about it…" Frank grins playfully.

"Yep. Be careful though. There's always some kickback," Jack laughs. He moves closer to Frank, "Anything I can do to help?" 

"I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf. He's a weakling now…" Frank smirks, "Uh, can you help me put the insert in the table to make it longer? I.e. help me separate it and I can drop the insert in."

"Sure." With a nod, Jack carefully makes his way over to the table and begins unlocking the extension pieces.

"Brock's not eating." Frank tells Jack softly as he drops the insert in, "and he hasn't since Italy."

"What?" Jack hisses softly.

"Yeah. He's not been eating. Says he tries but throws up. Two weeks or so." Frank says in the same tone.

"Jesus."

"Yeah. It's bad." Frank sighs.

 _"I disagree but clearly neither of you twitfaces agree with me_ ," Brock grumbles in Jack's ear.

Frank goes around and picks up the placemats, dropping them at each chair. He goes around and decorates the table, dropping the two dozen roses as the centerpiece plus several candles. He folds the napkins nicely before placing them. He pulls wine from the rack and opens it to let it breathe for a moment. There's a knock on the door that signals the fun is about to begin. Frank opens the door and finds the Toros and Bob.

"I didn't know that it was gonna be a family party. I woulda brought my new girlfriend." Bob says with a chuckle as he hands Frank the bowl of salad. 

"Sorry, bud!" Frank shrugs, "I made a decision on the fly."

"It's all good. The last one turned out to be pretty awful so I'll keep her hidden and have some fun before I find out she's awful." Bob says with a smile as he enters the apartment, "Jack! How are you, my dude!? How's the… hole?" 

"Hi, Frankie." Christa says holding a bowl in her hands, "How are you holding up?" 

"I'm okay. Lonely but not anymore." Frank hugs the heavily pregnant woman with a smile, "What did you bring?" 

"Angel food cake, berry mix, and homemade whipped cream. It'll be the last time we can have something light and airy." Christa grins.

"It will be delish." Frank hugs Ray and asks, "Did you get the files I sent you? What did you think of those riffs?"

"They were good. House of Wolves is gonna be a face-melting song." Ray grins, "Smells pretty good in here."

"Healing. But let's not make it sound creepy suggestive. GSW is the term we used in the service. Sounds cooler." Jack grins and pats Bob on the shoulder, "How are ya, man?" 

"But it's so fun to see you cringe!" Bob chuckles, "I'm pretty damn good."

"Is that my floof brother?" Ray calls out with a smile as he approaches. He holds his arms out for a hug.

"Duh!" Jack shouts happily before he hugs Ray as hard as he can without causing too much pain. "Looking good, my dude." 

Before Frank can escort Christa to the kitchen there's another knock on the door. He opens the door and finds both Way families. 

"Welcome Ways!" Frank grins wide as he opens the door. He takes the bread from Mike and hugs him, then Kristen. 

"We brought meat and cheese plates for hors d'oeuvres." Lindsey smiles as she hands it to Frank. 

"Perfect! Come in!" 

The group enters the apartment and chat with each other. Frank preps the bread and looks at Jack. He decides to do it himself. He pours wine and places it on the island for those who want it. He puts the dessert in the fridge and checks the pasta. A little part of him feels bad for Brock being locked away like a secret. Which, well he was.

Jack hugs Christa and Lindsey. "Hey! Missed you!" 

"Hi, sweetie! We heard you played action hero?" Christa says with a grin.

"Is that what they are calling it now?" He laughs.

"That's how the boys are describing it. Some real die-hard level stuff." Lindsey smiles and kisses his cheek, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot, but less bullet and more like pellets."

“You poor thing!” Christa says softly as he touches his face, “Are you in a lot of pain?” 

“Let’s go sit. You need to rest.” Lindsey says touching his arm in an almost motherly way.

Jack grins at realizing that he gets to be doted on and allows himself to be pulled along towards the couch. "I've been taking pain meds. It's not so bad. I've had worse."

“That big brother of yours should be home and helping to take care of you,” Christa says with a frown.

Frank watches this interaction and can’t help but smile, “Well, his big brother is busy having fun in the sun instead.” He knows that is not true, but they don't.

Ray and Gerard chat softly around the meat and cheese. The expression on their faces, identical. Concerned and almost conspiratorial.

"I don't need Brock here to fuss over me," Jack protests, "when he's got more important things to worry about. He's working on himself. This isn't my first gunshot wound. I'll be fine."

“He's probably spreading himself _thin_ ,” Frank snorts and grumbles, “Getting that rich brown tan and a new boyfriend.”

 _"New boyfriend?"_ Brock hisses, " _Bop him one for me, Jack. And I'm not thin!"_

“Could you imagine Brock thin?” Lindsey giggles.

“His head would look like a lollipop,” Frank smirks.

_"Really? And yet he likes sucking on lollipops so I think I'm fine."_

Jack snorts softly. 

“Oh be nice. It's not Brock's fault he got a big head. I mean all the looks went to Brooke.” Bob jokes. 

_"Goddammit, Rabbit. Jack. That's our sister he's talking about. Say something you ass!"_

“Yeah. she is pretty hot.” Frank comments, he notes the darkening sky outside, ”Dinner will be ready once the bread is ready.”

"Can you guys not chat about my sister like she's a hunk of meat? She's more than looks, dude." Jack shakes his head in amusement.

“I mean we can talk about her smarts and wit too if it would make you comfortable.” Bob smiles, “She's got a wicked sense of humor in private...”

"Yeah cause then she's less hooker and more girlfriend," Jack laughs.

_"You're not helping, Jackasshole!"_

“Have you talked to her since Florida?” Ray asks joining the group.

“Yeah. She and I talk a little. She's pretty busy. It's nice to have some night time conversation with someone _smart_.” Bob smiles as he takes a sip of wine.

“Careful. Jack knows where all the weapons are hidden in this house.” Frank warns, “Before my hub– Brock left for Turks and Caicos or wherever… I was threatened for making jokes like that.”

"Relax, Frank. I'm not nearly as uptight as Brock is. Besides, he's not here. But seriously though, Bob, it's kinda weird."

“She and I are friends. She is helping me with getting a little side business set up… How is that weird?” Bob wrinkles his nose.

"Because you talk like she's your fuck buddy…. Wait. So you didn't hook up with her?" Jack frowns.

“A gentleman never tells,” he says with a wink.

The timer dings on the oven and Frank pops back into the kitchen, “Someone help hop-along Jack to the table.” 

"I ain't hop along, Frank!" Jack grumbles and inches his way to the edge of the couch so he can make himself stand.

“Wanna race?” Frank asks with a playful smile.

Gerard offers his hand to Jack, “He's in a mood apparently.”

“Damn right. Being alone does that to you.” Frank shoots back as he pulls out the bread. He's got one more Brock joke lined up before he really gets himself in trouble, “Jack gets head of the table since he is the man of the house… if he can make it to the table before dessert.”

"Oh come on!" 

_"Okay I'm going to overlook that simply because he called you slow,"_ Brock snickers.

“Come on. Move it like Granny's gotta win at bingo.” Frank snickers, “Hey Jack… remember all this when you teach me how to fight.”

_"Fight?! Jack!"_

"Oh, I will bärchen. I promise I will hold this to you. Forever," Jack snorts as he makes his way to the head of the table and eases himself into the chair.

"Good. Don't go easy on me cause I'm your brother's plaything." Frank grins, "Aw you made it, grandpa." 

"You're teaching him how to fight?" Ray asks skeptically.

"If I can talk him into it, maybe knife work? Knife fighting? And gun shit too." Frank grins as he picks up plates to fill and bring back with food.

"And Brocks okay with this?" Mike asks.

"Cats away and all." Frank comments.

Jack can hear Brock softly cursing up a storm in Italian at him and he fights a grimace. "Yeah, to be fair, I was literally planning this before I got shot. And it's _defense_ only." 

"For now, it's Jack getting taken care of by Frankie." Frank says softly as he places a plate in front of Jack, "It's only fair." 

"It is. Thank you bärchen." 

"Of course, Jack," Frank says as he begins serving everyone their meal. 

He brings the bread next and the wine. He notes Lindsey declines the wine in favor of water. 

"This looks wonderful, Frank. You did great," Jack comments.

"It really does." Ray grins.

"Thank you, guys. My new-found _freedom_ has given me the opportunity to cook and learn new things." Frank sighs sadly, "Dig in!" 

Lindsey takes a few bites and looks at Jack, "Before the tour ended, you were sharing a bed with Frank right? How'd that work? Pillows down the middle?"

_"Oh, this just gets better and better. But, I'm not stupid and I'm not surprised you would step up and step in where Frank needed you."_

"Oh no, I spooned him. I offered naked cuddles but he declined. I'm not bothered by it. I spooned Brock nude before. He needed to sleep. This was how we did it. No big deal."

"Jack is fantastic at cuddling. Maybe better than Brock." Frank comments as he takes a seat. 

"Now I wouldn't go as far as to say that. I'm less… meaty."

"I felt safe," Frank adds.

"Do you come here and stay the night?" Kristen asks before taking a bite of her salad.

"Well, the guest bedroom is technically mine. I've come over a few times and crash, yeah."

"So, what are you gonna do if Brock ever sacks up and asks Frank to marry him?" Bob asks.

"Have a toast and go back to my apartment? Not sure what you mean by that," he chuckles.

"I mean. If they move away, you gonna go too?" Bob rephrases his question.

"Oh. Yeah, duh. Someone's gotta look after my two favorite idiots."

"At least I'm one of the favorites." Frank grins wide. He gives Jack a look before speaking, "I mean, I will like it in case Brock decides he needs a break, I'll have someone to talk to."

"I can't wait to hear what Brock says about the living room? Wonder how he's gonna like those pillows too?" Christa says doing a little happy dance as she eats.

"He'll like it. He's got a terrible taste when it comes to design." Frank snorts. 

"Meaning he has no design," Jack interjects.

"He has a good eye for clothing but putting together a room is like letting a blind guy decide." Frank snickers. 

_"Ain't that the truth… How much longer, Jack? I'm getting bored."_

"His place looked nice before." Mike comments.

"It was all the items the realtor had out here to sell it." Frank sighs and motions down to the plates, "I bought these upstate at an estate sale. Pretty and simple but still classic and not that weird old lady China look." 

"Save the china for Christmas," Lindsey says with a smile.

"It's not really mine to throw out. It's in a closet in a box… " 

"I don't think he would notice," Jack laughs. He slides his chair back and carefully stands. "Excuse me. I'll be back." 

_"Took you long enough."_

Jack gingerly makes his way down the hall and turns as if he's going to the bathroom. He opens the breaker box. He whispers, "Now."

"So after dinner, I was thinking maybe a video game party? Or even just wine and chatting." Frank suggests. 

"Good. Cause I can here to murder some men on smash Bros." Christa says with a smile.

"I was thinking that maybe, just maybe we could all play." Lindsey says with a smile, "I suck but it will be fun."

"I mean. That's half–" Mike laughs but is cut short as the lights cut and bathe the room in blackness. Kristen emits out an audible gasp while Christa lets out a small cry. 

"It's okay. It's been happening all week. It will turn on in a minute. Just relax. And let's not move… much." Frank says calmly.

"Do you know where Brock keeps candles?" Lindsey says calmly.

"Have I expressed how I don't like sensory deprivation…" Ray comments nervously.

"Relax. Trust me." Frank assures them the best he can. He feels the air next to him move and a hand touches his thigh. The switch has been made. He counts to five in his head.

 _"Three… two… one,"_ Jack whispers in Brock's ear. He flips the switch.

Frank turns his head the second the lights turn on. His beautiful husband was sitting in Jack's seat with that damn smile that sent the butterflies into a tizzy in his chest.

Christa lets out a little squeak at the new face at the table. 

"Brock?!" Ray says excitedly.

"Holy fuck?!" Bob exclaims with a smile.

"This is why you ignored my call," Lindsey exclaims as she rises from her seat. She approaches with arms wide.

"Hey guys," Brock says softly, smiling at them. He's happy to see them. He stands and hugs Lindsey, whispering words of congratulations in her ear. He pulls back a little and turns to the others. "I've missed you all." 

She blushes slightly.

"When did you come home?" Ray asks.

"Last night." Brock goes over and hugs him from behind. There's so much he wants to say to Sunshine but now is neither the time nor the place. He plants a soft kiss on his brother's cheek before turning and doing the same to Christa. He owes them both his life and his future marriage.

Ray rises to his feet and gives him a proper hug. 

Gerard gets up and moves towards him. Mike and Bob join in the action.

"He also… well. He asked me to marry him." Frank says glancing back and smiling at Jack.

"What?!" The room erupts with excitement from all the guys.

"He said yes," Brock beams proudly. He's happy to be in the middle of a cuddle hug pile. It's reminiscent of the earlier months with his boys. A part of him misses those days. He sighs into the hugs and soaks it up.

"Holy shit!" Ray says smiling as he re-squeezes Brock.

Frank shows the ring off to the girls with a giant smile. He waves Jack over to join. He's stashed a chair in the office for him. 

"Oh my god! When? When are we getting married?" Lindsey looks between Frank and Brock. Her arms wrap around Frank and she kisses his cheek.

"Well..." Frank pauses as he lets Brock soak the loves from his bandmates up, "Here is where we need your help." 

"December third is the date we want to set. And we aren't sure about where so much as we know we want a destination wedding. I was thinking of Fiji. Jack suggested Australia which was nixed right away. New Zealand is on the table. The Bahamas sounds pretty awesome as well," says Brock, slowly pulling away from the group hug so he can sit.

"Australia is bad because it tries to kill you," Jack chuckles as he approaches the table. 

"Spiders that can eat cats, Jack." Frank grumbles as he pulls a plate for Brock and places it at the head of the table, "Also even the cute animals can hurt you. Koalas can give you chlamydia."

"Hawaii?" Christa suggests.

"I suggested that. I'm more partial to a beach wedding. Even though it's winter, I don't want to feel the cold. Like ever."

"I suggested the Toros backyard but that was shot down." Frank giggles as Brock sits beside him. He offers his hand to his husband.

Brock takes Frankie's hand and shakes his head. "I said that was fine but we needed to ask first." 

"We also threw out the idea of maybe… maybe going to the courthouse and taking care of the legal end of it first." Frank rubs his neck nervously.

"Wait. You haven't done that yet?" Bob asks, genuinely confused.

"Yeah. I'm surprised you haven't, honestly." Ray chuckles.

"I would just like to know when so that way we can go out for brunch and celebrate!" Kristin grins.

"You both know that we are gonna all be there." Mike grins.

"That's what _I_ hoped for." Frank smiles up at Brock. He leans over and kisses his husband a little deeper than he should have. 

"You guys don't think it's a little weird or backward to get legally married before getting… actually married?" Brock asks.

"I don't. Honestly, it kinda makes sense for you guys." Christa says with a happy smile as she strokes Ray's back.

"It's unorthodox for sure but it isn't weird," Bob replies.

"I agree with them." Ray nods.

"So are we getting married tomorrow?" Lindsey asks.

"I'd like that," Brock smiles.

"Perfect!" Gerard cheers and raises his glass.

"But…" Mike looks around a little confused. He raises his glass of water and looks at Gerard, "Do I have to get dressed up? I don't have a suit."

Frank lets a small giggle before pulling himself together. 

"No. It's not an actual _wedding_ wedding." Gerard smiles warmly at his idiot brother.

"It's the courthouse part to get it legalized. We'll do the actual ceremony on December third. Don't worry about the cost of buying a suit. I got you guys." Brock takes a small sip of the wine.

"We. We have you guys covered." Frank corrects.

He nods, "Yes. We have you covered. You won't have to worry about the costs of rentals or plane tickets. I don't want to put any burden on your _growing_ families."

Lindsey looks at Brock with a little smile, "So I guess I can't keep it a secret much longer but… baby Emo will be coming this spring." 

"Oh my god!" Frank says with a huge smile, "Congratulations!" 

The room erupts into congrats and hugs again. Christa sits quietly with a smile as a tear rolls down her cheek. Her boys were getting married. Lindsey's gonna be a mom. But a little fear runs through her, she stuffs it down and grins wider.

"A wedding. Two babies. Now we gotta get three of us in relationships and married" Ray says looking at Jack, Mike and Bob. 

Jack grabs his plate from in front of Brock and slides it over. He's starving. Taking a large bite he shakes his head. "Mikey's in a relationship. Bob has a new girlfriend. I like being single."

"Yes but I have a cousin who you would love," Ray says with a smile.

"Oh! Then we can all be related!" Frank grins wide, "And curly babies…" he looks at Brock and winks. 

"I do love curly babies," Brock agrees with a nod.

"We're already related. Brothers," Jack points out.

"Yes but babies Jack. We want all the babies." Frank smiles and leans in to kiss Brock again, "Don't you wanna make your brother happy?" 

"He's got babies. He's got you. He's a happy camper. Leave me out of the baby-making." He happily shoves pasta in his mouth.

Frank laughs, "I'm not a baby." 

Jack laughs, "Wasn't meaning you but maybe I should have!"

Brock suppresses a smile. "You are rather small and cute and I can carry you like a baby, _tesoro_."

"Can you carry me with those thin arms?" Frank says pinching his arm. Obviously, Brock was still muscular but he's gonna be a shit.

"I can still spank you," he replies softly. 

"Mmm… you might hurt yourself," Frank says covering his mouth.

"Enough." He wasn't in the mood to endure teasing over the weight he lost. Not when Frank made him feel ashamed earlier for not eating.

Frank nods silently. The group around him is chatting and laughing. He eats quietly before rising to his feet and heads into the kitchen.

Ray turns to Brock, "So…how was Italy?" 

He thinks for a moment about how to respond. He doesn't understand why someone would ask that. It wasn't like he went on vacation. He didn't have a good time. It wasn't fun and he didn't play around. It was a nightmare and the last two weeks have been the hardest he's had to endure and survive in a long time. But, he also knows it's not meant to inquire about his time in his mental prison. So he smiles at his brother, "Hot and bright. Salty. My family says hi, by the way." 

"Oh! Hello back! They are coming to the wedding, yes?" 

"Are we going to meet your dad?" Christa asks leaning into Ray.

"Yes, and yes," he nods.

Christa claps her hands lightly, "Oh, how exciting!" 

Frank returns to the table with a refilled glass of wine, "Oh." An idea enters Frank's head that makes him feel itchy. He pushes it away and takes a breath. He looks at Jack, "What are we going to do as far as bachelor party things?" 

Gerard rises to his feet and picks up Lindsey’s glass and enters the kitchen to refill her water glass. Kristen leans into the table, "Brock?" 

Brock takes another cautious sip of the wine. He hasn't had anything other than water in his body since he left. It's really good wine though and he doesn't want to appear out of the ordinary or waste it. He looks at Kristen. "I'm not sure what I want for a bachelor party. If I even want one."

"Sweetie, are you hungry?" Kristen asks. She glances at Christa and nods. 

"Shit. Sorry." Frank rises to his feet.

"It's fine, _tesoro_ ," he says softly. He doesn't want to risk ruining the meal or the moment by getting sick.

Frank leans in and whispers, "I made you soup." 

He hesitates slightly before nodding. He'll sip it slowly or something to make it look like he's eating. Just to pass the time until they leave. He drinks some water.

Frank hurries into the kitchen and returns with a bowl of soup. It was mainly broth but it was better than nothing. Frank says softly, "I'm sorry Brock." 

Christa watches Brock. Her eyes focus on his face. His nose wrinkles slightly. His eyes look tired, a little sunken. She watches Brock struggle to make a smile as he picks the spoon and lifts it to his lips. Something in her head pings, "You." She stops herself from speaking. She doesn't want to make a scene. But it makes sense.

Brock pauses, eyes darting to look up at her. Brows wrinkle and furrow in confusion but when she says nothing more, he returns to take the smallest taste of soup he can. His stomach clenches in anticipation and fear that he's going to be sick if he eats.

"Thank you, baby," he whispers.

"Yup." Frank nods with a small smile. His eyes watch Brock. Even if Brock gets a couple of spoonfuls in him. It's a start.

As dinner and dessert wind down, the group breaks into smaller groups. Frank is distracted by Brock. His concern reaches a high as the wives pull him aside. 

"We should maybe postpone the bachelor party," Bob suggests.

"Yeah. Maybe wait until it warms up." Frank says as he watches Brock disappear into the office with the women.

"So, how long have you been going hungry?" Christa asks softly as her fingers curl around Brock's hand.

"I'm not hungry." He's not sure why they are in his office and a thought crops up in hopes that none of them find his weapons. His eyes glance around to make sure there's nothing visible.

"My point exactly." 

"Did you want to sit down?" He offers to her, pulling out his office chair. The room isn't really designed to seat anyone other than himself. "Sorry I don't have any more chairs." 

"I'm ok. Zach is sitting weird." Christa says, pushing her hand into her belly, "What's going on? You haven't eaten at all? In three weeks?" 

"Two," he corrects before he mentally slaps himself for revealing the truth.

"Brock Enzo!" Christa and Lindsey cry out.

"It's not a big deal. It's just a bug or something. I get sick after I eat."

"That's not a bug. That's not good." Kristen’s voice is soft.

"It is a big deal," Christa says frowning.

"Can you drink?" Lindsey asks.

"Water stays down. Tonight was the first time I had wine. I'm not sure how that will affect me yet. Haven't tried anything else."

"You need to go to the doctor," Christa says using her best mom voice.

"Is it mental or physical?" Lindsey asks.

"What? How can you ask that? It's pretty physical every time I eat, I puke."

"Because sometimes our head is stronger than our body." 

"I'm pretty certain it's residual effects from the bug I had. No more fever though, so that's good."

"I don't think so." Christa shakes her head, "This is bad, B."

"I'm fine." 

"Brock. I'll get all the guys and they will force you to go in." Christa says with a hard frown.

He bristles slightly at the threat. "I already told Frankie that if nothing changes in a few days, I'll go." 

"Brock." 

"I _said_ I'll go," he said with a hint of edge to his voice.

"Don't get pissy with me, Rumlow. I'm uncomfortable and worried about you." Christa throws it back to him with a stern face.

"We just love you, ok?" Kristen says softly.

"You gotta be around to see baby Emo!" Lindsey grins.

"Jesus. You guys make it sound like I'm dying. I'm not. I love you ladies, too, but you gotta chill with the fifth degree, alright? I'm okay. I'm working on it." 

"We're sorry. We are just worried, Brock." Lindsey says softly. 

"I understand that. I do. Frank is too. I _get_ it. But everybody pressuring me about this isn't helping anything." He sighs and puts his head in a hand.

"Sorry," Kristen replies. 

"What about those meal shake things?" Lindsey suggests.

"I haven't tried those, no. Better than what Frank suggested," he says with a disgusted look.

"What did he suggest?" Christa asks, she loops her arm around Brock's and strokes his forearm.

He snorts, "Baby food." 

Lindsey and Christa laugh, "He didn't."

Ray taps on the doorframe, "Am I interrupting a wive's meeting?" 

Frank watches Ray enter Brock's office then Lindsey and Kristen exit. This puts him on edge, they are gonna talk Brock out of getting married. He holds his breath and gives Jack a nervous smile. Bob has set up the game console and hands controllers out. Frank feels himself reeling.

"I need a drink." Frank exhales before getting up and heading to the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of wine and downs it. He refills the glass and returns to the group, he plasters a smile on his face. He can't stop whatever is coming.

"Are you coming to worry me to death too?" Brock asks Ray with a small sigh. He sits in his chair.

"Do I need to? I figure Frank's got that under control."

"Between him and the wives, I should be covered." 

"Nah. I'm only here to ask you if you wanna play," Ray asks, giving Chris a nod. She takes the cue and leans up. 

"Sorry for being aggressive with you. I'm just worried. Love you B." Christa says before kissing him.

"I know. I'm sorry. I love you too." He hugs her and kisses Baby Floof. "Both of you."

She gives him a little smile before exiting the office.

"So." Ray says leaning on the desk, "Also, is there a hidden-in-plain-sight safe in here?"

Grinning, he nods, "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Curious. Do you have them all over the house?" Ray squints.

"Just in the important areas. What do you really want to know, Sunshine?"

"I have two questions." Ray says softly, "Okay, three." 

"Shoot." 

"Where is it? What is in it?" Ray grins wide, "Oh does Frankie know about it?" 

"The safe? Did you just use all of your questions on my _safe_?" Brock laughs softly. He points out a bookcase across from his desk, a dark brown oak filled with books and small knick-knacks.

"Are you a question genie?" Ray smirks, "Can I question for more questions?" 

"No, but you said you only had three," he snickers. "You know I don't care how much you ask or what you ask. The bookcase slides and opens. And if you wanted, you could take a peak. Because I trust you not to touch anything in there."

"I assume Frank knows and doesn't touch."

"He does."

"That's neat," Ray says as he slides the case and reveals the weapons. He nods before shutting it, "Are those throwing stars?" 

"Yes, but only because Frank insisted I needed them. Thinks they are cool."

"Well, they add to the badass appeal." 

"Thanks." 

"Do you think that Italy has helped with your situation with Frankie?" Ray asks.

"I think so. Yes. But it doesn't matter. I'm not leaving again. I can't do a repeat of this. I won't."

"I don't think you should. It's obviously taken more than it was intended to. But that's okay. He seems more attentive. So that's good." Ray says scanning the bookcase, "How's your head? And your heart?" 

"You aren't meaning physically," he whispers, "are you?" 

"Nope. Sure aren't, you're my best friend. I gotta make sure you're ok..." 

He's not sure how to respond. He's not sure himself. He's changed. That much is true. He can't answer him. Not in the way Ray expects. "I didn't think I would survive." 

"Oh. Oh god, Brock." Ray says feeling his heart break, "That was never the intention." 

"I know," comes the barely audible reply.

"How can... Can I help? Is this fixable?" 

"I don't know," he replies in the same tone as before. 

"Oh no," Ray says softly, "Is this why you're rushing to marry Frank?"

Brock sighs and motions for Ray to come closer. "I need you to keep a secret for me..."

~~

"No! You're totally cheating!" Frank says elbowing Jack. He watches as his character gets dropped back to the platform and Jack throws it off again before Frank can react.

"I am not!" Jack laughs loudly.

"Maybe you just suck Frank." 

"Bite me, Bobby." 

"Where's your man?" Gee asks.

"With Ray." Frank's voice turns icy.

"Oh ok." Gerard's eyes dart to Lindsey then Jack. 

"I think I need another refill," Frank grumbles as he drops the controller in the cushion. 

Jack pauses the game and gets up, going after Frank. He sees him in the kitchen, getting more wine. "Are you okay? Correction. I know you aren't. What's wrong?"

"This is how it starts." Frank sighs. No point in lying to Jack. He's ruining the evening. He needs to stop it.

"And what exactly is _it_?" Jack leans against the counter next to Frank.

"Ray's gonna get inside of his head. He'll leave again." 

"You still blame him."

"Yup. A little. He knows how to work Brock."

"A little harsh don't you think? He's not manipulating you or Brock. He's not trying to ruin your relationship."

"Jack. I love you but you weren't there. They hid in the back of the bus and planned Brock leaving me. I'll quit this damn band and become a fucking bus driver if it means he stays." Frank sighs. He crumbles a little. He drops his head. He doesn't know what he's gotta give to prove that he's worthy.

"I'm never leaving you again," Brock says softly behind Frank.

He jumps a little and turns to face Brock, "Promise?" Frank's eyes catch Ray and he can't help but glare. He focuses back on Brock, "Promise you won't let anyone change your mind on me?"

Brock blinks and for a moment a piece of the brokenness inside him shows through. He blinks again and it's gone just as quickly as it came. He whispers, "I'm never leaving you again. I promise." 

Frank nods, "I need you here. I'm sorry. Anything you want, I'll do."

"I said I'm never leaving you. But I want you to be able to live without me. I don't want you to beg me to stay. I don't want you afraid I'll leave. I want you to _trust_ me that I love you and I'll stay. I said I would come back. I did." Brock takes a breath and continues, "My promise to you to return was all I had to cling to." 

"I trust you. I don't…" Frank pauses to get his thoughts together, "I don't trust him. I can live without you. And I will beg you to stay if you are going to leave. Just like I am going to fight to keep you, even if I don't have to."

"Ray has done nothing but try to help us. I'm not marrying him tomorrow. I'm marrying _you_. I didn't fight to come back to him. I did it for _you_. Do you think the break helped? I do."

"It helped. I'm sorry. I'm being paranoid." Frank says, dropping his head, "I don't think white wine is my friend." 

A little soft scoff escapes from Brock and he smiles, "No _tesoro_. It is not. And I'm going to be honest, it's not Sunshine that's going to put distance between us. It's white wine. And your paranoia as a result." He goes over and pulls Frank into a hug, kissing him lightly.

Frank hugs him tight and buries his nose in Brock's chest. He curls his shirt in his fingers, "So no more wine. Tonight, at least. Maybe keep the closed-door meetings to a minimum?" 

"The wives nabbed me. Grilled me with questions about my… weight. Ray kinda saved me. And then we talked about the safe. I showed him the things. And we talked about Italy. And now you know. And knowing is half the battle," Brock offers with a little grin.

Frank looks up at Brock as his chin rests on Brock's chest.

Jack can't help it. He blurts quietly, "G.I.Joe." 

Frank laughs, "Ok. I love you, Brock. I'm very sorry my paranoid head made me react. I shouldn't let it stew. I need to talk to you instead of keeping it bottled."

"What do you mean, your weight!? What's wrong? Why are you dieting?" Ray says loudly from the other side of the room, he turns to face Brock.

"You're in trouble." Frank giggles.

Brock sighs. He whispers, "Fuck." 

"You're on your own on this one," Jack says before making his way back to the group.

"BROCK?" Ray says standing beside the two lovebirds.his hand falls on his hip with a frown on his lips.

"I'm not dieting. Now leave me alone." He grumbles, "Stupid Jack." 

"He's got a stomach bug. It's not contagious. We are working on it." Frank says defensively.

He scans Brock with his eyes and frowns, "Fine." He takes Frank's wine glass and disappears into the living room.

Frank looks up at Brock and nods

"Thank you," he whispers. "The girls are not happy with me."

"That is what feisty mean little boyfriends do. They protect their big scary boyfriends." Frank says pulling the front of Brock's shirt down a little to kiss him, "Wanna go hang out with our friends?" 

"Sure. C'mon," Brock takes his hand and leads him back out into the living room.

The rest of the night is spent laughing and playing video games. After they usher their friends out of the apartment, they clean the apartment up and let Jack snooze on the couch. Frank turns the tv off and kisses his brother's forehead before covering him and disappearing into the bedroom. A little voice in his head reminds him he got away with being a brat.

Frank wakes up with a little jerk. Brock's arms weren't around him. He sits up in a panic and looks around. He sees Brock curled with the tiger pressed to his chest. Leaning over he kisses Brock's shoulder before crawling out of bed. He quietly slips into the bathroom, brushing his teeth before dressing. He's on a mission and it needs to before Brock wakes up. He checks if Jack is there, which he is.

He slips out of the apartment and into the garage. He's got the keys to his car. A little excited flutter fills him as he sits in the soft leather seats. He hauls ass to Whole Foods and picks up Ensure for Brock. He gets the vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry flavors. He grabs a bouquet of sunflowers with a cutesy card to match and a few groceries for the house before leaving. He rushes into Barney's getting nice grey slacks, a white button-down and a navy colored cardigan with a matching tie. He picks out a pair of warm brown shoes and a belt to match. Grabbing coffee for his boys and himself, he heads back to the apartment. He's gotta get showered and ready before Brock.

He sets the coffee on the counter. He stashes the groceries and Ensure in the fridge. He puts the sunflowers in water before writing in the card. He approaches Jack and carefully shakes him, "Jack! Jack, wake up!" 

"Who's on fire?!" Jack shouts and jerks up. The movement causes him to cry out a little at the fire in his abdomen. "Son of a bitch!" 

"Who's on fire?" Frank asks with a little smirk, "My mother happens to be a nice woman." 

A hand presses into his side and he pants a little to breathe through the pain before he glances at Frank. "Most people don't _rude_ ly wake someone up without an emergency."

"There _is_ one. I need my best brother to shower and change so I can go get married."

"Yeah okay. Just. Let me breathe? Okay?" Jack eases himself back down and pants a little.

"I have coffee and pills for you," Frank smiles wide. He can't help that he's excited.

"Thanks," Jack says weakly.

Frank leans down and kisses him, "Wakey. _After the wedding_ , you can have bakey? I gotta go wake up my groom." 

"Bakey? You got me weed?"

"No. Brock would kill me if I did." Frank snorts, "Food. I'm feeding you after the ceremony."

"Okay. Go get Brock. I'll still be here when you get back."

"I figured. Coffee's on the island. Along with your pain pills." Frank smirks as he saunters into the bedroom. He decides to shower first then wake that handsome man up. He showers, shaves and lotions before applying cologne. He throws on boxers and heads for Brock.

"Baby." Frank says gently as he sits on the bed next to him, "Brock. My love. You gotta get up." 

He groans and tries to seek the darkness again, burying his face in fur. "Sleep." 

"Oh no. You promised me that you'd marry me today." Frank pulls at the tiger a little.

It takes him a bit to realize that what he's hugging isn't his Frankie and instead it's only Tiger. He stretches and yawns at Frank. "Why so early?" 

"It's nine, baby." 

"Ugh. Okay." He moves and begins to get up. 

"I have your coffee ready. Jackie is getting up. I'm gonna text Ray and Christa." 

"Okay," Brock yawns. He stretches and pulls Frank into a cuddle hug. "Love you. Smell good. Cuddle me." 

"Love you too. I am happy to cuddle you. I also didn't style my hair cause I knew you'd want snuggles." Frank says softly as he crawls in Brock's lap.

"You're the best snuggles," Brock murmurs, pulling him in. He buries his face in Frank's neck, saying hi to Scorpio in the process. 

"Mmm, I was thinking you're the best snuggler," Frank says as he softens his body a little. He whispers, "Guess what?" 

"What?" 

"I get to change my name today." 

"Oh? Did you decide what you wanted it to be?" Brock kisses his cheek.

"Frank Anthony Rumlow."

"I love it. What about the label? I think career-wise, you should keep Iero on there."

"That's what I was thinking." Frank kisses Brock's shoulder, "I can't wait." 

"Is that why you are dressed and ready to go and I'm barely alive?" Brock chuckles.

"I've been up for an hour now. You could say, I'm a little excited." Frank says softly with a little sigh.

He yawns once more before letting Frank go. Sighing, he moves to the bathroom to start getting ready.

"Hey, Rumlow?" Frank says lying back on the bed.

"Yes, Mr. Rumlow?" Brock calls back. He debates on a shower.

"That's a cute butt you got there," Frank says with a huge smile. 

"You're a dork, do you know that?" He laughs, deciding to take a quick bath. 

"It's why you love me," Frank says as he sits up and begins making the bed before flopping down again.

"I do!"

~~

Gerard pulls out a cigarette and lights it, "They know it's in the city right?" 

"You're not helping." Lindsey punches him.

"Ray probably got them lost," Bob jokes. 

Frank grips Brock's hand. He looks up at his husband, "He'll be here." 

"I hope so. He promised," Brock says absently. He glances around again for what seems to be the tenth time. 

"You look so handsome, Brock," Frank says with a smile.

"Not nearly as sexy as you," Brock beams down at him.

Ray and Christa rush up the stairs. "Sorry. Ray got lost," Christa says out of breath.

"What happened to the traffic excuse?!" 

Brock turns and rushes over to hug Sunshine hard. He was genuinely worried that his brother wasn't going to show up for his wedding. He hugs the taller man tight before going to Christa and hugging her as well. "I'm so glad you are here!" 

"I wouldn't miss it. What time are we scheduled for?" Ray asks as he flattens out his shirt.

"Like now. We're gonna be late. Come on!" Brock tugs on them before darting up the steps, grabbing Frankie's hand in the process.

Frank lets out a little giggle and follows Brock eagerly into the building. Their shoes clapping against the stone until they reach the courtroom.

"This is different," Frank says softly to Brock. 

Brock leans over and whispers, "How so? Or did you think it was gonna look like something else?"

"Last time I was in a courtroom, I was getting a restraining order on Jessica," Frank grips his fingers.

"Look at it this way; at least you aren't going to jail?" 

"Just getting a ball and chain," Ray jokes softly.

"You ready?" Frank asks as the judge waves them up. 

"Of course." 

The judge was a small heavy set lady with short dark hair and round glasses that perched on her nose. Her red lips rest in a warm smile. 

"Hello, gentlemen. Mr. Rumlow and Mr. Iero, yes?" The judge says with a kind voice.

"Yes ma'am," Frank says eagerly.

"Do you have a ring?" She looks at Brock.

"Yes ma'am," Brock says, pulling out the ring box that holds both of their wedding bands.

"Are you ready?" She asks. Frank nods eagerly up at Brock who nods in return.

"We're here to celebrate the right of marriage between Mr. Brock Enzo Rumlow and Mr. Frank Anthony Iero. This is the closest relationship that can exist between two human beings. When two souls decide to join together in marriage they should do so with full realization of their responsibility. When two people come together to be married they come together before God and the justice of the peace to join their hearts and lives for eternity. They make a public profession of their mutual love and devotion, pronouncing vows, and their lives to each other. As you pronounce your vows, you’ll become as one in the eyes of God. Your union is threefold; spiritually by God, legally by the contract that you enter into, and physically when your marriage is consummated." The judge pauses for a moment.

Frank's fingers squeeze Brock's as he smiles up at him.

"Brock, do you take Frank as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold. To protect and care for him for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health until death do you part?" 

"I do."

"Then turn to him and repeat after me," the judge pauses, "I, Brock, according to the word of God, leave my father and mother, forsaking all others, join myself to you to be your husband from the moment forward. From this moment forward, we shall be one."

"Frank, do you take Brock as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold. To protect and care for him for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health until death do you part?" 

"I do!" 

"Now repeat after me, I Frank, according to the word of God, leave my father and mother, forsaking all others, join myself to you, to be your husband from this moment forward. And from this moment forward we shall be as one."

She picks up the rings and sets the box aside. She holds them in her hand, "A ring is a very valuable and precious thing. It is a token of your faith and your love. They are made of precious metals and are a never-ending circle. They are a reminder of the profession of faith that you have made to each other. Wear them as your own reminders of the love shared here today. Take the rings, boys."

Brock takes the rings out of her hand. He takes Frank's band and holds it, fairly certain he knows what's happening now. His other hand grabs Frank's left.

"Place it on his finger and say this to him: with this ring, I thee wed. I give it as a token of my faith and a token of my love for you."

"With this ring, I thee wed. I give it as a token of my faith and a token of my love for you," he repeats, sliding the ring on Frank's finger. He smiles at him, love and joy pouring through.

Frank can't stop smiling. His cheeks ache but he doesn't care.

"Now Frank, take this ring and place it on his finger and say this to him: with this ring, I thee wed. I give it as a token of my faith and a token of my love for you."

Frank picks up the band and looks up at Brock before slipping the ring on his finger, "With this ring, I thee wed. I give it as a token of my faith and a token of my love for you."

"I want you both to wear these rings in remembrance that he is your help, your mate. This is not a shackle of dominance but one of faith and love. Believe with all your heart, that this is forever."

Frank can hear sniffles from the gallery. He knows the girls are all crying. Brock suppresses a knowing smile and tries to stay focused on the judge and his love.

"Join…Well, stay joined." She chuckles, "Brock and Frank, bear witness to the love of God in this world so that those to whom love is a stranger will find in you good and generous friends. By the power vested in me by God and the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and husband. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may now kiss the groom."

Brock cups Frank's cheek and leans forward, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. His arm wraps around his waist and pulls him in close, deepening the kiss but still keeping it public appropriate.

Frank's arms wrap around Brock as he leans into the kiss. His heart is beating harder in his chest. He can't believe this happened. He's married to the love of his life. 

"Congratulations gentlemen." She says with a huge smile.

Brock pulls away from Frank and turns to their friends and family, raising their joined hands up high in victory. They're married! They did it!

Frank lets out a little laugh as he follows Brock out the door. He's holding their paperwork. They have to fill out another document where Ray and Chris and Jack sign, then they are free.

"Baby. I can't believe it." Frank whispers to Brock as they wait in line.

"Feels surreal, huh?" He whispers back to him. His husband. _For real_. Not just a moniker, but they are actually married. Was this what heaven felt like?

"No, it feels like things are clicking into place." Frank smiles up at him. His perfect husband, his little piece of heaven, "After this, do you wanna go get brunch as a married man?"

Brock grins, "Why yes, yes, I do."

The two exit the building, they are greeted by their friends pulling the party poopers that shoot confetti and cheers for them. Ray comes up to Brock and throws his arms around him with a sniffly Christa in tow. 

"Congratulations! Welcome to married life!" Ray says to Brock before looking to Frank, "Here's where the fun part starts." 

Jack comes over and joins in on the hugs, pulling Frank into his embrace first. "Welcome to the family, bärchen." 

"Thanks! I'm happy to officially be a part." Frank squeezes Jack, "oh this means you get to meet my family and see the shit show your brother married into." 

Gerard and Lindsey step up to Brock. He extends his hand to Brock, "Congrats Brock! I think you made a fantastic choice. Frank's a good one."

"So, brunch is at Norma's. It's about a mile from here. Park at the apartment and we can walk or we will meet you there." Frank says with a big happy voice. He squeezes Brock's hand, "Before we go to brunch I wanna stop into the apartment, is that ok?" 

"Sure, okay. Wanna change clothes?" Brock beams at Frank again. He can't seem to stop.

"If you want? I might ditch the tie. But I think I look pretty cute." Frank replies.

"You do! I love it. I was just wondering if you wanted to switch into something more comfortable if you needed to. I assumed. I'm sorry." Brock laughs awkwardly at the situation and himself. 

"Don't be sorry! It's sweet and I love you for it. Are you gonna change?" Frank asks as he unlocks his car for Brock.

"I might switch into my jacket and a tee. I'll check the forecast," Brock says, walking around to the passenger side and getting in. He pulls out his phone and looks at the weather. Fall was nice and all but Winter was coming. He needed to start bundling.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way but I went and bought your Ensure. Jack and I talked about it. I think it will help and it's also nutrients your body needs." Frank says glancing over at his husband, "And if you're mad, it's all Jack's fault." He glances back at Jack with a wink.

"Ensure? What am I, old?" Brock playfully wrinkles his nose. He doesn't argue though. His training screams at him that he needs to keep healthy while his panic wonders if it will cause his stomach to be upset.

"Would you rather have the Pediasure?" Jack offers from the backseat. "It's the toddler version. Will that make you feel young again?" 

"It's mostly what diabetics use to substitute meals. There's nothing wrong with using them. When I broke my jaw that's all I could have." Frank says softly. 

"Is there anything you _haven't_ broken?" Brock asks, incredulously. He's trying not to make it a big deal. It happened. It's in the past. Clearly, his husband is fine.

"My legs."

"Oh. Okay." Brock nods and stares at his phone. His thoughts center around trying to let his control go. He can't fix this. He takes a deep breath and lets curiosity get the better of him. "How?" 

"The ex-girlfriend got me jumped by her brothers. She said that I hit her. Which I didn't. So they jumped me after a show." Frank says casually as he pulls into the garage.

He processes this for a moment. Eventually, he nods. "Good thing she's dead, then." 

"Exactly." Frank grins at him, "Broke two of my fingers that night too. Which fucking sucked."

Jack leans forward and unbuckles. "Did you continue playing after that?" 

"Knowing him, yes," Brock snorts before getting out and going around to the driver's side.

"Yes. I sure did." 

"Figures," Jack mutters, carefully getting out and joining them.

Frank gets out and grins up at Brock, "Thank you, baby." He follows Brock into the apartment. He quickly takes the tie off and changes into jeans and a white t-shirt but keeps the cardigan. He pads into the kitchen and pulls the fridge door open. He stares at the sunflowers and hopes Brock notices, "What flavor of shake do you want baby?" 

Brock exits from the bedroom, having changed into a gray v-neck tee with his leather jacket, dark jeans, and his boots. He heads towards the kitchen, smiling at the sunflowers. "I'm not sure. I've never had this stuff before. Why don't you pick?"

"Chocolate? Apparently, it's rich chocolate." Frank smiles and pulls a bottle from the fridge.

Brock approaches Frank from behind and wraps his arms around him. He rests his chin on Frank's shoulder. "Are you sure this is okay?" he whispers.

"With what? Ensure? Yeah, it's not bad." Frank turns his head and kisses Brock's cheek.

"No, that's not–" he hesitates. He wasn't meaning the taste. He's not sure if this will make him sick or not. He doesn't trust anything anymore. 

"Maybe try it first and if it turns your stomach we will try something else?" Frank says softly as he strokes Brock's cheek.

"Okay," he replies in the barest of whispers.

Frank hands him the shake before kissing his cheek again, "I think it will be fine. Don't overthink it. Also, you should read the card." 

Brock turns to look at the flowers, shake in hand. He walks over, giving the drink a cursory sniff. He takes a cautious taste and picks up the card, reading it. It's a beautiful card in which Frank expresses how much he loves Brock and can't wait for their future as husbands. It's cute, it's mushy, it's perfect. "I love it. I love you." 

"I love you too! I am just the happiest kitten." Frank beams up at him, "I got sunflowers cause you're my sunshine." 

"Don't tell Sunshine that, he might get jealous of you using his nickname," Brock grins before pulling him into a kiss.

"He can deal!" Frank says after breaking the kiss. He smiles and goes back in for a kiss, "You are _my_ sunshine."

"Your _only_ sunshine."

"Are you ready to go to our wedding brunch?" Frank says with a bright tone of his voice.

With a smile and a nod, he takes a chance and quickly drinks the Ensure. He mentally says a prayer that this will stay down. He doesn't want to go to the doctor. "Okay. Let's go." 

"Do you wanna drive?" Frank asks with a smile as he offers his hand to Brock.

"Why don't you? Give Stella more time to play," Brock offers as he takes his hand.

"I'd love to. Plus you can relax." Frank smiles, "We don't have to tell the building manager right, he kinda scares me?"

"Nah, it'll be fine. This way, Jack won't feel compacted in the back of the Lamborghini. Jack! Let's go!"

"And he can press buttons." Frank snickers, "If you need to puke, please tell me. But I don't think you will, I think this will stay down." 

"Sorry! I'm coming," Jack hollers to them. He exits their bedroom and makes his way over, having changed into one of Brock's shirts. "Sorry. Needed to use the bathroom. I'm good. We can go." 

"Does your family know what we just did?" Frank asks.

"Uh, no. They'll find out at the ceremony." 

"Oh. Okay…" Frank says softly as the elevator door closes.

"I like keeping you to myself for a little bit longer."

"Well, if you put it like that then I'm all in. I like being only yours. Hence." He lifts a finger and shows off the ring. He unlocks the car and slips in the driver's seat, "Baby. Have I told you how much I really love this car?"

Brock slides into the passenger seat after helping Jack get in the back. "No, though I'm glad you came around to it. I recall there were some general protests in the purchasing."

"It wasn't so much about the purchase, more the _price_. But Stella is absolutely worth it." Frank says leaning over and kissing Brock's cheek, "Thank you, baby. I love you and I love her."

"You got married without Mom and Dad knowing… so, without Dad's approval?" Jack utters softly, in shock.

"It wasn't so much as he didn't approve as it is that I decided I didn't care what he thought. I'm tired of waiting. If I'm going to be his replacement, I'm going to do things my way. That includes changing some rules. I don't care what he or the other Heads think. This is my life, my family, and my way."

Frank sits quietly as he drives. What did they just do?! This isn't going to be good. He doesn't regret it but he also doesn't want this to make Brock a target or anything stupid. 

Brock continues, "And I'm certain without a shadow of a doubt that Dad would approve and be happy with Frank when he meets him. This is just me taking care of the things I already expect is going to happen."

Frank parks the car and quietly gets out. He's in his head playing the _what-if_ game. He stands on the curb and waits for his boys. He rubs his neck.

"You made Frank sad," Jack hisses to Brock as he scoots his butt carefully out of the backseat. "Go fix it. It'll take me the whole damn time anyway." 

Brock snorts but Jack isn't wrong. He moves slower now. He heads over to Frank and pulls him into a hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm not sorry for the choice I made to do this now."

"I trust you. I know you wouldn't do anything that would put us in jeopardy. You don't have to be sorry baby," Frank replies, resting his head on Brock's chest.

"I put you above my family. Because if there's one thing I learned, it's that I've been living my life for a plan they wrote for me. I can live without them. But I can't live without you. It's about time I make some choices for myself. I don't think they'll cut me out. And if they do, well, it's a risk I'm willing to take. I won't give you up. 'Til death do us part." Brock tips Frank's head up and kisses him.

"I don't think they would cut you out. I love you and don't want to live without you. I trust you with my whole life, baby." Frank smiles up at him, "I'm just playing the what-if game in my head. I'm sorry. Today's not a day for that. It's joyful!"

"I agree. I love you, _tesoro_ ," Brock kisses him again, tenderly.

"I adore you, Mr. Rumlow." Frank says with starry eyes, "Jack? You need some help there buddy?" 

He shakes his head as he slowly makes his way over to them, "Nah. I'm good. Just hurting." 

"Okay. Just checking on you." Frank smiles at his _brother-in-law_ , holy shit. He looks at Brock and nods, "I think our limpy boy is ready."

"This is the most movement I've done in a week. Cut me some slack. My last bullet wasn't in the major muscle group that controls all movement," Jack huffs in pain and annoyance.

"Brock could give you a piggie-back ride or bridal carry you." Frank offers as he slides his arm around Brock's waist. 

"That would be a disgrace to the both of us," Brock snorts.

Frank giggles and follows the brothers inside the restaurant. As they enter, their table erupts in applause which causes the entire restaurant to turn and look at the three of them. Frank's face immediately flushes. "Brock," he hisses at his husband.

"Uh..." Brock quickly grabs Frank's hand and pulls him into a low, sweeping, and very theatrical bow. Once he rises he struts over to their table. "Thank you! Thank you! Please, hold your applause. No, seriously, stop."

"Look at the happy couple!" Lindsey says with a huge smile.

Frank pulls the chair out for Jack then his husband before taking his seat, "You guys are embarrassing." 

"Aw look he's a pretty red color!" Ray jokes.

"Any plans for the wedding night?" Gee asks looking over the menu.

"Spend time with my husband." Frank scoots closer to the table. His hand rests on Brock's thigh, "I am unavailable for the next two weeks." 

"Two weeks is being rather _generous_ , if you ask me," Brock says with a grin and a wink.

"I had a month in my head but you know, I can't be _that_ greedy?" Frank smiles.

"No, because we have wedding planning to do," Brock grins wide.

"Yeah… I know. A boy can dream." Frank sighs playfully, "Are you gonna try maybe some tea? Or coffee?" 

"Uh, let's try iced tea, unsweetened. That's kind of like water. I'm not sure about coffee just yet." 

"Smart," Frank says softly. 

Ray looks at Brock, "How are we supposed to celebrate this joyous occasion if you're on a ballerina diet, Rumlow?"

"Well, I need to fit into my wedding dress somehow!" Brock laughs.

Frank snorts before the table erupts into laughter. He realizes that neither one of his boys would be able to go out and celebrate. Jack's hurt and Brock's...broken. He takes a sip of water to wash down the thought. 

"But seriously, we should celebrate. It's a big deal. My favorite people don't get married every day…" Ray says with a smile. 

Frank gives a half-smile and mentally grumbles to himself about a snake in the garden. The waiter approaches and takes their drink order then hurries away.

"What do you guys _want_ to do?" Brock says brightly.

"Strippers and booze," Ray says with a straight face.

"That's at night. And later. I meant now, Sunshine." 

"Oh well. I didn't think about daytime activities." Ray laughs.

"Maybe we should let them, I don't know. Be married. Enjoy each other." Christa suggests. She smiles up at the waiter as he places water in front of her. 

Brock turns to his husband, "What do you think, Frankie?" 

"I uh, I am happy just being with you…" Frank grins at Brock. 

"Well, this is getting us nowhere," Jack snickers because he can't laugh too hard.

"I mean what do people do the day they get married?" Frank looks around the table. He smiles at the server as he asks for orders around the table, taking a quick pause from the conversation and resuming as soon as he's gone.

"Well, I imagine after they go home and relax the day away, they probably start handling the legal stuff. We can stop by the bank. Call your mom or visit her. Or we can just do nothing. Or hang out with our friends," Brock offers.

"Bank?" Frank asks. 

"Joint accounts."

"Oh!" Frank laughs, "Yeah we can do the bank. Maybe visit my mom. She is home alone right now."

"Cool. Guys? Got anything else you wanna do today?" Brock asks.

"Not really." Gerard looks at Lindsey who nods. 

"We have a doctor's appointment," Christa says with a little smile.

"I'm a loser, I don't have anything to do." Bob shrugs.

"Uh, we are looking at a house…" Mike says scratching his head. Before looking at Brock with a small smile.

"Oh! Did Frank tell you? We are wanting to move. And build our own house from scratch. We just need a good location for land. I'm thinking a few acres wide. I know I'm doing a home gym and Frank's doing a fully sound-proofed recording studio and practice space. I also want a pool for the kids when they come to visit. Would you guys wanna help out with coming up with stuff to add? I've already got Christa in mind for decorating."

"Recording studio?" Frank asks, rubbing Brock's back.

"You guys need a nice kitchen and wine cellar or closet," Christa says with a smile.

"Ooh wine cellar for sure. Though, at one point I did consider buying a vineyard. Make my own wine. Agreed on the kitchen. And yes, _amore_ , a recording studio. So you and the boys can work on your music and send it to the label. With all-new equipment, of course. Anything you boys need is yours to have. While you guys play with instruments, I get to babysit." He grins wide with the prospect of playing with babies. Soon. He can't wait for Baby Floof.

"I imagine you want to have a large bed. Like a double California king bed." Ray chuckles.

"Only if you boys are joining in on the cuddle pile. I don't need anything that large unless I'm sharing the bed with more than just Frankie," he laughs a little.

"Dogs," Frank coughs.

"You're going to quit touring? Stay home and watch the dogs?" Brock asks. He imagines that the band will call it quits on touring now that two babies were on the way. He frowns, wondering how that will affect his boys' jobs and their livelihoods. He doesn't need to work but he prefers to do something. He rather liked being tour manager, all the bad things aside.

"No. But!" Frank says a little whiny, "If we build Jack a house..." 

"When," Brock corrects softly.

"I'm not watching your dogs. I like cats," Jack interrupts.

"We can get a cat!" Frank grins at Jack, "But no, I'm not quitting touring. So dogs are on hold." Frank sighs. 

"You could foster dogs?" Lindsey suggests. Frank frowns and shakes his head no, he doesn't push it. He's been told no.

Brock is still frowning, having focused more on the fact that Frank said they weren't going to stop touring. "Actually, why _aren't_ you guys stopping the tours for a few years? Considering there are two infants to join the group. I'm sure Gerard and Sunshine want to be home with their babies and not stuck on a tour bus. And the ladies to not have to raise kids on their own."

"We are in a contract that states we have one more album and tour to complete before it's up," Ray says softly. 

"We are going to take our time on this new album. Get as much mileage out recording as we can." Gerard says with a smile.

"We also don't want to become irrelevant," Mike adds.

Brock sips his tea, lost in thought. He thinks about how his boys are getting older and starting families. Family should be and is the most important thing in the world. His boys should be home to see their children grow. An idea occurs. "What if we got out of the contract? Changed it a little."

"I know and love where your head is at but I don't want Ray home all the time. He will drive me crazy." Christa chuckles.

He looks at her, replying softly, "He should be home with his son. Being the damn good father I know he's going to be. He should help raise Baby Floof just like Gerard should do the same with Baby Emo."

"I know. I understand but I don't want to hold him back." Christa says leaning into him.

"Family is the most important thing and should always come first. He can still write and create music. At home. You guys can still make albums. You just won't tour for a while. Maybe at least consider hanging up your instruments," Brock offers quietly.

Ray and Gerard nod at Brock with consideration. Mike rests his head on Kristen's shoulder for a moment as the server delivers their food.

Frank opens his mouth but shuts it. He instead, smiles at the waiter and quietly begins working on his food. He doesn't want his favorite band to break up. They were just getting respect. Making a living. 

"Anyway. It was just a thought. Sorry to kill the mood. Please ignore me," Brock says, sipping more tea. He tries to not focus on the sights and smells of the plates around him. 

"We'll figure it out," Ray grins before he eats a bite of waffle. He eyes Frank's small plate and Brock's no plate. His chest hurts a little at the idea of his friend's lack of appetite. Or something worse, purposely going without for whatever reason.

The group quietly eats and chats. Brock quietly begins to fidget while the others eat. He pulls out his phone to work on a side project he has planned as a distraction but it's not enough to hold his attention. His stomach cramps. He stands, pocketing the device, "I'll be back." 

Frank watches his husband leave the table. His forehead wrinkles a little as he takes a small bite of his fruit. Gerard clears his throat, "Linds and I wanna get you guys something for your wedding but we don't know _what_."

"We don't really need anything," Frank says softly. He needs things but nothing they can buy.

Jack eyes Frank. He also noticed Brock's departure and knows exactly where his brother went. If Brock doesn't return in a few minutes, he'll get up and check on him. In the meantime, he's going to focus on keeping them focused. "So what do you want that you don't need? Asking for a friend."

"A new coffee maker? I don't know. " Frank chuckles as he pushes his plate away. He glances towards the bathroom, "I am gonna go check on him." 

"Want me to come with you," Jack offers.

"Sure," Frank says with a smile. He's got no idea what he's in for.

"Perhaps you should stay here. Considering the March Bug incident and your…" Jack pauses in thought.

"Queasy uneasiness." Frank offers. 

"Yeah, that." 

"Ok. Fine. Makes sense." 

Jack gets up from the table to go check on Brock but stops once he sees the bathroom door open. His brother steps out and begins making his way back to the table. He slowly sits back down, watching Brock carefully.

Brock sits back down and smiles in greeting to the others before looking around for the waiter. He wants to switch his drink. The tea may have been a bad idea this time. Too acidic perhaps or too much caffeine. He doesn't know. Frank places a hand on Brock's knee and looks at him concerned but doesn't say a word.

"Can I have some water," Brock whispers, thickly. His nose and eyes always leaked and got stuffy after he purged. It hurt.

Frank hands his untouched water to his husband with a nod, "Of course, baby." 

"You okay, B?" Bob asks.

Brock carefully drinks the water, afraid that if he drinks it too fast, the coldness will make his stomach cramp. He doesn't know what's wrong and he can't figure it out. He's thankful that the water is at least cool anyway. He rinsed his mouth out but he still feels gross. After several drinks, he sets the glass down. His throat feels swollen. Hopefully, he's not getting sick again. "Yeah, just not feeling well. Not contagious." 

Frank grimaces. They are not going to see his mom, they are going to urgent care. This was too scary for him to handle. Maybe Jack will back him. He watches his friends as they finish eating. He probably should have eaten more but fuck it, he could always lose a little weight. 

The group finishes their meals and argue over the check. Little did they know that the sneaky big pregnant one had snuck off and paid for the whole thing. They part ways promising to meet up later to celebrate the union with them. Frank walks quietly beside Brock with Jack on his other side. He wants to tell Brock the slight change in plan but doesn't know how. Once Frank unlocks the door he stops his husband and hugs him. Get the affection in while you can. 

After sliding in, Frank heads for Brock's bank. He opens his mouth and takes a breath, "After this, we are going to urgent care." Frank's voice is strong. It's not bossy but it leaves no room for arguing. But he isn't a fool, he knows Brock's gonna fight back.

"We agreed we'd wait. The chocolate drink stayed. I think it was the tea. Made my stomach cramp," Brock says quietly.

"Brock, please."

"The Ensure stayed," he protests quietly, "so it means I'm getting better? Right?" 

"Babe. I'm worried." Frank sighs, "I'll make you a deal?"

"I'm listening."

"We go to the doctors. See what they have to say; if I'm wrong and you're just fine. I'll do whatever you want me to do, no arguments. No complaints. Just compliance." Frank offers, "But if there is something wrong, you gotta say I was right and you were wrong."

"I'll call Doctor Choi. And in the meantime, we see momma Linda? And go to the bank," Brock offers softly. He doesn't like going to hospitals. 

"Fine. Can Choi be unbiased?" Frank asks as he turns the car towards the turnpike. 

"Silly question but yes." 

"Okay. Fine. You're not fighting me as much as I expected." Frank says with a small frown.

He doesn't know what to say to that other than offer an apology but it would probably only make Frank worry more, so he doesn't. Instead, he pulls out his cell phone, calls his private doctor, and asks him to come over tomorrow afternoon or evening.

Frank offers his hand to Brock, "Thank you, baby. I'm just worried about my husband. That's all."

Brock squeezes his hand and makes another phone call. He hates it but it needs to be done. He calls Sam. He has him set to come over tomorrow, promising to text him to coordinate when. After hanging up, Brock holds Frankie's hand tightly and rests his head on the window. Jack's heavy breathing and snores filter up from the backseat and he has to fight a snigger.

"Don't laugh at the poor thing. He's tired. We also kinda kidnapped him." Frank says with a sympathetic tone and a half-smile, "You know I'm here with you through this. As the kids say, I'm your ride or die...guy." 

"Let's not die though, okay?"

"Not until we are very old." Frank says lifting their joined hands and kissing Brock's, "So, uh. Sam's coming over..." 

It takes a beat of silence from Brock before he answers softly, "Lindsey suggested that I am doing this to myself and it's mental, not physical."

"I agree with her. I think you are punishing yourself." Frank sighs, "That or you have an ulcer."

"I'm not sure which one is worse." That's a lie of a joke, of course. But he really didn't know what else to say and he didn't want to not respond either.

Frank sighs as they cross into Jersey, "What colors do you want for the wedding?" 

"Didn't you say you wanted red and black? Or was that only for if we got married in a church?"

"The church. But we are doing a beach wedding. We should have light and pretty colors." 

"I agree. What about pastel shades? So lightly tinted it's almost white? But not so much that you can't tell it's a pale blue or something."

"Okay. That could be pretty. Like maybe a soft blue and green?" Frank pauses, "Are we going to do like a dinner reception?" 

"We could. Probably should feed our guests, right?" Brock laughs a little, "Better than letting them forage into whatever the islands have to offer. Which, we should probably look into at some point."

"Would be a nice way for the parents to meet. I was thinking the table could have, like, sea glass on it." Frank says with a thoughtful pause, "You mentioned Fiji. And _I've_ never been." 

"Neither have I. But I know it's pretty and not too long of a flight for Baby Floof. He's going to be in our wedding. Not sure yet how but I want him in it. The sea glass table is an amazing idea. I love that."

"Of course Zach can be in the wedding! But we could have little jars with the glass and like a small candle." Frank smiles as they turn on to his street. He gets a little pit in his stomach, "How mad is she gonna be at me?" 

"Why would she be mad?" Brock frowns before a flicker of recognition hits. "Oh. Well. Maybe a little. But she'll still get to get a part of the wedding ceremony? We'll apologize and explain it was kind of a spur of the moment deal. I'll make it up to her since it was my idea."

"She won't be mad at you. I also haven't called her in… two weeks." Frank scratches his head and winces.

"Eh, can't be as bad as the time you didn't call her for a month?" Brock offers weakly. 

"True. Last time we talked you had uh… taken a _vacation_ from me." Frank sighs.

"So she knows about that."

"Yeah… she does." Frank says quietly, "It's ok. We're ok. Let's wake brother snoozer." 

Brock looks over his shoulder at Jack, who's laying down on the backseat. "Or… we don't." 

"Text him at least and tell him to come in when he wakes," Frank says as he shakes his head.

"Yeah, okay," Brock says as he gets out.

Frank follows him to the door and scoops Brock's hand into his own. He reminds them with a gentle voice, "Breathe." 

Linda opens the door and her face brightens immediately, "My boys!" She steps out and wraps her arms around Brock 

"Hi Linda," Brock says into the hug. He squeezes her tightly. He missed her.

"Where the fuck have you been?" She says with a soft voice.

He's not sure if she means that literally or not. "Italy?" 

"Come in. Hi, my sweet prince." Linda says before kissing Brock's cheek and moving on to her son, "You never call me. Do you not love your mother?"

"I do. We have been busy."

"I heard. What did he do to make you leave, Brock?" Linda asks as he pushes the door open. 

"It's not his fault," Brock blurts in automatic defense. "It's nobody's really. We both just had to work on individual character development away from each other."

"And are we together? Happy?" Linda says leading them into the kitchen. 

"Very much. Never been happier." Frank says looking up at his love.

"Happy together forever," Brock grins.

"Is that Franklin?!" Carolyn's voice echoes from the living room. Frank's immediate response is a groan.

"Yes, Carolyn." Frank sighs. He grips Brock's hand tighter.

Brock gets a wicked grin, not unlike the Grinch when he gets the idea to dress up as Santa and destroy Christmas. He decides to stay silent. For now.

"I knew it! I knew you wouldn't stay together!" Carolyn says pointing at them, "The angels are never wrong!" 

"Linda. I'm sorry for what I'm about to say..." Brock says without breaking eye contact with Carolyn. He's still grinning like a madman. 

"Brock," Linda says softly with a small smile.

"We got married this morning. At the courthouse," Brock announces loudly, voice full of defiance and joy at seeing Carolyn crumble.

"What? No! You're going against the angels!" Carolyn shouts and scans Brock's face. 

Frank lifts his finger and shows her. 

"Oh no! I need. The angels are gonna be mad."

"You. What?" Linda asks, shock evident.

"If 'the angels' are gonna be mad, then they aren't 'angels', Carol. They're demons. Maybe you should get your head checked out? I can recommend someone," Brock snickers. "He might give you a _family_ discount."

"No. I need my cards." Carolyn's face is as white as paper. Her eyes are wide and panicked.

"You. You got married?" Linda sputters as she takes her son's hand. Her eyes track up to Brock.

Brock turns to her and gives her an apologetic smile. "Yes ma'am. After I came home, I proposed. We're going to do an actual ceremony in December, but we had a spur of the moment decision to get the legalities taken care of first. Backward but we couldn't wait any longer. I'm sorry we didn't tell you. In fact, that's why we are here. To tell you the good news and to ask you to be a part of the wedding ceremony and help plan."

She motions for him to bed down a little. Her face is hardened with a frown. Once he is lower, she whispers, "I live thirty minutes away." She slaps his cheek, not hard but the noise makes Frank flinch, "You're not dying, are you?" 

"No ma'am," Brock whispers, visibly shrinking. He figured she would be mad but he didn't expect this.

Linda turns and slaps Frank, her heart hurts at the sight of his honey-colored eyes immediately giving her puppy dog eyes, "Dummies." 

"I am happy for you." Linda says with a smile, "Welcome to the family, Brock!" 

"Thank you. I'm sorry for doing things weirdly backward," Brock said quietly. He takes Frank's hand again.

"I can't be mad. My baby is in love and he's happy. I know that you will take care of him." Linda says as she stops at the fridge, "Would you like something to drink?" 

"Some water, please," Brock asks.

Carolyn comes back with a sour look. Her hand rests on her hip, "Something's changed. The cards tell me something is afoot." 

"Are they now?" Frank sighs, "Let me guess, he is going to betray our vows in a passionate triangle." He rolls his eyes and snorts, "Just say it's junk science." 

Carolyn says with a frown. her eyes glance up at the ceiling and nods, "The angels don't like you." 

"That's okay. I don't like them either. At least my demons don't try to ruin other people's lives," Brock quips lightly. "Be honest. You just don't like me and want me out of the family."

"What?! No!" Her voice raises an octave, "I just fear that you are in danger. Make an offering tonight to the fae. Saucer of milk and bread with a couple of candles and they will protect you. Something, someone is coming."

~~

Meanwhile, Jack stirs from his nap on the backseat and wakes up to see trees above his head through the car window. He carefully stretches and sits up. He looks around. He's in a neighborhood he doesn't recognize, with no memory of how he got there, and the car is empty of his people. A worrying thought occurs to him. Did he get into the wrong car by accident? Was he kidnapped? Oh god, Brock would kill him if he survived, should that be the case.

Carefully, he slides out of the vehicle and makes his way towards the house that he's parked in front of. Both the best and worst-case scenarios include him gaining valuable information in this house. Either way, he needs to be careful as he makes his way up to a window. It burns like hell but he pushes the pain aside as he squats below the windowsill. This was more important than pain. He peeks in, finding it to be the living room, the curtains open just enough for him to see a table and couch. There are some objects on the table he can't just quite make out. Covering his eyes so he can see better, he makes out what appears to be… a witchcraft thing. What the hell did he wake up to? There's some sort of crystal rock and what looks like solitaire cards laid out in a fancy pattern. It's probably those cards that tell the future or some shit. Fantastic. He got kidnapped by a Satanist witch thing. Or something. He's got to get out of here. He makes his way back to the car when he remembers his phone is still in his pocket. He calls Brock. 

"It's probably Jack calling, baby," Frank says softly as Brock's phone trills in his pocket.

Brock giggles softly and checks his phone before answering, "Hey."

"Brock!" Jack sighs hard in relief. "Please tell me I was in the car with you and we went to some random house and I'm not kidnapped by a witch. Or that I'm dreaming from the pain."

"You aren't dreaming. We're at Frank's parent's house. Come in."

"You know these people? Huh. Okay. Sure. I'm not going to be turned into a toad, am I? Because I much prefer being a tiger," Jack rambles as he makes his way up to the front door. He knocks before realizing he probably didn't need to. He hangs up on Brock and tries to pull his sleepy mind together.

"Rude. He hung up on me. Just for that, he can wait outside," Brock grumbles, stowing away his phone.

"Brock, I'll go let him in." Frank shakes his head. He rises to his feet and moves for the front door. He pulls the door open and smiles at Jack, "Hi brother." 

"Hi. I'm so glad I didn't get kidnapped." Jack chuckles softly before stepping into the house. 

"Nope. You just passed out like a baby." Frank smiles and pats his back. 

"Why didn't you guys wake me?" He asks, making his way further into the house, checking out _everything_.

"I told Brock we needed to but he said no." Frank snickers, "Jack, this is my mom, Linda."

"You're the brother?" She extends her hand with a smile, "Are all you Rumlows hot?" 

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jack smiles and shakes her hand. "That seems to be the general census, given that we hear it a lot. Thank you."

"Welcome to our home." Linda smiles.

"Aunt Carolyn." Carolyn extends her hand with a smile, "You're the stranger." 

"No, I'm Brock's brother. You don't have to do stranger danger with me," Jack teases with a wide grin. He shakes her hand, "Jack Rollins. Nice to meet you, ma'am." 

"No, the angels told me a stranger was coming," Carolyn says flashing a smile at Brock.

"Oh, Jesus." Frank groans as he takes his seat at the table next to his husband. His hand slides onto Brock's thigh.

"I mean, you're not wrong, considering everyone new you meet would be a stranger," Jack snickers before gingerly heading for the seat next to Brock.

"No. I mean the angels told me today. Someone was coming. That I would face a challenge and that danger was imminent," Carolyn says staring past Jack and looking at Brock.

"Oh you're the witch," Jack says with surprise. He knew those things on the table weren't fake. Well… They were but clearly not to this lady.

Brock can't help himself and he cracks up, putting a hand on Jack's back and patting him. "I love you." 

"I'm not a witch. I'm just in tune with the angels and can read fortunes." She says proudly.

"I don't see the difference," Jack deadpans. "Angels aren't real. And if they were, why would they talk to anyone? Let alone, you? Nobody can tell the future because it's what we make of it."

Brock highly disagrees with some of his brother's beliefs but chooses to keep his mouth shut in favor of watching the best drama since television came out.

"I bet I can tell you more about yourself than you realize from my cards alone. Why do you Rumlows always fight me on this?" Carolyn groans, "Sometimes the angels pick people they know can deliver the message even against adversity."

Linda quietly makes coffee for her son. 

"Sure, go for it. But if you don't mind, I'm gonna stay here. And I'll gladly tell you how wrong you are." Jack points at his seat and Brock. 

Carolyn sighs, "I know that you are injured. So, you just relax, Linda can make you something to drink 

"Everybody can tell I'm injured. I walk like I'm injured," Jack snickers. He glances at her and his brothers, warning, "Call me limpy and I'll throw a punch." 

Carolyn hurries back to the living room, her scarf floating behind her 

"You two be nice. She's a lonely woman." Linda hisses before giggling, "Jack honey, do you need a drink? I have some pain meds from Paco's dad's back surgery in the bathroom."

"While I can't promise to be nice, I'll gladly accept a drink and something for the pain," Jack gives Linda an easy smile. "But, who's Paco?"

"I'm Paco," Frank says raising a hand.

"Oh. You don't know his nicknames huh?" Linda gives Brock a big smile as he puts a glass of ice water in front of him. She rubs his shoulder and kisses the top of his head.

"No, ma'am. I don't know anything about my brother's family, actually."

"Oh well sweetheart, fire your questions. I can tell you all the embarrassing things about our boy. What would you like to drink, love?" Linda says touching Jack's shoulder. 

Carolyn returns with her deck and candle and crystal. 

"Would you be willing to give me a strong drink?"

"Whiskey or Vodka?"

"Either is fine, thank you. After that, some water. Thank you, ma'am." 

"Call me Linda or I'll make the wound look like a paper cut," she teases. Linda opens the cupboard above the fridge, barely reaching it with her fingers. 

Carolyn spreads her cards out on a velvet cloth. She placed the candle to the right and the white crystal to the left, "Pick three cards, Jack." 

"I highly doubt you could make this a paper cut but okay," Jack comments as he selects three cards.

Linda puts a small glass of whiskey in front of Jack and one white pill, "As a nurse, you shouldn't drink and use prescription medication but fuck it."

Jack raises his eyebrow as he takes a small sip of the whiskey.

"Frank's dad is a musician. I'm a nurse. His sister, Christine is a teacher. His brother, James is a cop." Linda explains. 

Jack sputters and chokes on his whiskey, a hand going to his side in pain. He looks at Brock, expression hard. He coughs weakly again and clears his throat. "Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe." 

"He's working the intake desk for the drunk tank. He's not like a detective or anything." Frank replies, nervous. He squeezes Brock's leg.

" _Why the hell didn't you warn me,_ " Jack grumbles in soft German to his brother. He takes a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wipes his face and chin.

"You okay?" Brock asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Jack grumbles. He focuses on the card lady.

Carolyn pulls an upside down black and gold card with six coins. "You have had a calling to help someone but there is a hesitation on your part. This calls for self-reflection as to why you are feeling this way."

The next card she pulls is a man with a crown, upside-down and surrounded by wands. "This tells me you are a take-charge man, dominant and a touch reckless. You have ideas that are too out of the realm of possibility because you don't have the focus to meet them." 

The final card is a woman who is blindfolded but surrounded by eight swords, "Interesting. You feel restrained. Trapped almost by duty or something more. You have a feeling of helplessness because you know you are bound to this. But it might help to look inward and realize your prison is self-made." She gives Jack a satisfied look and leans back, "The angels say you're a troubled soul but you have a good heart. Like an attack dog who loves kittens."

Jack smirks, "Well you did get one thing right."

"Oh? What is that, love?" Carolyn asks with a wide smile.

"Woof."

"Oh! Does that mean I'm the kitten?." Frank says with a smile. He leans up and kisses Brock. He knows Carolyn is not a fan of PDA or Brock, so why not poke the bear?

"To my brother," Jack smirks at him. 

"This is why _you_ people can't have nice things." Carolyn mutters glaring at Frank as she collects her cards, "If you can't be receptive to it, I'm not going to tell you about the danger coming both of your ways." 

"I like to point out that _you_ people are now _our_ people. And I'm not afraid of biting old ladies who hurt my family. Bark." Jack casually finishes his whiskey, pointedly not looking at her.

"Now Jack, we don't threaten family with our teeth unless we have to." Linda says with a smile.

"Don't give me a reason and I won't," he replies dryly.

"Anyway, what would you like to know about the family, Jack?" Linda smiles warmly as she sits next to him.

"How long have you been a nurse?" 

"Since Frankie was a kid. Fifteen years or so." Linda says softly, "I am the head nurse in the psychiatric department."

"Ah, so you couldn't take a look at my injury but you could fix Brock's brain," Jack sniggers. "Got it."

"Actually, I worked in the ER for over eight years, so I could look at your wound. I got out of that place because I got injured and Frank Sr. didn't like the idea of me getting hurt again." Linda smiles, "I can take a look if you'd like."

"My field medical skills are pretty basic and rather effective but it would be good to get a more professional opinion," he shrugs.

"I'll look at it," Linda says with a smile.

"Like now?" Brock asks.

"Yup. Let me look." Linda rises her feet and heads into the little alcove off the kitchen. She has a small black bag when she returns, "Alright. Lemme see." 

"What is my life that you guys get married this morning and I'm playing life-size Operation in the afternoon? What's tonight? A moonlight stroll in Transylvania with Dracula?" Jack shakes his head and carefully stands, raising his shirt to reveal the non-stick pad and tape.

"Oh, maybe he'll get to see me turn into a bunch of bats at midnight…" Frank chuckles.

Jack snorts. "No that would be Gerard."

Linda laughs as she takes a seat and opens the bag. She puts on gloves and pulls the tape off the wound, "So, how did you get this?" 

"I got shot. Last week." 

"How?" She smirks. 

"Carjackers with a gun. Or in our case, it was an attempted bus jacking. They got Jack'd," he snickers at his own joke.

"Did you do this hack job of stitches?" Linda says carefully pushing a cleaning pad to the wound. 

"I'm a fighter, not an artist. And it's hard to do when you're pulling the bullet out with your fingers and sewing yourself up after."

"You didn't help him, Frankfurter?" Linda asks with a frown

"He held the mirror," Jack says tensely.

"He knows how to do stitches. I taught him on his idiot brother." Linda says with a frown, "So it looks a little irritated but it's healing pretty nicely. You're gonna have a fucked up scar. What do you clean it with?"

Carolyn snorts and rolls her eyes, "I was right again." 

"Rubbing alcohol and antibacterial soap. Top it off with Neosporin and fresh bandages."

"No more rubbing alcohol. Use this instead of Neosporin. If you need to disinfect it, dilute tea tree oil with water and use that. Are you using cotton balls?" She asks looking up at him. 

"Yes ma'am," he nods.

"Stop with the cotton balls. Use these pads. I'm gonna fish out some of the stray, well, hairs." Linda says with a soft voice, "It's gonna feel weird."

Brock is too curious to keep his mouth shut and he already knows he's going to regret this but he has to ask. "What are you talking about now Carol?" 

"I told you guys that he was dangerous. So are you. The angels are _never_ wrong." Carolyn says haughtily.

Jack slowly turns to her and gives her a _look_. His voice slightly cold, "I never said I wasn't dangerous. But I love my family first. We protect our own."

"Jack," Brock says simply.

"Yup and he wouldn't let anything happen to me,” Frank adds. “So stop pushing this Carol."

Linda pulls cotton that had gotten lodged in the wound out. She knows it has to hurt.

"I'm gonna keep my mouth shut." Carolyn crosses her arms, "Besides we all know that gay marriages don't last. Let alone May-December romance. I wouldn't have children if I were you, Franklin."

"March," Brock automatically corrects.

Jack turns towards Carolyn, temper flaring. He growls low, "I'm not afraid to knock some sense into old ladies who disrespect my family."

Linda pokes right next to the wound, " _You_ won't bet hitting any females. Leave that to me, young man. Can it, Carolyn, or you can leave…"

"See. This is exactly why you and your brother are dangerous. The angels tell me you're gonna be the death of Frank. You reckless, stupid attack dog. All teeth and no brains."

Jack snaps and rips away from Linda, stalking towards Carolyn, his hand going behind his back for a weapon. "You need to learn _respect_ , old hag." 

"Jack no!" Linda shouts.

Brock is on his feet in a flash. With a deep booming voice, he barks out, " _Ritirarsi! Adesso! È in ordine,_ Jack!" 

Jack freezes as if he ran into an invisible wall, hand withdrawing from his shirt. He pulls himself back, calming himself and returning to baseline. He realizes that he just proved her point about him being an attack dog. Well. She wasn't wrong. His job as Enforcer would pretty much fit that description. His brother barks an order to stand down and he complies. He returns to his seat. "My apologies," he says coolly.

"Apology not accepted," Carolyn sniffs.

Jack spares her a side glance. "With all _undue_ respect, ma'am, I wasn't speaking to _you_." 

"Get out of my mother's house you goddamned snake!" Frank says standing and pointing to the door. His voice loud and hard, he's done with her bullshit, "You can be horrible to me but not them." 

"Your mother is disappointed in you, Frank," Carolyn says standing as she gathers her things.

"Yeah, well dad calls you a nutjob, too. Get out!" Frank hisses. His eyes track to his mom who is pale and wide-eyed.

Carolyn storms out huff under her breath, slamming the door as she leaves.

"Sorry, momma," Frank says softly.

"You shouldn't speak to your aunt like that..." Linda says softly. Her soft-spoken boy is not that anymore.

"She doesn't need to talk to my husband and brother like that. And I'm not saying sorry. She's not coming to the wedding." Frank speaks coldly. He sits beside Brock and laces fingers with him.

"Well, I will. I'm sorry we disrespected your house, mama Linda," Brock says, voice hard.

Frank gives him a look, "Brock!" 

"You didn't, sweetheart. She was pushing buttons to get a reaction. She wasn't expecting that one." Linda says softly, "Now, you get back here. I'm not done with you yet." 

Jack rises from his seat and moves to stand in front of Linda. He raises the front of his shirt again, face carefully blank. 

"Jack," Linda says returning her voice to a motherly tone.

"Yes ma'am?" 

"Did I get the chance to tell you Frank's nicknames?" She asks. A change of subject will be good.

"No ma'am."

"Linda. Relax, okay. I know you're heated but you need to let it go. The moment is gone. Alright, sweetheart." Linda says with a smile, "There is Paco, Frankenweenie, Frankenberry, Frankenstein, Frank and Beans…"

"Those are cute." Jack adds softly, "I prefer bärchen."

"What's that mean?" 

"Little bear."

"That is adorable!" Linda says with a wide smile, "Does that make him the big bear?"

"Frankie tends to call me that," Brock huffs a laugh.

"He is a little bear." Linda says as she pulls out a gauze pad and tape, "I have to admit, Jack. You are built like a brick house." 

"Thank you, ma'am."

Frank groans. 

"I mean if I was 25 years younger…"

"Maahm!" Frank hides his face in Brock's arm.

"I wasn't even in the country 25 years ago," Jack smiles.

"That's okay. I can understand Italian. And really we don't need to talk..." She winks up at him. 

"But I prefer German."

"I'm a quick learner." Linda smiles as she applies the tape, "I could show you a few things."

"Does that include showing me how to better dress a wound?"

"Do you wanna learn?" She asks with a bright smile.

"It happens often in my line of work. Might as well learn the proper way," he shrugs.

Brock listens to them and thinks about what has to happen next and how he's going to do it. Absently, he sips his water and tries to not read too much into what sounds like flirting.

"Yeah. I assume that you are the _muscle_." Linda smiles.

"He is," Brock agrees, looking at Jack.

"How many weapons between the two of you?" Linda chuckles. 

Frank stands up, letting go of Brock's hand, and disappears. 

"You know," Jack says with surprise in his voice. He wasn't expecting this. 

"I know." Linda smiles. 

"Not something I had chosen to do right away but Frank was positive it would work out alright," Brock comments. "Terrified me for a moment but I'm thankful he did."

"Dad would whip us if he found out." Jack shakes his head. "Who all know now?"

"Lindsey. Christa. The whole band, minus Rabbit and Gerard. Though I suspect Rabbit has probably figured it out or has come close to it. Gerard is and will always be a mystery to me," Brock ticks off." 

"Sounds loving." Linda snorts, "So the whole gang. The family doesn't need to know. Frank tells me everything, he did this so he doesn't have to lie to any of us."

"Everything?" asks Jack with a thoughtful head tilt. "Does this mean I need your permission to teach him how to shoot?"

"Everything except getting married."

"That is my fault," Brock says softly.

"I would like you both to teach my boy how to protect himself. Shooting. Fighting. Everything." Linda says with a sigh.

"He doesn't need to learn how to fight. That's Jack's job. And my own. And the bodyguards. He's got hundreds of men willing to lay down their lives for him. He'll be fine."

"Teach my boy how to fight." Linda looks at Jack with a stern face and a motherly voice.

He hesitates, for a moment, torn between his loyalty to Brock and to the mother of his brother. He wants to agree with Linda but should Brock give an order, he can't and won't disobey. He offers a smile. "I'll do what I can." 

"Thank you, Jack." Linda touches his arm. 

He glances at Brock before nodding, stepping away, and lowering his shirt. "I am sorry. About my behavior, before." 

Frank returns and sits next to Brock. He gives Frank a little nudge to welcome him back before taking and holding his hand.

He smiles, "What did I miss?" 

"Your tummy okay, Frankenweenie?" Linda asks.

"I'm fine. I peed."

"You taking your meds?"

"No."

Brock gives him a look but doesn't say a word. He doesn't know what his husband has been eating since he left and it's up to Frank to take care of himself. He needs to not control everything.

"I have to get it refilled." Frank shrugs, "I've been avoiding the bad stuff."

"Yeah. You're looking a little thin. Both of you do." Linda says with a frown.

"I'm fine mom." Frank chuckles.

"Fine. I have food you boys can take home. All three of you. What else are you gonna do today? As newlyweds are you gonna…" Linda asks, raising her eyebrows with a devilish smile.

"Not with me around!" Jack protests. "This time!" 

"We're headed to the bank after this," Brock chuckles. "Once I kick Jack to the curb, then maybe some hanky panky." 

Frank smiles up at his husband, "I wouldn't mind staying in…" 

"We do need to consummate the marriage…" Brock grins at Frank before winking at him and then turning to his brother. "Hey Jack, wanna drive?" 

" _No!_ " 

Brock and Frank both burst into laughter, the memory of Jack driving them home while they got busy in the backseat at the forefront of their minds. Brock leans over into Frank's space, laughing hard and resting his head on his shoulder. As the laughing subsides, he kisses Frank's temple.

His fingers touch Brock's cheek, "I love you _polpetto_." 

"I love you, _tesoro_."

Jack decides to ignore them both. He turns to Linda and asks, "Is there anything you'd like to know about me or the family, ma'am?" Maybe he can earn back the respect and dishonor he lost. Perhaps Brock would let his outburst slide.

"What's your family _really_ like?" 

"This is pretty much it," Jack motions to himself and Brock. "Fun yet old-fashioned with a dash of hot-headed crazy."

"So you're gonna fit in just fine with the Iero’s. Your mom seems like a sweet woman, and you have a sister." 

"She's just as gorgeous as these idiots," Frank adds.

"Runs in the family. Frank seems to think that we've found the fountain of youth or something. Our Mom was a model. Dad was a handsome man in his youth. Brooke modeled as a teenager and young lady. Jack, well, he got the ruggedness."

"Why do I feel like you just called me ugly but in a backhanded way," he snorts with laughter.

Brock laughs, "I didn't!" 

"No, you're absolutely the man I went for when I was younger, Jack. How I wound up with Paco's dad is surprising to me." Linda grins.

"We have talked about this, Brock is the pretty boy. Jack is the ruggedly handsome man. They are both pretty but in a different way." Frank smiles as he leans into Brock. He kisses Brock's chin.

"I'm going to assume it was love, ma'am," Jack replies to Linda, "since it produced a good marriage, two children and my little brother."

"I love that you call him brother. Are you worried about James? I saw your reaction and it's… telling." Linda smiles.

"It completely threw me for a loop. Considering our line of work, I never expected Brock to find love with a cop attached. We generally tend to do everything we can to avoid law enforcement. Yes, I'm concerned but…"

"I'm not," Brock interrupts. "I've met James. And as far as he knows, we are retired military and security for the band. We have no reason not to keep it that way."

Jack nods, "Yes, sir. Though I do wish you had told me. Along with the fact that we were coming here so I didn't wake up thinking I accidentally got into the wrong car."

"My brother is a clueless idiot. The secret is safe. He also really likes Brock. He asked what you wanted for Christmas." Frank says quietly.

"I have everything I need. And want. I finally got my tiger." Brock bumps Frank.

"So does this mean that I will be seeing more of you, too, Jack?" Linda asks. 

"More than likely, yes ma'am. I go where Brock goes."

"We're thinking of moving," Brock comments, taking a drink of water.

"What?! Where?" Linda asks, her face paling slightly.

"Not sure yet. I want to purchase several acres of land. Build our house. What do you think about relocating the house," Brock asks, motioning to the dwelling they are currently in.

"I mean. Where are we going to is the big question? What do you mean relocating the house?"

"Lift the house off the foundation and drive it to the land I want to buy. Then you can come visit as often as you'd like while still keeping privacy and space. They do this stuff often on the home improvement channel on TV."

"Oh like the one family that moved their house from Kansas to California!" Frank says with a huge smile, "Oh god, I'm turning into an old guy." 

"Would you want us to live that close?" Linda asks. 

"Yes, momma." Frank says looking away from Brock, "He wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it." 

"Okay. I'm in. I know Frank Sr. has wanted to move. Hell, maybe we can sell this place." 

Frank, the boys, and Linda chat and get acquainted. Linda gives them hugs before they head out the door for the car, "Don't be strangers and call me damn it!" Linda calls out. Frank waves at her and takes off.

"Which branch did you wanna go to, baby?" Frank asks.

"The one near the house. Jack, did you want to go home or go with us?" 

"Home, please."

"Okay. I can drop you. Thank you for coming along." Frank smiles as he turns towards the apartment. 

"Thanks." 

Frank pulls over at the apartment and lets his brother out. He takes a moment to kiss his husband a little bit more passionate than he should. He grins and pulls from the curb. It doesn't take long for them to reach the banker. He fills the paperwork out for Brock's banker to add him to the account and receives his temporary bank card. The banker, whose name is Virginia "call me Pepper" Potts, sets up his online banking access. 

"Once you enter the temporary password I gave you, you will be able to set up a permanent one with your new username, Mr. Rumlow," Pepper says to Frank, her fingers typing quickly on her keyboard. 

"Ok. Thanks, Pepper! I appreciate you helping me." Frank smiles at her.

"It's my pleasure, sir. I'm happy to assist Mr. Rumlow and yourself in anything you need," she replies brightly.

"Pepp has been my personal financial assistant for the last eight years or so," Brock adds. "She's the best. In America, at least."

Smiling, she tilts her head and gives him a look, "I wouldn't go that far but I do appreciate it, sir."

Brock smiles. "While we are waiting, I have something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Of course. How can I help?"

"I'd like you to open a new account. I'm thinking of a trust fund."

"Yes sir," Pepper says absently. She's fixed on her computer, rapidly typing. "Who's it for?"

"Zachariah Toro." 

"And what is the amount you wish to deposit?"

"One million dollars."

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his seat. That's more money than he ever imagined.

Pepper doesn't miss a beat, her fingers never cease moving and entering data. "And any stipulations you have in regards to accessing the money?" 

"His parents have full control over it until he reaches 18, to which he has to be enrolled in college to receive access. I want them to be able to withdraw if they need to but also keep it safe where it can grow interest."

She nods. "I'll need some basic information about your trustee."

"He's not born yet, so once he is, have the attorney contact me and I'll file the remainder of the paperwork."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm all set up," Frank says softly. His face is cherry red for some reason he doesn't know. His head is spinning at the idea of a million dollars for a fucking kid. A kid that isn't his. He can't imagine what Brock would be like if he had his own. Frank blinks and blinks again. His head feels light as he looks at the amount on the screen. The balance in _their_ account looked like a phone number but twice as long. He shoots a look at Brock and immediately feels sick.

"I'm going to be setting up at least one other sometime in the next four to six months. Same stipulations apply." Brock turns to his husband and frowns at the look on his face. He places a hand on his knee in concern. "Babe?" 

Frank blinks a couple of times and smiles at Brock, "Yeah baby?"

"Are you okay? Did you get into the account?"

"Yeah, I got in. I'm okay. Just listening." Frank says with a nervous smile.

"Oh good," Pepper grins. "I think we are all set, yes? You'll get your permanent card in roughly five days. Any questions?"

"Uh, no ma'am," Frank says. He glances at Brock.

"We're good, Pepper. Thank you." Brock rises and shakes her hand. 

"Wonderful doing business with you, Mr.s Rumlow. The attorney will be in touch to collect signatures for the trusts." Pepper shakes Frank's hand, "Pleasure to meet you and welcome to the family."

"Thank you, ma'am," Frank says with a smile.

Brock wraps an arm around Frank as they step into the fading sunlight and head for the car. "Thanks for coming with me and taking care of this. What would you like to do about your bank account at Wells Fargo?"

"I guess, transfer my last royalty check over to _our_ account." Frank says slipping his hand into Brock's, "Thanks for adding me to the account." 

"You are welcome. I don't want you to ever have to worry about money again, should something happen. And I want you to buy things without having to worry about the cost."

"Aww you mean I can't get a summer job as a lifeguard?" 

"Only if you really wanted to," he laughs. 

"I'm always going to worry about money. It's just part of growing up without much. And you know my ass is frugal." Frank smiles unlocking the car, "Wanna drive?" 

"Up to you. She's your baby. But I know you saw the numbers. You don't need to be frugal. I'd rather you be generous. But, you do as you see fit to spend the money. I do want to set up something that dictates you are the primary beneficiary should I pass sooner than anticipated. Plus, I'm not sure if your parents have a retirement fund."

"Oh, my parents are covered for retirement. Honestly, mom coulda retired two years ago and be fine." Frank pauses and nods, "Okay. So, I do have places I donate money to. It's that ok? I mean it's a couple of animal shelters and a women's shelter… is that.…?" 

"Why wouldn't it be? It's _your_ money too. Don't think about it or ask permission, just do it. That's the worry I said I didn't want you to have, you know? I'm not going to be upset if you donate money. I would probably be a _little_ irritated if you spent say...half? Because this is not just mine and yours, it's also Jack's and Brooke's and my parents. It's how we pay people too. So, let's not go _too_ overboard." 

"Maybe I'll keep Wells open and use that as my charity account? I don't know. " Frank pauses.

"Our income to expense ratio is easily 20:1. There's very little you can do to deplete that much money. As you've seen today with the new trust funds." Brock gets into the car, content to playing passenger again.

"Ok," Frank says with a small nod as he gets into the car, his internal response is a little rude. But he's not like the garbage pail partners Brock's chosen in the past. That much money freaks him out. The lecture makes him feel like he shouldn't have said anything. His head hurts a little as he rubs his palm on the steering wheel, "Home, now?" 

"Sure." 

"Maybe I'll get a job as a mailman." Frank jokes as he glances over at Brock. He holds the tip of his tongue between his teeth, "You'd still love me right?" 

"Duh. But what is it with you and the mailman? Was that like your secondary goal in life? If I don't make music, I wanna deliver mail for the rest of my life?" Brock snickers.

"I dunno. I think I wanted to be a mailman as a kid." Frank as he smiles at Brock, "I'm sorry if I get a little weird when it comes to money. I don't mean to. I love you and I won't try to buy the moon. Maybe just Pluto."

"Okay. I love you too, _tesoro_ ," says Brock.

Frank delivers them home. His mind is turning as they exit the elevator for their apartment. Outside the door is littered with balloons and flowers. There's a bottle of red wine and a cake with two birds on it that reads, ' _To the love birds, Happy wedding day!_ ' Frank gives his husband a smile before picking up the items as Brock opens the door. He places the flowers on their table before putting the wine away and the cake in the fridge. He turns to say something to Brock but he's gone, probably to his office. Frank sighs and kicks his shoes off. He's gotta do laundry anyway. He trudges into the bedroom. And picks up the clothing and heads for the small laundry room. He starts a load then sits on their couch. He exhales softly, "What a day." 

"Agreed," Brock chimes in, going over to the couch with his laptop. He sits next to Frank and kisses him. Opening the laptop, he turns it on and brings up a search page.

"Whatcha looking for?" Frank asks quietly. He scoots his back closer to Brock. 

Instead of answering, Brock types in _Fiji wedding package_ in the search bar and makes sure Frank can see it as well. After scrolling past the ads and ones that just didn't seem good. There were a few websites for several of the Fijian islands but the sneak peek description just didn't speak to him. 

"How many islands are in Fiji?" Brock asks incredulously and rhetorically. 

"Too many?" Frank says with a playful inflection of his voice.

"No freaking kidding." Brock shakes his head and continues scrolling. A website title catches his eye. _All inclusive Fiji Wedding- Turtle Island._ All-inclusive sounds nice. He clicks the link. Maybe he can at least come up with some ideas. 

"Turtles?" 

"It said all-inclusive. Best case, new ideas for what people can do at a wedding. Worst case, turtles."

"it looks pretty."

"It does!" Brock scrolls further down.

"We can _rent_ the island?" Frank blurts as his eyes catch the words.

"Wait what?" He looks closer, finding the article Frank sees. "Holy shit that's awesome. It's for a whole week too. We can get married at Blue Lagoon. Private Villas. All meals and drinks are included. All activities include reef fishing, scuba diving, horseback riding on the beach, mountain biking, sunset cruise, sailing, kayaking, snorkeling, windsurfing, and use of all sporting equipment," Brock reads from the site. "This sounds amazing."

"Baby, this place looks amazing." Frank turns to his side and rests his head on Brock's thigh. A tired giggle breaks from his chest, "Horses." 

"Yeah I'm not doing that but the rest of it, yeah." His fingers absently caress his hair and body.

"I can't imagine you on a horse." Frank says with a sigh, the touch makes him melt a little more, "I like the turtle island." 

"Me too. The pictures are gorgeous. The activities look like fun. I'm going to call them. Set it up for our wedding date. What do you think?"

"Yes! I am excited about this! I can't believe that we found our place on the first try." Frank says looking up at Brock gleeful.

"It's because of the turtle," Brock nods with a straight face. "Your efforts in conservation have pleased the Turtle God and you are being rewarded."

"Oh do I get to become a turtle now?" Frank beams up at him. He loves it when Brock gets silly. He listens as Brock talks on the phone. He draws a lazy figure 8 on Brock's leg as he yawns. 

When the call is done, Brock sets the phone down and rubs his forehead. He feels bleh from talking so much. But the island was booked. He sends a text to the band group chat, informing them of the details of the trip. He sends the same to Linda and what little friends he has.

"You should come closer," Frank says softly.

"Hmm?" 

"Come _closer,_ my child…" Frank says in his best old man voice. He curls his finger at his husband. 

"I'm sitting right next to you. You're laying in my lap," he chuckles. He leans down a little. "Like this?" 

"Closer..." Frank says with a smile as he slides off his husband's lap.

Smiling he moves closer to Frank, trying to figure out the game he's playing. He can't tell if his husband wants a kiss or something else and it was driving his mind crazy. 

"Excellent." Frank grins as he rises to kiss Brock, "Two things." 

"Okay…?" 

"Wear your glasses," Frank whispers, "and this is important…"

He tilts "My glasses? Why?" 

"If your head hurts." Frank replies, "But the most _important_ part is I want your cock in my mouth." 

His eyebrows raise and a slow smile spreads across his lips. He pulls back a little, "Go get me my glasses off the nightstand?" 

"Yes sir." Frank smiles and crawls off the couch and heads to their bedroom. He picks the glasses off the nightstand and returns, "Here you go." 

That was quicker than Brock expected and he barely had time to move the laptop to the coffee table and get his zipper down before his husband returned. He takes the glasses and puts them on, "Thank you baby." 

"You're welcome, my love," Frank says as he crawls back on the couch. 

"I was going to get myself ready for you but I guess that's now your job. Unless you want to watch me?" He leans over and kisses him.

Frank bites his lip after the kiss, "I wanna watch." 

He kisses him again, harder and quick before moving back to his pants. He pulls his length out and lightly runs his hand up and down over the soft skin. Then he takes himself fully in hand, stroking lightly and slowly increasing pressure. He begins to harden and a small moan escapes.

Frank watches intently as his mouth salivates. He bites his lip with a smile. He leans closer and runs the tip of his tongue over the slit tasting the precum. He moans softly at the taste.

Brock pulls his hand away and puts it on the back of Frankie's head. "Get me the rest of the way there, baby. Wanna feel your tongue on me." 

Frank grins before wrapping his lips around the head and sucks before running his tongue on the underside of the head. His hand wraps around the shaft and strokes while he works the head. He can hear Brock groan each time his hand strokes upward. An idea pops in his head and he slides off the couch between Brock's knees. One hand stays stroking his cock lifting it slightly as he uses the other hand to massage the balls carefully. He grins up at Brock, he enjoys watching Brock's face twist with enjoyment. 

Once he feels like Brock is ready, Frank resumes his positioning on the couch, his mouth taking all of Brock in the first try. He struggles a little around the girth before pulling back. He grins up at Brock before finding a rhythm. His hips grinding into the couch as he works his husband's cock. 

Brock moans loudly, hips bucking up into the wet heat. His hands grip Frankie's hair hard and tight, letting his husband do all the work but still guiding him how he wants it. "Fuck baby. So close. Faster, please..." 

Frank complies with Brock's hand. He moans around Brock's cock. A little part of him wants to tease but he holds back. His cock aches for release. He can feel how close Brock is and forces himself all the way down, he wants him to come like this. 

"Oh god! Oh, fuck! Frank!" Brock shouts, hands slapping the couch and digging nails into the fabric. His hips that were making little bucks, pick up their pace uncontrollably until suddenly his back arches, body rigid and he comes hard with a shout.

He's prepared for this mentally, the last thing he needs is to choke to death on cum. He swallows everything Brock gives and pulls off with a satisfied smile. He glances up at Brock and feels his insides twist, how is he that fucking hot. He's a ten normally but glasses make him a fifteen. He wipes the spit from his face before quietly panting out, "Thank you, baby." 

Brock pants slightly, coming down from his high. There's a light sheen of sweat all over his body. One of his hands comes back up and gently cups Frank's head. Even though he's softening, his desire and body have only been incited and he wants more. A slight growl escapes. "I love you."

"I love you more." Frank beams up at him. His hips push into the cushion a little harder. 

Brock’s eyes darken at the sight. "You going to come?" 

"Can I?" Frank asks much needier than he meant to, "Please?" 

"Just like that, yes." Brock visibly shudders at the thought of Frank getting himself off and coming in his pants. "Fuck yeah… _please_. Do it. Ruin your panties for me."

Frank whimpers a little as he grinds harder into the couch. His hips stutter a little as he pushes closer to coming. "Oh fuck. Touch me," he whines.

"Where?" Brock asks, voice husky and thick. The visual of Frank chasing his high and humping the couch was sending waves of pleasure coursing through him and straight to his dick. He can't tear his eyes away. He needs to watch him get off. Needs him to soak his underwear. 

"Pull my hair. My ass… just. Fuck! Please!" Frank moans out. He bucks into the couch harder. A little part of his animal brain misses fucking into something. He moans and drops his head to Brock's thigh. 

His hand buries itself into Frank's hair and rakes his nails across his scalp before grabbing a handful and pulling harshly. "Fuck you look so fucking hot. You should see yourself. Humping the couch like a needy desperate whore. It's so hot. Move your hips for me. Make that ass bounce… fuck the couch, baby."

Frank groans as he thrusts harder into the couch. His hips stutter as Brock's words run through him. The sting from his scalp hitting him hard as he does his best to keep a good rhythm going. "Fuck! Oh, fuck!" His body's there. He's right at the point of coming, losing pace as he holds his breath. One hand grabbing just below Brock's knee and the other clutching at the soft material beside him as he comes. He exhales loudly with the roll of his hips to get it all out of his system. 

"Holy fuck," Brock stutters out. He's hard enough to cut steel and there's a nearly overwhelming need to bury his face in Frank's crotch like a dog and _lick him clean_. He groans out, voice wrecked at the sight, "Fuck, baby. I _need_ you. Up." 

"Up?" Frank asks breathlessly as his eyes track up to meet Brocks. He's not even sure if his bones have solidified yet. 

"When you can. Up. Need to taste you. Wanna fuck you. Ride me," Brock groans out brokenly.

Frank takes a few breaths in and pushes his body off the couch. He stands in front of his half-naked husband, he locks his knees for a moment to keep himself stable. He runs a hand in his hair and smiles, "I'm up."

Brock leans forward and grabs the back of Frankie's upper thighs tightly to help support him. He scoots his body forward more so that his knees are just barely in between Frankie's legs and he rubs his face across his husband's crotch, nosing the bulge. He loves the way he smells. He knows he's sensitive still, so he's gentle. "Show me." 

Frank watches Brock as he carefully unbuttons his jeans slowly before pulling painfully slow on the zipper tab. He knows exactly how much Brock loves when he comes in his undies and anything to tease is good measured fun. "What do you wanna see?" His voice playful, "My dove tattoos?" He lifts the hem of his shirt and reveals a little of the ink on his skin.

A small whimper escapes and Brock nudges his zipper. "No. More." 

"Oh, this?" Frank says softly as he pulls the zipper down and pushes his jeans down for Brock. He smiles softly at his husband, a hand pushes through his sweaty hair.

He groans. The smell of Frank's cum reaches his nose and makes his mouth water. He runs his tongue over the wet spot. Fuck, he loves this. "God, I love you. I love this. Gonna get you a thong and make you cum in it while riding me. Fuck it'd be so hot to watch you cum and soak the fabric." He moans at his own words and the mental image it provides. He sucks harder on the underwear, loving the taste and feeling himself harden further.

"Jockstrap underwear." Frank moans softly. Brock's mouth against his sensitive dick makes his knees soften just for a moment as he tries to himself upright. His head fills with an idea but he's not sure how to express it. Instead, a groan comes out.

"Sure," Brock groans softly. His hands come up and slowly begins to pull down his underwear. His tongue darts out and licks across the inside of the fabric, moaning at the taste. He moves to his husband's dick and he lightly sucks and licks against the soft skin of his hip and base.

Frank lets out a small sigh that's followed by a moan. Brock's attention to detail would mean he would be hard again in no time, "I love you and your lips. Mouth is fuck–." He bites down on his lip as his hips naturally move towards Brock.

"Love the way you fucking taste baby," Brock murmurs. He blows against his cock before taking him into his mouth and gently sucking him clean.

A soft whimper comes from Frank. The warmth and wetness of Brock's mouth felt amazing. His hands rest on Brock's shoulders as he closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Brock working. 

Brock pulls away just enough to breathe huskily, "I love you. 'm so tempted to just eat you up, suck you dry just like this. You want that? Or do you want me to fill you up?" 

Frank whines a little. He doesn't want to have to choose. "What do _you_ want to do?" He holds back the invasive thought that turned into a comment which would have either flopped hard or not.

"Everything to make you feel so fucking good. We could try something new? Or you can ride me right here and we christen this new couch." 

"Something new?" Frank questions, the idea of breaking in their new couch was appealing too, "Do you have ideas for this new thing?" 

"Hmm. I'm sure I can come up with something from the dungeon box," Brock murmurs against his skin.

"Oh... the infamous box," Frank says softly as his fingers brush Brock's hair back. He went looking for this box and then chickened out once he found it. Its contents were still a mystery to him.

"Mmhmm. Maybe tomorrow?" He chuckles softly.

"Let's break this couch in properly," Frank says with a smile. He's just gonna have to nut up and snoop in the box, "I want you inside of me." 

Pulling back, Brock pulls off his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch. He returns to Frank, hands slip up his boy's shirt and begins to kiss up his body, making his way to his nipples. He latches on and sucks hard while his fingers toy with the other, twisting harshly before rubbing gently. 

Biting his lip, Frank holds back the soft sound that fights its way out. He watches Brock for a moment then closes his eyes to enjoy. He wants it all but knows he has to wait. His knees shimmy slightly to drop his jeans and underwear further down his legs. 

Brock helps him take off his shirt, lips following the fabric up. He nips all along Frank's collarbone before latching onto Scorpio and sucking hard. His hands roam and graze his nails over soft flesh before returning to playing with his nipples. His tongue laps at the newly formed hickey at Scorpio's claws, soothing the tender skin. 

Frank's fingers slide down Brock's chest and stomach as the lips on his neck work on claiming him. The possessive act creates an electric sensation through his spine that rests in his hips. His cock hardens a little more with each touch and hot breath on his skin. 

Abruptly, Brock pulls away. He grabs Frank's hips and twists their bodies, shoving his love onto his knees on the couch and kneeling behind him. He spreads him open before diving in, licking over his hole. A moan rips out of him as he slips his tongue inside.

The sudden change of position and the unexpected feeling of Brock's tongue over his skin made him cry out. His fingers grip the back of the couch as his back arches, "Brock!"

The tip of his tongue dances inside Frank, trying to flick across his husband's prostate as best as he can from the angle. When he's satisfied, he retreats before using the flat side of his tongue to lick around the ring of muscle several times. Carefully he grazes teeth on his rim before spitting and shoving his tongue back in. He wants him sloppy and wet.

Frank cries out and drops his head to the cushion, "Oh my god Brock! Oh, fuck baby!" His thighs are shaking with pleasure as Brock’s teeth run over the sensitive skin.

Quickly starting a fast pace, he shoves his tongue hard into Frank, fucking him. He makes the muscle undulate against silky soft walls. One of his hands grips himself before stroking along, matching his rhythm.

Frank whines and pushes back against Brock. His whole body shakes at the pace being pushed into him. He repeats Brock's name over and over again as he pushes back.

A hard moan escapes Brock at the feeling of Frank fucking himself on his tongue. His hand is a rapid blur of movement as he chases his own high. He wants to come with Frank. Fingernails dig into pale hips, more than likely bruising but he doesn't care. Another moan escapes and he adjusts his stance.

"Oh fuck! 'm close! Shit!" Frank cries out. He's lost control of his hips as he bucks back into Brock, "Want you to come baby! Please!" 

Oh, he's going to cum alright, and very soon. Brock can tell with the way the knot of pleasure in his groin builds and builds. He hasn't masturbated like this in a very long time. He just barely has the presence of mind to not come on the couch, instead, aiming for the floor. Another few hard strokes with his hips bucking up into his hand and he comes with a muffled cry. 

The feeling and sound of Brock's cry is enough for Frank to lose it. His feet curl up as he comes, every muscle shakes and softens forcing him to pull away from Brock but his body doesn't move. The tight hold on him from Brock keeps him from collapsing. He knew that noise was Brock getting off, it's like a signature sound that Brock had come. Usually, it was when he was getting _actually_ fucked, "Oh fuck, baby." He moans out before burying his face in the pillow for a moment. 

Slowly, Brock pulls away. He carefully eases Frank down into the boneless puddle he knows his husband is inside. In a spur of the moment, as he pulls away, he bites Frank's right ass cheek before patting his thigh and sitting his back against the couch with a groan and a sigh. "Fuck." 

Frank hums in agreement as he positions himself to rest into his husband's side. He places a hand on Brock's thigh as he lets out a sigh, "That was amazing." His head rests on Brock's shoulder as he grins.

"That was. You were amazing," Brock pants out softly, trying to still his beating heart.

Frank uses his fingers and tilts Brock's head to face him. He kisses his lips gently and strokes his cheek, "I love you." 

"I love you too. You feeling okay?"

"Yes. I feel great. Jesus, your mouth is amazing." Frank sighs before kissing Brock again.

Brock hums softly before sighing, "We should get up. Clean up your mess before it stains the couch. And on the floor. And then bed. We can relax a bit before turning in for the night."

"I suppose that's a good idea." Frank smiles at Brock and kisses him once more. "I was gonna suggest a bath but we can do that in the morning. I think my legs have returned to a solid-state." 

"Bath in the morning sounds perfect." With a groan of tiredness, he rises to his feet and heads into the kitchen, grabbing a warm, wet, paper towel to clean up his sticky mess off the floor. Sometimes doing clean-up and aftercare was annoying. Usually when he was spent and tired, like now. Coming twice was getting to be a luxury for him. Getting old sucked, and not in a fun way.

Frank got a washcloth and cleaned the cushion carefully. He watched Brock thoughtfully, a little snicker sneaking out at the fact his beautiful, practically-carved-from-marble hubby was cleaning cum from the floor with his pants open and cock hanging out. He wonders what Brock is thinking about. A few his worries that all this sexy stuff is too much for him to handle right now since he's not been eating right.

"Maybe let's get an Ensure in you while we lay in bed and cuddle," Frank says carefully.

"Okay," he replies absently. "What do you think about watching TV in bed?"

"Oh, that sounds good to me. What flavor of drink do you want babe?" Frank asks as he approaches him.

"The chocolate wasn't so bad. Kind of like drinking chocolate milk." He doesn't really care about the flavor choices other than the strawberry is the least appealing sounding. Maybe he'll try vanilla in the morning if he doesn't throw up tonight.

Frank tucks him back into his underwear with a smile, "I told you it wasn't that bad. I'm glad you can keep them down." He takes the paper towels from Brock.

"Yeah. Me too. I don't like getting sick. So, thank you."

"I gotta get my baby back to normal." Frank says from the kitchen as he throws the paper towel in the trash, "Do you care if I have a sandwich?" 

"No. Why would I?" he asks with a head tilt.

"The smell? Just trying to be considerate." Frank says, thinking about the pre-break conversation.

"Oh. Um. I think it'll be okay. Only one way to find out," he offers with a little shrug.

Frank nods with a half-smile. He pulls out all the ingredients to make a sandwich. He pulls the drink for Brock and gives it a good shake. He knows his hubby needs the nutrients. He's anxious about having the doctor and Sam visit on the same day. It's going to wipe Brock out and render him useless. He frowns at the idea of it as he makes the PB&J. He takes a small bite as he picks Brock's drink up and two glasses of water then he heads for their bedroom. He's thankful for the napkin.

Once he enters, his love is sprawled across the bed naked like a tan starfish, "Comfortable, lover?" He chuckles as he crawls into the bed, "Drink. And drink." 

Sitting up, Brock takes both of the offered bottles and smiles at Frankie. "I was, yeah. Thanks for the water." 

"You're welcome. Gotta replenish." He says getting comfortable beside Brock.

"Very true. What do you want to watch?" He opens the water first, drinking a quarter of it before setting it aside. He grabs the remote and flips through the channels.

"I'm going for a run in the morning, did you wanna sleep in or...?" Frank trails off with a little smile.

"I can go with you. I suppose I should call Steve. Let him know I'm back home and we can start going back to the gym again." Brock settles the TV on the HGTV network and opens his little shake drink. It's not… bad. But he'd be perfectly fine without it. He knows he needs it– his body needs it. But he doesn't have the desire to consume anything. It makes Frank happy and that's more important than his preferences. Perhaps the nutrients will encourage his appetite again. If only he weren't terrified to eat. 

"Mmm, yes. You should, it always makes you feel normal." Frank says between bites, "You know… I know you're gonna grumble at me. But if you work out you're gonna have to drink double that."

He wrinkles his face at the prospect of drinking more of these not-quite-good tasting drinks. There's a weirdness to it. Still. Normal is good. Maybe if he continues to do normal, things will improve. He nods, "Okay." 

"Great!" Frank says cheerfully. After he finishes his sandwich, he snuggles down into the sheets and curls into Brock. It feels like he's got an anchor to this world again. He reaches behind him and pulls Tiger out and places it between them.

"Thank you," Brock whispers so softly, it's barely audible. He sips on his drink.

Frank nods, his fingers tracing the stripes on the tiger's head. His little jealous feelings were no longer there. He knows Brock needs the tiger, for now at least. As long as he still holds him a little at night, he won't complain. "Kitty needs a name, you know." 

His words pull Brock from watching two twin dudes renovate a family's house. He stares at Tiger. His constant companion while he was gone, though not so much as of late. A few days ago he wouldn't have been able to let go of Tiger, much less stand in a courthouse and get married. He likes to think he's making progress. "He does? I've just been thinking of him as simply Tiger."

"I mean tiger is basic but effective." Frank leans up and kisses him, "It was just a suggestion baby." 

"It just occurred to me that… I might be making some progress. I know you don't really like him. Well, like that I still need him," Brock says softly. 

"I don't mind him. He's important. He helped my baby when I couldn't." Frank replies softly, "How are you making progress? I'm proud of you."

He's silent for a moment before answering. "I… I can let him go, now. Before, I couldn't. Almost feels weird."

"Oh. I didn't even think about that." Frank scooted up the bed to be closer to his face to kiss him, "That's great! That is an improvement, for sure! I'm proud of you!!"

"Thank you." Brock smiles and kisses him back. He turns back to the TV. "Do you ever think the twins on here are cute?" 

"I mean, I guess. They really aren't my type though." Frank grins, "Which one do you think is cuter?

"Or is this a weird twin thing?" Frank teases.

"I like the smarts of… I don't remember which but the real estate one. Which is probably what's so attractive?"

"Drew." Frank says softly as his fingers draw circles into Brock's chest, "So because he's a realtor… he's hot?" 

"He's smart. Looks pretty dang dashing in his suits. Smart is sexy," Brock shrugs.

"Oh. So you like brains, huh?" Frank asks with a smile. He lets out a small yawn and stretches his legs, "I shoulda finished college. I think the decorations dude is cuter." 

"It's the same face so, I kinda feel like we both win," Brock giggles slightly.

"Oh we _always_ win, baby." Frank says softly, "How'd you get this?" His fingers tracing over a scar that is too close to Brock's heart for his liking.

"Got into a knife fight." 

"Baby? Is this?" Frank hesitates. He knows Brock's body _fairly_ well, this felt new, "New?"

"Yes." 

"What? When? Baby!" Frank pulls back.

"Like… a week ago? Maybe. It was three days after I went back home. I got into a fight. I won. And no, he's not dead."

"Brock." 

"As you can see, he tried to kill me."

"Baby, I feel really dumb for reasking but why did you get into a fight?" 

Brock withdraws just a little in his head. He focuses on Tiger when he speaks. "His name is Sebastiano Gotti. He is part of the Gambino Family, which is one of the Five. Pietro Gotti is his father and is the current Head. Sebastiano visited the Villa and my father. We disagreed on several things and got into an argument. I refused a business proposition several times and he attacked me in a poor attempt to make me do things his way. I won the fight but he left me with this. The only reason I didn't kill him is because of inter-family politics."

"Oh my god. Brock." Frank touches Brock's face, his eyes scan his face. His throat tightens as he struggles for the words.

After a moment of silence, Brock speaks softly, "Tiger saved me." He grabs the plush and shows Frank his back and matching front, lifting up a patch of orange fur to show the little white sewing thread where the knife went through the stuffing and into Brock's chest. Seeing it again brings back the memory of him barely clinging to life at a cafe, Tiger clutched to his heart, just before he was attacked. He remembers being barreled into, thrown to his back with Sebastiano's face filling his vision, blade in hand. On the curtails of that memory is another of him going home to his mother, bawling his eyes out and begging her to fix the one thing that gave him purpose to survive. Tiger was his link to Frankie, solid and tangible. A lifeboat in a storm. 

Frank folds over and hugs Brock, he squishes the tiger between them. "Oh my god! My baby!" He never wants Brock to leave his side ever again. He can't lose Brock.

"You do realize this is, well, rather normal for the business. Right? I mean it's not _normal_ but it's not something I blinked over."

"I still don't like it." 

"I'm sorry," he nuzzles his husband.

"I can't lose you. That's too close to your heart!"

"He tried to kill me. As a fighter myself, I have to applaud his skill," Brock adds quietly.

"I hope he bleeds out," Frank mutters and he buries his face into Brock.

"It's okay, _amore_. We're okay." 

Frank nods. He loves the tiger now. It saved his heart. Literally. 

"I haven't heard anything from him since I'm assuming he went back into his territory and told Pietro Gotti, I refused his offer. He's probably dead as a result." 

"Good." Frank grumbles, "I hope it was painful.

"What was the offer?" Frank wrinkles his forehead.

He hesitates. It's not something he's willing to share just yet with Frankie but he also doesn't want to keep secrets. "Doesn't matter. It's over. " 

"Oh...Ok," Frank says with hesitation but he drops the conversation. It's still in the back of his mind. What kind of a damn deal would cause someone to stab another person just because they rejected them. He's trusting Brock, "I guess I see why Tiger is important. And I kinda love him a little more." He lets Brock sit quietly before changing the subject back to the television, "They are gonna pick the second house and knock out the wall in the kitchen."

They cuddle closer and soon sleep takes them both away. Frank clings close to Brock, even when he's let go of him, he curls his body around Brock's and holds him. The idea that he could have lost his husband terrified him.

The alarm goes off at 8. He curls around his husband a little tighter and sighs, "Brock. Wake up. Alarm. " When he is ignored, he crawls over the top of Brock in an attempt to turn off the alarm. His arm extends up instead of turning the alarm off, it falls to the wood floor and the noise grows louder. Frank groans and crumples over Brock's body in defeat.

"I'm moving," Brock grumbles out, rolling over slightly.

"I sorry, I tried," Frank whines a little as he crawls off Brock.

"Is okay," he replies, reaching for the clock and nabbing the offending device. He shuts it off and puts it back on the nightstand. "I got it. Yay. Silence." 

Frank smiles sleepily, "Thank you, baby. We gotta get up." 

"Yeah…." He doesn't move right away, however. He lays there and fights either to stay asleep or to stay awake. He's not sure which just yet.

"I could be persuaded to stay in bed…" Frank whispers.

Brock turns his head and gives him a goofy, sleepy, grin, "Funny. I was just thinking that I might need persuading to get up."

"Oh what kinda persuasion would work? I can do sexy… food's not an appeal...there was a property that we looked at that I wanted to go see today." Frank bites his lip and drapes his leg over Brock as he rests on his chest. 

"Oh, that's a good idea. You might have to do that by yourself if you want it done today though. Doc and Sam are coming today." He absently strokes his fingers along Frank's shoulder and back, losing himself in thought.

"Shoot I forgot." Frank says with a nod, "What if we go pick up things for baby Way today…" 

Brock perks up. "Really?"

"Yeah… but." 

"But? But what? I like butts but not this but. What's in the but?" 

"But that means you have to get up..." Frank smirks, "I'd like your _cock_ in _my_ butt… but that's not the point.

"Isn't it though? Quite literally in fact." He gives a sleepy giggle.

"Usually… get up," Frank says with a smile, he pokes Brocks side.

"Make me," he challenges half-assed.

"Fine… But don't get mad." Frank says softly, His hand wraps around Brock's cock and strokes him. 

"Why would I get mad?" 

Frank places small kisses on his chest as he keeps stroking his cock. 

"Frankie baby? Why would I get mad?" Brock repeats, a hint of worry nagging at the back of his head. Is his husband going to work him up and leave him hanging?

"You wanna get up?" Frank purrs as he strokes a little harder and faster.

"Yes," he breathes out. "Maybe?" 

"You want me to keep going?" Frank whispers. He tightens his grip for a few upturns and loosens it again, "I wanna make you cum… with me." 

"Keep doing this and I will," Brock moans out softly.

Frank strokes him faster, he listens to Brock's breathing. Now, he's gotta do it now, "Come get me." 

Frank crawls out of the bed and heads for the door, "As you said, make me..." 

"It's a good thing we are going for a run because you'll need to run from me, you little shit," Brock grumbles, sliding out of the bed. 

Frank pulls his shorts, shirt, and sweatshirt. He slips into running shoes and books it down the hall and towards the door.

He tries to follow quickly but he can't get his clothes on and arm himself in seconds. Frank will have a head start. Dammit. He tries to hurry, throwing on a black compression shirt and his tac-pants. Quickly, as he laces up his boots, he arms himself. It's going to be a light day today. Oh well. Once he's dressed he power-walks to the kitchen and grabs himself water then hurries after his husband. 

Frank waits in the lobby. He can't get the stupid grin off his face. That was more effective than he expected. He stretches his legs and waits for the elevator.

The doors open and reveal Brock leaning against the safety bar in the elevator, arms crossed over his chest and one foot bent and resting against the wall behind him. The shirt seems to struggle to stretch over the bulk that is his arms but not nearly as bad as his tac-pants. They weren't meant to stretch as much as his compression shirt and the position he's in causes the fabric to press tightly against his thighs and ass. He can feel it digging into his groin but he pays it no mind as he stares down Frankie. He pushes off the wall and strides over to him.

Frank's first thought is, _'holy fuck he is hot and he's mine.'_ but immediately it's gone with the recent memory of his shenanigans. He pushes off the wall and books it for the door. He's just gotta be fast enough to get away, _at first._ He makes out on the street, his head tells him once he's caught that it won't be good.

Deciding to give his hubby a fighting chance, Brock strides through the lobby, keeping the same hard walking pace. Let Frank get a good distance; it won't matter much. It'll only prolong the inevitable.

Frank hears his feet hitting the pavement hard as he crosses the street, lucky to have made the crossing sign when he did. He turns slightly to see Brock. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, he can't read Brock's face. Instead of giving up, he turns and pushes himself a little faster. His speed and stamina have gotten better. 

Once Frank is across the street, Brock waits for a break in traffic before booking it, running full-on after Frank. He's gonna make his husband pay for his little stunt.

Frank slows a little to look back but sees Brock running at him. "Fuck!" Frank says before taking off again. He darts between trees and through the grass until he reaches the pavement again. _Should I get caught? Nah, not yet._ He grins.

The pathway is lined with benches making it hard to evade his pursuing husband. People move to the side as he pushes past them, the morning sun peeking through the trees. He glances back and sees Brock still coming. He's gained ground, Frank pushes himself harder. He takes a left and bolts around the corner and heads for the open area. One side is tall boulders and trees the other is fence-lined grass. His heart is drumming in his ears as he cuts between a couple. 

He shoots a look back and sees Brock. He's still hot on his tail and the look on his face sends a shiver up Frank's spine. The light sheen of sweat covering his body cools him as he keeps going. This pace was going to burn him out quickly. He takes a left then an immediate right into the trees. _This is how I find a dead body…_ His lungs are burning as he keeps going. 

Frank can see a clearing between. The trees and the upcoming clearing, a grassy area. It's close. So close, he can smell the fall air and sunshine. He shoots a look back and Brock's gone. He keeps going but looks back again. He slows at the exit of the trees. He turns to face inside of the woods, "Where. Is he?" Frank pants out. His hands rest on top of his head as he huffs.

He spins around and is confused further. "Did he give up?" Frank huffs again, "Pussy." He turns back to face the woods again. He can hear people nearby but nothing. As he inhales deep, something slams into his left side and takes him to the ground hard. Frank squeezes his eyes shut. His arms flail in the air as a wheeze comes out in place of a shout. The grass is not much cushion for his fall.

Brock lands on top of Frank, losing some of the air in his lungs from the force of their fall. He hangs on tight however and wiggles so he's blanketing his husband's body with his own. His hands grab at Frank's shirt, one slipping up under and going for a nipple. Chuckling deep, Brock leans down and whispers darkly in his husband's ear while his hips grind his hard-on into Frank, "Gotcha. Who's the pussy now?" 

Frank lets out an obscene moan as the air returns to his lungs. "Where did you come from?" Frank asks, gaining his composure. A fluttering excitement filling his chest as he takes in the dark look in Brock's eyes. How much trouble was he going to be in? He thinks with a devilish smile.

"Doesn't matter," Brock snarl, grinding into Frank again. His free hand that wasn't twisting his boy's nipple comes up and grabs a fistful of hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat. He growls low before going in and biting soft flesh, sucking hard. He's gonna– Pain suddenly erupts at his head.

"Get off of him!"

Brock finds himself seeing stars as he rolls off of Frank, eyes trying to blurrily focus on a blonde woman holding a handbag like a weapon. She looks pissed. 

The woman turns to Frank, urgency in her eyes, "Are you okay? Do you need 911? Run now if you don't. I can hold him off!"

"No cops! I'm fine! This is my husband!" Frank says touching Brock's head and pressing lips to his forehead, "We are horsing around. I swear!" 

"What the hell?!" Brock groans.

"Your husband? Are you sure? Blink twice if you are being held captive!" She brandishes her purse again.

"He really is my husband! I swear," Frank chuckles as he holds up his wedding band to her. "Please don't hit him again." 

"Yes please don't," Brock grumbles slightly, rolling into his side and sitting up. "What the hell do you have in there?! Bricks?!" 

"Good instinct, though." Frank chuckles, "He really is my husband. We were playing a game. I promise I am fine and this is wanted." 

With a suspicious look, the woman slowly lowers her purse. She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind an ear.

"Thank you though," Frank says with a smile. She had the right spirit but wrong execution this time. Frank turns his body towards Brock and kisses him tenderly. His hand moving between them just out of her view, his fingers trace his bulge.

"Wow. Okay. I am so sorry. Uh, would you like some ice or something? Buy you guys a coffee? I'm not a creep, I swear. Oh, I'm Carol. Carol Danvers"

An orange tabby bounds over to them before trotting and sitting next to Carol. She looks down as the cat rubs against her. "And this little guy is Goose." 

"Baby. Look at the kitty!" Frank whispers with a huge smile. He turns to her and grins before asking, "Is he _friendly?"_

Goose meows at him before pressing his head against Frank's leg, rubbing up against his body. He decides this human is cool so he hops up into his lap, purring and asking for pets.

"Hello, Goose. You are beautiful." Frank says softly to the cat as he pets him gently, "I would like you to know, sir, that though I have just met you. I love you." His eyes look at Brock and give him a little half-smile.

"Huh. He's usually not this receptive to strangers. He's only been like this to one other man. Means you guys are good people. Nice to meet you," Carol says. She extends her hand to them both.

"Nice to meet you, Frank I– Rumlow," Frank says shaking her hand with a smile.

"I–Rumlow? Kind of an odd name."

"We just got married yesterday. It's going to take some time to get used to. Brock Rumlow," he smiles as he offers his hand. "Nice to meet you as well though I do wish it were under less painful circumstances."

"Yeah, I'm only half sorry about that," Carol smirks.

"Is your head okay, baby?" Frank chuckles. He scritches behind the kitty's ear.

"Yeah. Smarts but I'll live." He reaches over to pet Goose, who has flopped in Frank's lap and has his eyes closed. "Hi, Goose." 

Goose flicks an ear and accepts more pets. He hasn't stopped purring. Instead, he scent marks Frank, nudging and rolling happily.

"We could have a kitty," Frank whispers to his hubby. He turns his head to face Carol, "As far as your offer, I think we are ok. You just knocked him silly… maybe it'll give me a headstart back home." 

_At least I can try… but I might get my ass in more trouble._

"You guys have a weird-ass relationship but that's cool." Carol shrugs. "Come on, Goose. Let's leave these dudes to their fake rape fantasy in the middle of the park." The cat doesn't move from his spot, he's too happy to move.

"It's not a rape fantasy." Frank says flatly, "We save that for _after_ 6 pm."

"Okay, so it's laser tag without the laser. Besides, I thought old guys are in bed by 4 pm," Carol smirks, glancing at Brock.

"7:30. After we watch Wheel of Fortune," Frank corrects her.

"Excuse me, I'm not old and I don't watch Wheel of Fortune," Brock protests. 

"After his back pills kick in and sorry, Jeopardy not Wheel of Fortune." Frank snickers.

"Probably drinks prune juice and applies Bengay every night," she snickers.

"Oh my god, there's two of them," Brock grumbles. He gets up, tired of sitting in the grass. The game is long forgotten and he's moved on.

"Furry friend, I think I am expected to stand up." Frank says softly to the cat before looking up at Carol, "Icyhot, not Bengay. Bengay smells bad." 

"Yeah but that's kinda like a requirement for old dudes such as yourselves. It's practically in the name. Being gay. Bengay. Same thing."

"Like a four outta ten there girl. Low hanging fruit." Frank tries to say with a straight face, "Besides he's not gay..." 

"Right. He just married you for the benefits. You're just a tax break," Carol grins sassily. 

"I mean, it is a perk but actually his husband is the gay one." He smiles sarcastically at him. So it was a stretch but she didn't need to know.

"Kinda sounds like those tee shirts that say 'I'm not gay but my boyfriend is'." Carol chuckles, "Reminds me of the other equally lame one, 'I'm with stupid'."

"Sir, why are you hanging around with a lady who is mean? Abusing elderly people and disrespecting dad jokes…" Frank asks Goose.

"I'm not old and I don't use Icyhot or Bengay, no thank you very much," Brock grumbles.

"It's 'cause I feed him. Fairly certain I'm replaceable in his little world. And relax, pops, I'm just yanking your chain."

"I think I need to feed him. He gets touchy if he's hungry. Or thirsty." Frank says scooping the kitty up like a baby and rising to his feet.

"Sounds like Goose." She reaches out and pets his ears. 

"I love ginger cats and black cats," Frank says quietly. He shoots a quick look to his husband and smiles, trying to telepathically say gimme.

"What about calicos? That's two out of the three colors you like," she laughs. "Goose came across this stray calico once while we were cutting through some back alleys down by the docks. It booked it before Goose could investigate. He's spoiled and likes meeting others."

"Much to my husband's disapproval, I happen to love all animals. So, you know. A calico cat is good with me." Frank says with a smile.

"I don't disapprove! I just think that we shouldn't be on the road so much before having a pet," Brock sighs.

Frank can tell Brock's fed up with everything, "Well Ms. Carol Danvers. It was nice to meet you. Thanks for _saving_ me? Here is your gorgeous and sweet kitty. I think I'm gonna take my husband home and feed him since our sexy game of tag was foiled." 

"Yeah, I am sorry about that," she grimaces, taking Goose into her arms. She sets him down and begins to back away. "It was nice meeting you guys too. Sorry about the head. Thing. You look better? Great! You look great. Still. Hopefully, it doesn't leave a bump."

Goose decides he isn't finished being loved on and wraps himself around Frank's legs, weaving in and out and rubbing. On a turn, he even makes a circle around Brock before returning to Frank. His purrs are louder than before.

"Nice meeting you too. It's cool about the bag of bricks. I'll live," Brock laughs and waves at her. 

She laughs, "It's not bricks. It's baseballs! Come on, Goose!"

Goose mrrps before darting after his girl. A little orange rocket zooming across the grass until he matches pace with her, tail held high.

Frank watches for a moment and makes sure the cat returns to his person before turning to his. He rubs his neck and looks up at his husband, "Do you wanna… head back?" 

"Might as well. Our bodies have cooled down from the run and the adrenaline is gone. I'm not complaining though; she was nice. Cute cat to boot."

Frank slips his hand into Brock's as he smiles up at him, "Goose was pretty damn cute. I'm ready for a hot bath with my favorite man, are you still interested?" 

He beams down at Frank, "A bath sounds great. We should get a jacuzzi in the new house. A big one for when the boys or ladies visit."

"Okay. Sounds good to me." Frank says with a happy smile. "Would you want a pool?" 

"Absolutely. We talked about it a bit before. I wanted one big enough for when the kids visit. And a waterfall feature."

"Fuck that's right we did. Cause you wanna be the cool uncle." Frank says softly, "Well the cooler uncle."

"Damn right. We're gonna be the best place for all the family functions. Except for Christmas." He squeezes Frankie's hand and smiles at him, "We're both gonna be cool uncles." 

"No, I'm gonna be the bad cool uncle. I'm gonna sugar 'em up and send them home. Buy them a puppy uncle. Get the first tattoo kinda uncle." Frank says with a playful smile, "I'm also going to be the 'threaten their first dates' uncle.

"Christmas we go home. Speaking of, I know we are doing Italy for Christmas, but maybe we could visit my family before we leave?" Frank asks softly. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't we?" Brock asks with a confused smile. Two family Christmases were hard but people have been doing it for centuries! 

"I just didn't know how it was gonna work, like before or after," Frank says with a shrug as they reach the crosswalk

"Fair. It's not like we've ever been married before," he grins. "We'll work it out."

"I know. We always do." Frank glances both ways, "What's your brother doing out this early?" He watches Jack walking up the sidewalk with a pink box in hand. His usual swagger is thrown off by his hip wound but he still looks like he means business.

"Dunno. Let's go find out," Brock says, steering them after Jack. It's easy to catch up to him. He calls out to get his attention.

Jack turns at the sound of his name, grinning wide once he realizes it's them. He stops and waits for them to approach before giving hugs. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey yourself. Whatcha up to?" asks Brock. He points at the pink box.

"Breakfast. Or a snack for later. I'm not sure which just yet. I decided to head to the bakery to get a bear claw but wound up with a danish instead. Gotta get my steps in somehow." He grins at the two of them, "Having fun on your morning run?"

"It was fun until Brock got beat by a lady with a purse." Frank snickers, "Danishes are better anyway. Maple bar is the way to go."

"You got your ass kicked by a purse? Do tell," Jack says with a shit-eating grin.

"We were running through the park and I tackled him. She thought I was assaulting him," Brock shrugs. "Felt like she had bricks in there. Made me see stars."

"She whomped him hard. My poor baby." Frank says softly, "She had a cute cat too." 

Jack cracks up at the mental image of Brock being beat up by a little old lady and a handbag. A cartoon version enters his head with the cat and he laughs more, carefully pressing a hand to his side. He must be needing food or caffeine if he's thinking in cartoons. Or maybe he needs a nap. "Oh my god, that's amazing. Freaking awesome. I'm telling this at the wedding reception."

"Don't forget the detail that she thought I was being held hostage too." Frank snickers, "But seriously, she had good intentions." 

"That's hilarious. I'll be sure to add that to the toast. Headed home?"

Brock nods, "Yeah. You?"

"Yep. Walk with me and tell me more of this hilarious story of Brock losing a fight with a bejeweled bag." 

As Frank opens his mouth to speak, a hard force yanks him back by the collar of his shirt. He yelps as he hits the concrete and gets a boot to his side. Frank's panicked eyes lock onto familiar ones behind a black balaclava, "Stay down faggot." A modulated voice hisses at him.

"Frankie!" Brock shouts, turning and rushing the asshole who dared to attack his husband. 

The attacker throws a right fist into Frank's jaw for good measure before turning on Brock. His body rigid as he throws a punch at the older man. He loses his composure and just punches, half the time landing on his target.

Jack appears in the opening of the alleyway and hurls his pink box at the idiot, smirking when it hits him in the head. He grabs a butterfly knife from his pocket, flipping it open and spinning it. He shouts, "Next time I throw something, it's going to be sharp and pointy."

"Stay out of this!" The attacker hisses, "You gonna fight back Rumlow, or are you too sensitive to be a man?" He throws another punch and hits Brock's jaw weakly. His eyes dart to Frank who is no longer on the ground. He turns slightly and gets a piece of wood cracked into his head. It knocks him to the side a little but he's still upright. His eyes focus on Frank who's holding the wood. The man charges Frank and knocks him back. The piece of wood clatters to the ground. A fist smashes into Frank's face.

Brock scrambles to get up and grabs at the attacker, head spinning a little from the second head wallop so soon after the first. His fingers clutch around cotton fabric and yank him back, making the guy stumble a little. He throws a hard punch to his face before his left delivers an uppercut to his jaw. 

"Come on, Frank. Get up! You can do it!" Jack shouts.

Frank rises to his feet. He can taste iron in his mouth as he looks around for the wood weapon. He grabs the piece of wood again and swings it at the attacker’s head. The sound of a hard hollow thump makes his own teeth hurt. He watches as the man falls. "Brock, you ok?" Frank asks with a shaky voice.

"Yeah, baby. You?" Brock goes over to him and peppers kisses across his face, holding him tight and making sure his love isn't too hurt.

"I think so. Your head." Frank says softly. His eyes focused on Brock. He doesn't see the attacker get to his feet. 

"Nothing several Tylenol and ice packs won't take care of," he replies.

"Brock!" Jack shouts.

The attacker grabs for Brock and tries to hit him. He elbows the guy and twists in his grasp, throwing the attacker towards the wall. He needs to finish this. He pulls a gun. He's tired and doesn't want to draw this out. "Leave us alone or pay with your life." 

"Sounds like you. Violent and crazed, captain." The attacker hisses. Even the modulation can't hide the tired tone of his voice.

Out of nowhere, an orange blur drops down on top of the assailant's head, hissing and yowling. It jumps off, landing on the pavement just moments before a baseball barrels into the man's stomach. Another hits his chest seconds later.

Frank stumbles to the side a little, his eyes lock on the little orange cat then the baseball that rolls towards him. He looks to the mouth of the alley and sees a little blonde figure standing next to Jack, "Goose? Carol?!" 

The attacker stumbles back and into a dumpster, "Who's wondercunt?!" He shouts before putting his hands up. He was outnumbered. He knew gimpy couldn't help but this bitch was the one who tipped the scales out of his favor. He needs to get away. Now. Before Rumlow gets smart and pulls the mask off.

"Baby," Frank says softly. He wipes his face, his runny nose irritating him only to pull back blood. The pain in his face now realized and throbbing. He thinks about the night before and Brock's revelation of being stabbed just before fear sets in. 

Goose hisses at the man, fur on end and body tight, ready to attack. It's a clear warning for him to leave. A growl escapes for good measure.

"Get the fuck out of here." Frank snaps. 

"This isn't over Rumlow." The attack snaps before bolting down the alley in the opposite direction of the group. He's got a plan forming in his head. He knows exactly what he needs to do next time. 

"The fuck? He knew us?" Jack spats as he makes his way over to them, "Dammit."

Brock turns to his husband, more interested in him than the attacker who knew them. He'll deal with their enemy later. After they are out of mixed company and wounds are treated. He briefly wonders if this was one of Gotti's men.

"You're bleeding, baby," Frank says softly. He reaches out for his husband. He feels the kitty brush against his leg and looks down, "Can you jump, kitty?" 

"I'm okay. Are you?" Brock asks softly.

Goose hunkers down, giving a little butt wiggle before launching himself up and into Frank's arms. He purrs and headbutts him.

"Hi, there good boy..." Frank says with a huge smile, "Thank you for helping my husband. You brave boy." 

"He acts more like a dog than a cat, but he's pretty cool," Carol comments.

"Thanks for helping," Brock adds, speaking to Carol.

Jack crosses his arms and gives his brother a look. "Hey, I helped too…."

"All you did was lose your breakfast," he snorts.

"Thank you for helping too, _Jack_ and Carol." Frank adds as he scritches the kitty, "I don't wanna get you bloody, little baby." 

Goose pushes up into Frank, uncaringly. He licks his face and continues to purr.

"Carol, huh? Nice to meet you, I'm Jack," he offers his hand to the blonde. "Nice ball throwing." 

"Carol. That's Goose." 

"She's the one who whomped your brother with her purse." Frank says softly as he touches Brock's face, "That’s two hits to the head and a split lip now." He scratches the kitty with his spare hand.

"And all before breakfast," Brock jokes. He's honestly not worried about himself. He can take a few punches and keep on trucking. Frank on the other hand was not as sturdy.

"Wait, you were the one who beat up my brother?" Jack laughs.

"Yep. Good thing I had baseballs after all, huh, Mr. Rumlow?" Carol smirks at Brock.

"We should invite them up." Frank says softly, "I'll make breakfast." 

"Isn't there some rule about going to strange men's houses?" Carol asks with a raised eyebrow and one hand on her hip.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you are able to fend for yourself. Plus you've got a badass kitty to protect you too." Frank says quietly, "I think he broke my nose." 

"Jesus," Brock breathes. "Let's go home."

"I'll be ok," Frank replies with a shrug. His nose aching as he puts on a brave face.

Carol enters the alley and fetches her baseballs. "If it's broken, you gotta set it back before it heals wrong."

"I feel like you have experience with this," Jack comments. 

"I've gotten into my fair share of scuffles before. Some drunken, some not. Most of them, my fault." She tucks the balls back into her handbag. She puts a hand on her hip. "So. Where is this really cool place you weirdos have? Since I don't think Goose is willing to give you up just yet and I still haven't had my coffee. Just remember: I've got balls and I'm not afraid to use them." She pats Brock on the shoulder before exiting the alley and stepping back onto the sidewalk.

"You do have some big balls, Carol." Frank smirks, "Come with us. I'll make you danishes, Jack." 

"With cream cheese?" He asks his brother, perking up. 

"The only way to have them besides cherry," Frank says with a little smile. He offers his husband his hand and lets him lead the way home. His nose might be broken, he can't breathe out of one side. 

The four of them enter the apartment building garage and head up to Brock's apartment without drawing too much attention to them. Frank unlocks the door and opens it for the group. 

"Welcome to our humble abode," Frank says to Carol and Goose. He sets the kitty on the ground but he doesn't leave Frank, instead, he makes figure eights around his ankles as he walks into the kitchen. He turns to Brock and nods, "Well be right back. Brock's gonna look at my nose in the bathroom.” Frank moves carefully with his new companion. He carefully sits on the sink and waits for Brock. Goose hops up on the sink and crawls into Frank's lap. 

"Why do you like me so much, keek?" Frank's hand runs down his back. 

Goose arches his back, tail, and butt high in the air. His purrs increase in volume. 

"I like to think it's because he's a pretty good judge of character," Brock says softly from the doorway of the bathroom. He moves to him and grabs a cloth, wetting it under warm water. He carefully wipes Frank's face of the blood. "I need to set your nose. It's going to hurt."

"I kinda figured it would hurt. Never broken my nose before so that is one for the books." Frank says softly looking up at his husband, "How's your head?" 

"It's getting better. Smarts but it'll be fine. Might ice it. Are you going to hold onto the kitty while I do this?" Brock raises his two pointer fingers and carefully checks over his nose.

"No the counter. I don't want to hurt him." Frank says with a hiss at the feeling of Brock touching his nose. He lets the kitty sit on his lap but holds the counter tight. Goose's purrs reach peak volume and intensity. His claws gently knead at Frank's pants.

"On three, okay?" 

"Okay," Frank says as he pushes air from his lungs.

"One. Two. Three." Brock quickly snaps Frank's nose back into place before grabbing the cloth for him and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Fuck!" Frank shouts as pain runs through his face. His fingers releasing the counter and holding on to Brock. He can feel the kitty purrs vibrating his chest. Tears run down his cheeks, "That hurt." 

The unexpectedness of the words cause Brock to cough a laugh in surprise. He holds him tighter and gently strokes his back with one hand while the other rewets the cloth. He offers it to him, "Yeah but you did so well. Here. You're going to be tender and sore so be careful cleaning."

"Okay. Do I need a splint? Or tape?" Frank asks softly. All he can smell is iron which makes him frown.

"No. These kinds of things heal on their own. Don't blow your nose for the next several days. You'll have some nasty bruising for a few weeks but you'll be okay."

"Okay. We should clean your face up too." Frank says gently. He lifts Brock's chin and kisses him.

"I'll wash this mess of mine. You need to get ice on your nose and take Tylenol. Maybe instead of cooking, Jack orders something." Brock tosses the bloody rag into the hamper before getting a clean one. He wets it and begins to clean his own face.

"I can still make him danishes. They are easy. Maybe I can get Carol to help me." Frank replies, taking the washcloth from Brock's hand and wiping under his chin, "You scraped your chin and I think you're gonna bruise too." 

"Did I say thank you for defending me?" Frank whispers with a smile that started bigger but quickly softens. Too big and a sting of pain runs through his face. He pulls the rag back and carefully kisses Brock. 

"Anything for my husband," Brock whispers, gently kissing him. 

A soft meow chimes from Frank's lap at the lack of attention. 

Frank gives Brock a little smile before scratching the kitty behind his collar. "And we appreciate you too, sir." Frank kisses his lips again, "Can I ask you a question and will you tell me the truth no matter what?"

"Of course."

Goose hops off of Frank and onto the floor, trotting out of the bathroom and making his way back to his girl.

"Do you think it was _business-related_?" Frank asks as he touches his husband's cheek. He feels like he knows that answer. What else would it be… it's just the man's eyes were _familiar._ He's making it up.

Brock frowns in thought. "I'm not sure but it sure did seem that way. He knew our name and it sounded very personal. The most recent issue I've had with somebody is _business-related_. I'll have to have it looked into."

"Okay. There was something familiar about it." Frank says in a whisper. He rests his head on Brock's chest, "I'm sorry, baby." 

"We should change, we have guests." Frank sighs, "I really wanted to take a hot steamy bath and finish what I started."

"Then you shouldn't have offered to have them come back here," Brock teases gently. He helps him off the counter. Moving to their closet, he pulls out clean clothing, handing Frank his. Once dressed, he presses a soft kiss to Frank's forehead. "Let's get you some ice and painkillers in you. We need to stop getting hurt. All three of us in the last month. Mom is going to kill us. At least Doctor Choi can look us over later."

"Choi is coming for you, baby. Not me." Frank snorts, "And mom doesn't have to know."

"He's still a doctor and will probably want to assess injuries. I might have Jack stay for a check-up too."

"Well, I support that idea." Frank says with a small smile, "I'll let him look at me. Won't hurt anything. You ready?" 

"Yep. Are you?"

"Yeah. One more thing…" Frank grins.

Brock tilts his head, "What, baby?"

"I love you more than anything." Frank says wrapping his arms around Brock's neck, "I'm also still feeling mischievous." 

"We get our asses kicked and you're feeling horny?" Brock laughs, "I love you."

"What can I say… I'm insatiable?"

"You are," He quickly pecks him on the lips, "but it's also one of the reasons I love you. Got that teenage libido."

"Mmmhmmm. I gotta keep you young." Frank says softly before kissing his lips. He pulls away and heads out of the bedroom, taking Brock with him. 

"Oh look, the two lovebirds have decided to join us," Carol smirks with a grin. She's leaning sideways on the back of the couch, chin in hand and Goose in her lap.

Jack turns from facing her to look behind him. "You guys alright?" 

"Yeah, Jack." Frank says tenderly, "Brock set my nose then we cleaned up. How are _you two_? We were thinking of ordering food cause Brock wants me to ice my face. I'll still make your danishes. But I need help."

"It's okay. I can always have a danish tomorrow on my walk. After the exciting events of the morning before coffee, I'm perfectly happy to have something delivered. Or I can cook since at this point, I'm the least injured out of the three of us," Jack says.

"Speaking of which, Jack, Doctor Choi is coming by after lunch. You should get looked at too," Brock comments.

"I'm gonna be that annoying little brother and say you are gonna get looked at," Frank says taking a gel ice pack from the fridge. He stupidly touches it to his face and hisses. 

"Yeah, alright," Jack nods his agreement. Pick your battles.

"Did you want to cook or we can order from the diner around the corner?" Frank asks Carol and Jack.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Carol says, rising to her feet. "I'm going to head out. It's been nice meeting you guys and I'm happy to have helped but I should head back home."

"Maybe Jack should escort you home, just in case..." Frank says.

She chuckles, "No offense but I think I've got handled over Mr. Limpy over there. I got my balls and Goose. I'm square. Anybody messing with me will get their asses kicked."

Frank frowns and sighs, "You sure? I know you are such a dainty lady and all. Maybe we can get you a cab? I can give you a ride in Stella." 

"Dainty? I've got like 50lbs on you and a whole head taller. And have you seen Goose? Fighter cat. I'm good."

"You're like inches taller than me ma'am." Frank snorts, "Fine. Sure you don't want a ride." 

"I'm good. Later, dudes." Carol gives an awkward wave to them before seeing herself out of the apartment.

"She's cute," Frank says looking at Jack.

Jack hums noncommittally before getting up and fluttering around the kitchen to make something for breakfast.

"Can you get Brock two shakes please?" Frank says, before disappearing into the bedroom. He reappears with the bloody clothes and peroxide. He disappears again into the laundry room.

"Frank? You okay?" Brock calls after him.

"What?" Frank calls from the laundry room.

"Leave him be. Vanilla or Chocolate?" Jack asks, his head buried in the refrigerator.

"Both. I'll give it a shot. Maybe… something small too." It's a risk. And a big one. But maybe he can mask it with the shake stuff and trick his stomach.

Frank returns. He pulls water from the fridge and sits at the table. He doesn't say a word but hearing Brock willing to try food made him feel a little better, "So, I like Carol even more." 

"Why?" Jack asks, handing Brock a chocolate shake to start.

"She is cute, resourceful, and kind of a badass." Frank shrugs.

"Frankie's not wrong," Brock adds, shaking the bottle.

"Okay, but he said _more_. Like what was the new bit that's different from the _before_?"

"Oh, I think I know that," Brock snorts, "It's because she walloped me. Amiright?" 

"No. I liked her cat first." Frank frowns, "Why would I want you hurt?"

Brock cracks open the bottle and takes a sip. "Because it was funny." 

"No. Funny was her thinking you were holding me hostage," Frank says rising and joining Brock. He slips his arm around his waist.

"This is true," he nods.

~~

The apartment door slams shut and sends pieces of plaster clattering to the floor. Alan rips off his bloodied mask and unzips his hoodie. He grabs the open beer on the counter and chugs its content before throwing the bottle against the wall.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" he screams before hitting the wall. 

He throws himself onto his couch. He's got to get himself together. He can't go after Rumlow straight on. He's gotta find another way to hit him where it hurts. He can't get to Frank. It will be harder than hell to get him… he sits up and pulls his phone out.

"Ivan. It's Alan." He says with a smile, "We need to talk."


	29. The Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan exacts his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! We hope that you guys are enjoying the New Year so far!
> 
> Poor Ray is all I got to say.

"Ray. Come on. I have to pee and my feet hurt." Christa whines as she stands next to the car. 

"I just think that we need another car seat," Ray says with a sigh. 

"We have one in each car. Brock has one. We have Frank's too… I think that we are fine," Christa says with a sigh.

Ray stands at the front of the car and puts his hand on his hip, "I just want to be ready for the baby."

"You're panicking because the baby will be here soon," Christa says with a smile.

"Maybe. But will we have enough clothes and diapers?" Ray asks.

A black panel van screeches to a halt behind Ray. The doors open and three men pop out. The electrical crackle fills Ray's ears as pain shoots down his back. His vision goes back as he hears Christa's screams.

Christa tries to rush to Ray's side but she is restrained by two men. "Let me go!" She tries to yank free but they grip her tighter and yank her to the van. She screams to be let go of and then for help. The men throw her inside the van where another man rips her arms behind her back and slaps cuffs on her wrists then a piece of tape over her mouth.

"Shut up, bitch." The man says before slapping her across the face.

One of the goons clamors up to the front of the van and floors it out of the parking lot, driving hard and fast. Tires screech on the concrete as he careens around a corner and merges into traffic, sending the van's occupants sliding to one side.

Christa squirms and cries behind the tape. Tears soaking her cheeks as she struggles. What's happening? Oh my god, Ray! The baby has stopped moving… oh god! She stares at the masked faces and tries to make out some recognition but nothing sticks. One of the men shoves a cloth in her face and forces her to smell a rag. It is sweet but it quickly turns acidic, like chlorine in a pool. Her head is fuzzy and it makes her eyes watery.

The last thing she sees is a blurry shape looking over her before a bright white light blanks out everything. Darkness rushes to meet her.

~~

Ray wakes with bright white lights overhead. His brain is screaming in pain as he tries to focus. He can hear his mother's voice and tries to sit up but the pain in his neck keeps him flat.

" _Momma... Where's Chris?"_ Ray asks in Portuguese.

_"We can't find her! My poor baby! Your face!"_ His mother cries as she drapes herself over his body. Ray's dad hugs his wife tight.

"I need my phone," Ray grumbles with a handout. The phone is placed in it by his dad. He fumbles with it for a moment before he opens it and presses number 3. Brock's sleeping face with coins all over it fills the screen. He puts the phone to his ear. 

"Hi, Sunshine!" Brock's voice was cheery and happy to hear his brother's special ringtone. 

"Brock… someone took Chris," Ray says panicking. The tears are rolling down his face.

"I'll be there in ten," Brock growls out into the phone. 

"Clara Maass Medical Center," Ray says with a sniffle. 

"Maybe fifteen," he amends. "I love you." The line clicks off.

Ray rests his head on the pillow and lets a sob burst from his chest.

~~

Frank looks at Brock confused. "Baby what's wrong?" 

"We need to leave. Now. Grab our things and pack the car. I need weapons. All of them. Christa's been kidnapped. We need to get to the hospital fast." Brock's already striding to his office.

"What?!" Frank says following him, "Do you… want me to get Jack?"

"Yes," Brock calls from the office. "Have him meet us at the car." 

"Yes sir," Frank says picking his phone up and dialing Jack. Frank pulls the big first aid bag from under the sink. He places it on the counter.

"Christa's been kidnapped. Get your shit. We are headed to the car in 2." Frank says the second Jack answers and before he can speak. 

"WILCO," Jack says before hanging up.

Frank pulls together his wallet and car keys. He steps into the door of the office, "Jack is ready. Meet you at the car." 

"Thank you," Brock says absently, loading his gear into two black bags. He's not sure what he's going to be going up against and he wants to be prepared for everything. A sniper rifle gets disassembled before he zips up the bag. He does one last check of his things before leaving.

Frank enters the garage and unlocks the trunk. He puts the bag into the car and looks up at the sound of the metal door clicking open, he moves around and opens the car. He turns the engine on and the heat on. "He'll be here in a moment, Jack. I assume he's driving or is it you?" 

"Knowing him, he'll be the one driving like a bat outta hell," Jack says, sliding into the back seat. 

Frank sits in the passenger seat, "He was talking to himself. That normal?" 

"He thinks out loud sometimes. Does that count?"

"Yeah. I think so. What are we walking into?" Frank says pulling the sunshade down and looking at the bruising that darkened across his nose and under his eyes.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Most kidnappings are random related."

"He's gonna go off the deep end if anything happens to the baby," Frank says softly.

"Yes, he will. And blame himself," Jack states.

Brock bursts through the door to the garage, carrying the two overly-bulging black duffle bags which he throws into the trunk. He slides into the driver's seat, thankful for the heat. Starting the car, he backs out and drives hard. "Seatbelts on."

"Way ahead of you," Jack replies. He knows how dangerous his brother can drive. He's extremely skilled and he trusts that they would be okay.

"Buckled and ready," Frank says closing the visor. His head rests on the seat as he watches the city fly by. They cross the river and head straight for Belleville. It seems to go like a blink of the eye when Brock skids into a parking spot. Frank follows behind Brock and Jack into the hospital. The elevator ride is silent, just like stalking the hall until they reach Ray’s room.

Ray looks up at the sound of feet entering his room. "Hey, guys," Ray says weakly. His eyes are red and puffy. He scans Brock's face, the deadly serious scowl is all he needs to know.

Brock stalks over and envelops Sunshine into a tight hug. "I'm _going_ to bring her back." 

"I'm coming with you." Ray squeezes him.

"No." Brock's voice is hard.

"She's my wife." 

"I will not lose my brother either. I don't know how dangerous this is."

"I don't think I'm going either, Ray." Frank offers.

"But that doesn't mean I'm staying behind, Ray," Bob says stepping into the room.

"Like hell anyone other than Jack is coming with me," Brock growls. 

Gerard closes the hospital door, "With the cache of weapons in Bob's trunk… he's an asset. Not a hindrance." 

Brock straightens up and frowns slightly at both Gerard and Rabbit. "And where did you get a cache of weapons, Rabbit?" 

"Do you want the truth? Or what will feel good?" Bob asks. He's dressed in black. He's close shaved and looks semi-professional.

"Truth." 

"The internet and dark web connection. Also gun shows. You're not the only one with a past, Rumlow." Bob winks with a smile.

"You're going to tell me everything, later," Brock says before turning back to Ray. "And you are going to tell me everything you remember." 

"We were baby shopping at a mall. A black van stopped and three or four guys got out. I get hit with something and my whole body is on fire. All I hear is Chris screaming." Ray says as an angry tear rolls his cheek, "I wake up here with my mom shouting hysterically in Portuguese. My dad was trying to calm her."

"Did they say any–" Brock is cut off by the sound of his phone chiming. Frowning, he pulls out the device. There are two text messages from an unknown number. He opens it up and turns furious at the photo of a bound and gagged Christa. Her eyes are closed and she appears to be unconscious. The second message is an address with a message beneath it.

_Come alone or the fat little bitch gets slaughtered_

"What is it?" Frank asks.

Instead of answering, he calls the unknown number, taking a risk. The message is a clear signal that whoever is doing this is after him. The attack on Frank, the kidnapping of Christa, Sunshine's injuries and if anything happened to Baby Floof… it was all because of him. It was his fault.

In a snap decision, he turns on his heels, listening to the sound of the ringing, and enters the hall. He's going to figure out how to fix this. And kill anyone who hurt his family.

"Hello, Rumlow!" Alan says through the voice modulator.

"Who the fuck are you?" He growls into the phone. 

"You'll find out soon enough. Bring along your girlfriends and we can have some fun."

"You told me to come alone. I'm already in the car and headed to you," he lies. Though, he does head towards the car. He's not bringing anyone now. He can't take the risk that another person wouldn't put Christa in danger.

"We both know that you're not coming alone. It's why your precious Frankie has the address too." Alan chuckles, "Can't send the captain in alone."

"Do you work for Gotti?" Brock asks, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "I already told him no." 

"I don't work for nobody. Not anymore. You made sure of that," Alan growls.

"It doesn't matter. Because when I find you, and I will find you, I'm going to make sure you never see tomorrow," he snarls low. He exits the hospital and into the garage, jogging lightly over to the car.

"I look forward to seeing you soon princess," Alan says before hanging up.

Brock pockets his phone and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space only to turn and see Jack and Rabbit running over to him. He sighs, knowing they won't let him leave without them. He unlocks the back seat and waits. Bob hesitates. 

"I'll follow. I have a rocket launcher. I can't leave that behind." Bob says frowning.

~~

"Go keep them off the ledge, Frank. Get my babies back." Ray says with a weary sigh, "You go. They come back."

Frank sighs and nods, "I'm gonna get yelled at." Frank books it out of the room.

He pushes himself through the stairs and outside. He sees the Lambo speeding off.

"Fuck." Frank throws his arms up and exhales. 

As he turns to walk into the building a familiar voice fills his ears. "You coming?" Bob slows down.

"Hell yes, I am." Frank says with a smile, "Do I get a gun?" 

"No. Your husband will kill me." 

"God. Rude." Frank chuckles.

~~

The Lamborghini screeches in front of the warehouse before Brock and Jack exit, both of them going for the weapons in the trunk. They begin to arm themselves.

A black Jeep slows behind them. Bob steps out with Frank quietly behind him. Bob gives him a small gun, "Do not tell him I gave this to you." He pushes a Kevlar vest into his arms, "Put that on. And when you shoot aim for the head." 

Frank nods with a smile. 

Bob loads himself up and waits at the front of his car. Frank stands beside him with a black vest on. Frank tucks the gun in his waistband. No need to advertise.

"How are we doing this?" Bob asks quietly.

"You two shouldn't even _be_ here," Brock growls softly. 

"Too bad," Bob says firmly. 

"This asshole wanted me to come alone. He threatened to kill her. By showing up, you've not only made my job harder but you've put Christa in jeopardy," Brock shouts at Bob and Frank. He returns to set up his sniper rifle.

"Yeah, and you'll go in guns blazing and get you and Jack hurt. Backup isn't a bad thing. Stubborn old man," Frank says firmly. He really doesn't belong there but now it's on pride.

"Contrary to what you think you know, I'm not some hot head out of basic. I'm not going to go in blind or stupid. And I don't need to increase my chances of not being able to walk out of here with Christa alive and well." He says flatly while putting a variety of weapons onto a utility belt, "I can't afford to watch anyone else's back."

"I'm not going in there. I'm here for her coming out per her husband."

"Great. I really don't want to put my new husband's life at risk. I wanted to enjoy the honeymoon first at least. Though, I wasn't wholly just speaking to you."

"I don't need you to worry about me. I will be fine. I have training." Bob says, "I just need to know where you want me inside. Frank can over the door. He's got something to keep himself safe."

"Can we focus… please?" Frank sighs.

"I don't want you inside at all," Brock snaps. He passes comms to Jack, who takes one and puts it in. 

"Then I'll go in." Frank says stubbornly, "Trained or not. Pick your struggle, Brock…"

"God fucking dammit!" Brock slams his hand down on the trunk, livid that Frank would pull this sort of bullshit. "I don't fucking care what you think is going to happen in there but whatever it is, it's wrong. You are staying the fuck out here where I know you are fucking safe and out of the line of fire. Robert. You had better follow orders. And you had better pray that this stunt doesn't cost _anyone_ their fucking lives. You stay the fuck out of sight. Am I clear?!"

"Copy that sir." Bob nods.

Frank tightens his jaw to keep from talking back. This isn't the time or place to do so. He's out of his depth here. He gives one nod, "Yessir." 

"Jack."

"On your left," Jack replies. "We can take the south side, scale the building; go in from the top. Rafters in old buildings like these are a good vantage point. They'll likely be holding her in the ground level."

"It's too open. If these are your bumbling average run of the mill idiots then sure, but if it's who I think it is, they'll be keeping her in the most secured point in the building. Either the center of everything or the basement," Brock points out.

"It's an old mill. They have offices above the ground floor. If it were me, I'd keep her there. Then if I needed to… well she'd get her wings." Frank says, pulling his phone out semi-disinterested.

Brock takes a moment to set aside his anger. He doesn't have time to pussyfoot around arguing with Robert and Frank. They're there and there's nothing he can do about it. Christa's life is at stake. "Jack, you and Robert go in from the top. Work your way down. Jack, I want you on point. Kill on sight. Make sure you have your silencers on. I'm going to walk in alone and appearing unarmed. He's here for me. I can buy you time. Robert, when you find her, you get her out of there, you leave. No questions, no staying behind. You and Frank need to take her back to the hospital, to Ray. She or the baby could be injured, and I want her as far away from the danger as possible."

Jack nods, adding suppressors to his guns. He pulls a bottle of pills and takes three before stowing everything he doesn't think he'll need away. He's ready.

"Yes sir." Bob nods.

Frank nods as well. He can feel the anger radiate from Brock. He already knows that this is going to be a fight for himself. He removes himself from the bumper. Taking the keys and heading for the driver's door. He fights the urge to touch Brock. He wants to kiss him and tell him to be safe but his brain tells him that's a bad idea. "Be safe. And kill 'em all," he says looking at Brock then Jack.

Brock grabs Frank by the arm and pulls him close, kissing him hard. They had so many things to work out but it was a problem for later. Now, he needed to make sure Frank still knew that he was loved. Everything else can wait until after the crisis. He pulls out of the kiss to whisper, "I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can." 

"I love you too. You better not have any new holes when you get back here." Frank's voice is quiet as his fingers curl slightly into Brock's shirt. He looks up at Brock with soft eyes that temporarily go cold, "If it's the motherfucker who stabbed you, you kill him…"

"I plan on it. I'm going to kill them all," replies Brock with a touch of darkness in his voice.

Frank pulls him down for one more kiss before he lets him go. 

Bob looks at Jack and motions with two fingers that he's ready to go. Jack nods in response and he begins to walk towards the building. He speaks to Brock through the commlink as a way of testing the connection, "You got stabbed? When was this?"

"Italy," Brock responds with a slight wince from the feedback of hearing his brother twice due to their proximity. 

"We are going to have a conversation when this is over," Jack intones. 

"We'll see," Brock replies.

Frank wrinkles his forehead as his head tilts to the side, "Huh?" 

"Comms are good. When you are in position, let me know," Brock replies to Jack by way of answering Frank.

"Copy that." 

Frank nods. He squeezes Brock's wrists before stepping back. 

"Please, stay here. You'll be the getaway driver for when Bob leaves with Christa. I need you safe." Brock sighs hard, stepping back. 

"I never was going in. I'm the wheels, I know. Stop worrying about me and get the girl. I love you. I'll be fine. I have a gun and a car, I'm good."

He can't help a slow blink. He deadpans, "You have a gun." 

"Yes. A .22? I think. It's small and black that's all I know." Frank says looking up at him with his best stone face but it looks more confusing, "I know where the safety is and how to pull the trigger." 

"Jesus," he breathes. He's trying not to stress over it. He can't afford to. It is what it is. He can't change it. This is what he went to Italy for. He takes another deep breath and nods. Mentally, he prays that Frank doesn't accidentally shoot himself or the others, or gets shot. He can do this. He can let it go. "Okay. Good. Keep the safety on unless someone is after you."

"We're in position," comes Jack's voice on the comm.

"I gotta go. They're ready to breach. Love you." Brock backs away and blows him a kiss before jogging to the front door of the warehouse.

"Love you too. Give 'em hell." He says softly before getting into the Jeep. He drops himself low in the seat and waits.

Brock slows to a walk the last few feet from the door. He pushes away thoughts of Frank. He needs to be solely focused on his team and getting Christa to safety. He speaks softly to Jack just as he pulls open the door, "Entering now. Wait for my signal."

"Copy."

The warehouse is dark and empty except for the rats and spiders that have made it their home. The air is musty with a hint of sawdust in the air. Brock can taste it every time he breathes. He steps into a patch of daylight streaming in and calls out, "Hello? I'm here." 

Alan steps from the shadows, "I see you. And heard you." He walks to the nearest beam of light, gun in hand, "You came alone. I'm surprised." 

"You said you'd kill her if I did. I'd like to keep her alive," Brock says rather casually. He keeps his empty hands visible to the masked gunman.

"I know you can't disconnect the cord long enough to get away from Franklin so I'm surprised," Alan says with a low chuckle.

"And how would you know that?"

"I know all about you. I've been watching and waiting ever since you got to New York." Alan replies with a hint of glee, "You sure you are as good as you claim to be?" 

"Want to find out?" Brock challenges. "Clearly you don't know everything about me." 

Alan pulls a gun and aims it at Brock, "Let's play this game. I know you. I've seen you."

Brock stares down at the barrel pointed at him, unflinchingly. He asks lightly, knowing Jack can hear him and the conversation. "Where is Christa?" 

"With the birds." Alan replies, "Have you figured it out yet, Rumlow?" 

"Well, I know you aren't Gotti. You're too tiny," he smirks. "You claim you don't work for him. I believe that. You don't have an Italian accent. Even with the stupid modulator. Your face is hidden so I'm guessing you're ugly or you think that by hiding yourself, I'm going to be scared of you."

Alan pulls the mask off and gives him a scowl, "More for dramatic effect than anything. So you really are dangerous, aren't you? Mafia-connected. Huh, never woulda guessed they let queers in the mob."

"Alan," Brock breathes in mild surprise. He recovers quickly. "I thought you would have died in prison."

"Shit," Jack says softly in Brock's ear. "How did he find out?"

"I know you tried to kill me but not hard enough." Alan chuckles, "My hate for you kept me alive. I made connections. I was surprised that you are notable in the underworld."

Alan pauses in thought, "The Nazi, the prince, and the beauty… I believe, is one thing I heard." 

"Don't believe everything you hear. There's always some schmuck who adds a bit of flair. So. You're alive. Now what? You planning on killing me, _traditore_?"

"No. I'm gonna hurt you real bad. Then my crew will grab your little boyfriend and I'm gonna make you watch as I kill him slowly." Alan grins as he pulls the hammer back on the gun, enjoying the click it makes.

Jack smacks Bob on the shoulder and nods for them to enter the building. They carefully cut through a broken window and enter the top floor. Alan said she was with the birds. 

"Frank isn't here. And I don't see a crew. It's just you and me, buddy. You really going to shoot me and leave it like that? Seems kinda… impersonal considering you jumped us in an alley."

"Oh. I'm gonna watch you bleed out you little bitch!" Alan snaps, "If that little blonde bitch wouldn't have intervened I'd have done worse."

"Yeah, no. See, I thought you were working for someone that I can't kill. I can kill you. I'm _going_ to kill you. I'm going to kill every single one of you," Brock growls. 

Alan lowers his gun slightly and pulls the trigger. 

"Fuck!" Brock screams and goes down to one knee.

He watches Brock's face twist in pain then looks down at his thigh, "Oh go on. Sorry." 

"You. Missed." Brock growls, pulling a gun from his back and shooting Alan in the stomach. He fires again in the shoulder, just because.

Alan screams out in pain doubling over in pain. His gun dropping to the ground and clattering. He lowers himself to his knees. "You motherfucker." 

~~

Christa sits taped to a chair, she's cried all the tears she could. Instead, she sits there shaking with anger. She can hear a familiar voice echoing outside the room. Is she saved? 

"I have to pee," Christa growls. 

"Hold it." One of the goons says casually.

The gunshot rings out and makes her flinch. "No," she whispers.

One of the goons opens the office door and steps out. 

"Boss? You good?" The goon calls out. There's a pulse of air before he drops hard to the ground, eyes unseeing and blood pooling.

Jack steps through the doorway, gun raised. The other goon turns and goes for Christa, in an attempt to use her as a hostage shield. He drops before he makes a full turn, collapsing where he stood. He turns to Bob, "Grab her. I'm going to sweep the floor." 

"On it." Bob moves past him silently. His feet get him to her in seconds. He pulls a pocket knife and cuts the tape away, "You ready, mama?" 

Tears roll down her cheeks, "Bob!" The second her arms are free she hugs him tight. "Where's Brock?" 

"Target acquired," Jack says.

"Handling the big boss." Bob says softly, "Let's go, sweetheart."

"I'm having contractions." She says looking at his face. 

"We are gonna get you to the hospital." Bob turns and looks at Jack. A figure appears out of the shadow. Bob raises his gun and pulls the trigger. He watches the figure collapse with a heavy thud, "Let's go, mama."

~~

Frank sits upright in the car at the sound of gunshots. "Brock!" His mind wanders to Jack and Bob. His friends are dead. Oh god! His husband. He doesn't want to be a widower. They didn't get to even start their life together.

~~

Brock ignores the fire burning in his upper thigh and walks over to Alan, stowing his gun away and trading it for a knife. He wants to utterly ruin this man. Take every ounce of his pent up rage and pour it out in blood. He falls to his knees, plunging the knife into Alan's chest.

Alan groans out. His eyes look past Brock and watch Christa waddling out, "You're everything I said...you were." 

He pauses to catch his breath but he can't, "I gonna– ruin your… boy. He's dead." 

"He's safe in the car. And my brother killed all of your men. You're nothing. You were always nothing."

"Not. All of them." Alan manages out. He can taste the blood now, "I think I'm dying..." 

"Yes. You are." Brock pulls back and grabs his wrist and breaks it. "But in the meantime. You are going to feel pain."

Alan screams out before huffing and spitting blood.

"That is for every time you hurt one of _my_ boys," Brock snarls.

Alan chuckles deliriously, "I really liked hurting your boy… watching him cry..." Alan gasps for air. Brock breaks his other wrist.

Alan spits blood in Brock's face, "Just kill me, coward." 

"No, because that would be too easy for you. I want you to suffer. I'm enjoying this. You don't deserve mercy." 

~~

Frank opens the car door but stops the second he hears the passenger door click. He pulls the gun and lowers it at the sound of Christa screaming.

"Damn it, Frank!" She shrieks and slaps his shoulder, "Drive! I'm _having_ the baby!" 

"Go! Now!" Bob opens the door behind him and slams it shut.

"Brock? Jack?" Frank asks with a shaking voice, he puts the Jeep in drive and takes off like he was told. Everything, everything in him screams to wait for Brock. 

"Jack's fine. Brock is fine. Keep going, now!" Bob hisses.

"Area secured. Target has been evac'd. Headed towards you," Jack radios Brock, pulling away from a window where he watched Frank drive Bob and Christa away. He heads down to the ground floor.

"Confirmed," Brock says through gritted teeth. He stands and pulls his gun again, pointing it at Alan. "Times up." 

"I'm feeling woozy." Alan jokes with a wet cough as he pushes out, "Watch your… back." 

"I'll live. _Requiesce in pace, puttana_ ," Brock says, firing the gun into Alan's brain.

Jack approaches and clasps Brock on the shoulder. They make their way out the door.

~~

Christa sits in the wheelchair seconds before Bob wheels her inside the building. Frank said he would rejoin them. He was going to drop the Jeep at the apartment then come back in the Cayenne. His head is swirling. He's terrified. Were the gunshots from Brock or going into him? He speeds back to the apartment and trades vehicles.

He hesitates for a moment as he hovers over Brock's contact. "Fuck it," he says pressing the green phone. He listens as it rings, "Pick up. Pick up. Don't be dead. Damn it..." 

"Tell me you are okay," Brock answers in lieu of a greeting.

"I should ask you the same thing, but I'm fine. Dropping the Jeep at the apartment, heading back to the hospital. Where are you?" Frank exhales.

"In route to the hospital. Is everyone alright?" 

"She's going into labor." Frank says softly as he merges on the freeway, "Is Jack ok?" 

"Fuck," he replies softly. "Yes, he's fine. What about you? And Bob?" 

"I'm fine. Bob's fine. Are you ok? I heard shots."

"I'm… I'll be fine, it's nothing serious. Alan managed to get one on me. The rest of the gunshots were me."

"Where?" Frank says taking a breath again. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Upper thigh. It's mostly a graze with the angle. Not nearly as badass as Jack's. Alan is dead, by the way. Most of the blood on me is his."

"How… how are you going to explain this at the hospital?" Frank says with a sniff. He shakes his head. Don't cry, not yet.

"With the truth. Partial, anyway." 

"Baby."

"If they haven't already, Sunshine's parents probably already alerted the cops to her kidnapping. For her to suddenly show up is both a good thing and bad. I'm changing clothes as we speak. I'll say the blood is my own."

"What's the story?" Frank asks.

"I still have all of my badges and ID from the service. I'm going to tell them the basic truth. My sister was kidnapped. I got her back. I got shot in the foray. They don't need to know the rest. With luck, they'll take it at face value and look the other way. Law enforcement of any degree tends to look after their own. It's a sort of unspoken code. They would keep the secret of any cop hunting down a kidnapper if a family member was taken. I'm going to bank and play on that."

"Ok. Brock, I love you." Frank says as he turns the wheel to the left. He can see the lights of the hospital.

"I love you too, _tesoro_. Don't say anything to anyone. You weren't there."

"I know nothing." 

"Good boy. I'll be there soon."

"Baby. One more thing..." Frank pauses.

"Yes?"

"Tell Jack he's getting bear claws and danishes." 

He laughs, "I will. Bye."

Frank parks and makes his way into the hospital. He wipes the tear away and takes a breath as the doors open to Ray's floor.

He pushes the room door open and stops in his tracks at the sight of a policewoman in the room. He gives her a small nod, "Hello." Frank says quietly as he takes a seat, "I brought you a change of clothes." He didn't. They were Brock's but who's gonna check?

"Thanks, bud." 

"Any word about Chris?" Frank asks, wrinkling his forehead.

"She showed up outside an hour ago. These motherfuckers won't let me see her," Ray grumbles at the cop.

"I can go?" Frank offers.

"Sir, once she's stable we can bring you to her." The police officer says with a sigh. 

"Am I free to go or no?" Frank asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"No one is being detained, I'm just here for protection." She says with a sigh.

"Great. Want a coffee?" He asks her.

"No."

"Black. One maybe two sugars, I bet." Frank looks at Ray.

"You got it bud." Ray nods.

"You sure ma'am?" Frank says softly, "I don't mind. You're keeping my friend safe."

"I. Sure. Cream and no sugar." She smiles, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, ma'am." Frank nods before exiting the room. He takes a big breath in and heads for the coffee machine. He pulls his phone out and texts Brock to tell him about their visitor. He tucks his phone away and smiles at a pretty green-eyed nurse who passes him, he watches her walk by, noting the long legs and nice butt, "Have I turned into a butt man?" He asks himself out loud.

He wanders back to the room and enters. He hands the cop her coffee then Ray. "You don't happen to know James Iero?"

Her eyes widen slightly then return to normal, "Yes, I do."

"He's my brother." 

"Oh, tell him Aria says hello." 

Frank nods. The name Aria is familiar but his brain is so fried he drops it. He sits back and waits anxiously. Where the fuck is his husband?

Brock limps into the hospital, leaning heavily on Jack, sans weapons. He had his brother pull out the bullet and use a strip of fabric to staunch the blood flow. They easily make it past security and get a visitor's pass. They head up to Ray's room. It hurts like hell for him to walk but he manages to grin and bear it. He'll check himself in after he checks on his people. Jack knocks on the door before entering the room. Brock on his heels. It's a good thing he's wearing black pants.

Frank rises to his feet at the sight of Jack, "Jack! Brock!" 

Ray sits up quickly and remembers that fast movement makes him a touch dizzy.

"Jack, Brock! She's back! She's having Zach! They won't let me see her," Ray babbles cupping his head.

"Easy, brother, relax," Brock soothes, going to his bedside. He runs a hand over his head gently and touches their foreheads together. "I'm glad the both of you are safe. If you'd like, I can check in on her? Or send Jack or Frank?"

"We." Aria says softly, "We're told once she's stabilized she can have visitors." 

"I just want to see her," Ray sighs.

Frank stares at Brock's legs. He catches notice of a drop of blood on the white tile. He scans up Brock, he's hurt bad, "Brock." 

"In a minute," he replies slightly tensely. He knows exactly what Frank is saying. 

Frank sits back and crosses his arms. He doesn't like the tone but he lets it slide. You know being injured gives you a free pass on most things. He looks at Jack and tilts his head towards Brock. 

"How bad?" Ray asks Brock softly.

"Problem solved. Minimal damage," he whispers into his brother's hair before pulling away.

Ray nods. He frowns a little at the minimal damage.

"Brock," Frank says a little more urgently. The drops of his husband's blood increase and creates a small pool of blood.

"Okay." He turns to Sunshine, "I'm going to have to leave you now. I love you."

Jack moves over to Brock, eyes showing both surprise and irritation at the pool of blood next to his brother's leg. He wraps one arm around his waist and waits for Brock to move. He braces once he feels Brock's weight shift. He speaks to Ray, "I will be back to check on you, brother." 

"I'll get the door," Frank says, rushing to the handle and pulling it open.

"Oh my god!" Aria says seeing the trail following Brock. She moves to Ray's bed and presses a button for the nurses, "Nurses are coming, what that fuck?!" 

Frank gives Brock a frown, "Stubborn ass." 

"I needed to make sure my people were safe first," Brock grits out.

Nurses swarm around Brock and move Frank to the side as he mumbles, "Stubborn." He listens as they ask him multiple questions. He is put in a bed and wheeled to the elevator. Frank follows Jack and his husband. 

"You okay?" He asks him softly as they wait for the elevator door to open.

"Uh, that's debatable. But, yeah. I will be. It's not life-threatening," he replies.

"Thank you for keeping him alive." Frank looks up at Jack. 

"I did no such thing," Jack shakes his head. "I wasn't anywhere near him." 

"Well, I'm still giving you credit." Frank elbows his side, "How much blood do you think that shit head lost?" 

"It's barely a pint," Brock grumbles from his bed. He begins pulling his things out of his pockets and handing them off. "Here. Help me take off the shoes and pants. I'm not losing my shit because they took scissors to it." He glares at a nurse. The nurse with scissors looks up from his ankle. Frank takes his things. 

"Don't you dare," he growls at her. "I walked my ass up here, I can stand and strip. Don't touch my shit."

"Gimme your ring." Frank says softly, "Stay seated, Brock. I have pants for you." 

"Keep them until I'm discharged. Hospitals like people naked for whatever reason." He hands over his ring and painfully toes off his shoes, using the sheet to cover himself while he unbuttons his pants.

"Sir. Let me just cut them off. It will be easier." Nurse says with a frown."

"Touch me or my shit with those scissors and they will find themselves buried up your ass," he snarls. 

"No. He doesn't mean that, it's the pain talking." Frank laughs nervously as he puts Brock's ring on his middle finger. 

He braces himself and lifts his hips, grunting in pain but getting his pants down past his ass. He slumps back and breathes through the waves of fire in his leg. He breathlessly motions to Frank, "Like hell I don’t… pull the pants off." 

"Cut the underwear," Frank smirks as the nurse yanks his pants off and hands them to Jack.

"Yeah, that I can replace. And the shirt. Everything else, no."

The bed stops for a moment, Frank leans over and kisses his forehead, "Don't threaten hospital staff or I'll send mom down here." 

He chuckles, "You wouldn't cause it would backfire on you somehow. Besides, I'm sure they hear this shit every day. Sorry, ladies."

"Kiss me; they are gonna take you away." Frank says softly as the mechanical doors open, "Momma Linda doesn't scare me." 

"We need to get him back and checked out. He's gonna need surgery from the GSW." The scissor wielding nurse sighs.

"I love you. Stay with Jack. Rest, as much as you can. Eat. I'll see you when I wake," Brock quickly says before pulling Frank into a kiss. 

He kisses him back and steps back to avoid his toes being run over, "I love you, _polpetto_ ". He watches Brock disappear behind the doors. He turns to Jack and frowns, "You gonna tell momma Maria?"

"Probably," he answers low, brows furrowed slightly. He turns and begins making his way back to the others.

"I'll be up in a bit." Frank sighs, "I'm gonna find my mom." 

"I'm going to check in on Christa. Then return to Ray. Tell her hello for me."

"Oh, you'll see her. She will show up and slap the shit out of me." Frank chuckles, he's only half-joking.

"As long as she doesn't hate us too much," Jack chuckles softly.

"You got nothing to worry about." Frank smiles and pats Jack's arm. He turns and heads for the psych ward.

~~

Jack carefully makes his way down to the maternity ward and heads down a hallway as if he knows exactly where he is going. He reads the names on the door and until he finds the right one. He knocks soft but firm.

"Come in," Christa says, turning to face the door.

He opens the door and carefully slips inside after checking that nobody saw him. He doesn't want to get thrown out, yet.

"Hi, Jack." She sighs as she relaxes back.

"Hi," he replies gently, going to her bed. He frowns at her still-too-full stomach. 

"I know. All this build-up but no bang." She gives him a little smile, "It was false labor. Stress and dehydration." 

"But I get to spend the rest of my pregnancy in bed." She tries to keep her tone light, "How's Brock? Ray; is he ok? Bob is getting me cookies. He's not left my side until now." 

"I believe Ray has a concussion. I'm not entirely sure, we didn't stay long with him."

"Are you ok? Did you get hurt?" Christa asks him. 

"I am fine. No injuries. We got in and out rather quickly." 

"Good. Thank you for coming." She says with a smile before opening her arms to him for a hug.

He hugs her tightly. "For you, always. I'm glad you are safe. The nurse said you can't have any visitors and it's driving Ray insane."

The door clicks open and shut, "So I didn't know which kinda cookies to get so I got one of everything in the vending machine," Bob says, stepping closer and seeing Jack, "Hey Jack!"

"Hey, Bob," he grins at the redhead.

"You silly sweet man. Animal crackers always hit the spot." Christa grins, "I think the nurses are full of shit and I want my husband. And Brock. And Frankie." 

"They said you had to be stable before they will let anyone see you. I snuck up here. Perhaps if you make enough noise, they'll at least put your beds in the same room together," Jack offers.

"Oh, I knew I loved you for a reason." She grins before grabbing his chin and kisses his cheek. She presses the button for the nurses’ station, "I WANT my husband." 

Jack chuckles. "You keep that up every five or ten minutes and they'll eventually give in."

"Five or ten?" Chris grins. She presses the button, "I want my husband." 

He nods, a mischievous grin on his lips. He winks. "Be the squeaky wheel. Loud and annoying. It'll work."

"I can do that." Chris says, "Where's Brock?"

He hesitates before softly saying, "He's in surgery. It's nothing serious." 

"He's in _surgery_?!" Christa says blinking at Jack.

He nods.

"Oh my god, Jack why didn't you tell me sooner!" She hits his arm, "Where was he hurt? Shot?" 

"Because you were gonna hit me!" He gives her a mild glare, "In the thigh. He's going to be fine. Some surgery and physical therapy and he'll be okay."

She hits the button, "I want my husband and I want to be discharged. **Now**!" Her voice harder, "Don't give me bullshit. Do it or I walk out.

"Of course I'm gonna hit you! You didn't tell me! Is Frankie ok? Oh my god! Jack–" Christa stops moving and looks at him, her eyes well with tears.

"Frankie knows. Ray, doesn't. I think. Frank's fine. And, uh, I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Brock wouldn't want that. Neither would Ray."

"A smart choice. But still. Fuck. I don't like that, Jack. He got hurt because of me." Christa frowns. 

"No. You got kidnapped because of him," Jack counters lightly. "He got injured taking revenge."

"What?"

"This was personal. You were bait. He exacted revenge. Simple."

"He's gonna beat himself up over this," she sighs.

"And everything I just told you I'd exactly how he will view what happened," Jack comments. "What's done is done. Alan paid the price. He's not going to beat himself up because in the end, you are safe and he won. You beating yourself up will only hurt him."

"You must be the wiser brother." She says touching his face softly, "Want a cookie?"

"No thanks, love," he smiles. "I'm not wise, but it is my job to understand my brother wholly from the inside and out. And I'm very good at it."

Christa presses the button, "I want out! I want my husband!" 

"Your discharge papers are coming." The voice grumbles from the speaker.

"Squeaky wheel." Christa smiles.

"Atta girl," Jack grins and pats her hand before turning to Bob. "You doing alright?" 

"Hell yeah," Bob says lifting a cookie in his mouth.

"Cool. I'm going to head back downstairs and check in with Ray. Meet you guys soon?"

"Yup. Don't tell the hubs I'm coming." Christa says with a nod, "Thank you again, you're a pretty amazing brother."

"Will do. Thanks, Chrissy." He leans over and kisses her cheek softly before leaning down to speak to the baby. "You and Mommy are safe. Be nice to her for a while, alright? Uncle Brock is needing a good baby from you. He loves you very much. You're going to see your dad soon. Be good."

Christa touches Jack's hair and smiles. He was a good man. A noise in the hall alerts him and he turns from the bed, heading for the door, on full alert. After checking to see what the commotion was, he opens the door and steps into the hall. Ray is at the elevator and he makes his way over.

"Christa fucking Toro! I want to see my wife!" 

"Ray," Jack says, letting his voice carry. 

"Where is she?!" Ray says lowering his voice.

"With me, brother. Come," Jack offers his arm for support.

Ray takes his hand with a sigh, the IV port still in his hand. "I wanna see her." 

"She's fine. So is your son. Bob has been keeping her company." Jack carefully walks him down the hall and to her room. He opens the door and lets Ray enter first.

"Baby?" Ray asks, entering the room.

"Raymond? Were you shouting?" Christa's voice is soft.

"I wanted to see you." Ray shrugs as he goes to her side and hugs her tight.

"Jack was checking in on me." Christa says stroking his hair, "We're safe. Relax."

"Jack's the best brother. Him and Brock," Ray whispers.

"Jack is a good man." Christa says with a smile, "Maybe he can help with your IV." 

"Will you?" Ray turns to him, "I couldn't bring myself to pull it out." 

"I can do that." Jack steps over and smiles, taking Ray's hand and carefully and gently removing the IV. He puts a band-aid that he grabs from the desk stand over the tiny wound.

"Thank you, brother." Ray nods.

"You gonna tell him about Brock?" Christa asks Jack.

"What about him?"

"The reason why he left your room in such a hurry… is because he took a bullet while we were retrieving Christa," Jack says carefully.

"Yeah. He went toe to toe with Alan. Jack and I gathered her." Bob smiles between bites of cookies.

"A _what_? He got shot?! Where is he?" Ray asks.

"In surgery now."

"We need to be there," Ray says quietly. His face crumbles at the realization.

"We will find Frank. And then wait," Jack says, clapping Ray on the shoulder. 

The nurse comes in with discharge papers and a wheelchair. Ray helps her into her clothing then the chair. The four of them make their way down to the post-op waiting area. They take seats next to Frank who has been waiting for a little bit already. He looks up and offers a weary smile. The dog tags he always wears has Brock's ring on them now. 

An hour goes by but it feels like three. Frank gets up and paces. Gerard joins the group. He brings food and drinks for everyone but Frank turns it down. He is too worried to eat. Not long after Lindsey appears with Mikey. The whole group sits anxiously.

"What's taking so long?" Frank huffs and rises again, he hits the door with a fist. The pain sears up his arm as he starts pacing.

"Relax, Frank." Ray sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's okay. Maybe there is a little more going on. Just relax." Lindsey says gently.

"Fuck. God fucking dammit." Frank huffs and throws himself into the chair. He stares blankly at the television. The stupid HGTV brothers are trying to fix a Miami home that ends up going over budget and using driftwood for tables or something. He thought the house was ugly and would have been pissed if Brock decided on that for the house.

Another hour goes by, Frank makes laps around the waiting area. The hospital doors open and his heart stops. 

"Frankie? Any word?" Linda says with a worried smile.

"No. Still waiting, momma." Frank exhales.

"Come here. You look pale." Linda says hugging her baby.

"He hasn't eaten or drank anything all day." Christa rats him out.

"Jack. Have you eaten?" Linda asks.

"No ma'am. It's been a very busy morning." 

"Jack." 

"As I said. _Extremely_ busy. This morning was rather chaotic and things only escalated."

"I know. Sweetheart but you're supposed to be my backup here." Linda says, pulling her son to Jack, "When he's in recovery. We are going to the cafeteria and getting something. Ok?"

"Yes, momma." Frank huffs.

Linda looks at Jack.

"Gladly." He was both hungry and in pain and yet he can't leave his family while his brother is in surgery. Were he by himself, he won't have any qualms about leaving the waiting room and going to the cafeteria. It was senseless to hurt oneself when a loved one was in surgery. It helped no one.

"Good. I'm gonna go talk to the nurse and I'll be right back." Linda says with a nod, "Ice your hand. Your knuckles are swollen." 

Linda wanders towards the desk.

"They aren't that bad," Frank grumbles.

"Mind your mother, Frank," Jack says absently, returning to his seat.

"Spoken like a Rumlow," Frank grumbles again. 

Linda returns with a bag of ice and a nurse with her, "This is his husband and brother." 

"Hi, Mr. Rumlow. Yeah, Brock did very well in surgery. They removed fragments of the bullet as well as pieces of bone damaged from the bullet. He is on his way to recovery. He should be waking up shortly." 

"Oh thank fuck." Frank says as his legs soften a little.

"I'll come to get you in the next fifteen minutes. Long enough to get a sandwich and come back." The nurse smiles at Linda.

"Fine. Let's go. Thank you, ma'am," Frank grumbles and looks at Jack. He doesn't want to leave, what if he wakes up quicker? He wants to be there. He gives Jack a pleading look.

"Come on, Frank. You can help me walk." 

Frank offers his arm, "I am the right size for a Jack crutch, hop along..." 

"Just remember I can still kick your ass."

"I'd like to see that, old man." Frank pokes a little.

Linda pays for Jack and Frank to get food. No matter how much they protest. Once they have food in hand, they head back up. Frank eats what he can stomach. Jack eats all of his and Frank's remainder.

A few moments after returning the nurse comes and retrieves Jack and Frank. She leads them back to a smaller room. 

"He's ready to receive you now." 


	30. The Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of recovery is a hard and long road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of recovery from a major medical procedure. We've done everything we could to make it as accurate as possible. Which means some content may be sensitive to some readers.

Brock's bed is in the middle of the room. He's got a tan blanket over him, an IV bag attached to him. Frank grips Jack's hand. He looks so defenseless. Frank carefully approaches the bed and takes Brock's hand. 

Brock's eyelids squeeze and a soft groan escapes. He squeezes his hands, one fisting in the bedding. He's in pain. Another agony filled groan escapes and his eyes open slowly, squinting at the bright florescent lights above him.

"Hi, baby." Frank says softly, "We are at the hospital." 

Groaning, Brock turns to him. His leg is on fire. It takes two tries to be able to swallow around the cotton ball in his throat. "Hi." 

"Do you want some ice chips?" 

He nods, "Please." 

Frank grabs the cup, "Here you go. Jack's here too." He helps him get ice in his mouth.

Jack moves to the other side of the bed, taking his brother's hand and giving it a soft squeeze. "Hey, big brother. You're going to be okay. Nurses said you did so well in surgery. At this rate, you'll be walking down the aisle at your wedding next month in no time." He gives a soft chuckle and plants a gentle kiss on Brock's temple before touching their foreheads together.

He finishes crunching the ice and swallows several times before he's able to speak. "We. All know. Frank... Wears the dress." 

"Oh, you're cute, husband." Frank snorts, "Eat some more ice before I poke your owie."

"Please. Don't. Already on fire," Brock pants out.

"I won't baby. I'm only teasing. You need to press that blue button." Frank says, stroking Brock's arm. He knows Brock hates pain medicine but they will help. It will make him feel better, "They say you have to stay here overnight but I'll be right by your side."

"What blue button?" Brock asks through the haze of pain and sleepiness.

Jack reaches over and presses the button for him before pulling back and looking at Frank rather innocently. His brother won't push the button but he has no such qualms.

"Mom says she loves you. She's gonna come by later. On a break." Frank offers as he strokes Brock's arm. 

"Okay," he replies. There's a warm rush in his veins and it feels like a warm bucket of water being poured over him. He wonders if he just wet himself. He turns to Frankie, looking for… something.

"What honey?" Frank asks with a gentle smile. The relaxed expression makes him relax.

"Koala? Others? Safe?" 

"Oh, baby. I don't think _koala_ is a good idea. I brought _Tiger_ though, when you get your room I'll bring him in, okay? Frank strokes his husband's hand. 

"Okay." The words slowly filter through the haze and he nods. He's tired and warm and fuzzy.

"Has he taken morphine before?" Frank asks Jack.

"Hell no. I'm lucky to get him to take Tylenol." 

"Well, I'm in for an interesting night." Frank sighs, "How do you feel, love?"

His words are broken and his mouth dry. "Warm. Tired. Heavy. Where's Baby? Safe?"

"Still in the oven. He's going to have to wait until you can walk before meeting his best Uncle. He's safe. They are all safe. You did great." Jack runs a gentle hand through Brock's hair. 

"I don't wanna cook in the oven," Brock murmurs, half asleep. The words were a little too complex for him right now. 

"Pull the blanket off his feet," Frank says softly. He loosens his hold on Brock's hand. Moving to the end of the bed he pulls the hospital socks off, "That'll cool him down." 

"Thank you Jack for checking on Chris." 

"Of course. The others are going to want to see him. I will switch out with one of the others so that they may visit before returning home." Jack moves for the curtain and slips out for the waiting room. 

After the group filters through and visits him, the transport nurse sends him to his room. Frank parts and heads to his car. He grabs Brock's duffle and hurries back to the room. He finds his husband still sound asleep. Frank settles in a chair with a shitty blanket, he makes sure Tiger's right by his side when he wakes. 

He fights against falling asleep but loses the battle quickly.

It's a restless night, nurses coming in hourly and checking on him. The sound of the hospital paired with his worry over Brock causes him to stare at the television. He's not watching. He's not even aware when yellow light fills the room. 

"Frank..." Brock's faint sleep-filled voice is barely audible.

Frank turns his head to face Brock. He feels like he's dreaming, "Hey!" 

Brock lies there for a few moments, too fuzzy to really form thoughts, much less words. He wants…. Needs… something. He's not sure what though. "Drink?" 

"Yeah! Sure baby… you ok?" Frank replies, rising his feet and pulling a glass and filling it with water. He hands it to him with an exhausted soft smile.

"Fuzzy," he sighs. "Tired. Koala?" 

"I don't know if I can fit in your bed." Frank leans over and kisses his forehead. "You should drink water." 

"Okay." His arms feel like lead weights as he lifts the cup. He carefully takes a hesitant sip.

"Nurse said if you poop you go home." 

"Don't have to."

"Well, not yet silly." Frank says wiping his chin, "You know, I get to take care of you for at least a couple of days. My little hop along."

"Did you eat?"

"Mom made me eat a little." Frank says gently as he rests his head on Brock's chest, "You hungry?" 

He shakes his head. His only feelings right now are heavy tiredness and temperature fluctuations. And dry mouth. He sips the water again. He's uncomfortable. He aches. He's tired. He wants to go home. He wants to be healed.

"How's your pain level?" 

"Sev'n." 

"You should take another drink of water and kiss me," Frank says, quiet as he can. His fingers reach for the button.

"Okay." He takes a bigger sip of water, the coolness soothing his parched throat. He doesn't quite know what to do with the cup. Turning his head, he leans forward a little to kiss his husband.

"I love you so much, _polpetto,"_ Frank says taking the cup and putting it down. "Get some rest, then we can go home." 

"Love you _tesoro_ ," he whispers. He fists the bedding, trying to focus through the new warm flush. "Koala..." 

"Ok, yeah." Frank grins and yawns, he moves around the bed to the non-hurt side and carefully crawls in, "They are gonna kick me out of bed." 

A heavy hand slowly rises and places itself around Frank as best as he can with the tubes and wires in him. He doesn't care what anyone says. He needs koala and tiger time. Sleep pulls at him. It's a floating feeling of heaviness and warmth. He sighs before mumbling that he loves him and drifts off.

~~

Frank wakes hours later with the soft voice of his mom, "Frankie baby. We gotta get Brock awake."

"I don't wanna go to school." Frank groans. He rubs his itchy nose on his hard lumpy pillow.

"Well you're not going to school," Linda says with a snicker.

"Fuck! Did I hurt him?" Frank shoots up and looks at Brock. He touches his face and pulls the blankets away to check his wound. It looks the same. He touches Brock's face. He shakes him slightly, "Baby. Wake up." 

He groans and stirs. Eyes squeeze open and they immediately close again at the brightness. His conscience returns and in doing so brings the awareness of his body. Pain floods his nerves first and foremost with all other needs pushed to the back burner. He tenses and a soft whimper escapes.

"Baby, breathe." Frank whispers, he takes Brock's hand, "Squeeze my hand."

He's on fire and he can't escape it. A muscle moves in his thigh and he cries out, causing more fire to spread from his leg up to his back. He squeezes Frank's hand hard.

"You gotta relax, big guy. Getting upset only makes it worse." Frank says softer, "You wanna go home right?"

One hand squeezes Frank's hand tightly while the other claws at the bedding. He pushes his head back into the pillow and tears drip out of his eyes. The fire burns stronger, well beyond his tolerance. He cries out, "It hurts! Please make it stop!" 

"Hey. Hey. Brock baby! Look at me, please. I know it hurts honey." Frank hushed him softly. The pain from his hand being vice gripped by his husband was nothing, "Look at me, love." 

Chocolate colored, agony-filled eyes force their way to meet Frank's hazel ones. 

"Can you follow my breathing?" Frank says softly, "Nurse is coming with something for the pain but you gotta slow your panic down, okay?"

He tries. He really does. But it's hard to focus on something other than the fire burning across and inside his body. Continuous whimpers and whines escape. He tries to keep as still as possible. Maybe it will help keep the pain level back to ten or less.

Linda and a nurse return, "Outta the bed." The nurse grumbles as she pushes the button. 

"I want to take him home." Frank says firmly, "Our bed. A familiar surrounding." 

It takes a minute before the blessing of the warm flush washes over him and soothes the burning ache in his body. Brock finally relaxes and closes his eyes, feeling himself let go of Frank's hand.

"I want to go home," Frank says quietly. He slowly crawls from the bed, his body aches. 

"Honey. He should stay here a little longer," Linda puts her arm around Frank pulling him into a hug.

"Why's he in that much pain?" Frank asks.

"He has had surgery. He's going to hurt." The other nurse answers stiffly.

"I don't want him being cared for by her. I want another nurse." Frank clenches a fist. 

"Ok." Linda looks to the nurse and nods for the door, "Do you want him to go home?" 

"Yes."

Frank lets go of his mom and waits for her to do the same. He frowns and shakes his head. He wants to help Brock. He hates hospitals. 

"His injury… its severity is going to keep him here at least a week, baby. If not longer." Linda says with a weary sigh.

"I'm getting re-married to him in two months. I can't." Frank shakes his head.

"You might have to postpone the wedding."

Brock's soft snores fill the small room as he dreamlessly sleeps. 

"I called out from my shift. Go home and get some sleep. You can't help him if you are wiped out." Linda touches her exhausted and frightened son, "He's gonna sleep like this for hours. I'll stay with him until you or Jack return."

"I can't leave him. What if something happens? I'm a half-hour away." 

"Here's the keys to the house. Crash in your old room. I'll be here. Have Jack bring you clothes." Linda replies, pulling her keys out. 

"Fine. A few hours and a shower then I'm back here." Frank exhales. He is worried Brock will think he abandoned him, "Make sure his Tiger is right by his side." 

He pulls his phone out and pulls Jack's contact up. He starts a message.

_Frank: hey will you bring me a new change of clothes and deodorant from the apartment when you come back._

_Jack: Sure. Everything alright?_

_Frank: not really but everything is the same. Brock's out._

_Jack: It's gonna be okay. He's a tough cookie. We've been through worse. He's gonna sleep a lot so get some rest. And eat. And drink water._

_Frank: they said we might have to postpone the wedding. I'm not hungry and I will drink water when I get to my mom's house. I feel like a bad husband leaving._

_Jack: sometimes you have to eat not because you are hungry but because you know your body needs it and you can't take care of someone else while you are in need. Leaving isn't a bad thing. Brock would be happy that his love is taking care of himself by getting sleep and food while he's in the capable hands of doctors._

_Frank: Are you up cause of Capri time?_

_Jack: I'm up because I crashed earlier and napped hard. I'll probably eat something and sleep in a few hours._

_Frank: oh. Good. I'm glad you got sleep. You need it._

Frank shakes his head as he unlocks his car. He tries the handle but it doesn't open. He tries it again and still doesn't unlock. He looks again and realizes it's not his car.

_Frank: I think I sleep_

Frank gets into the right car and drives carefully to his mom's house. He doesn't make it to his room. Instead, he crashes on the couch. He sleeps for hours. The smell of food cooking fills his nostrils. He rises to his feet and stumbles into the kitchen. 

"Hey, Paco. Mom told me about Brock. Do I wanna know why he got shot?" Frank Sr. asks, as he approaches and pulls him into a hug.

"Former band manager." Frank hugs his dad back.

"Oh kiddo. You know he's gonna be ok. Everything is gonna be ok." 

"Then why do I feel like a bad husband...oh, uh, I married Brock two days ago. At the courthouse." Frank winces.

"Your mother told me." Frank Sr. sighs, "Just couldn't wait, huh?"

"No. I wanted to marry him the day we met." 

"It's how I felt about your mother. She was the most beautiful creature in the room." His dad says turning back to the stove, he pushes the eggs in a pan.

"Did it just _click_? When I locked eyes with him, it was like everything slowed and the world made a little more sense." Frank leans against the counter. 

"Something like that." 

"I love him, dad. But I felt like the worst person for leaving him." Frank sighs.

"He won't even know you were gone." His dad says pulling the plate and serving his son eggs and then himself.

"I know." 

"So eat. Shower and go check on your man." Frank Sr. comments before shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Frank nods. He does the same thing and finishes his plate. He wanders into the bathroom and showers. He dresses in his day-old clothing before hugging his dad. He heads back to the hospital. He stops for coffee in the lobby at the mermaid coffee shop. He enters the hospital room and prepares himself. He hates seeing Brock laid up in bed like this. 

His mom's been replaced by Jack. The sight of his brother makes him feel even worse. He shouldn't have taken so long. He should have camped out in a chair. It's 9 am and he's strolling in, he's awful.

"Hey, Jack," Frank says quietly as he enters the room.

"Morning. Did you get some sleep?" Jack rises from his chair next to the bed and goes over for a hug.

"I got a couple of hours and I got to see my dad, so that's good. How are you feeling?" Frank opens his arms and squeezes Jack. He's thankful for him being a familiar face and not a nurse.

"I'm doing alright. He's doing alright, too. We're just sitting here chilling while he sleeps and I read a book. Or I was…" Jack wrinkles his nose at the realization that the book is not where he left it. He steps away from Frank and retrieves it from under the hospital bed.

"You know how to read?" Frank teases.

"Oh you got more than a few hours of sleep," Jack comments with a narrowed look. He sets the book on the tray.

"Has the doctor been in? Or just nurses?" Frank asks as he approaches Brock. He strokes the side of his face before kissing his forehead.

"No. Not yet. I think they started rounds at 8 am. I imagine he's going to be here within the hour though."

"Since I can't talk to this big lug and see how he's doing, they can help. I got some things to, uh, keep him clean. Baby wipes, dry shampoo, lotion for his hands." Frank shrugs a little, "Something to keep me from losing my damn mind."

"Oh there is a brown haired nurse named Rachel, she isn't allowed in our room. I don't like her and her bedside manner." Frank adds.

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Did something happen or is this a general thing?" 

"I don't have a vendetta against all brunette Rachel's who are nurses," Frank starts, "She was rough with him. Drugged and sleeping him doesn't need that."

"Ah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. The nurse this morning came in and switched out his IVs. Checked on his thigh. Said everything was good so far."

"Good! That's great! Mom said they are giving him a nutritional cocktail. He was dehydrated and I don't wanna say malnourished but… malnourished." Frank takes his hand and puts it on the tiger, "So at least he is getting supplements.." 

"Besides watching him sleep and _reading_ , what are your plans for the day?" Frank asks.

"Pretty much this. Might head out since you are here now and get breakfast. I have been dosing him every two hours. He'll need another one at 10 am. It's been keeping him comfortable, I think. God knows he won't push the damn button himself."

"I know. We had an incident with him and his pain. I feel bad dosing him at all, I feel like I'm betraying him." Frank sighs, "Stubborn ass."

"See, this is where you and I differ. I feel no such remorse. Sometimes you have to do the things that are in their best interest, regardless of their wishes and protests. Brock needs the drugs and he probably knows that."

"Well at least one of us can do it without hesitation. The only reason I'm ok with it is that he feels better after. The fire is put out."

"I'm sure the surgery is more painful than the bullet itself was. They had to go in deep to get the shit out. He's going to be in pain for several months, at least. Extreme pain for a few weeks. He's going to have to learn to pop pills once he's released, but in the meantime, we have to be his common sense and push the button."

"You mean, I'm going to have to tell him to take his meds." Frank sighs, "And he's gonna get an attitude, but it's nothing I can't handle. Do you think…we should postpone the wedding?"

"As much as I hate to say it, you might not have a choice. It really depends on if he fights us and slows down his healing or not. If he does the physical therapy he's going to need. I would suggest that you continue as normal, for now. Maybe the goal of being able to stand at the altar will push him towards a speedy recovery. And if things aren't improving, then postpone it."

"He's gonna bitch about using a wheelchair, walker, or cane, you know this right?"

"Depends on how much pain he's in. He tends to think that if he can take it, he's gonna take it." Jack shakes his head, "He is a stubborn idiot sometimes. But if he's bitching then it's probably a good thing." 

"True. Thank you so much for grabbing me clothes and being with him. I appreciate it." Frank pauses, "And being the voice of reason."

"That's my job," Jack grins, "and I'm pretty awesome at it."

"That you totally are." 

A low groaning noise comes from the bed as Brock stirs a little. 

"The beast's awake." 

"Yeah that's not always a good thing though," Jack chuckles. He leans on the bed rail and watches.

Brock opens his eyes with a soft noise and stirs with a pain-filled wince. He blinks and tries to focus. 

"Yes, awake isn't pleasant." Frank sighs, "Hi handsome."

Brock fights the sleep haze and the cotton mouth to be able to respond. He turns his head and offers a small smile at seeing Frank. He tries to wet his mouth before croaking out, "Water?" 

"Of course honey." Frank smiles and gets a cup and fills it with water. He returns quickly, "There you go." 

He takes the cup in hand and is fairly certain he brings it close enough for him to sip on the straw. He misses a few times before his eyes focus more and he's able to judge distance. The cool water rushes down his throat and it feels amazing. It's not enough and he finishes the whole cup. He feels dehydrated.

"Don't drink too much at once. It's going to hurt like hell if you have to cough," Jack warns.

"He is the recent gunshot expert." Frank smiles warmly, "How are you feeling baby?" 

"Tired. Fuzzy," he croaks out.

"How's your pain level? You feeling anything?" Jack asks, leaning close to the button, just in case.

Brock shakes his head. He's only feeling tired and heavy. Everything is fuzzy from his mouth to his head and eyes. He's still got the warm weight in him.

"I canceled your gym date. Steve said he's going to drop by and see you." 

Slowly blinking, Brock nods. He doesn't want to go to the gym. He's too tired. Maybe later, after a nap.

"You should get some rest, love." 

"Technically it's all he's been doing," Jack teases in a whisper.

"Jack," Frank warns. He turns to Brock again, "They say your wound looks good. You keep this up and we will be outta here in no time." 

"Home?" 

"Yeah like a week or so." Frank smiles and strokes his cheek. He doesn't want to tell him it could be longer.

Brock turns his head into the touch. Every inch of his body feels like it's weighed down. "Baby? Safe?" 

"Baby is still cooking. He's doing good. Mama is good too."

He nods. Slowly his eyes begin to close and he tries to fight it. A mumble escapes before he tries again. "Ray? Boys?

"Home with baby and momma. The other guys are good. They are gonna come to visit you too." Frank gives his sleepy love a little smile.

He nods. He tries to reach for Frankie but he can't seem to make his arms move. "Koala?"

"He's clingy too." Frank says with a soft chuckle, "Yeah baby, I can do that for a bit."

"Wanna watch TV? And by watch, you guys cuddle and sleep and I watch and listen to something other than the beeping of machines," Jack offers, grabbing the remote. 

"That would be nice. You know you don't have to stay if you don't want to," Frank comments then quickly follows it, "I'm not kicking you out. I just don't want you to feel like you're _obligated_."

"I've got nothing better to do. And I want to be here when the doctor makes a visit." He turns on the TV and flips through a few channels before settling on some show about a couple of dudes solving weird cases. After lowering the volume to a comfortable level, he sits back in his chair and relaxes.

"The older brother is cute," Frank comments before kicking his shoes off and crawling in bed with Brock.

The heavy weight of Brock's hand on his back is comforting. He listens to the television and dozes off for a little bit. He is woken by Jack slapping his foot. 

Frank sits up slowly trying to not jar Brock. He smiles at the woman with teal scrubs under a long white coat.

"Hi, I'm the husband. Sorry." Frank rubs his eyes.

"I'm Doctor Daisy Johnson. Let's see if we can take a look at the incision. He is responding well to the medication. Your husband is a tough cookie. Nurses said he walked in. Most people wouldn't be able to stay conscious let alone walk." 

"He's a tough one." Frank smiles and strokes Brock's hand.

The doctor peels back the bandage and reveals a jagged incision. The surrounding tissue is a deep and angry purple. "Looks like the skin is handling the tension well. This looks very promising." The doctor touching the skin near the wound makes Frank tense. 

"What's recovery time looking like at this stage?" Frank asks. 

"Honestly Mr. Rumlow, it's hard to say. I am going to guess four to six months." The doctor says looking up.

"We are having our ceremony in two," Frank replies flat with a growing frown.

"He could maybe, if he pushes himself, be using a walker by then but that isn't even something I am comfortable promising." 

"Shit." 

"Again, that's being generous." The doctor says pulling a new gauze pad out and carefully placing it over his wound, "He'll have physical and occupational therapy. It's a long road. GSW injuries aren't fun."

"No, they aren't," Jack says softly, looking at his sleeping brother. His mind is at work, recalculating, and planning. 

"Are you boys law enforcement?" 

Frank snorts, "I'm not." 

"We're military. Special-Ops. Frank has my brother's tags," nods Jack.

Frank touches his chest. They kept him from feeling like he was going to spin out of orbit. Frank keeps a close eye on how the doctor touches Brock.

"Thank you for your service." 

"Thank you," Jack nods. "We have a family doctor. Will he be released in a few days into his care? What is it that you need to see that will grant him release?"

"I can release him to the family doctor but he’s got to stay conscious for longer stretches, that pain level has to come down for sure and he's gotta be able to use the incentive spirometer without any major difficulty." The doctor says with a nod as he secures the last piece of tape, "Oh, and pass a bowel movement." 

Jack gives him a confused look. "The what?"

"It's a plastic device that you blow in and it will make the little yellow ball float. He needs to get it to a minimum of 90%." The doctor picks up the plastic device that has two chambers and a tube. With a little yellow ball between it. 

"Ah. Okay. Testing lung function." Jack nods.

"Brock's a healthy man, especially for his age. I don't foresee him being here long." The doctor rises to her feet.

"Thank you, doc," says Jack with a nod.

"Yes thank you. Anything you need from us to help him?" Frank asks. 

"Be supportive. Make sure he stays relaxed. The more stress and tension on the stitches the harder it's gonna be to heal." The doctor's hand comes out for Jack first, "He's got a good husband and _friend."_

"Brother. Adopted because I'm awesome," corrects Jack with a smirk. "Mom and Dad needed someone to put up with the boring older brother that is Brock. I'm the fun one."

"Or they needed someone to be a pain in his ass until I came along." Frank winks at Jack, "Thank you for caring for my husband. Is it… is ok that I lie in bed with him?"

Jack snickers, "Brock wakes up and keeps asking him to cuddle." 

"Don't block any IVs and avoid hurting his incision and I don't see why not." Doctor Johnson nods.

"He's a big baby when he's sick or hurt," Frank says playfully hitting Jack. 

Jack laughs, "I _know_!"

"Not… Baby…" Brock mumbles quietly.

"I know, sweetheart." Frank strokes Brock's leg. Frank watches the doctor leave the room and leave them alone with Brock. 

The next few hours are spent napping and relaxing. Jack leaves for a few hours. Frank does work some on his phone. He frowns at an email that invites the band to a music video award show in Canada at the end of November. He doesn't want to leave Brock but it is his fucking job. He smiles at the nurses who come in. Steve visits then Mike and Kristin slip in bringing flowers and a red wine face mask for Brock. 

Frank takes time out to dry shampoo Brock's hair. He cleans him up and cuts his nails before adding lotion to his hands and face. He enjoys the fact Brock doesn't wake at all during the whole process. 

"My sleeping beauty." Frank sighs before putting chapstick on his lips 

"Most people don't do this for their family members." The pretty green-eyed nurse says softly as she enters. 

"He'd do it for me. Plus, I feel like I'm helping." Frank sighs as he puts away the supplies. 

"It's very sweet. I'm the night shift nurse, Lori. If you need anything let me know, are you sleeping here?" She says as she changes a yellow bag from below the bed.

"Yes. Most likely." 

"I'll see if I can get you a cot" 

"Sounds good! Thank you, Lori." Frank smirks. God, she was pretty. He picks up his phone and texts Jack.

_Frank: how do you feel about nurses?_

_Jack: I like your mom….?_

_Frank: do you wanna bang my mom? No there's a cute nurse here. Pretty green eyes. Nice body. Been good to Brock. eh? Eh? Lemme hook you up…_

_Jack: I don't need a date while things are going on dude!!_

_Frank: sorry._ 🙇 

Frank tucks his phone away. He frowns, "Can you like wake up at least and have a stoned out of your mind conversation with me?" He sighs at Brock.

_Jack: rofl dork_

_Stop trying to hook me up_ 🤣

_Frank: just trying to take care of you. Let me love you, Jack!!_

_Jack: You do!! I feel it, okay?! LOL_

_Frank: fine. I'll only do it for the really hot ones. _

_Jack: Thank you haha_

_Frank: so, you like Carol huh?_

_Jack: Not in the way you are suggesting. She was nice._

_Frank: she can hang… she's a pretty blonde too… jk. Also, what are you up to?_

_Jack: Went to get me lunch and take a shower. Might nap._

"You know. I was thinking of cutting my hair off. Maybe I can get a head tattoo. Say nothing if you agree." Frank says resting his chin on Brock's bedrail. He waits a beat. "Excellent! I'm getting a skull on my skull. Glad you agree." 

_Frank: nice I've been doing work but my eyes are starting to burn. I have to go to Canada next month._

_Jack: Okay, get some sleep. And isn't that up to Brock as TM? Does the label know what happened? Probably shouldn't tell them…_

_Frank: It's for an award show. So it's a night trip. And no the label will be kept in the dark unless he tells them. Also, he silently agrees that I need a skull tattoo on my skull._

_Jack: He's going to kill you when he can walk lol_

_Frank: I'll only be hairless for like a month. Plus I'll just take his walker away…_

_Jack: Omg you are the worst! ROFL you guys are gonna have the best marriage ever. And when he hits you on the head with his cane, I'm gonna laugh and record it for Funniest Videos._

_Frank: if he doesn't poison my food. God can you imagine…. I mouth off and just run with his cane._ 🤣

Frank looks at his husband, "When you get a cane, can I deck it out with rhinestones and tassels like Prince?"

_Jack:_ 😂 _He's going to kill you_

_Frank: nah I'm too cute._

Once Brock is doped up again, he wanders the hospital. He makes his way to the maternity ward viewing window and slows. A little part of him wonders what kinda dad he would be. He finally wanders down to the cafeteria. He buys a sandwich and a drink then heads back to Brock's room.

He felt a little crazy but talking to someone even if they didn't reply made him feel less alone. "I went by the baby viewing window thing. There were more little girls than boys but they all were cute little aliens. Sometimes I think I would be a good dad. I know that we agreed on no kids but I do think we would be kick-ass parents." Frank babbles to Brock as he washes his hands, "I mean seeing you with an adorable little girl going to ballet lessons or a son going to soccer. But it's okay. I don't mind, I can be a cool uncle." 

"Oh also, I think I've turned into an ass man. There's a cute nurse with a cute butt who's been taking care of you. Pretty lady, striking green eyes." Frank sighs as he takes his seat, "We're watching a movie on my laptop and it's a scary movie too. And you can't argue.

"Mmmm. What was that? I should enjoy my crappy sandwich and my shitty horror movie. You're right. I'm gonna. Cause you're sleeping… my drugged up bear."

About halfway through the movie, Brock stirs and groans out Frankie's name. He's miserable, uncomfortable, and in pain. He shifts in the bed, soft groans escaping continually.

"Hey, relax. I'm coming. Do you want some water, baby?" 

"Yeah…"

Frank pours him some ice water and hands him the cup, "there you go. Drink it slowly, ok?" 

Brock takes several quick sips before slowing down. He finishes the cup and hands it back. It doesn't really help with the dry mouth feeling but it does get rid of the cotton ball feeling. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome. What's your pain level?" 

"Fire," he groans.

"Fire?" Frank says with a little grin. He presses the button, "Do you want me to lay with you for a little bit after the fire dies?"

A whimper escapes across his pain-filled face. There's a tightness in his chest from anxiety, tension, and pain. He hurts. He wants to go home. A tear escapes and with it is the relief of the warm water flooding his veins. Finally, he's able to answer Frank with a nod.

Frank wipes the tear away, "Baby. It will get better I promise. You are doing great. Doctor says you are healing nicely." 

He nods and takes a deep, easier breath. "Okay…. Wanna go home." 

"I know. We will talk with the doctor tomorrow. Tonight, you should let me and tiger cuddle with you." Frank strokes his cheek with his fingers.

Brock nods. The warm water makes him fuzzy in a good way and he can feel it pull him towards sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. He's tired of sleeping. 

"Do you want me?" He asks softly. 

"Ko'la," Brock mumbles.

"Okay. He crawls into bed with Brock carefully. His hand rests on his chest, "I miss talking with you." 

"Sorry," he whispers. He's not quite slurring his words but it's close.

"It's not your fault." 

"Is Alan. Shoulda made suffer longer."

"You're getting really scruffy," Frank says touching Brock's chin.

"Bear…." His eyes close of their own accord.

"You are my big bear." Frank leans up and kisses him, "Tomorrow is gonna be a good day." 

It takes him nearly a full minute to respond. "Why?" 

"Because I decided it was," Frank says softly. 

"Okay," Brock sighs. He turns his head and tries to bury his nose in Frankie's hair. He's losing the battle with sleep. "Love you." 

"I love you so much." Frank replies stroking his chest, "Maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow." 

"Can't..." Brock mumbles. It's not long after that his breathing evens out and he falls into blissful slumber.

Frank lies with Brock for a while until he knows Brock is out hard. He crawls out of the bed and finishes his movie. He changes into soft clothing and stretches out in the chair. He dozes off until he hears Brock fussing. He rises from the chair and presses the button then crawls back in bed with Brock and falls back asleep. 

Frank wakes up early and crawls out of the hospital bed. He can hear outside their door the sound of the halls coming alive. He watches his husband sleep and gets words in his head that he can't shake. He hums the words to himself as he pulls out a notebook.

"Without you is how I disappear," Frank says softly to the quiet room. He looks at Brock before fishing his phone out and texting Gerard about the weird words that rattle around in his head. Maybe they can beat something out of it and make it a song. He stands by the window and stares out. 

"Yeah, since you got hurt, you've been sleeping like a baby and I sleep like your mother." Frank sighs, "But it's not really your fault. You just spoiled me. I need your arms around me. But you're broken." 

"You're gonna hate the new album's theme. It's all about death and dying. But like for real." Frank rubs his face, "He's got this whole Freddie mercury queen idea of this like death celebration. It's kinda dark. But kinda cool, honestly you might like it. It's got a bit of religious undertones." 

"Emo. Death. Music."

Frank jumps and turns to look at him. He steps to the end of the bed, "Hi. How long have you been awake?" 

He winces softly. "New. Album. With Queen." 

"What's your pain level?" Moving around the bed, his hand reaches for the pain medicine button.

"Wait." 

Frank wrinkles his forehead, "Okay." He lets go of the button, "Why?" 

The more Brock wakes up the more the fire burns but he wants to know things. He tries to speak around the lack of air and tightness in his chest. "Makes. Sleep. Home?"

"You have to manage your pain and stay awake for longer stretches. You have to prove your lungs work. You have to pee and poop on your own." Frank takes Brock's hand and kisses his palm, "You do this and you can be put in the care of Dr. Choi." 

All of that seemed unachievable in Brock's mind. He was going to be here forever. He can't even fight sleep every time the water floods his veins. The fire never stayed away for long. How was he supposed to walk to use the bathroom? How was he supposed to manage the pain? This was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. This burned and consumed him ten times more than any injury he's ever had in the past. 

"We can do this." Frank nods. He's gotta be the encouragement, "One thing at a time." 

"The meds make me sleep." Brock shifts his good leg and winces. The bed is uncomfortable. The burning is growing. He wants to move his back but he's certain that doing so will cause more fire. His fingers fist the bedsheets and a whimper escapes.

"That's what morphine does but it also keeps you from being in excruciating pain." Frank looks up at his husband. 

"Supp'sed to suffer," he whines. He's long beyond caring about his manliness or pride. 

"No. You're not." Frank frowns, he picks up the button.

"Is what manage means," Brock grits out. The fire is spreading up his back and down his legs and his stomach is cramping. He has to fight it. To stay awake. To endure. To go home.

Frank looks him dead in his eyes and lifts the button. Brock doesn't protest. Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to breathe properly. Maybe this time he can fight sleep longer.

He pushes the button, he hates seeing Brock in pain. Slowly, he is understanding what Jack was meaning. He's gotta make the decisions to make Brock feel better even if he doesn't like it, "Do you wanna cuddle?" 

Slowly every muscle and the tightness in his chest eased as the fire gets washed away. He slowly blinks at Frank and nods. 

There's a knock at the door before it opens to reveal Jack entering the room. He brightens considerably upon seeing Brock awake. "Hey, guys." 

"Hi, Jack! Mornin!" 

"Hi Jay," Brock mumbles. He's floating a little in his head.

Jack smiles at Brock and makes his way over, hugging Frank. In his hand is a bag of hot food and a coffee for him. "Here. For you. Not fast food, but homemade. Hopefully, the coffee is the right strength."

"Really?" Frank turns to Jack with a smile. He takes the bag and cup. He's so happy and tired that he could cry, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, bärchen. Take a moment. Eat while it's hot," Jack says, ushering him to the chair. He stands with Brock and gives him a kiss on the forehead. 

"Hi," Brock whispers.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" Jack runs a careful hand over his brother's head. 

"Tired. Warm." 

"Ah. You've had a dose then?" 

Brock hums in agreement and finds himself starting to drift off. He tries to fight it. He loses moments later.

"He was 'on fire' so I dosed him." Frank comments, "This is 'mazing Jack. I love you. I'ma marry you."

"Sorry. Brock beat me to the punch," he grins at Frank.

"Damn." Frank smirks, "I guess I'll just have to deal with Prince Loopy." 

"Eh, I wouldn't go as far as that. He's more like Sleeping beauty or Sleepy the dwarf from Snow White. You have to be awake to be loopy."

"Yeah awake and he's burning. Can't win." Frank says a little more pessimistic than he means to.

"These things take time. The more healing is done the less pain. It's not going to go away after a few days," Jack says to them both. "If it's really an issue, maybe the doctor can reduce the dose a little. Or try to go every three hours without a dose. They monitor that."

"Eh, the more sleep the more his body repairs. I'm not gonna push it. I don't want to hurt him." Frank takes the final bite, "If I can get him conscious, I'm gonna reschedule the wedding for next year. So he can be 100%." 

"Yeah, I don't think he's going to be happy about that," Jack comments softly, looking at his now sleeping brother. Brock and his damn unmovable plans would not be thrilled about waiting longer for an official ceremony.

"What's your plan for the day?" Frank asks, closing the Tupperware. Frank plans to rinse it in the bathroom sink before Jack leaves, "I think I'm gonna write today. I mean, I've got a lot of time." He motions to Brock with a smile.

"I'm assuming you mean music. And right now my only plan was to trade shifts with you so you can go home and feel like a real boy after a shower and a nap in a real bed. I'm good for several hours of TV," Jack says. 

"Jack."

"Frank. And that's Brock. Now that we've all been properly reintroduced…" Jack grins wide. 

"I'll be sure to tip my waitress." Frank snorts, "I'm gonna say it again because I know you're gonna tell me it's fine. But are you sure?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't. You're a Rumlow now. And we take care of our own. That doesn't just mean that you take care of Brock all the time. It also means you let others take care of you. Our motto means you both give and receive."

He feels the guilt rising again. He rubs his neck and glances at his husband who at the moment was on the verge of snoring. A voice in his head tells him to nod and agree, "I can't help him if I'm not at my best. I think I've heard a thing like this before."

Jack nods and smiles. A smile that fades quickly with a somber thought. "This is the easy part. Watching him sleep. Pushing the button for him. The long hard road of recovery hasn't even started yet. We are going to need each other more. And a bigger team so we don't get burned out."

"Yeah. I was thinking about that earlier. I know the guys will help a little. It's too bad you don't have another sibling." Frank snorts and rubs his face, "I'm glad we don't have to do this alone." 

"I _do_ have another sibling," says Jack with light humor in his voice. "But she's on the other side of the world. What about your family? Think maybe we could ask Linda?"

"I'll ask her and maybe my sister. Give her a reason to take some time off." Frank shrugs.

"I haven't met your sister yet," he hums in reply.

"She's great. I think you'd like her. She's been my best friend for well since we were kids. James picked on me, she protected me." 

"I just realized that our families are basically the same. Mom and Dad had two boys and a girl. The girl is badass."

"The youngest are the coolest people ever."

"Yes!" Jack laughs, "And the oldest are in 'enforcement'! Brock never picked on me though. He doted on me. Brooke on the other hand…"

"James is the oldest too… must a thing. Middle kid defends the baby."

"Probably because at some point, the middle _was_ the youngest before the third was born. They've been there and done that."

"Exactly. I can't believe I never thought about this before." Frank chuckles. 

"Well technically Brock is the middle child but we'll overlook that little tidbit."

"Chris has a little girl named Emma. She is Brock's girlfriend. But her husband is the youngest in his family. So it tracks." Frank smiles.

"Aww. Is she the only niece? I feel so weird being married into the family by Brock and yet I haven't met any of them. I feel like that should've been first." He laughs, "Trust you weirdos to do things unconventionally!"

"Well… wanna come to dinner with us? Mom always makes a big dinner for our birthdays. You can come and meet the family."

"Nah, I like the awkward hellos. Keeps things interesting. Hi, I'm Jack, grab a diaper for my brother," he snickers. "Or on one occasion, it was hi, grab a dead body." 

"What?"

"You learn a lot about a person if they are willing to help a stranger out simply because they introduced themselves."

"I bet. Although I've never been introduced then helped dispose of a body." Frank snorts.

"Oh, that was when I was still a Private and had just got a replacement on my team. We were being gunned down and I needed help moving the dead for a better vantage point. Once done, I dispatched the tangos and the skirmish was over. No need for pleasantries after that."

"Hey, this is a weird question and you don't have to answer if you don't want to but...have you two been shot down before like in a plane?"

Jack's smile fades and his relaxed body stiffens just a little. He takes a slow, deep breath and nods. "Yes. We were. Why?" 

"While back when Brock had a breakdown flying commercial, he kept barking commands and shouting for you. I did the quick math and it would make sense. I wouldn't ask him cause I don't want to _upset_ him. I almost didn't ask now." 

"It's alright. Not the most pleasant of experiences but I don't mind talking about it. You can ask."

"Thank you. I know that Brock doesn't like to talk about it." Frank pauses, "Not with me at least. Something about keeping the horror out of my head."

"I'll avoid too much detail then," Jack nods. He doesn't want to disrespect his brother's wishes.

"Brock has kept his military service pretty veiled to protect me. Though I'm not a fragile flower but I don't push it."

"Probably smart. What do you want to know?"

"Just basics. Where if possible and what happened." 

"Do you mean the plane crash?"

"I don't know. Why was he screaming for you?"

Jack takes a breath and moves to the window, leaning against it. He really can't stand for too long still, but his stamina is increasing. This is going to be a longer story than what his hip will be okay with. "We were in a quinjet. It's a sort of fighter plane. We were fleeing enemy territory in Syria. It was a mission to locate some intel and it went so horribly wrong. We were a team of six but lost two agents in the fighting. The tangos had gotten wind of our arrival and we were ambushed. One discovered a land mine. Another was gunned down. A third was shot but he survived enough to get to the plane. We quickly retreated, boarded our plane with our two remaining men, and got the hell out. We thought we were safe. We were wrong."

"Jesus," Frank says as he covers his mouth. The life his poor boys lived makes him want to wrap them in blankets and never let them leave.

"The mission was FUBAR. Which stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. Means that there was no way in hell we could have salvaged the purpose of the mission. The Intel would have been moved the moment they knew we were coming. So we left barely alive. About a hundred feet in the air or so, they started shooting at us. You could hear the pings of bullets hitting metal. It wasn't enough so they switched to mortars. I don't remember how high we got or the distance away from the camp, but the first one they launched at us, missed. Made the entire plane shake like we were in an earthquake. There's a whistling sound it makes, kind of like a bullet train on speed, that you hear just before impact. We were struck in the tail end of the plane and we spun hard before crash landing. Surprisingly, Brock and I both survived, obviously, and without injuries. Our other two remaining men however did not. Our pilot did not. The only reason I'm alive now is because of the way the seat had folded over me. It kept the twisted metal from…. Well, let's just say it would have been fatal. But we walked away. Literally."

"Holy fuck. Jack." Frank says shocked, "I wish he would have told me. How bad it was. All he ever says is, I don't like flying." He shoots a glare at his sleeping and drooling husband.

"He saw his men die in front of him only to be shot down. I remember him screaming for me. But I was pinned and couldn't call back. He found me and the relief was palpable in us both. For a moment, before I heard him, I thought he had died too."

"I'm sorry you had to experience that, Jack," Frank whispers. He takes a step towards Jack and hugs him carefully. 

Jack hugs Frank tight. "Thanks, bärchen. It wasn't the first or the last time I had thought my brother was killed. Wasn't even the last time we were in a plane together." 

"I don't know how you guys aren't mush but I suppose you get numb to it." Frank says thoughtfully, "I'm glad he had you with him." 

"When you've been through multiple levels of hell, everything else seems to pale in comparison," whispers Jack. He pulls himself back from the memory and offers Frank a smile. "I've always got his back. And yours. You should go home and get some rest."

"Do you want anything before I go?" Frank asks, giving him a little squeeze.

"Nah, I'm good. Thank you though." 

"Mom said she would check in before she goes home. She'll bring you food." Frank turns to his bag and stuffs his clothes and charger in it, "She's much like you guys and doesn't take no for an answer."

Frank pulls the bag over his shoulder and looks at Jack, "Love you, brother." 

"Okay. I love you too, little brother." 

He turns to his husband and kisses his cheek, "Please don't stress too much. I love you more than the moon and stars." He heads out the door. 

Jack takes over the chair by Brock’s beside and sits. He gets comfortable as much as he can and clicks the TV on. After flipping through the stations, he settles on the history channel and picks a show about pawn shops. Glancing at Brock makes something twinge in Jack’s chest. He wasn’t wrong about always having Brock’s back. It was his lot in life. It’s what he was trained for. He would always be with Brock until the day he died. Protecting and Guiding. Sacrificing if needed. Sighing softly, Jack reaches out and takes Brock’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before turning to listen about the history of a guy’s 1909 canon.

Jack’s on his third or fifth episode of watching pawn stuff when he hears a change in Brock’s breathing and stirring in the sheets. Immediately, his focus switches from the show to his brother. He rises to his feet, carefully running a hand over Brock’s forehead. He whispers soothing words softly in German as his brother pulls from sleep and wakes.

“Take a few slow breaths, brother.” Jack grabs the cup and gets him some water. “Take a drink. Be careful not to do it too fast, alright? Remember what I said about coughing.”

Brock nods and sips on the cold water. His tongue swipes across his lips and in his mouth to clear out the dryness. He looks around the room only to find Jack. A brief thought enters his head about the whereabouts of his husband but it’s washed away by the burning in his leg.

After he finishes the water, Jack takes the cup back and sets it aside. He knows his brother is in pain if he’s awake. He reaches over for the button and instead of pushing it himself, he places it in Brock’s hand. “What’s your pain level?”

“Where’s Frankie?” Brock manages to croak out.

“Home for a bit. He’ll be back later.” Jack asks again, “What’s your pain level?”

“Burns.”

“Then I suggest you press the button in your hand if you want it to go away.”

Brock’s face screws up in pain and a groan escapes. The logic center in his brain is confused. How did managing his pain equate to being so doped up that he slept all the time? He wants to go home and sleep in his bed. Not be trapped here in a hospital where everything hurts all the time. They want him to stay awake longer but he can’t fight the sleep that the warm water washes over him every time the button is pushed. He’s trying but his body is so very heavy and he loses quickly. 

“Makes me sleep,” Brock groans out.

“Yes, because it’s healing. I’m assuming you don’t want to keep feeling the fire, right?” Jack raises an eyebrow. He’s ready to push the button if he feels that this little push won’t work or backfire. Brown eyes carefully read every minuscule movement in Brock’s eyes and face. He knows what he’s thinking. “Sleep is healing. The more you heal, the easier it will be to deal with the pain and you won’t have to be on such a strong dose. You can’t do this in a few days. You are trying to run before you can walk, brother. Stop worrying about what you think the Doctors or Frank or anyone else needs from you. Take the meds.”

Another pain-filled groan escapes from Brock. He didn’t care about the meds. He needed the water to wash away the fire. But he hated that all he did was drift in and out of sleep. He hates the way he wakes up with cotton balls in his mouth. Beneath the fire was the ache of being in the same position for so long. He has a headache. He might be hungry. It’s either that or the pain from his leg is making his stomach cramp again. His back hurts and all he wants to do is curl up with his husband and Tiger. None of that seems to come out though because he’s too exhausted and fuzzy to say much before the fire becomes too powerful and he has to sleep again. Jack was right though. He wants to go home. But if he was lucid enough he would realize that the only reason he wants to go home is because his brain seems to be tricked into thinking that if he was there, he wouldn’t be injured and in pain. Home was safe and he doesn’t have to deal with this there. He presses the button.

“Good job,” Jack whispers.

“Move me?” Brock fights to get the words out. He’s got a limited time before he passes out. The water was both a blessing and a curse.

“How? I’m not sure you should move too much. Doc doesn’t want you stretching the muscles and skin too much. You might pop stitches too.” Still, he moves to help his brother, reaching out his arms for... something. He’s really not all that comfortable doing too much movement.

“Down?”

It takes a few moments for the single word to make sense to Jack. He moves to the back of the hospital bed to find the lever that controls the angle of the bed. Squatting, he spends a second to read over the instructions. The last thing he needs is to release the bed and have the whole damn thing crash down, hurting Brock in the process. Which it looks like it might just do that from what he’s reading. Yeah, he’s not doing this without someone else to keep it from moving too fast. Brock might change his mind, drugs or not. Rising, he moves to Brock's line of sight and sighs, “I’m going to need a nurse for this. It’s probably not a good idea either.”

“Already drugged,” Brock mumbles.

“Not helpful, ass.” Jack shakes his head as a sleepy smile appears on his brother’s face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Back. Hurts.” 

“Alright. Lemme get the nurse,” sighs Jack, heading out of the room to the nurses’ station.

Linda watches Jack leave the room on a mission and ducks into Brock's room, "Hey handsome." Her voice is gentle as she approaches the bed.

Brock turns to her and gives her a sleepy smile. His words are starting to slur a little. “Hi, mama. Linda.” 

"Hi, baby. How are you feeling?" Linda glances around the room, "No Frankie?"

“He’s home. Jack here.”

"Good. He's been a mess. You look like you're doing ok." Linda strokes his cheek. 

“Drugs.” He takes a deep breath and wonders if Jack is gonna come back soon before he falls asleep. Maybe moving the bed wasn’t a good idea…. 

"Yeah. They are great sometimes. Nurses say you have been sleeping so much that they haven't gotten you to eat. You hungry?"

“Meds make sleep.” Maybe one of his shakes will make his stomach feel better. He nods, fighting and slowly losing the urge to sleep. “Shake?”

The door opens again and Jack enters without a nurse. “Sorry, Brock. All the nurses were busy and the one I spoke to said the bed–” He stops upon seeing Linda. He smiles and goes over. “Hey!”

"What do you need a nurse for?" 

“Brock says his back is hurting and wants me to lower the bed down but I feel like if I pull the lever, it’s going to crash down or something and not be a good feeling for Brock.”

"You want to drop the bed? It's mechanical. Buttons on the side and foot do it all for you." 

Jack peers at the inner parts of the bedrail and sees the diagram with the buttons that make the bed move and raise. “Well shit. Whoops. Clearly, as you can see, I’ve never been in a hospital. For long. A normal hospital. I’m going to shut up now. Brock, push your own damn buttons.”

Sleepily, Brock pushes the morphine button again.

“Brock! No! You can’t do that one!”

"He can't get any more than the dose he just got. He can hit it all day but he won't get it." Linda smiles and presses the lowering bed, "I can lower the actual bed too." 

“Oh thank god,” exhales Jack. “I swear for a moment I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

"Nope. Not today at least. How are you holding up?" Linda asks Jack with a small smile.

“I’m doing good. Not too bad all things considered.”

Brock’s other hand comes up and stops the bed from laying back anymore. He’s mostly flat at this point and his back is happy now. He’s not going to be awake much longer. He mumbles out something that may or may not have been in English.

"Good. Thankfully Brock has someone sturdy. I know Frankie teeters." Linda pats his shoulder, "I'm gonna go grab him a shake. I'll be back." 

Linda disappears from the room but is back quickly with a small bottle of Ensure for Brock, "I tried to get chocolate but they only had strawberry. I'm sorry honey." She hands it to Brock after opening the lid.

Jack plucks the straw from the water cup, licks it clean, and pops it into the bottle so it will be easier for his brother to drink the shake and not choke. Brock latches onto the straw and takes a sip. It’s not bad. Not as great as the chocolate ones. At least it’s cold. He’s definitely going to crash after this. He’s starting to feel extra warm and fuzzy. He grabs Tiger and holds him close while he quickly downs the bottle. He passes it back to Jack and closes his eyes.

"He reminds me of Frankie when he was little and would get sick. Brock is far more suggestible than my son though." Linda says with a little chuckle.

“We always joke over the fact that Brock goes from being this strong badass of a dude to a big baby when he’s not feeling well. But it’s really the truth. And the more he’s not okay, the less fussy he is. More subdued. It’s like he just gives in or doesn’t have the strength or will to argue. Depends on the reason he’s not feeling well.”

"Oh, so this is bad. Good to know. Frank's the opposite." Linda says quietly, "So, what do you want to eat?"

“What are the choices? I’ve had some of the cafeteria food and it wasn’t….” 

"Oh, it's terrible. The burritos aren't bad. What are you in the mood for? The salads aren't awful." Linda offers, "I can always go somewhere and bring it back." 

“I don’t want you to have to do that. Not when you just got off work. I could probably get something delivered. Or we secretly dose up Brock again and we both head down to a nearby place,” Jack offers with a sneaky grin. He’s teasing of course.

"Throw him a wheelchair with a hat and glasses and we'll take him with us." Linda winks, "I'll bring you drinks. What do you want?" 

“Whiskey on the rocks but I’ll take a virgin long island iced tea.”

"We are going to have a fantastic Christmas," Linda smirks. 

“About that. What are your traditions? Brock and I always fly to Italy for the month. Brock can’t stand the cold. But with Frank and the brand new extended family, I’m not sure what they are going to do.”

"Frankie and I talked about doing it early. At least the dinner and gifts, but usually we get together on Christmas Eve. We get drunk and Carolyn tries to spook everyone with her tarot and angels. It's mostly for the kids but I want to make sure my new boys are included. And girl, yes. Brooke?" Linda asks, "I have a gift for her and your parents too." 

Jack nods and laughs at the idea of Carolyn meeting his sister. He gets an idea. “What if…. Everyone had Christmas at my parent’s house?”

"You want Carolyn to come?" 

“Not particularly, but she really can’t say too much in Italy. Everyone will just pretend they don’t speak English. And who knows, maybe she’ll learn to respect other people. She doesn’t hold that much power but my parents _do_.” Jack shrugs. “Maybe she doesn’t spend the whole month with us and just a few days? We can always toss her into the Tyrrhenian Sea after Christmas.”

"She is my sister," Linda says with a huge grin.

He offers with a snickering laugh, “I’d give her a boat. She can swim, right?”

"We all can. Maybe she just stays home and house sits." Linda smiles, "I am sure that Chris would like to meet the family. I don't know if James can get time off. He is on suspension for _some things_ and he is the low man on the totem." 

“Oh? What happened?” 

"He… well. He was accused of taking bribes from some unsavory _Italian_ characters. Frankie doesn't know this." Linda groans, "Do not say a word about. He was also sleeping with his partner on shift. He almost got fired and had charges threatened on him."

“Do you believe the accusations? Did he confirm that he was taking bribes and cheating?” Jack asks with a frown.

"Cheating yes. Her name's something Arianna? Aria. She came to a function for the family. The bribes… I don't know. James is my loose cannon." Linda sighs, "Deep down, I know he was taking the money." 

Jack hums to himself thoughtfully for a moment. His fingers tap the bedrail in thought. “Would you like me to look into it?”

"How?" 

“You said they were Italian, yes?”

"Yeah. Mob types." Linda says but realizes _who_ she's talking to.

He gives her a look and a laugh. “You’ll get used to it.”

"Do you? What worries me is that Frank was so casual, like I feel like he fits in." Linda says with a little sigh.

“Yeah, that surprised me too. Nothing about our life has seemed to phase him much, other than this. I think it has something to do with the fact that Brock tends to keep him in the dark about it all. Plausible deniability, you know? As for me… I’ve been used to it my whole life. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

"Do you think Frank should be left in the dark? I worry he's got a romantic idea of what it is. And the reality is gonna be a shock."

“A few months ago, I would have agreed with you.” Jack has to sit and so he does with a pained sigh. 

"What does that mean?" Linda tilts her head to the side. 

“Means he’s seen some of the less-than-pretty things. Those carjackers threatened Frank with a gun. I killed them all. It was how I got shot. The man who kidnapped Christa and his goons are gone too. Frank was there as the getaway driver.”

"Bet Brock _loved_ that..." 

“He was furious. They got into a huge fight over it. I agree with Brock but then again I agree with him on most things. He shouldn’t have been there. My point though is that he’s seen and heard some of the things I do and wasn’t even phased. I think he has the countenance to be right where he is at. I don’t think he needs to know everything, however. He worries far too much. Surprised Frank hasn’t had an ulcer from stressing yet.”

"You've heard me ask him about taking meds right? It helps prevent ulcers as well as help him digest the 'bad' food. My kid should probably be on meds for anxiety but he's a stubborn shit." Linda sighs, "Always has been."

“Runs in the family,” replies Jack with a cheeky grin.

"It does." Linda nods.

"If the family goes to Italy for Christmas, what should we expect?" Linda asks.

“Good food. Sea air. Warm breezes and bright sunlight. Perfect for sunbathing. The smell of pizza being baked is on nearly every corner. Capri isn’t as crowded as the mainland but it’s pretty populated. It’s a rocky place so the majority of the buildings are built on the cliffs. Beaches are nothing like what you have here in America. For one, the water is crystal clear. Another is the fact that nothing in the sea is trying to kill you.”

"Good to know. Do you guys have specific things you do for Christmas?" Linda asks with a soft smile. She enjoys watching Jack talk about home. His body relaxes and he gets a soft smile on his face that brings a little sparkle to his eyes.

“The chef cooks all throughout the day. We go to mass in the evening. Well. We do our own version since we aren’t allowed in any church in the country. Which is fine by me. And afterward, we eat as a family, exchange gifts, and generally just spend time together. Nothing super big. Some years it changes depending on how everyone feels.”

"Fairly standard. Except we aren't _religious_ , Cheech's side is. But we didn't raise Frankie to be that way." Linda pauses, "Hmm… Capri sounds like it might be a good plan. Plus, a break from the snow would be nice. We're supposed to get a lot this year."

“I think my parents just do it out of a sense of loyalty to our country. Not because they believe. But I don’t know. I’m not them. Brock can’t stand the cold. As soon as the first snowfall falls, he barricades in the house until after Thanksgiving then he runs home.”

"Oh, my son won't let him." Linda smiles, "Though this year might be different where he's hurt."

“Yeah….”

"That's ok though. They will have many more winters for Frank to torture him."

“Also true.” Jack nods, smirking. “Brock does protest quite nicely. It’s the princess in him.”

"Frank will find a way to tease him." Linda grins.

“I’ll be glad to give him pointers,” Jack snickers.

"Alright. I'll be back. I'm gonna get you some tea and water. And another Ensure lined up for him."

“Thanks, ma’am,” Jack says, nodding.

Linda smiles and disappears out the door. A few minutes later, she returns with a small white paper bag. A bag with drinks, "There you go. Don't mention the dessert to anyone, Dr. Johnson's nurse did me a favor."

Jack opens the paper bag with a gleeful grin. In it is a bottle of coke, aka, his virgin long island tea, an actual bottle of tea, a bottle of water, and a small bottle of Jack Daniels. To top it all off is a turkey and cheese sandwich. His grin doubles in size and he looks at Linda. “I love the dessert. A bottle of Jack for Jack, eh? Don’t worry, I’m _excellent_ at keeping secrets. Thank you for the extras. I appreciate it.”

"It's the least I can do for my boys. Frank better be eating something." Linda sighs, "Lori is the one to ask about Ensure for Brock. If you need anything else, she's your girl."

He nods. “Yes ma’am. Take care.”

"Call me if anything happens," Linda says kissing the top of his head. She turns and kisses Brock's cheek, "Love you, boys." 

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good night. Thank you again.”

"You too sweetheart. I will talk to Frank Sr about Italy." Linda smiles as she turns at the door, "It would be nice to meet your father." 

She exits the room with a smile.

~~

Frank wakes from his nap and rolls to Brock's side. A sting in his chest makes him take a sharp breath in; Brock isn't there. He crawls out of bed and showers. The apartment is empty. The setting sun makes it feel even more lonely as he eats a little salad. He packs his backpack with a change of clothes, laptop, and snacks. He decides to bring Brock basketball shorts for when he is feeling better. He brings the cleanup kit and heads out the door.

He strolls onto Brock's floor with a cup of coffee. He's already weary the second he steps off the elevator. Hospitals are already energy draining but the worry over Brock doesn't help. He knocks on the room door before entering, "Hello hello!" 

Jack looks up from his chair, chin placed on Brock’s bed and clearly just woken up from sleep. He blinks owlishly before yawning a sleepily hello. He sits up and stretches his back and yawns again. The TV is off and the room is silent, save the continuous sound of machines beeping. Remnants of Jack’s trash littered the hospital tray next to them both. Jack picks up his water and finishes the bottle. 

"Hi. Did you want me to get you a cot?" 

“Depends on if I’m staying here or not.” Yawing some more, Jack rises and throws away his trash pile before stretching his back again. 

"Are you good to drive? If you wanna stay, you can."

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Might stay for a little bit longer until I’m more awake but yeah. How did you fare at home? Did you eat?”

"Slept a little and showered. I ate a salad. Have you eaten? Him?" Frank replies quietly nodding to Brock. He sets his bag down and goes over to his husband. He kisses his forehead. He tilts his head at Jack, "Is he lowered?" 

Jack hums a yes. “He woke up and complained a little about his back bothering him. After some assistance from your mom, he figured out the buttons to make him lay back more. He drank strawberry Ensure. We’ve discovered it’s not his favorite but he finished it quickly. Even pushed his own button. Pretty much conked out afterward. Your mom bought me a turkey sandwich, drinks, and dessert.”

"Oh! Good! I brought him a chocolate shake…" Frank exhales with a little relief, "Dessert? Like cake? Oh, Chrissy's chocolate cake is amazing." 

“No, like whiskey. Just a small amount. To go with the tea she brought as well.”

"... My mom got you alcohol?" Frank squints at him. He opens his duffle and pulls out face wipes. He approaches Brock and carefully cleans his face. He tosses the face wipe and puts a little lotion on his forehead and cheeks. 

Jack shrugs, “I asked nicely.” 

"Oh, my mother likes you..." Frank chuckles, "You deserve a big bottle of whiskey."

He chuckles as he watches Frank. “Thanks.”

"Just know that you're officially adopted." Frank takes the lotion and rubs it into Brock's hands and elbows. He turns his head to Jack and pauses for a second, "What?" 

He shakes his head, smiling. “Nothing. It’s cute. I’m sure Princess Brockalina would be very pleased to know that his beauty care routine is being kept up. If it were up to me, he’d be all ashy.” He giggles at the end of his words.

"You should crash here." Frank shakes his head, "It makes me feel like I'm helping. If I can keep him clean and soft, I'll do it."

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. It’s adorable. Good for him. I suppose it’s helpful for keeping him from getting a rash or something.”

"I'd like you to know, giving him a baby wipe bath made me feel like I was a creep."

Jack laughs, “Why? He’s your husband.”

"I just had this thought like someone opens the door and sees me touching all over this drugged person… I dunno. Could look like I'm the serial hospital toucher or something" Frank chuckles, "Just a crazy thought, I guess."

“I don’t think that is a thing. Maybe something more like a serial fondler?” Jack tilts his head in thought.

"God. I'm a serial fondler now, great!" Frank laughs. 

"When was his last dose?" Frank asks as he tucks the lotion away.

“At least two hours ago. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t woken up yet.”

"I should be expecting him to come around any time. Glad I came when I did." Frank grins, he knows Brock's gonna be miserable but at least he'll get to talk to him. Even just for a few minutes.

“Maybe you can get his Ensure into him. Might get him to have a bowel movement. Though, I can just hear the bitching about it now.” Jack pauses in thought for a moment. “Did you ever think that when you said your wedding vows that the ‘sickness and in health’ part would come so soon and not twenty years from now?”

"No. No, I didn't. I was hoping I'd get a twenty-five-year break before I had to worry about his bowel movements." Frank sighs, "But you absolutely know he's gonna bitch, if he has to get up from the bed." 

“I was thinking quite the opposite, little brother.” Jack grimaces and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that part. I’ll take care of it if I’m here. I’ve dealt with worse things.” He grabs his things and heads for the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?”

"Yeah. Get some good sleep." Frank gives him a little wave, "Love you, Jack. Text me when you get home." 

“Sure, no problem. Love you, kid,” Jack waves bye and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.

~~

He wrote a song. Replied to a couple of emails and updated the band’s blog. The movie he watched failed to keep his interest. Soon, he was going down an internet rabbit hole, winding up searching for Halloween stuff. He decides he is going to buy decorations for the apartment and hospital room. The whole place was gloomy. Maybe he could make it less awful. He can hear Brock's breathing getting harder. He's coming around. He closes the laptop and focuses on Brock.

"Hey, baby." Frank greets him softly. He gets up and pours him a glass of water with a straw.

Brock groans out, "Frank?" 

"Yes, my love." 

A hand blindly fumbles for the buttons that raise him. Waking up in this position was both a blessing and a curse. His lower back feels much better but his leg feels like it's being pulled off or something. He finds a button and presses it. The bed lowers further and he quickly stops it with a slight cry of pain. Fingers search for the other damn button.

"Hey. Hey, let me help." He puts the cup of water down on the wheeled tray.

"Up. Please. Up," Brock gasps out. 

"Height. Legs or head?" Frank asks softly.

"Head!" There's a small flash of irritation from Frank's lack of understanding but it's purely but his rising panic from the pain.

Frank presses the button, "Tell me when." 

When he's near fully upright, Brock gives him a nod of thanks. His leg doesn't feel like the skin is being pulled in two anymore. It felt great for sleeping, even did wonders for the numbness in his ass cheeks but apparently not so much for the length of time he slept. He whispers a word of thanks.

"Would you like some water?" Frank offers.

"Please," he replies, fighting to get his breathing back under control.

Frank hands over the glass and sits beside him. He waits patiently as Brock takes a drink. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, offering the cup back. He lies back and tries to focus.

"You're welcome." Frank takes the cup and places it beside him, "What's your pain level?" 

"Burns. Always." The more his consciousness came to, the more he could feel. There was nothing to dull the senses while he was awake and aware. A slow wake-up was a blessing.

He moves the morphine release button closer to Brock's hand. "Do you want to go back to sleep or stay awake?" Frank says rising to his feet, he keeps his tone gentle. He strokes Brock's cheek and kisses his forehead.

Brock takes hold of the button but doesn't push it. Not yet. He can wait a few minutes. He did before. He grits out, "Both." 

"Ok. Well, I can help keep you awake. If you'd like?" Frank offers tilting his head to the side.

He's not sure how that would work but Brock is on board to try. He hasn't been able to fight off the pull of sleep every time he gets a dose of the warm water but perhaps with Frankie's help, he'll last longer. He nods and presses the button.

"Our wedding invitation proofs came back. Do you wanna see?"

He nods, feeling the rush of the meds hitting his system. Slowly the fire ebbs and cools. His body relaxes to a more normal state.

Frank opens the laptop and the email with the attachments, he loads the first one with the plain white background.

"This?"

He opens the second with the image of a beach behind their names and dates.

"Or this one?" 

He stares at the two images and Brock finds it hard to focus on them. He's feeling very warm and fuzzy on the inside. The beach one is pretty though. It's kind of like home. Only more Caribbean looking. He likes home. Home is nice. "Beach." 

"I like that too." Frank says, taking Brock's hand in his own, "Your brother has been making me eat and sleep because I feel guilty leaving." 

"Why? All I do. All I do. I sleep," Brock mumbles.

"It's me," Frank replies after closing his laptop. He moves it to the foot of the bed.

Brock closes his eyes for a moment before he forces himself to focus on his husband. He turns his head on the pillow and gives him a sleepy look. "Why?" 

"Close your eyes, darling. We can talk more later, okay?" Frank sighs softly. His husband is adorable when he's like this.

"You said. You promise to keep me up. I push button." 

"Ok, I did say I would. Do you wanna hear the new music we are working on?" Frank fights the smile that wants to escape.

"Prolly hate it but 'kay," he murmurs, feeling floaty. He smiles at Frank.

"You will." Frank picks the laptop. He turns the volume down and loads up the demo. 

Brock's words begin to slur and take longer to escape. His eyes slowly fight to stay open. "When'd. You. Have time. Make this?" 

"I recorded my part in our bathroom at the apartment today. Ray just sent it to me."

"When's. Sun." Brock finds his preferred nickname for his Floof brother to be too long of a word right now. He's losing the battle again. "Ray. Come? Others?" 

"They came by yesterday. Mike and Kristen brought you flowers." Frank nods to the window.

A bit of sadness fills Brock at the prospect that out of all of his boys, only Mike-n-Ike came to see him. And worse was the fact that he didn't even get to see them. He wants to, no, he needs to check-in with his boys and make sure they are okay. They're his family. He misses them.

"Ray wants to see you and have you awake. Gee and Linds are coming to see you tomorrow. They have baby emo pics."

"Miss them. Love you." Brock sighs. 

"Love you too." Frank stands up and kisses his cheek. He lowers the back and legs again. He turns a movie on and lets it play until he passes out in the chair. 

The next thing he knows the clattering sound of the curtains opening forces him awake. He sits up straight and looks around, "Good morning, Mr. Rumlow." The nurse by the window moves to the whiteboard and writes her name, "I'm India. I am going to be your nurse. Today we have some goals...we are going to get Brock to eat some soft easy food. Remove the catheter. And maybe we can get up and move a little. We are going to discuss lowering the dose of morphine." 

"Okay. Why am I up?" Frank groans.

"Linda is a friend of mine. She wants me to make sure you are up and eating food. So, go. Get breakfast." India says with a smile, her white teeth seem brighter.

"Mom has spies now… fine I'm up. Get him up." Frank grumbles.

"I'm actually going to take the catheter out while you're gone." She smiles at him. 

"Alright. I'm going." He pulls a hoodie on and slips into his shoes. He turns for a moment before heading out the door.

"Alright, you. Don't punch me." India says to the sleeping man as another nurse joins her. The removal goes smoothly with Brock barely moving. 

When Frank returns the 'remove catheter' is crossed off. He glances at Brock and sighs. He drinks his coffee and eats half of his yogurt. He just has to wait for Brock to wake the heck up.

He doesn't have to wait for long before he hears Brock stir. First, it's a soft shifting in the sheets. The good leg moves about. Then the bad one. There's a halt in his breathing pattern and an agony filled groan escapes. "Frankie?" 

"Yeah, baby," Frank says moving to his bedside.

"Gotta…" Brock winces in pain as he tries to move. A soft-spoken curse escapes followed by a whine. He moved his bad leg and the fire flared up in his leg and back. Warring needs fights in him. He groans out in pain, "Piss." 

"Press the red plus and the nurse can come to help us." Frank leans over and points to the symbol and presses it, "She's got plans for you today." 

He doesn't care about plans. He doesn't care about anything right now other than the fact of his bladder is full and the fire is raging. He's thirsty too but he pushes that aside. He can only focus on the pain and urgency. He doesn't understand why Frank's not helping him. Why doesn't he grab him one of those bottles they use? He groans and his good leg shifts again in some poor attempt to relieve the urgency. 

The nurse comes in with a smile, "How can I help Mr. Rumlow?" Her voice is casual with a wide smile.

"Piss," Brock grits out. He's so sure that if he takes care of the urgency feeling, he will be able to take his meds and be okay again. He hurts so much.

"Excellent. Let's lower the railing and get you to the bathroom." She smiles at him. She can already tell what kinda day she was in for, just from the sour grapes look on his face.

"No. Can't," he groans out. Why isn't she helping him? Why isn't she moving fast enough?

"Yes, you can." India says encouragingly, the side rail lowers and she pulls the sheet away, "I need you to sit upright, you're gonna swing the good leg and I'll help you with the hurt one. On three. One. Two."

"Just gimme piss bottle. Please. It hurts." He's on fire and he just wants it all to go away. He can't move the way she wants. It hurts too much. The urgency in his bladder increases and a whine escapes.

"We aren't a barracks or a frat, we're a hospital. Now move your leg, _please_." 

"Not gonna make it." There's a rise of panic in him followed by a certainty that if he tries to stand or move too much, he's going to lose it. He's afraid of the pain getting worse or falling and being in more pain. He carefully moves his good leg over the edge and tenses at the feeling of his bladder leaking a little. He gasps out with a whine, "Fuck fuck fuck." 

"If you have an accident, it's not a big deal, ok? You're doing great." The nurse looks up at him with a nod.

He vehemently disagrees with everything she just said, cursing at her softly in Italian. Of course, it was a big fucking deal! He wouldn't have a fucking accident if she would just get him the fucking bottle they fucking have for this very fucking reason. Half of his fucking anxiety is because he's gotta fucking piss and he'd rather not do it in the bed or on the fucking floor! And not in front of his fucking husband! He should be able to hold his own fucking piss. He's not a child or some crocketty old invalid. Holy shit. He's a fucking invalid. 

"You are doing good. Just trust me." She grabs his leg, "Turn with me and rise." 

" _Vaffanculo_ ," he growls at her quietly. He's gotta piss and now he's pissed. And if he's not careful, he's going to be _pissed_. He scoots his ass and a flare of pain forces out a groan.

Frank pulls his phone out and quietly dials Jack.

"Grab my shoulders and let's move. Ok?" She says calmly.

"Don't cuss at her. She's doing her job, Brock." Frank reminds him.

"Bite me," he snaps. He shouldn't have called the nurse. He should've just made Frankie get him an empty bottle. Then he wouldn't have to get up. He hates everything and everyone and most of all he hates this goddamn pain! With a frustrated growl he grabs onto her shoulders and prays to God he doesn't piss himself.

"Don't be a dick, darling," Frank says calmly.

"Ok. Your feet are about to touch the floor. 

"Frankie get out," Brock says with a hint of urgency and panic in his voice. He doesn't want his husband to see him like this. 

Frank nods and walks out.

_"Did you need me to come over?_ " Jack asks from the phone.

"Only if you want to. He's gonna be a dick." 

" _Eh. I'm used to it. Want me to bring something? Coffee. Food. Something to hit Brock with?"_

"Oh, that's. Bad." Frank pauses, "Coffee. Please."

" _What's bad? The hitting Brock with a stick part?_ "

"He screamed in pain. Which means he… had an _accident_." Frank sighs. He watches as another nurse enters the room with a mop, bucket, and a new gown.

" _Kinda happy you got kicked out now, huh_ ," Jack chuckles softly. 

"Yes and no." 

" _I get that. You wanna be there for him but nobody wants to watch their loved one lose control like that. I'm sure he's thankful you didn't see it. It's embarrassing, you know? And gross."_ There are some background noises of the coffee maker brewing as well as the sound of beeping.

"I know. He's so proud and this will make him feel horrible." Frank sighs, "They are lowering his meds and making him get up." 

" _So what I'm hearing is I need to send you home and allow you to be human again and I deal with the beast. And leave you with some fresh double-strength coffee in the French press?_ " 

"And another scream." 

" _At this rate, you won't have to deal with anything because he's going to pass out_ ," Jack comments. " _He's not a screamer normally so you know it's bad._ " 

"Yeah. I know. They are lowering his meds today. They want him to be more _awake_." Frank sighs again. He knows he is in for an uphill battle.

" _He wants that too so that's good. Maybe a slight lowering will still give him the pain relief but not put him out for hours."_

"Yeah. Let's hope." He leans against the wall and drops his head. He frowns. Are they forcing him to move too fast, "Is this too fast?" 

" _Not if the doctor wants this. I'm headed out the door. See you in a bit."_ Jack hangs up.

"Can I come in?" Frank asks as he pockets his phone. He turns to the door frame.

Brock nods at the nurses. He's completely exhausted. He's back in bed and relaxing under the flow of the warm water. Stuff even lowered his anxiety though that could just be a direct result of not feeling pain anymore. His eyes are closed, feeling sleepy in a content, fuzzy, way. He's not sure when the IV bag got switched out to a lower dose but this is better than being forced to sleep for 3 days.

"Come on in sweetheart." 

Frank steps into the room and sticks close to the wall. His eyes avoid his husband. 

"Brock. You need to tell us when you need to go." India says with a kind tone.

"Did," he rumbles softly.

"Next time, mister." 

Frank sits down quietly away from Brock.

"Okay." He opens his eyes and gives them a sleepy look. He watches them leave, shutting the door behind them. He sighs, fingers curling around Tiger. He turns to Frankie. "Hi." 

"Hi," Frank says softly.

"Why you over there?" 

Frank gives him a little smile, "Just giving you some space. I can come closer..." 

Brock gives him a sluggish and sleepy confused look. "Why?" 

"Being respectful?" Frank chuckles as he rises to his feet and takes the chair beside his husband, "Better?" 

"Yeah." 

"You gonna be ok?" 

"Yeah. 'M fine. No burn."

Frank smiles, "Good. My love, I'm sorry." 

"Is fine now," he sighs. It didn't bother him anymore. He feels good.

"Good. That's good. You seem more lucid." Frank runs fingers in his husband's hair.

"Sleepy but not..." 

"That's great!" Frank smiles, "Jack's coming."

"Okay…" he smiles, "I'm glad you're not crabby. You seemed up for a fight today."

Frank watches his husband give him a dopey smile, "Wanna watch television?" 

"Kay..." 

"Are you gonna agree with me on everything?" Frank leans forward and kisses his cheek.

"....yeah? Noooo… yeah..." 

"So, I can ask for a puppy and get it?" 

"Nooo. No. Pully." He frowns. That's not the right word. "Puppy." 

"Knock knock," Jack says, opening the door and entering. He's holding a steaming cup of coffee and a bag of food in one hand. He smiles at seeing Brock in bed and awake. 

"Hi, Jack!" Frank smiles warmly, "Brock has cooled and is now quite agreeable. We're getting a puppy!" He winks at Jack.

"A puppy?" Jack's eyebrows raise.

"Nooo..." Brock shakes his head.

"How was the drive?" Frank asks softly. 

"Eh. Uneventful. But I brought you donuts." Jack offers the bag. "I also have coffee if you want it but I also set the timer on the French press in your apartment to make coffee for you in one hour so when you go home, you'll have it fresh. If not, here."

"He has been told by the nurse that he has to tell someone when he has to pee or otherwise. The doctor will be in shortly." Frank leans in and kisses his cheek, "Do you want anything from home, _polpetto?"_

Brock nuzzles Frank before sighing softly, "Drink?" 

"Like a shake?" 

"Kay." There's a beat of silence. "No 'berry."

"Like chocolate? Cause your favorite husband brought you chocolate." Frank says with a big smile, "Do you think maybe you wanna try eating something small today?"

Brock sighs with a little smile, "I like chocolate."

"What about soup?" Jack offers, going around to the other side of the bed.

He frowns in thought. "No chocolate soup." 

"That's hot cocoa, love." Frank chuckles. He goes to his bag and pulls out the shake, "I'm putting it over ice, I'm sorry." 

"Tha's milk. Shake," Brock giggles.

"You're right. It is, dork." Frank pours the shake over ice and pops a straw in it. He hands it to Brock with a smile, "Enjoy my love." 

He reaches for it but can't seem to judge distance well. After several tries and using both hands, he finally grabs it. He sucks on the straw, holding it very carefully. 

"Are you going to be okay if I go home and shower? We, er, I have a band meeting today. So I'll be back after that." Frank says running fingers in Brock's hair. "I'm gonna steal the boys and have them come hang out afterward, would you like that?"

Brock nods, finishing his milk and offering it back. "I be here. Imma nap."

"Okay. Kiss me, I'm leaving you in the overqualified hands of your brother." Frank gives Jack a smile before stealing a donut. He turns back to Brock. 

Brock puckers his lips but otherwise doesn't move. He is warm and fuzzy and happy. "Love you. Bye-bye." 

"Love you too, silly potato." Frank tries not to laugh before kissing his husband, "I appreciate you so much, Jack."

Frank pats Jack's shoulder and heads out the door with his bag on. He has a gut feeling like this is going to be a rough day for Brock. Getting up to go to the bathroom and the lowered dose of meds could make him very unhappy. He pushes this to the back of his mind. He's got other things to worry about. The meeting is going to be over the band and music. They send demos in and how the label likes the direction. He starts the engine to Stella and heads home. 

Arriving home to the smell of strong coffee made him melt a little. He showers and shaves before dressing in nice jeans and a clean shirt. It's solid green with nothing on it, it feels weird but he's gotta look semi-professional. He eats a little something substantial before heading out to the meeting. He texts Jack to check in on things before stuffing his phone in his pocket.

After the meeting, the guys follow him back to Jersey and into the hospital. 

"He might be in a mood. Or he'll be loopy and sweet." Frank says just before the elevator door opens. He knocks on the door before entering, "Hello?" 

"Come in," Jack calls out.

"I brought guests." Frank grins.

"Uh… Maybe have them wait outside? We're doing a bathroom break," Jack calls before Frank opens the door all the way.

"Oh! Gotcha!" Frank says softly.

"Just give us like five minutes or less. Sorry, guys!"

He closes the door and turns to Ray. 

"He's pooping."

"That's good! He can go home!" Gee says with a smile.

"I'm going to get a drink. Who wants something?" Mike asks.

"Nah," Frank says with a small smile. 

Jack opens the door with a grin, "Hey. We're good. Come on in. Uh, he just had another dose just before his bathroom break and he's a little…. Out of it."

The boys slowly enter the room and fill out the space. 

Brock lies in the bed with his eyes closed and breathing a little heavy. Even with the fresh dose of meds, the walking and actually making it onto the toilet drained him of all energy. The muscles in his leg burned but not nearly as bad as before the meds. His fingers fist the sheets and he tries to wait for his heart rate to calm. 

"Hey, Brock!" Gerard says with a smile.

"Hi B!" Ray says touching Brock's leg softly.

Bob and Mike sit beside him. "How you feelin'?" Asks Mike.

"Burns," Brock pants out without opening his eyes.

"Just give it a few minutes, Brock," Jack encourages.

"Know." 

"But you were up. That's good, baby! I'm proud of you!" Frank says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He places a kiss on his cheek.

A small whimper escapes, eyes screwed up tight from the pain. He turns his head towards Frankie. "I tried. I'm sorry." 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby." Frank says softly, "You did good!"

Slowly, his body relaxes. Brock sighs heavier than before as the tightness and burning ease. The lower dose helps him not sleep as much but feels like it takes longer to get relief. Perhaps it was because he was moving and the muscles raged at him. He didn't know. His breathing slows. After a moment, he opens his eyes, feeling the warmth and fuzzy he has come to depend on. He smiles, "Hi." 

"Hi!" The guys say in unison.

"And the drugs have hit," Jack chuckles.

"You look good for a guy who was shot." Bob reaches out and touches his shoulder. 

"Me and Kristen came to see you but you were out of it. I'm glad you're awake!" Mike says with a little nod. 

"Christa is going to come see you tomorrow. She has an appointment for the little demon spawn in the hospital." Ray says softly. 

"Ray…" Brock reaches a little for him.

He moves closer and takes Brock's hand, "Yeah, B?" 

Brock tugs a little on Ray's hand to get him to come closer. A different sort of pain crosses his face; one that's not physical. He manages to get his brother to lean down to him so he can whisper, "I'm sorry. Tell her. Sorry." 

"You didn't do anything wrong. But you can tell her yourself Tomorrow." Ray says cupping his face. He presses his forehead to Brock's, "You're my brother and you protected my babies."

Brock's face scrunches up before his eyes well with tears. His voice cracks and the tears fall. "It's because of me. Alan came for her to get to _me_. He was going to kill everyone because of me."

"But. Brock." Ray pauses.

"You, Jack, and Bob stopped him." Frank squeezes his arm.

"Exactly we are safe because of you guys," Ray adds.

"You gotta let go of this guilt, Brock," Gerard says, patting the good leg.

Brock sniffs and sighs before nodding. He whispers, "Love you." 

"Love you too, B." 

Ray wraps his arms around Brock's shoulders and squeezes him before kissing his cheek.

Mike takes Ray's place once he steps away. And the rest of the boys follow the pattern, each of them thanking Brock. Frank steps away and nods for Jack to follow him, "How did it go today? How was he?" 

"Not too bad. He did nap, so that went well. And as you've seen, he got up and made it to the toilet. He peed. Turns out it was just gas, so no progress on that front. I mean, it's a start that things are moving south." Jack shrugs. "Oh, he's been awake for about an hour now."

"That's good! How are you? Did you eat?" Frank asks with a concerned smile.

"Not yet, no. And I'm alright. Relieved that I don't have to wipe my brother's ass at the moment."

"I feel like… he might be able to do that but it is what it is. Thank you for hanging out." Frank replies with a chuckle.

"Eh. I'm good for it. You know that. I'm good for anything."

"I know. You gonna hang out for a bit or head back?" Frank asks.

"Dunno yet. We'll see." He looks back at the others and Brock. "How was your meeting?"

"Good. We got… greenlit on making the third album." Frank has a little smile on his face.

"Nice. Brock should be healed by the time you guys go on another tour, right?" asks Jack with a slight frown.

"Yeah. They want to hire him fully as a manager. They were impressed with how efficient the tour ran. And the fact he got four crew members to stop smoking and drinking…" 

Jack nods and chuckles, "Trust my curl bro to be the good one. The big question is will you be able to tour if Brock has to stay in Italy?"

"Like will I be able to at _all_ or _without_ _him_?" Frank raises an eyebrow, he didn't think about this, "Ray's not perfect. Ask him about his vintage camera addiction." 

"Bit of both?" And what's wrong with a vintage camera? Sounds pretty awesome to me."

"Ask him about it." Frank touches Jack's arm, "Why _wouldn't_ I be allowed to tour?"

"Well if he has to stay in Italy… because of work… then you would probably want to stay with him, yes? It's not like you aren't _allowed_ to tour, but it's kinda different to see the Head couple across two continents. Which, now that I think about it, maybe the break was just a prelude to set you up for that? I don't know," Jack shrugs, "I'm just brainstorming here. Nothing is set in stone."

"We’ll burn that bridge when we cross it." Frank sighs, "Let's go rejoin before Brock pops a stitch from crying." 

Jack snorts and follows after Frank. "Yeah let's not." 

"Are we smothering my husband?" Frank chuckles.

"Only with love and adoration," Ray says with a smile as he pulls back.

"I love warm hugs," Brock says sleepily.

"Dork." Frank says leaning in and kissing him, "Missed you today at the meeting." 

He gives Frank a confused look. "What that go?"

Frank bites his lip, he has an idea of what he's asking, "It went good. We are making another album for sure. They liked the demos…" his fingers trace Brock's forehead. 

"More dead songs."

"Brock didn't like The Five Of Us Are Dead song," he giggles.

Jack laughs, "Okay, I expect Brock to not speak properly, but not you Frank. What are you on about?"

"We wrote a song called The Five Of Us Are Dead. Or And Kill All Your Friends." Frank smirks. He watches Brock's face scrunch in distaste.

"What kind of title is that?" Jack scoffs.

"Is stupid. They not. Dead," Brock mumbles.

"The irony has passed over his head." Frank says softly, "I can play you the demos if you are interested."

"The label wants to keep Brock as our manager. They are gonna set us up in a fancy fucking castle to record. We have producers, like Grammy-nominated ones!" Ray grins wide.

"Can't forever. I have castle," Brock states. He holds his Tiger and finds the tail to be fascinating.

"We will talk about it later when you aren't high." Frank says quietly in his husband's ear, "Are you hungry?" 

"Not high. I'm in bed. My castle is high. Very big. And pink. Mom likes pink. Is stupid. Cause nobody is serious when pink."

"It's more like something between pink and brown," Jack comments.

" _Pink_ ," Brock insists. "Can't be ruley and have pink. I like blue. And green. Frankie has green."

"I have green?" Frank smiles, he's confused, "I like pink. It's soft." 

"Pink's not serious." Brock frowns, trying to get his love to understand. "It's soft. Nobody listens to Pink Don. I need… Green." 

"Jesus," Jack whispers under his breath, a hand coming up to cover his forehead.

Frank picks up Brock's hand and kisses his palm, "You already have it, baby." 

"Gonna be the best Mob boss bossy ever. I love you." He smiles at them with a loopy goofy grin. He might be tired.

"Love you too baby." Frank grins.

Gerard blinks. _What? Mob boss?_ His mouth falls slightly open.

"Oh goddammit," Jack sighs full of sass. "Really, Brock? No more drugs for you." 

"But I like the water. Makes fire go away," Brock protests.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, "I was being– You know what, nevermind. I'm sorry. I'll give you drugs. Er… water."

Brock sighs and smiles. He's tired and the fuzzy feeling feels… fuzzier. He nods. "Kay. Love you, Jackie."

"You know, just because you are _so_ high on drugs right now, I'm going to let that slide," Jack tries to give a glare but it doesn't stick when he is staring at the lovable doped-up face of his older brother.

"Jackie," Frank whispers.

Jack has no qualms however about glaring at his brother-in-law, "Don't do it, Frank." 

Frank chuckles. He won't press his luck but he's sure lit the fuse, "You won't hurt me…"

"Like hell. Wanna see if kittens will land on his feet from seven stories up?"

"You won't hurt me. I'm your brother. And your brother's husband… Jack," Frank prolongs the k. He's got a mischievous grin on his face.

"Brock, I'm going to toss Frank out the window. Is that alright?" Jack asks.

"Kay. He _passerotto_. He fly." 

"Brock!" 

Brock giggles. He squeezes Frank's hand. "Love you." 

"Don't let me go," Frank says softly. 

"Jack, you don't wanna hurt Frankie, he's small and unsatisfying." Ray chuckles.

"I satisfy, just ask Brock." Frank sticks his tongue out. 

The Ways snicker quietly.

"Frankie candy bar." Brock nods. He yawns wide. It might be nap time again and maybe cuddle time. He tugs a little on Frank. "Koala?" 

"You should say goodbye to our guests, then yes. Always, koala." Frank says quietly to his dopey faced husband before turning back to the group, "So. Brock's awake now. Come visit us. He needs it. But I think what my big baby needs is a nap." 

Bob rises from his seat. He's enjoyed the show but knows it's time to leave, "B, I'll come see you tomorrow or the next day. Love you bud." He hugs Brock before stepping back.

"Bye-bye Bobby," Brock sighs sleepily.

Mike steps up and hugs Brock again, "I'll bring Kristen by to see you. She's been worried." He fluffs Brock's hair and smiles.

"Baby Sprinkle? And Baby Candy something. Candy…. Cake. Baby… Cotton candy? Or Gummy worms. I'm sleepy."

"Two? I have to have two babies?" Mike chuckles.

"Cupcake." Frank says quietly in Brock's ear.

"Baby Cupcake if a girl. And Baby Gummy if a boy.'

"Yeah. We are working on it." Mike chuckles, "She's excited to see you."

"Lindsey has pictures for you," Gerard says softly. He extends his hand to Brock to shake it.

Brock frowns. He's staring at Gerard's hand, completely confused. "You can't have Tiger. Gimme Baby Emo." 

"He wants to shake your hand, silly." 

"..... Okay… why?"

"Just hug him you weirdo." Frank sighs. "Brock's too high to care about your worries." 

Gee sighs and hugs the doped up man. He steps back and nods at Jack, still a little nervous to get his ass beat.

"Gimme a hug and a kiss, old man." Ray chuckles putting his arms out before he hugs Brock.

"I like hugs." Brock reaches for Ray and smooches his cheek 

"I know you do, you big teddy bear. I'll see you tomorrow ok? Don't be so high when you see Christa. She is excited to see you. She's been worried." Ray kisses his brother's forehead.

"Baby?"

"Soon." 

Brock nods and yawns again. He wants to roll over but can't. He shifts his good leg in a poor attempt to feel less stuck like a turtle. Grabbing Tiger and holding him close, he tugs again at Frankie. He's done being awake now.

"Okay. Okay. I'm coming." Frank says playfully as he kicks his shoes off and crawls into the bed. He is strategic when he places his limbs. His hand resting on his husband's chest while one leg drapes between his legs, "Thank you guys for coming to visit." 

Jack pushes off the window sill. He follows after the group, turning to Frank, "I'm going down to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich. I'll escort the guys out. You two enjoy."

"See you in a few...I'll keep him from running off." Frank glances up at Brock.

"See if you can give him a shake too. Or wait and maybe we can try soup," Jack offers, opening the door and pausing.

"Ok. I will." Frank's fingers stretch a little over Brock's chest.

Jack smiles and shuts the door behind him. He follows the rest of the band, hobbling as quickly as he can to catch the elevator. He makes it though and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

~~

"Hi," Frank says softly to Brock.

"Hi." 

"You wanna try some soup?" Frank asks.

"I don't like soup. Except tomato. With cheese sandwiches. Mostly cheese."

"Maybe oatmeal?"

"No. This place has gross things for food."

"We can find you easy foods…" Frank chuckles. He presses his lips to Brock's chest, "Mandarin oranges?" 

He yawns and snuggles as much as he can. "Nap. First." 

"Yes, baby." Frank moves Brock's hand to the middle of his lower back. Brock's breathing evens out seconds later as he drifts off to sleep.

~~

The boys are quietly chattering as they reach the elevator. The sound of shuffling feet approaches quickly and brings Jack with them. Ray puts his arm over his shoulder in a silent greeting.

Jack smiles at Ray and wraps his arm around Ray's middle in a little hug. The doors close and Jack is thankful that they are the only ones on the elevator. He waits a moment before speaking. 

"So. Gerard… I think we need to have a little chat, yeah?"

Gerard tenses. He stares forward for a moment, "What...what about?" 

"Oh, I think you know. Right, guys?" 

The collective agreement feels like a weight on his chest. Couldn't be the fact that his friend married into the fucking mob and that he was probably standing next to a hitman! Gerard calms his mind the best he can, "So… let's talk." 

"Bob and you were the only ones who didn't already know. Though, Bob, I suspected you figured it out, yeah?" Jack asks the redhead.

"Mmmhmm."

"And _they_ have all agreed to their silence. And _we_ offer them protection. Do you see where I'm going with this, Gee?"

"That you all are fucking insane? That our friend married into a...a basket of crocodiles? It's the fucking Mob!" Gee says blinking wildly as he slowly turns. He feels the car stop and shake a little. He watches Bob's hand pull away from the stop button.

"Read my mind, Bob," Jack says lowly. He moves away from Ray so he can stand more in front of Gerard. His expression darkens just a little. 

"I. I'm not scared of you." Gerard manages to get out. He's lying. He's terrified. Oh my god, he got his ass whooped by a hitman. 

Jack puts his hands in his pockets and stares hard at Gerard. "Yes, you are. But you don't have to be. Look around you. Do you see them scared?"

"No. They are idiots. The mob kills people! They use fear as a tool! Oh my god, how– if I–!" Gerard's head fills with questions all tainted by fear.

Jack tilts his head slightly. "Would you rather... Frank be dead?" 

"What?! No why would he be dead? Frank's my friend!" 

"Because he had a gun to his head during the carjacking. I killed those men and took a bullet to keep you guys safe. Would you rather he be dead? Would you?" Jack's voice is a mix of dark hardness and mild amusement. 

"Without them, Christa would be still missing," Ray adds.

"It's the mafia! They steal and kill people just for the fuck of it! I've seen the movies! I don't need cement shoes!" Gerard says as his voice goes up.

"The Godfather is overrated. Ask Brock. He'll tell you. Actually, in his drugged up state, maybe don't ask. You might get actual details." Jack's hard demeanor drops and for a moment he's just the annoyed little brother. "High motherfucker telling all of the family secrets." 

"He did sing quite well." Ray snorts, "Honestly, they are the good guys. Frankie picked the right family."

"Thanks, brother. Though. We're not technically 'the good guys' if we're talking legalities. And as much as it would pain me to do it, if, by some chance, Brock or someone higher up gave me an order…" he shrugs. "I don't think that's going to happen. Brock would protect and defend you guys."

"Even you, after all the snake shit you pulled," Mike adds.

"But. I. You're." Gerard's head feels like it's full of static. He can't form the sentence he wants to. He makes an annoyed grunt. 

"Yes. And it's because of _us_ that Jamia will never hurt Frank again. I didn't carry it out personally so I'm not sure the details."

"Well, that is good. Fuck she was awful." Gerard mutters.

"Jack woulda slept with her." Ray snickers.

"To be fair, I didn't know that was her or that I was being played. So. That's my mistake. One that will never happen again," replies Jack with a slight eye roll.

"How much did it take to pay her off to disappear?" Gerard asks with a tilt of his head.

"Well, it cost $3.3 million…" Jack pauses, staring at Gerard, and wondering how this guy can be a knucklehead. "She's dead, Gerard. But sure... 'Disappeared.' Indefinitely."

"Oh my fucking god!" He says as the idea sets in. 

"As I said, I don't know the details. I dunno if she was marked as missing or if they ever found her body. I don't care. That's not the point," Jack shakes his head.

"But you're the bad guys… why are you so _nice_?" Gee asks, "Does your mom know?!"

The band snickers. Jack gives him a deadpanned look. "Family Business." 

"No!" Gee says shocked, "My sweet Maria!"

"Queen of the Mafia," Jack quips. He's enjoying Gerard's suffering. "There's a reason we joke about Brock being a prince."

"My sweet angel! She's a saint!" Gerard protests.

"Yeah. Sure. Let's get back to the point of the topic, yes? You going to go squealing to the police or no?" Jack crosses his arms over his chest. They had been in the elevator long enough. If they didn't move soon, people would start to worry. 

"I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I could never betray momma Maria." Gee says with a firm nod, "Am I. Are we in danger?"

Jack frowns in confusion. "Why would you think that? Because of this?" 

"Isn't the mafia like dangerous and cutthroat?"

He smirks, "I am pretty badass. You've seen me and Brock in action."

"So everyone knew." Gerard asks, "Rude, guys."

"You were the one who was… on shaky grounds." Ray shrugs.

"Plus, it's not our job to tell you."

"I figured it out." Bob chuckles.

"Yeah, at some point, we pretty much stopped pretending too much," Jack snickers. He turns to Bob, "When _did_ you figure it out?" 

"Disney. I had a suspicion, but the carjackers confirmed." Bob shrugs.

"Ah. Yeah, it's more obvious when there's wine and my mom and sister involved," Jack nods.

"Brooke made a comment about something minor that caught my ear. I was like that's odd." Bob shrugs as he presses the button and moves the car again.

"We're great at keeping secrets. Promise," Jack chuckles. "Oh, Gerard, Lindsey knows too." 

"What?!" He shouts, "Oh, that girl's getting spanked."

"So does Frank's mom. Linda is awesome." 

"Linda is wonderful." Gerard smiles before chuckling, "You met Carolyn?" 

Jack stiffens a little. His voice is terse, "Yep. Recently too." 

"Mmmm she made an impression." Ray laughs, "She told me that I was a bad man when she met me, then continued to insinuate I was Frank's boyfriend."

"Please. We all know your Brock's," Jack laughs before sobering up. "She did the same to me. But continued to insult my brothers. Called me an attack dog. Kept spewing homophobic shit until I snapped. Scared the shit out of her when I threatened her. Brock was pissed at me."

"She is a horrible bitch." Mike adds.

"Probably a good thing Frank doesn't have her voicemails where she says some horrible shit about Brock and him." Ray comments.

"It's a damn shame she'll be at the wedding ceremony," Jack sighs.

"Surprised Linda is allowing it. She is not nice to Frankie." Bob comments following Jack out of the elevator.

"Yeah. It will be interesting to see Brooke's response." Ray chuckles.

Jack nods, following after the others. "She's still Linda's sister and Frank's aunt. Also, I invited them to Italy for Christmas. Not sure why. Must've been a lapse in judgment."

"Make Carolyn stay on the mainland." Ray snorts.

"I wish. I do _not_ need that loudmouth knowing the secret. I'd rather not see my family and myself go to prison or be put on death row."

"Yeah. Let's not have that. We kinda like you guys." Ray smiles as his arm drapes over Jack. 

"That would put Frank in jail too," Mike comments quietly.

The band stops at the door for a moment.

"So now that you know. How do you feel?" Ray chuckles.

"Fine. I guess. Kinda makes more sense." Gerard scratches his head, "But I am not saying shit to anyone." 

"We appreciate it," Jack says. 

"You headed out?" Ray asks.

"Was going to hit up the cafeteria after I instilled 'the fear' in Gerard. Haven't eaten yet and I'm starving. I may or may not go back upstairs. Might go home and crash for a bit."

"You're not that scary…" Gerard nervously jokes.

"If you get too tired, give me a call and you can crash in the guest room." Ray offers, "And you're not a burden and we want your company."

Jack decides to ignore Gerard's joke and rolls his eyes a little. He turns to Ray and grins. "Thanks, man. I appreciate you guys coming. Brock's been asking about you since he came out of surgery. Means a lot." 

"I've been checking with Frankie to see when he is lucid enough to interact with us." Ray says with a smile, "Christa has been worried."

"How's your head? Neck? Is she doing okay? I never got the chance to see if there were injuries…"

"She's shaken up. I got an alarm system installed at the house for her. We also got a dog today." Ray sighs, "No injuries other than a couple of scrapes and bruises. Baby hasn't moved since it happened. It's why we are going to the doctor's but I didn't want to say anything to Brock."

"Jesus. I'm sorry, man. You need something, you let me know, okay?" Jack offers, concern in his eyes.

"I will. You know that. I'm not Frank, I won't internalize this until it eats me." Ray smiles before hugging Jack, "I'm already indebted to you guys for life."

"Not a debt if you're family, brother," Jack says, returning the hug.

"True. Go eat. You're looking thin." Ray playfully pats his cheek, "How's your hole by the way?" 

"I'm not as thin as Brock though so I'm good. Starting to itch. So healing. Linda gave me a better way to clean it so that's helping."

"Nice to have a nurse in the family." Ray can't help but grin, "Brock is scary thin, for Brock." 

"Well, not eating for three weeks will do that to you. And puking the rest." Jack snorts.

"Yeah. Hopefully, that changes." Ray sighs, "I'm not worried about it. Frank will rat him out about that to whoever will listen."

The guys each hug Jack before departing. Jack makes his way to his car after texting Frank to let him know that he was going to go home and crash after eating but promises to return that evening.

While it was good to see his brother improving, it was still discerning to see him laid up in the hospital bed. He should probably check in with his mom while eating.

After a very interesting phone call with his mother and a quick two-hour nap, Jack makes the drive back to the hospital. He stops to get gas and a few treats before heading up to his brother's room.

"Hey, you should wake up and go to the bathroom, Brock." Frank leans up and whispers in his ear before kissing him on the cheek, "Or I'll take Tiger for a swim." 

Brock groans and stirs from sleep, shifting so he's trying to cuddle Frank closer and roll them over. He was having a good dream involving them on his yacht back home. He doesn't want to get up. His leg moves and he twists his hip a little. Damn bed sheets. He does it again and pain flares up his leg and entire left side. His eyes snap open and he sharply inhales, full body freezing 

"Hey. Breathe baby." Frank says calmly, "It's okay. Just breathe through your nose." 

A whimper escapes. He's trying to figure out how to escape the pain. He's fully awake now and realizes he's about a quarter-turned onto his injury. The idiot part of him doesn't know how to make it stop. He tries to move again and jolts at more burning.

"Stop moving like that baby. You're making it worse." Frank tries to slip out of the bed carefully. "Breathe my love. Breathe." 

He pants thru his nose, eyes wide, "I'm _on_ it. I gotta roll back." 

"Let me help. Let go of me." Frank says with a soft cool tone. Frank slips from the bed and hurries to the other side. His hands carefully cradling the thigh and Brock's butt, "Easy there, tiger. Slowly come down on my hands." 

There's a knock at the door and Jack's head appears before stepping in. "Hey I got– what the hell?!" 

"He tried to roll over," Frank says quietly. 

"Help," Brock cries out.

"Help." Frank frowns. He decides he's hiring a nurse. With his own money, not _family_ money.

"Shit. Uh, okay. Not sure how… really, you should just bite the bullet and roll back over onto your back and scream into a pillow. Dose if you can… and cry over the treats I brought." Jack shrugs. This seems pretty straightforward to him and even though he knows Brock is panicking, just the simple reminder might help.

"Was trying to wake him up to use the bathroom. It's been hours…" Frank trails off. 

'A nurse until Brock is at least 75% better.' he thinks, 'Maybe _sleeping in the bed with him is a bad idea. I'll stop that too. I'm just getting him hurt. One way or another.'_ he closes his eyes and sighs.

"Okay… well. Brock, buddy. Bite the bullet and just do it." Jack shakes his head and moves to set his things down. "Not sure when you got soft but you _can_ do things for yourself. Pain or not."

Brock looks at his brother and remembrance clicks in his head. He used to be much better than this. He looks at Frankie and nods. He _can_ do this. Yes, it's going to hurt like hell but it will pass. And he has to get used to the pain if he wants to get home before the end of the year. He can do this. He is able. Yes, it will hurt. But it is not the end of the world. He takes a large, deep breath and grits his teeth. He plants one hand on each rail and rolls back over onto his back. Fire shoots up all over his body. "Fuck!" He did it. It's over.

Frank finds himself against the window as he watches as Brock tries to get control of himself. He isn't going to say what needs to be said, Brock not gonna want to get up and go to the bathroom. He just waits anxiously for him to say something. 

"Shit shit shit," Brock chants under his breath. He focuses on his breathing and tries to get things under control. The extra burst of fire starts to subside until it's back to the normal persistent burning. Panting and sweating from the exertion, he gives a little thumbs up. "Ok. I'm. Ok." 

"Good," Frank says softly. He pushes away from the window.

"I got this. Yeah," Brock pants. "I'm awake now."

"You should go to the bathroom," Frank mumbles.

"When's my next dose?"

"Half hour. Maybe less..." Frank glances at the clock 

Brock debates how long he can hold it. He wants to take his dose if he can, and then go to the bathroom to help minimize the pain. He's not sure he can wait another thirty minutes. Damn. He sighs, "Fine. Yeah okay." 

Frank nods. 

"Need a breather?" Jack asks.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Just a minute." Brock takes a few deeper breaths.

"Do you want some water?" Frank asks, raising an eyebrow. It feels silly to ask.

"After," he nods. He's as ready as he's going to be before meds. The fire is only going to get worse if he waits. He has to pee. He can't wait until his next dose and another accident is not an option. If he wants to get home, he has to be able to do this. He lowers the bed rail.

"Do you want me or Frank to help you? Or do you think you can stand long enough?" 

"Dunno."

Frank moves to the end of the bed. He glances at Jack and shrugs. 

"Okay let's start with the basic one. Can you stand long enough or do you need a brace to get onto the toilet?"

"Brace," Brock grunts out, swinging his good leg out of the bed. 

"Jack or me." Frank asks, "Or do you want me to step out?" 

"I can make it." Brock grabs his thigh and tries to scoot or something to swing his bad leg out and can't seem to figure out how to make it work. 

Jack motions for Frank to help Brock. He needs to be the one to do it so it's easier when Brock is sent home. Though, he might take up the guest bedroom again. It will be easier to assist that way 

Frank steps up. He puts his hand on Brock's ankle. Carefully, he lifts Brock's leg and moves the hurt leg slowly. He gives Brock a small nod and smile, "You got this." 

Brock grits against the pain, fire burning hard. He can feel each tendon and sinew, or so it seems, pull and twist with each second Frank slides his injured leg across the mattress. He groans and another curse escapes. "Fuck fuck fuck!" 

"I'm sorry. I know it sucks." Frank says softly. He feels like a monster. 

"Hey, Frank," Jack hedges quietly.

"Yeah?" 

"Don't take this personally."

"Yeah…"

"Motherfucker!" Brock shouts, moving his leg more.

Frank blinks.

"I fucking hate this!" He shouts, giving a final heave and getting his leg over the edge with a small cry of pain. 

"I'm sorry," Frank says quietly.

"Fuck you," Brock spats. He pants and a whined groan escapes.

"Rad." Frank rolls his eyes. That hurt.

Jack clears his throat and gets Frank's attention. "You good or do you want to switch? It's going to get worse…."

"Shut the fuck up Jack," Brock spats.

Jack makes a sweeping motion at Brock's back and gives Frank a look. That's exactly what he has to look forward to every time Brock has to go to the bathroom. And the more pain he's in, the worse Brock screams expletives. It's not personal.

"Really?" Frank raises an eyebrow. He takes a breath and finishes his thought, "Maybe we don't abuse our brother or me. I'm fine for now, Jack." 

Yeah, that's not going to happen and Jack knows it. He knows his brother and he knows bärchen. He can just see all the problems this will cause. He moves next to them both, placing a gentle hand on Frank's shoulder. "How about you let me, and I show you how we did it last time? So that next time, you'll be okay?"

"Ok." Frank steps back. 

Jack squeezes his shoulder before stepping in front of Brock, a look of pure chill on his face. He takes his brother's hands into his own and braces. Glancing at Frank, he shoots him a wink before turning back to Brock. "Stand up." 

"I'm doing it, asshole," Brock growls.

"Really? Sure," Jack deadpans.

"Fuck you!"

"Yep. Now stand up."

Brock snarls, the pain nearly overwhelming as he pulls against Jack's arms and uses the leverage to pull himself into a standing position. He cries out at the movement. 

"Breathe," Frank speaks but the words are soft like a whisper.

"I am!" Brock snaps. He's clinging hard to Jack, so hard, his knuckles and fingers are turning white. Jack just stands there and waits rather nonchalant about this whole thing.

"Yeah, well, don't be a dick." Frank mumbles, "Unless you wanna diaper?"

"Diapers are for the shits," Jack smirks.

"Suppose they call 'em depends…" 

"Assholes." 

"Yep. Now, walk. Come on," says Jack, taking a step back. 

"What is it that they always say in the war movies… move your ass private? Except… commander." Frank says with a smile.

Brock takes a small step and increases his tight hold on Jack's arms. He glances over at Frank and his eyes hold the immense amount of pain he's in. He's barely taken a single inch and yet it's as if he's crossed a mile. This is exactly why he was unable to make the trek successfully before. An inch feels like miles. The pain is excruciating and there's an invisible countdown in his head telling him both how long he has before his bladder gives way and how long he has before his pain threshold reaches its max and he collapses. The fire in his body radiating from his thigh feels all-consuming and it bubbles out of his mouth into words of anger or hate. It's better than crying or screaming and immovable from fear.

He takes another step, putting weight on his bad leg and another cry wrenches out from his lips. He turns it into a harsh bark of a curse at no one in particular.

Frank stays close by the wall, he watches Brock move slowly. He can damn near feel the pain his husband was in, "Maybe. If you..." This idea was bad, and it would get him cussed at, "put more of the weight on your heel than the toes?"

Brock turns and glares at him, ready to spout off something when Jack pulls him, the fucking bastard, and makes him take another step. Cursing under his breath and switching into Italian, he finally makes it to the bathroom. Jack opens the door for them and helps him into the small closet-like room. It takes far more maneuvering than it should for him to turn his body and hover over the toilet. This part is awkward as fuck. He can't seem to hold onto Jack _and_ raise the hospital gown enough for him to sit down without getting the gown wet. He growls and shifts most of his weight onto his good leg. Which seems to be developing sympathy pains. 

"I fucking hate this place!" Brock shouts. 

"Next time, don't get shot," Frank mumbles quietly. He checks his nails and sighs. This is gonna be a long few months.

"Put your hands on the rail and hold yourself up," Jack says.

Brock hisses at him in harsh Italian but does as he's told. He doesn't necessarily need both hands to keep his balance but the last time he tried to hold one hand on the rail while his other grabbed the gown, he nearly lost his balance and Jack had to grab him and keep him steady. He watches as his brother grabs a handful of the gown and bunches it up at the front, holding it off to the side. 

"That was a close one." Frank comments.

"My face is near your dick," Jack says as he grabs the errant tie that never seems to want to cooperate and always seems to taunt him, "so maybe don't let go." 

Snorting, Brock grabs onto Jack's arm, and using both him and the rail, he slowly lowers himself down onto the toilet. He sits a little too hard and he cries out, "Motherfucker!" 

Jack nods, "Yep." 

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Frank asks.

Gasping, his bladder finally releases and he lets out another string of insults, this time in a blend of Italian and German. 

"Well, that was just uncalled for," Jack comments, raising his eyebrow. 

"Sounds like he summoned a demon." 

He laughs, looking over his shoulder to his little brother. "Would have been hilarious if it was. Make the demon be his personal bathroom assistant."

"Demon would quit first trip." Frank snorts, "Hell's better than this crap."

"It's only crap if Brock can actually shit a brick," Jack snickers.

"Fuck you," Brock snarls at his brother. 

"Nah. Speaking of which, how's that working for you?" Jack's voice moves from nonchalant to more gentle and concerned. Sure he has to put up with his brother's pain-laced venomous words and really it's not that big of a deal, but he still cares. 

Brock sighs, exhaustion pulling at him. His leg is on fire and sweat is dripping down his neck. One arm rests on the safety rail and holds his head up. He pants a little and works on going to the bathroom. His voice is small and drained, "Fine." 

"Don't push too hard." 

Frowning for a moment, Brock has to ask Frank, "Literally? Or like… don't push yourself sort of thing?"

He was being a shit but he'll play it off, "Don't hurt yourself kinda deal..." 

"But maybe don't push too hard," adds Jack, "because the last thing you need is a hernia. Or hemorrhoids. That's Frank's job."

"Mmm. I'll be the one getting the hemorrhoids." Frank snorts.

"It's true, bärchen." 

"Especially 'cause he likes to jackhammer into me," Frank says with a slightly dreamily voice. He's gonna miss that. 

Jack nods, "Yep. Which, now that I am thinking about you two having sex, Brock, you're going to need a lot of physical therapy to be able to do the more aggressive sex."

"Oh, I figure it's at least six months or more," Frank says softly. 

"My leg is broken, not my dick. Frank's just gonna have to ride for a bit, at least until I gain back some muscle tissue," Brock says tiredly. He's still on the toilet and it's starting to get uncomfortable.

"Let's work on building some stamina before Frank rides anything more than an elevator." Frank sighs, more than likely it will be blowjobs for a long minute or six months to a year. 

"I agree with Frank. You're trying to run before you are walking again. You need to be able to move a lot better before you engage in anything."

Brock sighs. He knows they are right. He dismisses it all right now because it's the least important. The only thing he cares about is getting back into the bed and taking his meds. His leg hurts. His ass hurts from the stupidly small and not normal shaped toilet. He's exhausted. He's done. He tried again and nothing. He looks at Jack. "I'm done. Help me back?"

Jack pushes off the wall he was leaning on while he waited and nods. He extends his arms for Brock to grab, bracing himself. "Anything?"

"No," grunts Brock, digging hard into Jack and pulling himself up and into a standing position. The fire blazes again and it wrenches out a small gasp and a whine. He decides to take a moment and just lean against his brother, attempting to breathe through the pain. He feels strong arms wrap around him and hold him tightly. Jack murmurs words of encouragement in his ear and Brock both hates and is thankful for them. Jack flushes the toilet, lets go of the hospital gown and slowly they make the arduous trip back to the bed. 

Frank flutters around the bed, fixing the sheet and pulling the cover down then moving the pillow.

"Thank you," Brock pants out. He's so far beyond his limit for the pain, he can barely speak, instead, he's focusing all of his efforts on breathing. The fire seems to burn that away too.

"Got the tiger, Frank," asks Jack as he tries to look over his shoulder. "Maybe hold the sheets from moving. They always seem to bunch?" 

"I have Tiger, I'll get the sheets." Frank nods as he puts the tiger on the rolling tray and grabs a hold of the sheet, "You're doing good baby!" 

Brock can't speak, the air in his lungs stolen by fire. The fire has spread all over his body, radiating from his thigh. He can't focus on anything other than just enduring and forcing himself to take a step. He just needs to hold on a little bit more before he can find relief. Jack assists in helping him sit on the edge of the mattress and slides his legs back in. He probably should have done that himself but he's thankful Jack took pity on him. He just lays there, body pulsing and throbbing on fire, and tries to breathe properly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack push the button for him. 

Frank leans in, "You did wonderful baby. Also, you got a cute butt." 

Brock huffs a smile and takes Frank's hand. He fights tears. Somehow staying still seemed to only increase the pain. Or perhaps it was simply due to the fact he had nothing else to focus on as a distraction.

Jack flips the covers over his brother and carefully tucks him in before grabbing the plush and putting it within arm's reach. He doesn't understand why his 51-year-old brother is clinging to a stuffed tiger but hey, he did have a rough month so he lets it go. While his brothers do some TLC, he digs through the bag he brought. Hopefully, the ice he brought didn't melt.

"Love you, grumpy gills," Frank says quietly before kissing his cheek.

"Love you," Brock says weakly. He just needs to wait until the water washes away the fire. He just needs to endure and hold on a little longer. 

"You know, you are a fuckin' badass." 

He shakes his head. He didn't feel like much of a badass. Maybe just an ass with the way he shouted at Frankie. With Jack, he knew that not only his brother didn't give a shit that he screamed at him but also that he would joke about it after and sometimes during. His brother can take it. As his Commander, he screamed at him daily either in the form of orders or punishment. One day he would do the same back home. 

"No, you are. I would be a pool of tears and sweat having to get up like that." Frank pushes the hair from his forehead, "You shouldn't argue with your husband. We need to wash your hair." 

"Ok. Later? Sorry. For yelling," Brock pants while breathing through his nose and out his mouth.

"We can do it later." Frank nods, "It's okay, I need to toughen up a little. Jack says he brought something for you…"

"Yes," Jack says happily. He goes over to the holding a little white cup in his hand. He pulls off the foil lid and sticks a plastic spoon in it. He offers it to Brock. "It's cherry Italian ice. Well. The American version but I know you like it."

Brock gives him a slow smile. The drugs are doing their wonderful job. He's feeling sleepy now, too. He brings a spoonful of ice to his mouth and sips it. The flavor is yummy and way better than water. He crunches the ice happily. "Thanks." 

"Happy little bear." Frank chuckles as he sits in the chair beside Brock, who is now devouring the little cup, "How was your break, Jack?" 

"Not bad. Chatted with the boys a bit. Ate a sandwich. Got gas and found the ice. Also got this," Jack pulls out a word puzzle book and shows it to them. "Yeah, I know But it was the gas station and they are limited. But it's still better than just sitting here and doing nothing. And it was in large print for the old guy."

Brock finishes the cup and blows a raspberry at Jack, tongue bright cherry red. He sets the trash on the tray. "Jerk." 

"I did bring your glasses." Frank says softly, "In case you wanted to read." 

"Jerk am I? Really? Well then if I'm such a jerk then I suppose you don't want this?" Jack raises an eyebrow and holds up a second cup.

"Maybe you should be nicer to Jack until you get the second cup," Frank whispers in Brock's ear.

"Gimme."

Jack laughs and tosses the cup to him. Brock catches it and happily digs into the flavored ice. This one is a little melted too and so he sips the cherry juice a little before spooning the ice into his mouth and crunching it to completion. It's nothing at all like back home but he found these were pretty good by themselves.

"It's the little things. Huh, baby?" Frank leans in and rests his head on the side of the bed, "So, what do you think about pushing the wedding back a little?"

"Why?" asks Brock, the ice crunching loudly in his mouth. 

"So that you can, like, be a part of the wedding, fully?" Frank asks.

"I will."

"Brock."

"I can do it. I will." His voice is full of determination. He knows he can overcome this. This is just a setback, sure, but it's also a challenge he can defeat. He already knows he's going to work hard in physical therapy. As Jack said, he can do this. Pain is not the end of the world. There is order through pain. Nodding, he crunches more ice.

"Ok. I am trying to help..." Frank says softly. He strokes Brock's arm, "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" 

"I don't want to be pushy." 

Finishing the second cup, Brock sets it on the tray and lies back with a sigh. He's ready for a nap or at least some cuddle time. He yawns and gives Frank a sleepy look. "I don't get it. Wanna go home. So I try to do the things they want. I get up. I'm awake. I pee. I can do the things. Minus one or two but it's in progress." Brock has to pause to catch his breath. Longer sentences seemed to steal his air. The short and broken answers were easier but made him sound stupid. His brain was not stupid. He knew what he wanted to say, he just didn't have the air. "Goals. Home and wedding. Not pushy." 

"Ok. Fair enough." Frank smiles, "Goals are good." 

"But ice is better." Jack grins and asks, "Did you want me to bring you more, next time? Short term rewards for when you pee or something."

"Not a kid," Brock rolls his eyes. But nods at the prospect of more flavored ice cups. 

"Yeah, you are." Frank smirks, "A big silly kid."

"Only when drugged," Brock sighs.

"Or sick."

"Or depressed," Jack offers.

"Hate you," Brock mumbles. He sighs.

Jack snickers, "No you don't. You love us. We love you too." 

"You love us very much." Frank smiles, he leans over and kisses Brock's forehead, "You're cute when you're needy… not when you're all cussy and vinegar."

"He's only like that when he's in severe pain. Not drugged up like this," Jack comments.

"I know." Frank sighs.

"What if we try to get onto a schedule? Bathroom needs after meds to help ease the pain for a little while," offers Jack.

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Frank nods, "We can use a part of the whiteboard for it."

"Not a child," Brock grumbles.

"Might even be able to factor in naps," adds Jack.

"He needs his nap." Frank smiles.

"Not. A. Child."

"Don't forget, feeding times and daily exercise. And snacks. Water intake too," Jack nods.

"Probably bath time at some point." Frank chuckles, "Maybe outdoor time, weather permitting of course." 

"Not. A. Dog. Either," Brock bitches.

"But you're my puppy!" Frank playfully exclaims, "Admit it, my love, you're the closest thing to it."

"No. You're my puppy." Brock tries to glare at Frank but he's too loopy to pull it off successfully. He's loopy and tired. 

"Thought I was your kitten?" Frank raises his eyebrows, "Jackie is the tiger." 

Jack growls a little, "Frank… You know, I don't call you Frankie because you asked me not to. Why do you gotta call me Jackie?"

"Jack, HE is the tiger…" Frank says with a raised eyebrow.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Jack contemplates arguing. He knows full well Frank didn't say that. He sighs and lets it go. "Whatever." 

"Love you, Jack." 

"Love you too… I suppose." He chuckles playfully.

"But how's that sound? A schedule. To keep you on track? Cause I'm sure they are gonna have a therapist working you soon." 

Brock sighs and gets comfy again into the pillows. He's starting to drift a little. "Yeah ok." Frank runs fingers through his hair. 

"So, the thing in Canada is happening. Do you think he'll be ok?" Frank asks looking at Jack, "I know that you are here but…"

"Wha' happen in Canada?" Brock asks.

"It's a music award show." Frank smiles.

"You won award?!" 

"We are nominated and they want us to perform," Frank says proudly.

"That's. That's so. Cool."

"I guess the kids like the emo death music." Frank leans in and whispers into his ear. He presses his lips to his husband's cheek, "Sleep, baby." 

Brock nods and yawns. "Koala?"

"You sure? I don't wanna hurt you."

Brock mumbles something in Italian that Frank doesn't understand but the literal grabby hands is a pretty strong indicator.

"Fine. Can I change into comfy pants? Not all of us get to wear a gown… speaking, maybe wanna try some shorts tomorrow?" Frank asks, kissing his husband's hand.

Brock's sleepy brain thinks about this. The bathroom trips now pretty much rely on him just plopping onto the toilet at the last minute because he's so exhausted and in excruciating pain. He imagines himself trying to struggle to get pants down should he actually need to pass a bowel movement. Shorts did not seem viable until he had a little more stability. He shakes his head no. "Not strong yet. Later." 

"Okay, baby." Frank smiles as he pulls out black sleep pants and slips into the bathroom to pee and change. He's going to be stuck for a couple of hours. He quickly returns to Brock and carefully crawls in the bed. 

"Hey, Jack?" Frank asks, "Can you open my laptop and press play on the video?" 

"Sure." Jack does so and soon the room is filled with the beautiful notes of Mozart. He smiles at his brothers and hugs them both before whispering to Frank that he would see them both tomorrow. He slips out the door and shuts it with a soft click.

With a content sigh, Brock holds Frankie close and nuzzles his hair, Tiger in his other hand. The pain is minimal and easily ignorable while the drugs run through his system. The sounds of the music and the morphine push him further into sleep.

As the second number begins, Frank sighs. "Red and yellow." He can see the colors behind his eyelids swirling and mixing ever so slightly to the violins. His fingers trace Brock's arm.

"Hmm?"

"The song. It's red and yellow colors." Frank replies with a little content sigh.

"The title?" Brock mumbles, more than halfway asleep.

"No, the music is red and yellow," Frank says opening his eyes. He didn't feel it was this complicated.

"I don't get it?" 

"You don't. To me, when I listen to and make music, it has a color." Frank says softly, "Sometimes the song shifts colors or has multiple colors."

Brock still doesn't get it. Why would someone assign a song a color? Was it some kind of organizational system? He yawns, "Why?" 

"It's something that I have done since I was a kid." Frank smiles, "It's called synesthesia. Sometimes people associate numbers or taste and smell with things. Mine's color."

"Synesthesia? Fancy name for organizing stuff," Brock yawns and holds Frankie tighter.

"No. Honey." Frank looks up at his husband, "Something is different with my head, and I associate sound with color… your off-key opera singing is pink." 

Understanding finally starts to sink in Brock's very drugged and very sleepy brain. He sniffles a little and pulls his shoulders forward to stretch his back before snuggling Frank. Eyes closed, he mumbles, "You see music?" 

"Yeah, baby." 

Brock's breathing starts to even out and his eyes droop. He manages to mumble once more before drifting off, "You drug." 

"No. Just weird brains." 

~~

The morning is quiet. Frank stretches long in the bed. He's gotta wake Brock for the bathroom. He's gonna need help. He softly shakes Brock. "Bathroom time." 

There's a slight whimper from Brock as he works his way into consciousness. He doesn't want to wake up. It's too bright. He stirs, good leg shifting in the sheets. The fire burns in his thigh. One eye cracks open. He mutters. "Too early?" 

"It's like 10." Frank rubs his hand over Brock's chest. He can feel the difference. His muscle definition has decreased. It didn't matter, he loves Brock no matter what but it was worrisome, "You haven't peed in hours. After that, I'll get you breakfast."

"Need meds," Brock yawns.

"I know. Do you want it now?" Frank whispers as he rests his forehead on Brock's chest. 

"Yeah," he replies, hand blindly searching for the button. 

Frank presses the button and smiles, "I got it, babe. Alright, let's get up and go to the bathroom before it kicks in and you're jello."

"Not going to be jello." Brock yawns before shifting to lower the rail. 

Frank nods and slips out of the bed. He turns and feels his back crack. He puts his hands out, "Come." 

He turns a little, putting his right leg out first then decides to try something new. He raises his bad leg from being straight out to bent and quickly realizes that is a big fat hell nope. Lowering the limb gives him some relief and he's able to hold his arm under the thigh and move his leg while spinning. The pain is there but his senses are still dulled and the warm water is flushing through his system. Now comes the part he dreads. Standing and walking. Reaching out, he takes Frankie's hands, pausing as a thought occurs to him. "Are you going to be able to brace and hold or am I going to pull you instead?"

"I can hold you," Frank says with a nod.

"Okay. Also. Sorry."

"I'm ready. Gimme your worst lover." Frank cracks a small grin.

Taking a deep huff of a breath, Brock locks his right leg and holds Frankie's hands tight before pulling and pushing himself up with a gasping cry.

"You got this." 

At least he didn't curse and scream at his husband this time. Instead, he stands there and rests his forehead on Frankie's shoulder and tries to breathe through the waves of pain. After a moment, he puffs an exhale and nods. The dose of meds makes it so much easier but it can't stop everything from being felt.

Frank turns his head slightly and kisses his ear, "I know it hurts. You got this, you're strong as hell." 

"Meds help. A lot. Less… screaming," he pants out. "Move."

Frank nods and takes a step backward, his fingers hold on to Brock. "Move." 

He takes a step with the bad leg first. He hates putting weight on it. A noise of pain escapes and he quickly follows with his other leg. It's slow and taxing but he manages to shuffle walk the few feet to the bathroom.

"Hell yeah! We got it! Keep moving baby!" 

"Turn? Or. Wall." Brock manages to get out. He's far too focused to form proper sentences.

"Turn." 

"Help...stand." He thinks that if he's got enough support with balance, he might be able to put the majority of his weight on his right leg and not have to flop onto the toilet.

"Ok. How?" Frank asks, unsure how he is needed.

"Balance." Brock huffs and grabs for the bathroom wall. "Grab stomach. Keep from falling." 

"I can do that." Frank nods. He positions himself differently around Brock. He hugs Brock's midsection and prays he doesn't get pulled down with him.

Using the wall and pretty much everything within reach, he makes his way over to the toilet. After some careful maneuvers in which he is holding the gown aside while bracing the wall, he finally manages to go. He's not entirely sure if this is easier or not than sitting down. He doesn't bother flushing because he's fairly certain that if he leans over, he's going to fall. Now he's got to make the painful trip _back_.

"Ready?" Frank asks.

"No. And yes," he sighs hard. He needs to go back and rest. Something as simple as taking a leak shouldn't be this exhausting and this complicated. He is totally ready to go back to bed but he's not got the stamina to do it. He doesn't have a choice of course but still, he makes the turn to go back. Next time, he's just going to sit. At least it'll give him a few moments of relief. Maybe gravity will help him.

"One step at a time. We got this." Frank grins wide. His foot kicks out and flushes the toilet.

"Thanks." 

Getting back into the bed is just as exhausting as getting out was and he lies back into the pillows and tries to just _breathe_. He's fairly certain he's used up all of his stamina spoons for today, tomorrow, and the next month. 

"Not so bad. You only mumbled and grumbled a little. This is great! You are truly kicking ass baby." Frank says with a soft smile.

"Drugs."

"Yeah, I know baby." Frank says pushing the hair back from his husband's eyes, "Hungry?" 

After waiting a moment, he nods, "Yeah."

"What sounds good?" Frank smiles even wider, "Anything."

"Dunno. I don't. I don't know." 

"Something light? Maybe eggs?"

He shakes his head quickly. "No."

"A shake?"

"No strawberry." 

"Vanilla?" 

"Okay." He wonders if Jack will come soon and bring him more ice. 

"Shower today, I think there's enough dry shampoo in your hair that you are chalk at this point," Frank smirks.

"I wanna go home."

"I wanna take you home."

There's a soft knock on the door. A nurse slips into the room and smiles, "Hello gentlemen. So, how are we feeling today, Brock?" 

"Hurt. Tired. Drugged."

"Well, a bullet will do that to you." The nurse chuckles, "We are gonna change the bandage today. You are gonna start with some light PT. Maybe we can get some food in you, like Jello or soup."

"Already had PT. I peed." Brock clarifies, "In the toilet. Not elsewhere." 

"You're cute." The nurse smiles before turning to the whiteboard and scrawls out the name 'Aubrey and India', "We are your nurses today. So, let's get this bandage changed." 

"Okay." Brock scowls. He can already feel his very exhausting morning going to hell. He should've just gone in the bed if he knew they were going to force him to get up and do shit he doesn't have the energy for. Fucking Alan. Fucking bullet. Fucking physical therapy. He wants to go home.

The nurse loads up her supplies on the wheeled table and sits beside Brock, "I promise nothing will hurt more than walking Brock." 

"Which is what you are going to make me do," Brock grumbles quietly.

"Nope." She says as she pulls the tape off, "I'm not." 

"Leg exercises, then." 

"A light little stretching. Nothing too strenuous." She says pulling the gauze careful to not hurt the stitches. She cleans it and replaces the gauze and retapes it, "But first. Breakfast. Shake and maybe some jello?" 

He hesitates. He's not sure about solids.

"No pressure." The nurse offers. 

"I think the shake and jello is a good idea." Frank nods, "No strawberry. He hates it." 

The nurse disappears out of the room and leaves them alone. He grabs clean clothes from his backpack and quickly strips down. He hops into jeans and a shirt that was once a little snug that fits looser. He stuffs the sleep pants in his bag and turns back to Brock, "So that music award show is in November. It's an overnight thing. Depending on your leg, maybe you _wanna_ come with?"

"Yeah. 'course. Maybe inna chair though."

"Yeah! That works! Unless you want to stay with Jack. Maybe we bring him." Frank babbles to himself.

"Okay. Yeah. It'd be fun." Brock gives Frank a goofy, sleepy, smile, "I hope you win. Deserve it." 

"Thank you, baby. Maybe you two can do like a spa day at the hotel." Frank smiles as he approaches the bedside. He carefully kisses Brock before sitting carefully on the bed. A new younger nurse quietly enters with two cups of red jello, a spoon, and a shake with a paper-covered straw for Brock. She gives them a small nod before exiting quickly.

Brock stares at the jello with mixed feelings. Pushing them away, he goes for the shake. He likes those. They taste like chocolate milk and they don't cramp his stomach. He grabs the bottle and straw, opening both and drinking. While he's drinking the shake, he stares at the jello. Contemplating.

Frank smiles as he stares out the window. He pulls his phone out and messages Jack.

_Frank: How's a trip to Toronto sound?_

_Jack: Cold. Lol. Why what's up?_

_Frank: award show. Wanna a spa day with your favorite big brother?_

_Jack: He's okay with going up north in the middle of winter?!?_

_Frank: he didn't say no._

_Jack: You waited until he was drugged, didn't you?_

_Frank: whhhhhaat? me? Pssshh_

_Jack: He's going to beat you when he realizes. You know that, right?_

_Frank: yeah. I'll probably like it too._

_Jack: oh God. I'll be sure to pack the headphones._

_Frank: smart. Maybe we should pay the staff off too_ 🤣

_Jack: Probably. At least one of you will be screaming most of the night. We'll just have to tell everybody you guys are Headbangers_

_Frank: there might be some head banging… when you coming to visit?_

_Jack: Headed there once I find more ice for Brock. Want me to bring you something to eat? Think we can kidnap him and take him to some fast food joint?_

_Frank: I think he's dying to get out. A little outside air won't hurt._

_Jack: I'm down for that. Food?_

_Frank: sounds good. I'll start getting him dressed._

"Babe. We're getting dressed. Going on a field trip." Frank says turning to Brock. 

Brock jolts a little at the sudden voice of Frankie from his doze, the empty Ensure bottle still in his hand and straw near his mouth. He blinks at his hubby in confusion. "Huh?" 

Frank takes the bottle from his hand, "We are leaving the hospital for a bit." He pulls the shorts and a t-shirt out for Brock. 

"No," Brock whines shamelessly. "No more walking. Not now." 

"No baby. Just a rise from the bed into a wheelchair." Frank smiles warmly, "I know you're tired. You've been cooped up, I just wanna get you out for a bit."

"I'm allowed out?"

"You're not a prisoner…" Frank says, a little confused.

"Not discharged. And kinda… attached," Brock points out the IV and all of the other cords that are hooked up to him and do… something.

"Yeah. Exactly. We just wheel it with us." Frank smiles, "Think you can lift your hips?" 

"Oh. Um. One? Maybe I roll on the good side? Or uh, dress… After…"

"Lift your butt or I'll..." Frank doesn't have a consequence and his brain panics.

"I can't," he says softly. 

"Yes, you can. You're just scared." Frank says as he rests a hand on his hip, "Stop being a baby. Work with me." 

Brock looks at Frank. "Lifting my butt would require me to plant my feet and lock my legs. Which would put pressure on my injury. I can't do that."

"You only have to plant one foot. I can work with your injured side." Frank says with a straight face.

"Or maybe I sit up on the side of the bed? Slide on the pants then and stand. You can help pull them up?"

"Oh. That's smart." Frank tilts his head to the side with a little smile, "Brains and beautiful." 

"I try." 

"Okay. Let's do this." Frank says with a nod.

After they get Brock dressed Frank wheels him out and into the elevator. He kisses the top of Brock's head. He pushes him towards the exit. The sunshine pours in through the windows and lights up the exits like they were taking a trip to the pearly gates. The cool fall air greeting them as they exit. He pushes Brock to a table. Frank sits beside him on the bench. 

"Do you wanna write our own vows?" Frank asks, resting his head on Brock's shoulder. He loves the smell of fall. As they wait a familiar voice call from the parking lot.

"I do. Yeah." Brock nods and nuzzles Frank.

"Me too."

"Frankenstein!" Christine calls out as two figures approach.

"Chrissy!" Frank calls out.

"And your mother."

"Hi, momma." Frank says happily, "We're having some sunshine time." 

"Hi, Linda," Brock smiles.

"Hi, sweetie." Linda greets Brock with a kiss on the forehead.

"'RANK!" A little voice calls out as the three ladies step up on the curb.

"Emma! Hi baby!" Frank stands and puts his arms up.

Emma looks at Frank for a moment then sees Brock, "Rock! Rock! Rock!" Her small hands grabbing the air in front of Brock.

"Traitor," Frank playfully huffs. He glances to the side and sees Jack approaching, "Hey brother!" 

"My other son is here. Good!" Linda says approaching Jack with wide arms.

"Look at this perfect timing," Jack exclaims happily, hugging Linda.

"You smell nice, dear," Linda says patting Jack's back.

Christine hands Frank a peach-colored cup as Emma wiggles and worms in her mom's arms and shouts for Brock.

"Hi, princess," Brock says to Emma.

"Rock! Up!" Emma chirps. Her hands, still moving like little claws for Brock. 

"How are you feeling, mom said you got shot?" Christine asks Brock as he leans forward to hug him.

"Been better. Drugs are friends." Brock hugs Christine before grabbing for Emma. "How're you?" 

"Getting a divorce." Christine smiles, watching Emma hug Brock tight.

Jack approaches and hugs Frank first, "Bärchen. Hope you don't mind subs and soup. Got you a veggie. There's also grilled cheese. Grilled chicken on the side if you want it. Chicken noodle, tomato, and broccoli cheese soups. Enough to share."

"Thank you, Jack. Sandwiches and soup are perfect. He's been shake'd. Also, he didn't insult me going to the bathroom this morning." Frank adds, "Oh Jack! This is my sister Chris. Chris, this is Jack. Brock's brother."

Christine extends her hand to Jack after he sets the food down, "Nice to meet you, brother." 

"Likewise," he replies, shaking her hand.

"James is on the way too. He wants to congratulate the newlyweds." Chris turns to Frankie, "Be nice."

"I met the mistress." Frank raises an eyebrow. Linda sits at the bench and quietly observes.

"Enough," Christine warns. Frank puts his hands up and smiles.

Brock holds Emma and smooches her cheeks, carefully keeping her legs on his good one or tucked. "Missed you, princess. You're getting big. Been a good girl?"

Emma nuzzles into him and repeats his name. 

"I mentioned that we were coming to see you and she insisted that she had to bring Mr. Bun." Christine pulls out a small white plush bunny, "Mr. Bun makes her feel better, so you'll feel better."

"Mr. Bun might get eaten by Tiger if he stays," he jokes.

"Bun!" Emma says grabbing the bunny and pushing it into Brock's chest.

"Thank you, baby girl," he says softly before he kisses her forehead. 

Jack chuckles at the sight. Pulling out the food and setting the large cups of soup down, he palms a much smaller white cup and goes over to Brock. He hugs him from behind and places the familiar ice cup in front of him. "Hi." 

Emma frowns hard at the stranger and buries her face into Brock's neck, "No man," her voice is soft.

"Baby girl, this is my brother. Uncle Jack. Like I'm your uncle. It's okay, he's safe. Promise," Brock tightens his hold around her and keeps his voice level and soft.

"No. My Rock." Emma says quietly.

"Jack is good. He's nice." Frank says turning slightly and rubbing Jack's arm. He nods his head, "Jack, nice." 

"Hi, princess," Jack says softly. 

"Jack?" Emma peeks up and looks at him then Brock, "Nice, Jacky?" 

Brock smiles and nods, "Yeah, baby. Uncle Jack is nice. Promise." 

Her small hand reaches up and touches Jack's face then immediately goes for his hair.

"You like the curls, häschen?" asks Jack, smiling a little. Like Brock, he enjoyed kids but unlike his older brother, he could only handle them in small doses.

"She does." Ray's voice calls out, "Careful, she pulls hard too." 

"Sunshine!" Brock shouts, happy to see one of his most favorite of people.

"Hey, Brock! Nice to see you outside!" Ray says as he helps Christa over to him.

Ray makes a move for Linda and hugs her.

"Hi, honey! You poor thing!" Christa calls out. She waddles towards Brock and hugs him and the baby.

"Hi. I've missed you. Glad you're safe." He wraps his free arm around Christa as tight as he can. He kisses her cheek before pulling back. He's so thankful she's safe and okay. He places a hand on Baby Floof and presses his forehead to her belly. "My favorite nephew. My special Baby Floof, I'm so happy you are safe. I hope you've been good to your mommy. You're such a good boy. I've missed you. And your momma. I love you, sweet prince. I'm so sorry for what happened."

Christa grips his fingers and gasps loudly. Tears fill her eyes and spill over and down her cheeks. Her head snaps to Ray as her mouth falls open. A loud sob pushes out.

He pulls back quickly, afraid he said or did something wrong. The quick movement makes his head spin a little bit he ignores it. "I'm sorry. Christa. I'm sorry. I didn't mean–. I'm sorry."

"He's moving!" Christa cries out before kissing Brock's forehead, "He's moving!" 

Ray moves to her side in a flash, hands out and ready to carry her, "He...he's moving? Really?!" 

She nods hard and sniffles.

Jack frowns and hovers, unsure what to do to help. He's worried about his brother and the excitement being too much for him. Brock's ignored the ice in favor of babies and it bothers him. Not because it was babies, he expected that on a deeper level, but because it was sugar that Brock needed in his small and nearly-nonexistent diet. He's also worried about his brother and sister; there was something wrong with the baby and they didn't tell anyone. Brock would be crushed if Baby Toro was harmed due to the kidnapping.

Frank stands and takes Christine's hand, "Help me get drinks for everyone. What's going on with you?" He knows he's gotta keep his sister out of this. He gives Jack a nod before pulling her into the hospital.

"Uh, so. Baby hasn't moved since the day she was _taken._ " Ray says softly to Brock and Jack as soon as Christine is gone.

The color drains from Brock's face. "What? But. He's. He's _okay_. Right?" 

"The doctor says he's got a heartbeat and everything but he's not moved. We've poked and prodded him. Tried sound. Everything." Ray nods.

"Your voice." Christa says sniffles and wipes her eyes, "You. Something." 

Brock reaches out a hand and places it on her belly, leaning in close, "I love you Baby Floof. No more scaring mommy and daddy though okay? Be gentle but there's no need to hide anymore, okay? You're safe." He feels a thump against his hand and smiles. "Good boy. You're a very good baby." 

Christa looks at Ray and grins, "He's ok." 

"He just needed to have Uncle Brock say it's okay."

"Rock!" Emma chirps.

"I promised to protect him. I never got the chance to say that he could come out of hiding, I guess. Didn't know babies have that sort of instinct like that. Still get him checked, of course." Brock says to Christa, "And new photos. Maybe we can get him smiling or something."

"Are you _sure_ you don't want kids, Brock," asks Jack, returning to his seat and unwrapping his sandwich. "You've unofficially adopted like six of your _friends'_ kids without them knowing."

"We have an appointment in about fifteen minutes. I'll come see you after and bring you a new picture of him." Christa says kissing Brock's forehead. Her hand ruffles Emma's hair before kissing her cheek, "Hi baby Emma." 

"We'll come find you, Brock." Ray squeezes his shoulder. He touches Christa's lower back.

"Yes! I have to come see you. I've missed you." Christa kisses his cheek and allows her husband to pull her away.

"You should eat your ice before it melts, Brock," Jack points out. "Only brought one today. The store I went to was out. I'm going to find you a large pack or something."

Nodding, he turns to Emma, "Do you wanna go see Uncle Jack or Gramma for a minute? I need two hands for a bit. Okay?"

"Nana!" Emma says looking around for Linda. Linda rises and puts her arms out, "Come here little chicken." 

Emma squirms a little before resting her head on Linda's shoulder. Emma watches Brock and Jack. Her eyes lock on Jack and she stares at him suspiciously.

"I bet uncle Frankie is bringing you a snack," Linda whispers.

"Cream?"

"Maybe?" Linda says with a smile before she kisses her cheek.

Jack pulls out his phone under the table and shoots Frank a text about bringing Emma ice cream if it's allowed and to go ahead and return. When he's finished, he turns to Brock, "I have a jacket for you, in the car. And the red plush blanket we have up in the closet. Just in case you got cold. Temps are supposed to drop tonight and tomorrow."

"What a good brother you are," Linda says with a huge smile.

The doors push open and Christine steps out first. Frank follows with drinks in hand and two small white cups in hand. They are talking quietly until they reach the table.

"I've come bearing drinks and ice cream for Gramma and baby." Frank says planting a kiss on Emma's head, "Coke for the good-looking one. Water for my love and tea for my momma." 

Frank takes a seat beside his hubby, "You should try some soup once you're done with your cup, Brock."

"I brought tomato and grilled cheese," offers Jack softly. It was a huge shot in the dark and he knew it. But it was a risk he was willing to take.

"Mmm. You should try it at least baby!" Frank encourages. He unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. He notices Emma staring at his food, "Baby, you won't like this. It's green." 

Emma wrinkles her nose and turns back to Linda. Linda smiles at Jack before speaking, "How's your hip, Jack? You're walking much better." 

"The painkillers you gave me and the better cleaning techniques have been helping a lot. It's not as nice as Brock's drugs, that's for sure," he laughs, "but it's enough to do the job. Plus, the daily activities are probably better than most physical therapy."

"Ah yeah, caregiving for the crippled will do it better than PT," Christine says with a smile.

"He's not crippled. Just a little slow." Frank says with a glare.

Brock finishes off the ice cup and sets it aside. He reaches for the water and drinks some before responding, "Makes me sound stupid. Saying it. Like that." 

"Oh. Yeah." Frank looks at Brock, "Sorry. He's just hole-y."

"Better," he grins at Frank.

Jack moves so he's sitting on the opposite side of Brock, instead of Frank, and opens the tomato soup cup. He gently pushes it in front of Brock before unwrapping a hot, pressed, grilled cheese panini, cut into triangles. He speaks softly to Brock, low and in German. He's urging his brother to at least try the soup. Reminding him that these were his comfort foods in the past, he insists that they wouldn't fail Brock now. After all, when has grilled cheese ever made him sick?

Brock shakes his head no. He doesn't want either of the items, even though the soup did call to him. It was visibly steaming in the brisk air and something warm in his stomach sounded very appealing. He hesitates. Part of him wants it if only for the familiar comfort it would bring. The fear of being sick, made worse by his injury, keeps him from picking up the spoon.

"Baby please?" Frank whispers.

"How about this. You take one spoonful. Wait to see if you can handle it. If it doesn't make you sick, you sip gently. If you feel weird or not okay, you can stop and I'll leave it. I'll go get you as many cherry fake Italian ice cups as you can handle. Or a snow cone," bargains Jack.

"Snowcone?" asks Brock as he shakily takes the plastic spoon and stirs the red soup.

"Whatever flavor you wanted," Jack nods. He's highly aware he's bargaining with Brock like his brother is some kind of child but at this point, he doesn't care. If he can't get him to break his fear of eating, the doctors were going to admit him into a psych hold and give him a feeding tube. Nobody wants that.

Frank puts his food down and quietly watches Jack's interaction with Brock. _Please just eat. A little._ He feels like he's mentally trying to drill it in his head. 

"You should at least try." Linda encourages.

Deep down Frank knows Brock is going to psych himself out. He won't eat. He won't heal right. He probably isn't healing at all. The idea turns his stomach. If he doesn't eat, he'll do something rash. It will hurt but it's better than watching the person he loves wither away.

Christine looks at Linda confused. Her mother shakes her head as she feeds Emma another bite of ice cream.

Very, very slowly, and extra carefully, Brock spoons some of the tomato soup up and fights fear as he shakily brings the hot liquid to his mouth. By the time it reached his lips, half of the spoon's contents were missing but it was enough for Brock to audibly sip the soup. The spoon drops into the bowl and he buries his head into his hand, shaking harder as tears fall. He did it.

Frank runs a hand over Brock's back. There's a silence at the table that turns the tension of the situation up a notch. Jack gets up from his seat and wraps his body over Brock and whispers soft words of praise and encouragement. His eyes are a little misty as he, too, rubs his brother's back. He glances at Frank, encouraging him to join.

"I'm proud." Frank presses lips to Brock's arm before he whispers, "I love you, Mister Rumlow." 

"I'm proud of you, too, brother," Jack echoes softly. "I love you."

Linda sits quietly listening to the baby babble about ice cream as her son and his husband have a moment. She'd spoken with Frank about Brock's lack of eating and she knew how terrified he was that Brock was going to die. This was a huge thing. She'd dealt with patients like him, that mental block is the hardest to overcome.

Frank gives up on his sandwich and wraps over half of it back up. He'll eat it later. He's more concerned about his husband. And now Jack a little. He knows that he is Brock's handler but as his husband, he should take on some of those jobs. But he doesn't always know the right thing to do. Look at the little bump with getting dressed for example. It probably wouldn't have been an issue for Jack. He feels like he's failing the person he is supposed to protect in sickness and in health. He makes a decision on what he's going to do if they can't get Brock to eat; the wedding is postponed. Or they'll fly to Italy and Maria will beat some sense into him. 

Frank turns to his sister as he rests his head on Brock's shoulder, "Why the divorce? What happened?" 

"We have just grown apart. Honestly, since she was born. He just checked out. He stopped being interested in me and her. He is looking at taking a job in Kansas. I told him I'm not moving that far away. It turned into a fight. Some things happened and I'm done." Christine explains. 

"He better not have–" 

"Butt out Frank," Christine warns.

"You're my sister. Does our idiot brother know?"

"No."

"Course not."

"What next then?" Frank asks.

"I am finding a house. I might stay with mom a few days, she loves having Em around."

"I told her she doesn't have to rush out. It will be nice to have her and baby around. Since none of my kids visit me as much as I'd like." Linda says to Emma. She places kisses on her little chubby cheeks.

"We all have lives, mumma." Frank reminds her softly. This gets him a dirty look, "Well good for you for getting out."

"So Brock, you finally wifed up my baby brother. How's it feel? Still glad you made the purchase?" Christine asks.

"Totally worth it," he replies softly. Jack slides off his back and kisses his cheek before returning to his seat next to him. He gives his brother and husband a small smile.

Frank's hand slips under the table and rests on Brock's leg before moving to find his hand. "I wanted to marry him the day I met him." 

"You just wait until the shine wears off. And you slowly grow to resent each other." Chris says with a bleak tone.

"We've been through hell and back that most couples don't see until years into marriage. And we've gotten stronger, I think, for it."

"We also jumped into living together within a week and have been ever since. And we went on tour. That'll kill a relationship so… I think he made a good purchase." Frank adds.

Brock nods. He picks up the spoon and sips the soup again. It tastes good. It was still hot, for that he's thankful. He'll wait a little longer to see if anything goes wrong. 

Frank glances to Jack, hoping to catch his eyes. This is a good sign. This is a great sign! He's interested in food. He's not pulled a Linda Hamilton and spewed. They may be in the clear and coming down the mountain. Frank turns back to Chris, "We decided on December for the wedding ceremony. So don't make plans sister. As long as everything goes as planned… that is."

"I'll be sure to bring the fur coats," jokes Jack.

Frank chuckles, "We gonna tell em?" 

"Sure. Why not," replies Brock. Speaking of coats though, he might be wanting his jacket soon if the wind keeps up.

"Do you wanna go in?" Frank whispers in Brock's ear.

"No. Not yet, but soon." Brock turns to Jack, "Can I have my blanket?"

"Yeah sure," Jack says, rising from his seat and heading to his car.

"The sun feels good huh?" Frank runs fingers in Brock's hair. 

He nods, "Outside is better than the walls." 

"Agreed. Eat some more. It smells good." Frank says with a smile, "I might try some of the broccoli soup."

Jack returns with a bright red fleece blanket that's super plush and wraps it around Brock's shoulders. "Can you tuck in that side, Frank?" 

Frank nods and tucks the blanket in, "Better love?" 

Brock nods, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders before taking a third, equally hesitant sip of the soup. It was starting to cool from the fall air. He still expects his stomach to clench up and reject the contents.

Frank looks at Jack, "Which soup do you want?" 

"No major preference. Wanna split both?"

"Okay!"

After they finish their soups and Brock eats a little over half of his, the group moves indoors. Frank tells his girls to wait outside while he and Jack get Brock in bed. Last thing he needs is for Brock to get all cussy and mean in front of them. After a somewhat smooth transition, Frank welcomes them in. 

Emma fusses a little, making hands at Brock. Christine sighs, "Baby, he probably wants to rest. Let uncle Brock sleep." 

"I'm okay. Love cuddles."

"You have to be careful. Uncle Brock is very hurt. So you have to be gentle, like with kitty Sam at home. Be nice." Chrissy says putting her on the opposite side of his hurt leg. 

"You owie?" Emma asks him.

"Yeah, baby. That's why I'm here and not home." 

"Oh. Why?" Emma says before resting her head on his chest.

"She's getting into the questions phase," Chrissy warns.

"He is very cute with babies," Frank whispers to Jack.

"He is. I'm surprised he hasn't kidnapped one yet," whispers back Jack.

Brock strokes Emma's hair. "I got hurt by accident." 

"Oh. Kiss better?" She asks, her voice in the best whisper she can muster. 

"Baby floof." 

"Yeah. We all saw that coming," nods Jack.

"Yeah, baby. Your best Uncle Frankie is helping make it better. He's giving plenty of kisses. Can I have a kiss from you, too?"

"Frankie, good." Emma nods. 

A soft knock on the door brings a cheerful voice of Christa, "Can we come in?" 

"Come on in," Frank says as he opens the door. 

Ray pushes her in a wheelchair. She's wearing a huge smile.

"What's with the wheels?" Frank asks

"Stubborn ass here is supposed to be off her feet as much as possible," Ray says with a little smile.

"Told the doctor that I'm fine but apparently, I'm now a high-risk pregnancy." Christa groans, "But I feel fine."

"Yeah. Sounds about right." Frank chuckles.

Brock turns his head to look at Christa. He asks softly, "Is it because of what happened?" 

"Mostly because I am huge. But the trauma wasn't helpful. But he's fine. In fact, his little hand is hanging out against my diaphragm." Christa says with a smile, "but I have pictures for you." 

"Good. I can't wait to meet him. Pictures will have to do. Have they considered an early delivery?"

"And by meet, Brock means kidnap," Jack snickers.

"They say I will be lucky if I make it to the end of the month." Christa chuckles, "But here is Zachariah." She put the photos in Brock's hand.

Brock takes the photos and grins, "Baby Floof, you better wait until after Uncle Frankie's birthday. You hear me in there? You gotta wait until closer to your due date. Finish cooking and growing."

"He grows anymore and he might burst out." Christa chuckles.

Brock looks at the sonogram photos and shares them with Emma. "See the baby?" 

"Baby?" Em lifts her head.

"Mmhm. See?" Brock uses his finger to trace the outline of Baby Floof. "This is his head. And that's his tummy." 

"Here?" She pokes Brock's stomach.

"No, baby. Not in my tummy. But yeah that's where babies are held." 

"Oh. Okay." Emma nods before putting her head back down.

"I swear that man is a sedative for that little girl. She was storming around the house shouting before we got here." Chrissy says to Linda.

"He's got a calming effect. Enjoy it while it lasts." Linda chuckles.

"It's the drugs. She's getting a contact high? Low, from the morphine in my veins," Brock jokes.

"Nah. You're mellow. She picks up on that." Frank chuckles.

"They don't call me mellow yellow," Brock chuckles lightly.

"Do _they_?" Frank asks, trying to hold in a giggle.

"Either way. It's sweet. She adores Brock. All she's gonna talk about is Brock for the next week." Chrissy says sitting in a chair.

"She is his girlfriend." Linda jokes.

"For now," snickers Jack.

"Until. More babies." Frank chuckles. Frank sits beside the bed. 

"So, what are your colors? Have you thought about clothing?" Christine asks.

Brock grins at her, "Not fur."

"Okay. Where is it happening then?" She asks. 

Linda smiles at Brock. She knows. Frank can't keep secrets from her.

"Turtle Island, Fiji." 

"Fiji?" Christa asks, "I'll be the one in a muumuu."

"Baby Floof will be in a cute tuxedo onesie and you won't need a muumuu. Maybe island dresses though," replies Brock. He turns to Emma, "You'd look cute in a dress and swimsuit." 

"She's worried about her body." Chrissy replies with a nod, "You'll be beautiful."

"You are." There are general murmurs of agreement around the room.

"We will see in a couple of weeks." Christa chuckles and pats her tummy. 

Sleeping, Emma moves her foot and grazes the top of Brock's wound as her little fingers curl around his shirt. She murmurs something about candy and Brock before a soft sigh escapes.

Brock inhales sharply and his eyes widen. His hold tightens and he carefully tries to move her leg without waking her. He just needs her to put her legs in between his. Easy.

"Do you need help?" Frank asks softly.

"Maybe… I don't want to wake her."

Frank nods and waits for Brock to ask. He rises to his feet. He's ready to check the wound. Make sure it's not hurt. He glances at his mom who rises to her feet. 

"Let me look, honey, when you get her moved." Linda's voice goes into nurse mode. 

Brock nods and gently grabs her ankle and tries to lift her foot off of his leg. He's praying that she doesn't shift or kick out. It's his fault for letting her sit in his lap and cuddle instead of him holding her.

Emma molds to where Brock wants her. Her little breath hot against his skin stops for a moment as her eyes open. She gives him a sleepy smile then her eyes close again.

"Let me take a look." Linda says pulling gloves and carefully pulling the blankets and his shorts up, she peels the tape slightly and peers in, "It isn't bleeding. So that's good." She sets the tape back in place and covers him again. 

He nods, body tense and on edge now. The brush was just too close for comfort. Any lower and it would have been so much worse. He holds her tight and rests his head on her hair, working on calming down.

"I'm sorry Brock," Christine says quietly.

"It's okay. It happens. Can't blame baby," he replies.

"I mean, she's a restless sleeper. Or an insomniac." She chuckles.

Frank leans in and kisses him. 

"You missed meeting my mom, Brock." Ray smiles. 

"I don't think he would wanna meet her," Christa says with a smile. 

"Why not? Floof _brother_." 

"Plus I met his mom," Ray adds.

"And got adopted," throws in Jack.

"Exactly. So, they are family." Ray says with a nod.

"Maybe next time, she comes for an appointment, you can bring momma." Frank smiles. 

Linda chuckles, "This family is getting bigger and bigger."

"Good thing we have an island," sighs Brock.

"Exactly!"

"Not talking about home. Turtle Island," Brock nods.

"The island?" Christa asks.

Frank grins and nods. 

"Rented the whole island for a week for the wedding party."

"Well, most of the family." Frank gives his mom a look.

"Not Carolyn." Linda nods.

"Thank god for that," mutters Jack.

"What? No fortune teller?" Christa teases.

"No one's protesting the wedding because the angels!" Chrissy dramatically pretends to faint.

Brock joins in with the others' laughter but realizes that not a good idea as shaking with giggles might wake the toddler in his arms. "She can't technically protest. We're already married. Nearly had a heart attack when she found out."

"She did. She also tried to _read_ Jack," Frank snickers.

"That went over _splendidly_." 

"Yeah like a cat in a bathtub." Linda snorts.

"I mean, she provoked it." Frank defends Jack.

"Did you hit her?" Christa asks.

"No. I came close though." Jack glances at Brock briefly. He didn't have the intention of _hitting_ her.

"She deserves to be hit in the face," Ray says firmly.

"Did she tell you that you're a bad man? She told me that." Ray sighs, "And that I'll never find my other half." 

"She's a bitch. End of story." Frank says coldly, "Sister, you asked about colors. We kinda like blues and maybe soft greens. Like sea glass?"

"Light pastels, too. Chrissy, gonna decorate?" He sighs heavily, eyes drooping.

"I am?" Christine asks.

"I think he means me…" Christa says with a smile, "I can help you guys."

"So are we just paying you for the stay at the turtle place?" Christine asks Brock. 

He scoffs lightly. "No."

"But Brock." Christine says quietly, "It's expensive."

"Wedding. All of it. Everything you or guests need. Paid for. We pay. I don't want you or nobody in debt."

"As the mother of the _groom_ , I will have a conversation with you, Brock," Linda says, raising an eyebrow.

Brock looks over at Frank for help, "Frankie… " 

"Baby? What's wrong?" Frank runs his hand over Brock's.

"Agree with me," he chuckles softly. There's a barely audible noise from his stomach.

"The Rumlow's have it covered, momma." Frank says softly, "Maybe a nice wedding present." 

"Frankie's a Rumlow now," Brock says proudly.

"I am." Frank grins at Brock, "Happily, a Rumlow, but seriously mom, it's taken care of." 

Jack grins and pats Linda's shoulder. "Might as well get used to this. This is normal for my brother. He'd buy the whole world for the people he loves if he could."

"Yeah. He would." Frank sighs. He kisses Brocks cheek, "Big sweet teddy bear." 

Brock goes to protest but finds that he really can't. A part of him has accepted that Frank will always call him a bear. He's getting used to it. "Yeah. Okay." 

"You look sleepy," Frank says softly.

He nods. The excitement of the day and stress of the hell combined with soup is making him tired. There's another barely audible rumble from his stomach and Brock realizes it is time to cut visiting short. He glances down at Emma. "I don't want to wake her but… " 

"We should be going. She has little movers at 2. So I need to get her home and changed," Christine says softly.

"Dunno what that is but okay," Brock says. "Come get her?"

"It's two and three-year-old dance classes," Chrissy says softly.

"That's adorable. I'll be sure to have a dance with her at the wedding."

"Right!" Frank beams at him, "I will absolutely be filming that." 

Christine leans over the bed and scoops Emma up. "She loves her uncle. She loves pretty dresses. I know she will be in."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go feed the baby." Ray smiles and kisses the top of Christa's head. She pushes out of the chair and waddles with Brock. 

"I'm coming to see you tomorrow."

She says before kissing his cheek. She gives him a little nod before going back to the wheelchair. 

"Yes, please. Love you guys." 

Linda leans in and kisses his forehead, "I'll come see you after work." Linda turns and hugs Jack before kissing his cheek.

Ray comes over and hugs Brock, "See you tomorrow. Love you brother." 

Frank moves everyone out the door smoothly and exhales softly as the door closes. He's got PT in an hour, plenty of time to recharge. He returns to Brock's side, "Nap before therapy?" 

"No. Bathroom. Now," Brock groans, fumbling for the rail. His stomach growls louder as if it knew that his visitors were gone and it didn't have to hide its distress.

"Jack. I think you're up." Frank comments, helping Brock with the railing.

"Joy," he replies dryly. He shakes his head and moves for his brother. "Do you need pain meds?"

"Fuckit. Help me," gasps out Brock, voice full of urgency and mild panic. 

"How bad do you need to go? Like… I've got less than a few minutes or..." Jack trails off, hands at the ready for Brock. 

He's trying to get his bad leg off the mattress. His stomach churns more; louder. He can't lose _this_ fight. He gives his brother a pleading look, "Help me." 

Jack curses under his breath, grabbing the button and pressing it hard to dose up his brother. He wraps his arm around Brock's back and turns to Frank. "Grab the stand. Wheel it after, make sure the cords aren't in the way."

"Got it." Frank nods, moving to grab it.

Jack apologizes quietly before lifting Brock up and into a cradle hold. He ignores the way Brock screams out from the movement instead he takes the few steps into the bathroom and deposits Brock onto the toilet, just in time.

Frank waits quietly with the cart, "What about getting a walker?" 

"Wouldn't have helped here," comments Jack. 

"Bedside toilet," whispers Brock. 

"I mean, in other times. I'm just thinking out loud." Frank pauses, "Sorry."

"I don't like walking," bemoans Brock. It was far too painful.

"If you don't use it, you'll lose it," counters Jack. "You know how muscles are. This isn't something you can put off and I know you know it. I also know how much pain you're in, so I'll let your gripping pass."

"Gimme both then. And a wheelchair for long distances."

"You know what… that's just another step outta here this place," Frank says with a happy sigh.

"What's left?"

"Breathing test." Frank answers, "And I think you'll have no problem with…"

"Not with the way you scream," Jack chirps happily.

"Call the doctor. Tell them I'm gonna give them another patient once I get my ass off the pot. And then I'll blow into the tube thing," grumbles Brock. 

Jack snickers before reaching out his foot and pressing the handle, causing the toilet to flush and splash water up. Brock shrieks and he giggles hard. "What? You _stink_." 

"Asshole!" 

Jack laughs evilly, "Love you." 

"Plot your revenge, baby," Frank says softly. But Jack wasn't wrong. There's a knock at the door which makes Frank jump. 

"In the bathroom. Be out in a moment." Frank calls out.

"Flower delivery for Rumlow."

Jack leans over to whisper to Frank, "Too bad those flowers still won't cover up Brock's stench." 

"Maybe if they are the death flower." Frank snorts. He steps out and opens the door. A girl with a hat smiles at him, "Sign here." 

He signs the paper and takes the black roses from her. She gives him a nod then turns to leave. He nods and closes the door. 

"I assume these are for you, pudding," Frank says passing by the bathroom and placing them on the wheeled cart. He returns to the bathroom door, "You done yet?" 

"I– uh, yeah…"

"Who are the flowers from, Frank?" Jack calls out as he moves to assist Brock in clean-up.

"I didn't look. Hold on." Frank says stepping away. He pulls the card out and scans it. "I don't know what it says… it's in Italian… I think." 

The toilet flushes again and Jack steps to the sink and washes his hands. Once he's dry, he helps Brock stand and they slowly walk back to the bed, and Brock gets tucked in. Jack flops into the chair, tuckered out. "Never thought I would be wiping my brother's ass. At least not until Brock was in his nineties."

"We could always see if the hospital can get us a nurse to do it."

Brock scoffs, "Excuse _me_. I changed your diapers for years. Fuck off." 

"Yeah okay," snickers Jack. He really didn't care all that much. He's dealt with worse. 

Frank hands the card to Brock, "Babies are different from grown men. Though, I'm certain your poops are about the same."

"Sod off, you," grins Brock, playfully rolling his eyes before taking the card and reading it. 

"See veediammo presto." Frank attempts to pronounce the words as he leans his head over and rests it on Brock's arm.

Brock reads the card and immediately crumples it up. He tosses it onto the trash can, making it perfectly. "Can you trash the flowers, love? Thanks." 

"Oh. Uh. Okay." Frank sits up slowly. He glances at the black roses, "Sure." 

He looks at Jack, confused, "I'll take them in the hallway and trash them..." he picks up the crystal vase and moves for the door. They are pretty. Frank steps into the hallway. He places them beside the garbage can. He turns and steps back into the room. The room is filled with Jack and Brock shouting in Italian.

Jack slams his hand on the tray next to Brock, shouting at him, livid. 

Frank flinches at the sound. He immediately presses himself against the wall. He doesn't understand what's being said but he can tell the tone is not good.

"What's wrong?" 

Jack visibly deflates at the sound of Frank's voice. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself before responding. "Brock told me who sent the flowers." 

"Who… Sent the flowers?" Frank stumbles over the words.

"Yeah. And this _asshole_ is a threat to us," snarls Jack. 

"I'm ....sorry. What did _I_ do?" Frank blinks. He looks at Brock, panicking.

Jack turns and gives Frank a confused look. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm not talking about you. Why the hell would I ever think you are an asshole?!"

"I dunno old habits. What is going on?" Frank asks, he rubs his face, "Why are you two yelling?" He picks up the crumpled card and holds it in his hand. His fingers run over the paper, he stares at the words. The cursive writing on the paper looks almost like it was computer-generated. His eye catches something on the corner, he flips the card over and sees the initials SG. His eyes look up at Brock. "Brock." 

"It says 'see you soon', Brock," Jack hisses.

"SG. As in… The motherfucker who stabbed you?" Frank asks. His neck is getting hot. 

"Yes," he replies.

"Brock. What's going on?" Frank frowns and throws the paper in the garbage. He folds his hands over his chest.

"Yes, Brock. Do tell why Sebastiano Gotti felt the need to send you fucking flowers?"

"Black means death." Frank pauses, "Brock. What are you not telling me at least?"

"I pissed him off. Clearly, he's wanting to finish the damn job. Or he was in with fucking Alan. I don't know how else he knows that I'm here and injured."

"Does anyone know this back home?" Frank asks.

"That I got into it with Gotti? Yes. Dad does. I'll call him and figure out a way to end this," sighs Brock.

"What about in the meantime? Do we just wait for someone from the goon squad to come hurt you? No!" Frank snaps but cools, "I'm calling your sister."

"No. This is a political attack and I will have it handled the proper way. I'll make sure he doesn't leave the country or his soldiers. He's trying to make it personal and private. I'm not going to let him do that. You two, let it go and let me handle this."

Frank snorts, "Cause that went well before."

"You're right. My mistake was thinking that a private fight between us was going to solve the issue. I won't make the same mistake again. I'm going to take this insult and infraction to the other Heads."

Frank opens his mouth to say something but a voice in his head tells him not to, "Brock." 

"We are supposed to be on the same side. We are all one Family. I'm going to make this public and loud. The other Heads will step in and quell this. It's bad for business. Let it go. It's going to be handled," Brock replies, voice hard. He looks at both Frank and Jack.

Frank exhales and nods. All the fight in him rebelling at the idea of letting it go, "Fine." 

"Brock..." starts Jack but he's cut off by a hard stare from Brock.

"That's an order, Jack. Let it go. Don't speak of this again. Clear?" 

A flash of stubbornness and anger crosses over Jack's face before his expression changes to one more blank. He exhales hard before nodding and sitting down hard in the chair, "Yessir." 

Frank crosses his arms over his chest and frowns hard. He looks at Jack. He spins his lip ring as his head works in circles, "Do you want the TV on?" 

"Sure." 

"You mad?" 

He shakes his head, "No."

"Want me to suck your dick?" Frank asks. He chuckles in his head. His eyes move up Brock's body to meet his husband's.

"Wait, me or Jack?" Brock snickers.

"His dick might be working better than yours..." Frank bites his tongue as he grins.

"Hey! I was kidding!"

"But probably true though," grins Jack. "I'll never turn down a good blow job. I'm sure I can go find a hot doctor or something."

"There is a very cute nurse working in the peds ward. Blonde, brown eyes, and long legs. Got freckles. Annie is her name I think." Frank winks at Jack, "Go get her, tiger."

A knock on the door brings in a new face. A younger man around Frank's age with a similar build but a little more muscle tone, dark brown hair, and colorful tattoos down his arm. He's carrying a clipboard and a lady killer smile, "Mr. Rumlow. I'm Adam Garza. I'm your physical therapist. How are you?" He extends his arm to Brock.

"I was good until you walked in and reminded me I have hell to be put through," he replies lightly.

"Ouch." He smiles, "Today's gonna be easy. I promise. Trust me?" 

Frank looks at Jack. _This fucking twink._

"Alright, handsome. Let's get you up and out of bed." The therapist says with a smile.

"I bet you say that to all your patients," jokes Brock as he sits up more and slides out his good leg. He's thankful Jack drugged him before his bathroom trip, otherwise, he wouldn't be feeling the heavy buzz of sedation and instead, this would probably hurt a helluva lot worse.

"No, just the cute ones," he chuckles.

"Awww. I'm cute. That's better than what most nurses and doctors call me." 

"What's that? Trouble?" He asks.

"Stubborn old man," he snorts. Carefully he slides his bad leg over and takes a moment to sit on the side of the bed.

"I don't see old. You're what, 35 maybe 40?" Adam says with a smile, "I want you to stand up for me the best you can, okay?" 

"I wish. Do I get to use your hands for leverage or do you want me to do this all on my own?"

He sets his clipboard down and offers his hands to Brock. He smiles wide at him, "Let's see how much time I get to spend with you." 

Frank coughs and rubs his nose. He looks back at Jack, who raises a bemused eyebrow. 

"Well, I am here for at least a few more days. I don't see them letting me leave with the dose I'm on right now. Which is a shame. Cause it's perfect," says Brock lightly, taking his hands tightly. He grips hard and pulls himself to his feet with only a small whimper.

"Strong hands, I like that. Plant your feet for me. Distribute your weight on your feet evenly. Keep your knees soft," Adam says with a smile, "If they take you lower, it means you're getting better though. That's the goal right, Brock? Can I call you Brock?"

"Yes but the pain is severe," he replies, stilted as he tries to breathe. "I don't wanna go home with something that barely helps. I'm a bastard when I'm in too much pain. I'd rather not hurt those I care about."

"Well, that's what I am here for." Adam says, "We gotta get your muscles strong. I'm gonna let go of your hands. I want you to stay standing tall as long as you can." He lets go of Brock's hands and nods.

"Fuck," Brock spats as soon as Adam lets him go. The lack of support makes what remains of his muscles in his leg jump and flex in panic. Even with the warm water dulling his senses, he still feels the fire in his thigh. He wobbles hard, arms out for balance as he tries to keep upright. He manages to hold it for another few seconds before his leg buckles and he collapses.

Frank stands up and is ready to help but Adam takes Brock's hands and pulls Brock into him. "You did good. Stronger than I expected," Adam says smiling at him.

"Thank God I'm drugged up right now," he groans. His leg throbs.

Adam helps him ease back on the bed. "Ok, so. I am thinking we can work on building these muscles with some low impact, when you are stronger we can get you into some yoga." 

"Maybe we can get into a couples yoga class, honey," Frank says sitting back in his seat.

"Resistance bands will be your best bet. So get comfortable in bed and we can go through them." Adam says with a smile.

"Sure okay," Brock sighs. He doesn't want to do this. He's had quite a bit of injuries but never had any of those been muscle and bone-deep. This fact is the only thing keeping him from hating himself and his weakness.

"Ok. This one is easy. I just want you to flex this foot to the ceiling." He says with a smile, "How's that feel?"

Frank moves from beside Jack to Brock's side. He slips his hand into Brock's and squeezes, "You're doing great." 

"He's right. You can relax your foot." Adam says with a smile at Brock. 

He does so with a hard exhale. Something this simple shouldn't be this hard. An errant thought enters his head and he wonders if Alan truly did win in the end. He's never been more thankful he's on drugs in his life and he hates the stuff. He knows logically he wouldn't be able to do anything without them. Between the meds and his family, he probably wouldn't have survived the aftermath of the surgery. He pants a little, nodding, "Thanks. For support." 

After a couple more stretches and Adam smiles, "Last one is difficult. I need you to roll to your side, your friend can help you. Once you're on your side, bend the hurt knee."

Jack can't hold back the giggle that escapes at the therapist's usage of "friend." Frank would be pretty insulted and it serves Brock right for not introducing his husband when Adam entered. He gets recomfy in the chair to watch the drama unfold like guilty pleasure television.

"His _friend?_ " Frank asks Brock. His knee bounces a little. 

"Calm, _gattino_. Frank is not just my friend. He's my husband. Just married last week," Brock puffs out, trying to make the rollover.

"Oh, he's a lucky man." Adam says, giving Brock a little push, he positions Brock's knees on top of each other, "Bend your knee for me, Brock." 

Brock closes his eyes and slowly bends his knee. He murmurs playfully, "Don't look, Jack. You'll get mooned." 

"Yeah, I'm already getting blinded by the light. I've seen your ass far too much today, thanks."

"It's a cute tan butt. Don't listen to him." Frank says, touching Brock's cheek, "Look at me… you're ok. It sucks but we're are ok."

"I'm going to put this loop on your foot and you're going to pull until it hurts." Adam loops a band around Brock's foot and hands it to him.

".... Okay," he replies hesitantly.

After the whimpers and cries of therapy, Frank tracks down the cherry ice that Brock loves and picks some up for him while he naps with Jack in the room. After he returns it's not long before Jack heads out. 

The days seem to blend together with the added nuisance of Adam and his flirting with Brock. Each day Brock got a little stronger. The guys come and visit each day. Brock's appetite slowly was creeping back in along with the little bit of fire he had before. After a night of talking and planning a little for their wedding, Frank lies away with Brock's hand resting in the middle of his back. His brain falls back to the ominous delivery. It scares him to think that someone wants to hurt his husband. He wonders if because he is married to Brock if that gave him even a minute amount of power. Could he call for Brock _and_ Jack to be protected? Maybe he could poke around and ask Brooke. Maybe he could get a hold of Steve and get him to train him a little. Just defense stuff. He tries to move out of the bed but is held tighter with Brock growling in Italian to stay put. He sighs and gives in to the sleep that had been pulling at him. He wakes hours later to a nurse taking the IV bag. She smiles and touches Frank's arm, "He's graduating." He gives her a sleepy nod before drifting back to sleep. 

Brock wakes to the sound of machines beeping and noises in the hall. It was sounds that he had grown accustomed to. As was Frankie's weight on his chest acting as extra warmth in the too-cold hospital. What he will never be accustomed to waking up with was the fire raging on in his muscles and bone. Awareness filters through the sleep and as he wakes, the fire increases. Blindly he reaches for the button but finds it missing. It's getting worse. He screams.

Frank feels the movement under him. His fingers stroke the skin below him through the cloth of the gown. He groans a little, the hospital bed still makes him stiff as hell but at least he could sleep with Brock. As he wakes fully he can feel and see how much pain Brock was in. Sleepily he reaches for the button that's usually under him only to find it missing. His hand reaches back for the nurses’ station call button, "He's hurting. Where's his meds?" Frank asks groggily.

"We'll be right in." A nurse's voice calls out through the speaker.

"Breathe, Brock," Frank whispers.

"Where's it?" Brock whimpers out with a cry. "Button? Where's it?" 

"Oh, baby it's ok. I'm not sure we'll figure it out. I promise. Squeeze my hand, ok?" Frank's voice is gentle and sweet. His heart aches for Brock. His poor sweet husband was in so much pain.

He does as instructed and tries to focus on his breathing. He doesn't understand what's changed. Where did the button go? He usually wakes up, presses the button, and is enough to wash everything away that built up from overnight. He has to pee.

"Need. Button. Why's it gone?" 

"Honey, I don't know," Frank replies just as the nurse enters the rooms with a cup and a smaller paper cup. 

"Good morning, Brock." The nurse says with a smile, "Doctor Johnson is pleased with your progress. She's taken you off IV pain medicine and you're going to be getting pills from now on. It will be on a schedule. So, here you go. Take these." She passes the cup to him and then the water. Should take a few minutes to kick in."

Nodding, Brock takes the cup and downs the pills quickly before washing it down with the water. He nods his thanks and hands her back the cups. "Does this mean I can go home?" 

"I'm not going to say yes for certain but it is looking like it. A respiratory therapist is scheduled to visit you today, which it's more than likely to test your breathing. Doc will wanna come check in with you. Then maybe fingers crossed we can discharge you if all goes well. Do you need anything? Breakfast will be delivered shortly."

Frank looks up at Brock with a huge smile. They may get to sleep in their own bed. Or at least their couch. And have a real shower. Oh god, he hopes it's going to happen. He's also hoping that medicine kicks in soon.

He shakes his head. He's as fine as he can stand to be. There's nothing else she can do except help him to the bathroom, which there was no way he was doing without meds in his system. "Thanks. Tell the doc, I can scream just fine. My lungs work."

"You can talk with him when he makes rounds."

"Meds should be kicking in soon," Frank says softly as he rubs Brock's chest. Brock's grip on his hand was, well, strong.

He resigns himself to waiting in sufferance. He nods at the nurse, "Thanks. I'm good." 

The nurse departs leaving them alone. Frank can feel the tension vibrate off Brock. He knows how much pain he's in. But he doesn't know how to help, " What can I do?"

He grits his teeth and shakes his head. There isn't much anyone can do other than to just wait until the pills do their job. Well, there is one thing. "Hafta pee." 

"Alright. Let's get up." Frank says sitting up and rolling off the bed offering a hand to Brock, "Let's go pee." 

He pulls him up and out of bed, ignoring Brock's growling and angry words as he leads him into the bathroom, "See not so bad." 

"Still fuckin' hurts," he growls without heat as he stands at the toilet and goes.

"Yeah, I know. But you haven't told me to go fuck myself. So, it's a win in my book." Frank sighs.

Brock waits a beat, until he's finished, before responding, "I'm sorry." 

"You're all bark and no bite babe. No harm, no foul." Frank smiles, "Come on old man, let's get you ready for the day. Maybe we can try pants today."

"Not old. Just. Invalid," he grumbles.

"No. Just injured." Frank says taking his hand before looping his arm in Brock's, "Come on. Let's go." 

"No pants. Not until I can walk to the bathroom quicker. I don't want accidents."

"Are you gonna lay around naked if we go home?"

"You objecting?"

"Nope. I love seeing your beautiful body."

"Maybe I should get a muumuu. Just to keep me from getting too cold."

"I don't think it's called muumuu on men. But we can look into it." Frank smiles, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Old man nightgown, then," he amends. "Shake and maybe a banana. No oatmeal. Grits maybe." 

"Do I get to feel you up in your old man robes?" Frank says with a smirk, "I'll get you food, baby." 

"You think you're funny, don't you," he snorts in reply. 

"I'm hilarious."

"Debatable." He groans as he sits back onto the bed. The drugs have kicked in and he's feeling more human and less like kindling. 

"You know I'm funny." Frank strokes the side of his face, "We should dry shampoo your hair." 

"Just wheel me to a salon and let them wash it," he chuckles very carefully. 

"You would look cute with a perm..." Frank leans in and kisses his cheek, "Maybe some highlights..." 

"Ha. No. Just a cut and wash."

"I could wash your hair. Maybe…" Frank debates an idea in his head. "I have a friend who cuts hair, she might be able to trim you up, if you want.".

"Well see if I'm going home soon or not. Pray that I do. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you, and I love you, but I'm ready to go home."

"I'm so ready to have you home. I want you to feel like a person again. Not a patient. You have done all of the work, I'm just your support boyfriend." Frank pauses with a head tilt, "Service husband? Support husband?" 

"Service husband sounds like you were a mail-order," huffs Brock with a little grin.

"True. Support husband sounds bad too. I'll stick with 'emotional support boyfriend'." Frank snickers, "I'm gonna go grab us food, behave while I'm gone. No escaping." 

"I wouldn't get very far. I'd be arrested for being nekked."

"This is a great time for me to be rotten… you can't catch me," Frank says pulling his hoodie on.

"But I need you," Brock pouts with a little sad whine.

"Do you want me to order food?" Frank turns to him. He leans over the edge of the bed, "Cause I'm more than happy to crawl up this bed and give you attention until food shows up."

"Well, now I'm torn. Fast food vs cuddles. I need all the cuddles." With a groan, he slowly leans back until he is flat on the bed, feet dangling off the side a little. He could feel the burn in his thigh but it's not something he needed to scream over. It was bearable.

"I could message Jack and get him to bring supplies…" Frank adds with a devilish smile.

"Did they say when the lung doc was going to come? That could make or break when and where we eat."

"True. Did you wanna wait? I can get you a shake for now?" Frank asks as he slowly crawls up the bed towards Brock.

"Yeah, okay. Help me up, I can't lay like this. Bad idea," he groans and reaches out for Frankie.

Frank slips off the bed and takes Brock's hands. He pulls him upright with a grin. He takes a step closer, "Does it feel even a little better?" He kisses his husband's nose before stepping back to allow him to move.

"With the pain meds, yes. Without it… you've seen. But I don't feel over drugged that I'm a veggie or under drugged that I'm in excruciating pain and can barely move."

"Good. I'm glad that it is getting better." Frank replies, "Pretty soon you'll be up and moving on your own. Back to being a handful." 

Brock snorts, "Sure if you think another six weeks is 'soon'." 

"I think you're not giving yourself enough credit, sugar." Frank says moving for his phone, "I'm gonna go grab your shake from the nurses and I'll be back. Jack might reply. You can answer if you want."

_Frank: he might jailbreak today. If so, wanna do breakfast with Brick?_

"Brick?!" Brock says, looking up from Frankie's phone. "The hell?"

_Jack: Hell yeah!_

"Autocorrect. I rolled with it." Frank shrugs before kissing his husband and heading out the door, "You're heavy as a brick."

"You're no lightweight either," he grumbles. Settling down to play with his hubby's phone, he scrolls back through Frankie's messages, seeing "Brick" more often than not and both of his boys “just rolling with it.” Rude.

_Jack: Where did you guys wanna go?_

Brock thinks about that for a moment. He's not entirely sure he wants to go out someplace. Home sounded just as good as a restaurant. Maybe they could go someplace quiet. At most, invite the others. He'll ask Frankie first.

Frank returns shaking Brock's drink, "I come bearing a doctor." He hands the drink to Brock before passing the bottle to him.

Doctor Johnson nods at Brock, as she heads to the computer station, "Morning Mr. Rumlow. How are we feeling?" 

"Well I dunno about this _we_ you are talking about but _I_ feel about a hundred times better than compared to the day I entered this place, bleeding. The meds are helping. Please don't change it again."

"That's good. So, Peter is going to come in shortly and check your respiratory response with the little meter there. I feel confident in letting you go home under the care of Doctor Choi. But there's one condition..." Doctor Johnson says with a smirk

"Which is?" Brock frowns, concerned.

"I would like you to talk to Dr. Bruce Banner." Doctor Johnson turns to face Brock, "I think you would benefit greatly from starting a course of anxiety medication as well as anti-depression medication."

Frank tenses a little. How is Brock going to take this… it might be something beneficial. But Brock might resist.

Brock tilts his head and frowns slightly. "What makes you say that? I've done nothing… that would… warrant that. Yes?"

"Yeah. But I do have reasons, I had Dr.Choi send over your medical records. I'm also aware you're seeing Sam Wilson. This is called continuity of care." She pauses, "Getting shot and being injured for such a long length of time, takes its toll on the psyche. You've got a long road of healing ahead of you. While you'll be technically healed within six to eight more weeks, full healing is closer to a year. With your PTSD and history of both major depressive episodes and panic attacks, I feel that you would benefit from using these medications, at least until you are healed from the gunshot wound. Consider it both preventive and preemptive treatment."

Frank makes a thoughtful noise and nods. It makes sense. He holds Brock's hand and runs his thumb gently along Brock’s skin.

After a moment of careful consideration, Brock nods his agreement. It was probably a good idea. "Okay." 

"Great! Doctor Banner will stop by shortly as well. If all goes, well. I think we can liberate you by lunch." Doctor Johnson smiles, "Let's take a look at your hole." 

"Alright," he replies softly. He pulls up the hospital gown to reveal the wound.

She rises to her feet, pulls gloves on, and begins peeling the bandage away. She touches around the wound and nods. After a quick clean and cover she smiles, "It looks very good." 

The doctor disappears and leaves Frank alone with Brock, "If they prescribe you meds, are you gonna take them?"

Before he gets a chance to answer, a young man with chestnut hair and a smile steps into the room. He's model pretty but looks more like he belongs at a skate park than in a hospital, "Hi. Uh hey, I'm Peter. I'm your RT. I'm here to make sure you are uh, still breathing…" 

His eyebrows raise at the barely sixteen-year-old kid who looks like he's still in high school, much less working as a respiratory therapist. He even sounds like he's not even hit puberty. He can't help but glance him over. He's pretty and is giving off _submissive_ vibes. "Well as you can see, I'm not a zombie. I'm very much still breathing and alive," Brock grins. 

Frank shifts a little in his seat. This kid was pretty. This kid would be the type that he'd go after. He'd usually strikeout but he was lean and a little dorky. Nice smile and warm eyes. He makes a little noise in his throat because the words in his head are stuck and risk coming out as something stupid.

"Oh well, that is true. You're too… intact to be a zombie. Um, so let's take a listen to your lungs… can you maybe sit up for me?" He asks running fingers in his hair.

Brock can't help the smirk, "I'm already sitting up. Unless you want me to do sit-ups in which case, sure. I'll even put on pants."

"Oh. Uh, that's not…" Peter glances immediately at Brock's legs then realizes it looks like he glanced at his patient's dick. His eyes shoot up and look above his head at the bad painting behind him, "I meant for you to sit forward… sorry. Words are hard, sometimes." 

_I could show you something hard…_ Frank grins wide and snorts. He drops the smile and tries to remain mature.

"It's okay, kid." Brock grins and sits forward as he's told. "How old are you, anyway? You don't look a day over sixteen."

"Sixteen. Wow. I look that young?" Peter smiles as he put the earpieces to his stethoscope in, "Twenty-two. But thanks. I still get carded to see rated R movies." He put the cool disk on Brock’s back, "Big breath in and then out." 

Frank watches quietly, he takes notes on the kid’s face. The little details in his face, a little scar on his forehead. The shape of his jaw and his lips. Wonder if they were soft… Was he that hungry for affection? No, it's something different. What the fuck was his problem?

Brock complies. "They still card people at the theater? I thought they had done away with that. Huh."

"Well, I don't smoke cause you know. That's too much irony for even my hipster ass. But yes, they card me for movies and at the bar, still." Peter says while moving the disc to Brock’s chest, "Breathe normally, you know the last time I got pulled over the cop asked me if my mom knew I was out that late… then told me to call her… like dude, I'm a grown man!"

"Could be worse…" Frank tries to add with a nervous chuckle. His mind wanders for a moment in a place it shouldn't be. He bets the kid's a good kisser. He stares a little too long as he watches Brock interact with the guy. The playful smile that Brock hadn't given Frank in a while. There was a familiar twinkle to his eyes that made his chest hurt a little. He wonders about what it would be like in bed with Brock and the kid. He pushes the idea away; model boy here could easily take his place. He's way too pretty. Intrusive thoughts push through his mental wall. _You're no lightweight… Too heavy. Boring. Soft. Not submissive enough. Gold digger._ His hand slips from Brock's and drops to his own lap. 

"Everything sounds good. All you have to do is keep this little ball up. Take a deep breath, hold it for a moment then exhale into the tube. Keep the ball floating as long as possible. Okay, let's do this!" Peter hands the plastic too to Brock, "You can do this!"

Brock turns to Frank with a cheeky grin. "Well, I am pretty good at blowing, right, baby?" 

Frank's cheeks flush a nice shade of red as he replies, "That is true." His eyes dart up to Peter who is bright red and a little wide-eyed. His mouth is slightly open like he can get the words out. Frank smirks and forces himself to finish the thought, "You do have the best mouth." 

"You love it," Brock smirks before putting his mouth over the tube and blowing.

"I just love you." 

It's a task to get the ball to stay within the zone. The first time he tries it, the ball shoots to the top of the canister. He realizes it's not about force, but about control. He does it again and this time he keeps the ball well within the zone. It's wonky but to him, it's a win. He holds it until his air runs out and he pulls away with a gasp. Wiping his mouth, he glances at Peter.

"How do you feel? Besides drooly," Peter asks with a little grin and red cheeks.

"Not bad. Lungs burn a little but considering I haven't hit up a gym in a month, it's to be expected. But something did occur to me though. Blowing is actually sucking and this sucks to blow." He hands the device back with a wink at Frank. 

Frank can't help the flushed cheeks from happening. Damn Brock knew how to get that out of him. He grins a little as he runs fingers in his hair. 

"Well, I uh, I think you are good. Your lungs sound good. I think I can give the doctor the all-clear." Peter replies, placing the device on the table.

"Oh good. I told Dr. Johnson that my lungs were in great working order from all the screaming I tend to do. My husband assists with that a lot. He's good like that."

"You… uh. I. That's good?" Peter asks, turning even redder.

Brock turns to his love, a wide grin on his face. He's enjoying this so much. "Right, Frankie?" 

"Uh. Yeah..." Frank blushes at the implication, "He's… he's quite the screamer." 

"Thank God for drugs though." He realizes it's time to end his little game. "Otherwise the pain would be unbearable." 

"Well. We… we don't want you in any kinda pain." Peter says with a shake in his voice. He gives Frank the once over. He's more than curious about the dynamic between them but would never dare to ask. He gives Frank a nod, "I uh. I'm always available. My name's Peter Parker…"

Brock waits to see what Frankie will say about this. He's curious to know. He noticed that his boy had checked-out Peter when he entered and couldn't help but tease them both. It was interesting to see the type of man Frankie was interested in. Having only known about Gerard, it was not a good scale to judge his husband's type. It was clear that his own figure was not normal for Frank.

"It's was gre– nice meeting you, Peter." Frank stumbles a little, he gives the kid a huge smile but finds his eyes wandering the other man's body before glancing at his husband. He clears his throat and sits back, folding his hands in his lap.

"You too… partner?" Peter says awkwardly.

"Frank. Frank Ier– Rumlow." Frank answers eagerly. 

"Is that hyphenated?" 

"No. Just Rumlow." 

Brock snickers, "We're newlyweds and he keeps forgetting who he belongs to."

"I know who I belong to… I'm yours." Frank smiles softly at his husband.

"Congratulations on the marriage," Peter says with a smile as he gathers his things. 

"Thanks..." Frank replies leaning over slightly to get a view.

"Alright gents. Have a good day!" 

"You too," Frank answers with a nod as the kid exits the room.

"Take care," Brock calls after him.

"So... you're clear…" Frank speaks softly.

"Almost. Still got to speak with the psych doc. So close." Brock exhales hard before wiggling himself back. He needs to lie down for a bit. Once he's back in bed, he reaches for Frankie. "I didn't respond to Jack. If it's truly going to be a discharge after lunch, we'll need to rethink food."

"True. I should get you something to eat. Also, let Jack know what is going on." Frank takes his hand and kisses the top. He can feel his face has returned to its normal color.

He waits a moment before speaking, "He was kinda cute." 

"You liked him," Brock teases playfully. "He's your type? Twinkie likes twinks? Be honest, did you want to fuck him?" 

"I…" Frank tries to speak but his words are caught. His face turns red again. God he did. "You're my type..." He looks at Brock and bites his lip. 

"Your red face says you aren't telling the truth, _tesoro_." He tips his back up to better look at Frankie. He's not upset about this; more curious.

"I did." Frank says softly, "I thought about fuckin' him." 

"Hmm. I see." He hums before speaking rather nonchalantly, "I really can't imagine my Twinkie topping another. Though. I do suppose it makes sense considering Gerard, but he topped you. Right? Or did you two switch?"

"No. I'm a bottom," Frank says softly. "With men that is." 

"You're not mad…" Frank asks nervously. He's terrified of the answer.

"No. I don't have a problem with who you fantasize about. Shit, fantasies are a good thing. It's healthy. Now, you doing something about that fantasy, well, you'd better run it by me first."

"What?" Frank's head snaps to his husband. He couldn't believe his ears. Why isn't he in trouble…. 

"So what did you think about?" Brock asks with a sly grin.

"You watching me fuck him." Frank replies a little more relaxed, "You're not mad?"

"No. It's actually kinda hot. Fantasies get you going. As long as you don't act on them without consent from me, it's not only fine, but I encourage it. Like your kink with being watched. We talked. I agreed. We tried. Same with the orgasm denial. Except that I discovered it was a no for me."

" _Without your consent_? You'd…" Frank narrows his eyes. He is not sure he follows. He can't mean… Frank's head tilts slightly.

"Depends on the circumstances. There's a lot of variables at play here that I'm not comfortable being specific about right now. We can discuss those bridges when we come to it."

"Oh. This is new." Frank says suspiciously. "You surprise me every day!" 

Brock chuckles, "I'm not sure how you think it's new. Considering that when we met, I said I was a very kinky man."

"I mean having someone in our bed interacting with us is new." Frank smiles warmly. 

"Kinky doesn't always mean sharing." Frank smiles softly. He leans up and kisses Brock's cheek. He bites his lip before replying playfully, "I imagine a woman is a hard no."

"Extremely." 

"I thought so." Frank replies before covering his smile with his hand, "You'd be afraid it would bite..."

"Oh fuck you," he grins.

"Yes, I would like that." Frank grins wider, " _Frankie why's it look like that! It's scary..._ "

"You're an asshole, you know that? Go get me breakfast, little minx," he laughs, pointing for the door. "I love you."

"You love it. Especially my ass..." Frank leans over and kisses him, "A 'nanna and grits? Anything else? Milk or juice?"

"Either if they have it."

"Alright, I'll be back." Frank nods. He grabs his wallet and heads out.

Minutes later there's a knock at the door and a pause.

"Come in," Brock calls out, throwing the blanket over his legs. He wonders if perhaps it was Peter returning because he "forgot" something. The thought makes him snicker softly.

A man with dark curls and glasses steps in. His olive-colored khaki pants highlight the purple shirt as he steps into the room. He's taller than he appears as he scoots closer to Brock. He gives a nervous smile as he extends his hand, "Dr. Banner, but you can call me Bruce." 

Brock gives a polite smile and shakes his hand. "Brock. I'm sure you already know that, though. Seems like everybody knows my name. So you're the head doc, yeah?"

"You could say that. So, let's talk." Dr. Banner says, pulling up the chair beside him.

~~

Frank glances around the cafeteria. It's a depressing place for sure. He's holding a couple pieces of fruit, bottles of water, juice, and milk. There are people eating around him, mostly hospital staff but a few patient's family members too. He fucking hates this place. He wants to go home. A familiar voice rings out across the cafeteria. 

"Frankie," Linda calls out as she approaches.

"Hi, momma." He says, sounding weary. She wraps her arms around his. And kisses his forehead. 

"How are you, sweet boy?" She asks.

"Tired. We might be going home today." 

"Good! That's great!" She hugs him again.

"He's actually eating." Frank lifts the fruit, "I'm buying him grits too…" 

"That's amazing baby! India said he was sassy yesterday when she came in. I was just coming to bring you food. So I will just follow you up." Linda gets in line behind him. 

They chat all the way upstairs about the visits and what Carolyn did the night before that would have Brock dying. As they approach his husband's room a man exits and disappears into the hallway. 

Frank pulls the door open and steps in, "Baby, who was that?" He steps closer to Brock. The bowl of grits warm in his hands. 

"Dr. Banner. Psych Doc," he replies, a little resigned.

"What did he say?" Setting the food down before, Frank sits beside his frowning husband. It's not an uncommon face but it still tugged at his heartstrings. 

"He's giving me the anti-depressants and anxiety pills." 

"And we feel? Bad?" 

Brock shrugs. "Quiet. Alright, I guess."

"Honey. There's nothing wrong with being on medication for your mental health." Linda says stepping closer to the bed. 

"I know," he replies softly. He reaches out for the food. He's fine, really. He just always feels like his brain is stuffed with cotton balls after a long talk with his therapist and Dr. Banner was no different.

"I love you," Frank whispers in his ear.

"My kid tells me your breaking out of this place." Linda smiles as she pats Brock's leg. 

"Hopefully. Depends if I passed all their little tests," he smiles at her. Turning to Frankie, he pulls him in for a kiss. He whispers, "I love you, too, _amore cuore_." 

"I have a great feeling that you will be leaving today." Linda nods. 

Frank kisses him again, "Eat. I brought you warm food. I was thinking of getting hot cocoa for us in a bit." 

He grins against Frankie's lips as he kisses him again. Hot cocoa was the best and only great thing about the cold. He pulls back and takes the warm bowl of grits. "Maybe after we break out?

"Yes. We'll stop somewhere and get fancy cocoa." He presses his lips to Brock's temple before sitting beside him. Linda hands over a foil covered breakfast burrito. 

"If you get sprung, if it's okay, I would like to come check in with you guys at your apartment. I can bring you Medical supplies or whatever." Linda's voice sounds sad. 

"Of course. I'd love it if you came and visited. We both would. And yeah, I'm totally going to need the hook-up on the medical supplies," Brock grins.

"Great! I can finally see the bat cave!" Linda grins before yawning. It was a long night, "Will you boys text me when you get sprung?"

"Yes, momma." Frank nods before taking a bite of his food. "Thank you for the burrito."

"If the apartment is closer to the hospital than your house, you are welcome to stay." Brock happily eats a spoonful of the warm grits.

"We have a guest room with a new mattress and pillows. If you don't mind the guitars." Frank grins wide. 

"Jack's there. He can let you in," adds Brock, licking a spot of grits off his cheek.

"Jack's at the apartment?" Frank asks.

"Dunno. If not there, then at his. He's usually home, yeah?" 

"Oh fair." Frank nods.

A nurse pops her head in, "Can I come in?" 

Brock grins, "Well you kinda already are. One-third at least."

"You must be in a good mood." The nurse chuckles as she steps into the room, "But, I think you will be in an even better mood minute from now."

"Can I go home?" he asks, voice hopeful.

"We are getting your release papers gathered. Dr. Johnson is coming back to go over some things including meds for pain, infection, and otherwise. But you are just about to be a free man." The nurse grins excitedly.

Brock grins wide and looks at both Linda and Frankie. "I'm going home!" 

"God 'm so excited to get you home." Frank sighs. He rests his head on the bed.

"I'm gonna go over how to clean and care for your wound. I'm sure Linda can help too. The good news is, you get to shower." The nurse smiles. 

"Hey mom, if you want I can drive you to the apartment and you can crash for a while." Frank offers with a huge smile. 

"I should be ok to make it home, but I will take you up on coming to visit," Linda says stepping up and kissing Frank's forehead.

"You sure?" Brock asks.

"Yes, sweetheart. You probably will be exhausted when you get home. I wouldn't want to intrude." Linda says. 

"Not at all. Besides, it might be helpful to figure out what sort of things I'm going to need at home." Brock frowns, wondering if there's going to be a lot of changes he'll need around the house. 

"Are you for sure?" She asks, pausing for a moment. The idea of getting to crash sooner is appealing. She also likes the idea of being able to help her boys get adjusted to their new normal, "How about this? You go home tonight and get adjusted and settled. I'll come over tomorrow and help you get all the supplies you need." 

"Okay, momma." Frank replies as he crumples the wrapping from his food, "Did you tell Jack it's gonna be late lunch or dinner?" 

"No, not yet. We've been busy," replies Brock.

"I can do it, baby." Frank smiles as he takes his phone, "How's your grits?"

_Frank: He's gonna be released soon. Wanna do a late lunch or dinner? Also would it be possible for me to meet you at the door with him just in case I need help with him?_

"Not bad. Not as great as yesterday but that's fine." Brock sets the half-eaten bowl down and goes for the banana.

_Jack: You going to be okay loading him up in the car? I'm happy to eat wherever you guys get here and I'll meet you at the door. I gotchu._

_Frank: I think I can get help loading him up. Thank you for helping. I know it's your job but I'm also his husband and I feel like I should be doing more. But that's another issue for another time. He is excited to be coming home._

_Jack: Yeah, we'll talk about that later_ 🙂 _I'm happy to be seeing you guys. Happy he's home too. Are we doing something public, private, or a bit of both?_

"Are we doing the meal with your brother and maybe the boys in public or at home?" Frank asks. 

"I'm okay with either."

"I would say to try the scrambled eggs. They aren't bad." Linda smiles, "but my son can make you some delicious eggs, Frank Sr. taught him."

_Frank: he doesn't know what he wants to do. I'm thinking home might be the best choice. I think the move is gonna wipe Brick out._

_Jack: Alright. I'll come up with something._

"No, I don't want eggs," Brock shakes his head. "It's a texture thing I'm not quite alright with yet."

Frank smiles at his phone, "You know this means you have to wear clothes. Cause you're not going bare assed on the front seat of our car."

"You have fun with that son. I'm gonna head home. I'll call you tomorrow when I am headed your way." Linda leans in and kisses Frank's forehead. She leans over and kisses Brock’s cheek, "Call if you need anything, my love." 

"Thank you, mama Linda. See you tomorrow. Love you," Brock beams up at her.

"Love you too, bubby." Linda kisses his forehead. She ruffles Frank's hair, "Be safe. Drink water." 

A few minutes after Linda leaves Doctor Johnson returns with a smile. The same nurse follows behind her and closes the door.

"Alright, mister Rumlow. I am releasing you to the care of Dr. Choi. But I am asking that you take it easy. No running marathons, no vigorous activity." The doctor looks up from her computer screen, "Claire here is going to go over your discharge papers. She's also got your prescriptions you need to get filled today. You get two refills on the pain meds. These are controlled so you need to take them exactly as prescribed. I'm giving you all three scripts at once. Do not lose them. I will not rewrite them. They are on a tapered system. Once it's gone, it's gone. You are to switch to over the counter pain relief medicine. Choi may have you do home physical therapy and in fact, I am going to recommend it. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No ma'am." Brock shakes his head and turns to Frankie, "Did you?" 

"I don't think so. Can I have someone help me get him into the car?" Frank asks the nurse, "Thank you guys for taking good care of my husband." 

"You're welcome. So Claire is going to apply a water-resistant bandage and get you guys out of there. Best of luck. Take care of yourself, Brock. And let's not meet like this again." The doctor says with a smile and nod as she passes paperwork to the nurse before heading out. The nurse goes over the medicine schedule as well as the care instructions for his wound. She hands Frank papers as well as the prescriptions, reminding him not to lose them before offering to help get Brock ready to leave.

"I don't think so but I will need help getting him into my car." Frank smiles at her before looking at his husband. 

"I'll be back shortly to help you guys out." The nurse smiles before exiting. 

"Alright, good looking. Let's get you up and dressed. Do you want sweatpants or shorts?"

"Sweatpants are going to be easier to slide on and off. Hopefully, they'll be able to wheel me out. There's no way I can walk the distance."

"I planned to pull the car to the curb and deposit you in the passenger seat. Jack is going to help get you upstairs." Frank says, pulling out the black sweats and a shirt, "I brought you a hoodie." 

"Thanks love."

He pulls out a My Chemical Romance hoodie and places it on the bed, "It matches." Frank grins wide. 

Brock chuckles and shakes his head. "Alright, _amore mio_. Help me get my pants on." 

Frank slides the sweats up and over Brock's feet then smiles as he offers his hands to Brock, "Come on, come get me." 

Frank helps dress Brock and then into a wheelchair. He pulls the backpack and the small duffle bag on his shoulder. He checks for chargers and other items they could have left behind. He hands over the tiger to Brock and kisses his forehead, "Let's get you home, punkin butt. You ready? Unless you wanna stay?" 

Brock hugs Tiger close to him and grins wide, "Hell no. I wanna go home. Take me home!" 

"Good," Frank says before pushing his husband to freedom. The nurse follows them outside. Frank rushes to grab his car and parks curbside. The nurse and Frank help Brock out of the chair and into the SUV. He's too excited to be at home with his husband to go the speed limit. They stop at the pharmacy and pick up his prescriptions before they head to the apartment. As he parks the car, he watches Jack step from the shadows.

"Hi, Jack!" Frank says as soon as he pushes the door of his car open, "I have a big tanned present for you." 

"Tanned?" Jack greets with a grin and a laugh, "I thought you said _tamed_." 

"Tamed? Nooo… he's still pretty feral." Frank snorts.

"Excuse me," Brock protests. "Jack's the feral tiger." 

"Yes but you're the big scary bear." Frank smiles before kissing his husband, "Ready?"

"Ready as I'm ever gonna be," Brock huffs, sliding his good leg out of the car.

"How are we doing this?" Frank looks at Jack.

Jack weighs his options. Brock can only walk so far. He'll have to lift and carry him. He can only carry Brock for short distances… unless he did a fireman's carry?

Frank brushes the hair from Brock's forehead before kissing him there, "I'm gonna apologize in advance. This is not gonna be pleasant."

Brock sighs, "Don't drop me, Jack."

"I won't. Promise." 

"Is the property manager here still?" Frank asks, "Her hubby's got a scooter. And she loovvess Brock."

"I can ask? Or, see if there's an office chair he can borrow?" He decides that he's going to get his brother a wheelchair. At least for the next few months, he'll have something he can use for long distances.

"I'll go ask." Frank nods. He jogs into the building and prays they he can get something to help him. He waits impatiently at the desk for the manager to come to the desk. He asks if he can either use the scooter for Brock after he was attacked and shot or an office chair. He watches as she wheels out a hot pink office chair. He thanks her and promises he will return it as soon as Brock's deposited in the apartment. He wheels it out to the garage with a smile, "Your chariot, Brock." 

Brock grimaces, "Wow. Okay." 

Jack snickers and lifts his brother, transporting him into the pink office chair as gently as he can. He turns and grabs their bag of things. "Frank wanna drive your husband?" 

"I can. In his pink chariot." Frank snickers. He pushes the chair after Jack as he presses the button to lock his at up.

"Pfft, it's awesome and you are just jealous, _tesoro_."

"Yeah.. let's go with that. " Frank leans in and whispers in his ear. He pushes Brock into the elevator, "Thanks for getting the bags, Jack." 

"No problem. I was going to cook or order something special for you as a celebratory thing, but I wasn't sure what you wanted or could handle. You guys in the mood for something?"

"Anything. As long as it has flavor and isn't fast food." Frank says quietly as the elevator doors open.

"I'm not sure. I agree with no fast food though. And something soft. Maybe. I dunno. I'm sorry. It's… I'm trying," Brock mumbles.

Jack reaches over and places a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay. There's nothing to worry about. We're very proud of you. You're doing great, brother."

"You really are, baby. As long as you keep eating, we are not going to discourage you." Frank leans over and rests his head on Brock's shoulder as Jack unlocks the door.

"Surprise!" 

The sound fills the apartment. Frank glances around the apartment. The girls had somehow managed to not only get a welcome home banner but balloons and streamers in the apartment. Everyone was in the apartment and smiling wide. 

"Welcome Home Brock!" Christa grins as she hugs him. 

"Oh my god. Guys!" Brock's eyes fill with water at the thoughtfulness of his friends and family. He loves these people so much. He feels so blessed to know some of the most amazing people in the world. He hugs Christa tight around her waist and plants a huge kiss on her belly. "Hi, Baby! Missed you, big boy. Hi Chrissy! Missed you, baby girl."

"Hi, love! You look even better than the last time I saw you." Christa cups his cheek.

"Help me stand, Jack? I wanna hug my family properly." 

Jack sets the bag of Brock's things down on his kitchen table and goes over to grab his brother's hands. Using his feet to keep the chair from rolling, and Frank to keep it from spinning, Jack pulls Brock to his feet. 

Brock keeps the majority of his weight on his good leg and one hand in Jack's. He hugs Christa as best as he can. 

Christa squeezes him as much as she can, "Pretty soon you're gonna be able to slow dance again." 

"That's the plan. Gonna walk down the aisle at my wedding and dance with my best loves." He smiles at Frankie.

"Hi, Brock." Lindsey says with a soft voice.

"Lindsey! Hi!" 

"I am so happy to see you!" She says as she approaches him slowly. She carefully hugs him and takes a big breath in. Ray and Gerard approach and hug him. 

"Sunshine. Gee-wiz." Brock smiles and hugs them both as tight as he can. "How are you guys?" 

"Great! Happy to see you!" Gerard says with a smile, "How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fantastic! Do you want something to drink?" Ray asks.

Mike approaches with Kristen and waits their turn to see Brock. 

"I'm doing okay. A drink sounds good, brother. I'm going to sit on the couch, okay? Jack? Help me?" Brock turns to his brother to get confirmation before slowly taking small steps towards the couch. He sees Mike-n-Ike and Kristen and beams at them. He'll happily say hi after he sits.

"What do you want to drink, B?" Ray grins and kisses Brock’s cheek. 

"Water, please. Maybe a soda. Doc says I can't have wine again. Not allowed with the pain meds. Also no grapefruits or grapefruit juices," huffs out Brock as he and Jack slowly hobble towards the couch. Jack helps him ease down carefully before giving him extra pillows to help support him. With a nod, Jack leaves him, presumably to go check on getting himself a drink.

Kristen sits on the couch next to him, "So. I just wanna thank you." 

"For what," he asks, giving her a slight hug hello.

"For this." She hands him a piece of paper.

It takes Brock nearly a full minute to recover from the shock of staring at a sonogram. He snaps his head towards her and screeches, "You're gonna have a baby?!" 

"Yes!" Kristen with a huge grin. She leans in and hugs Brock. Mike sits on the coffee table and leans forward. 

"I think us Ways do things backward. But we are also thinking of a spring wedding." Mike smiles.

"Wow, you guys! I'm so happy for you," exclaims Brock in happy embarrassment. 

The lock whirrs and clicks mechanically before it opens. Frank returns quietly. He doesn't want to interrupt anything because everyone was enamored with Brock and his freedom. He slips into their room and unpacks the duffle bag, humming to himself.

"We have a bet. Mike says it's a boy. But it's a girl." Kristen chuckles. 

Bob sits on the couch nearby. He nods at Brock

Ray hands Brock a glass of water, "So we have Floof and Emo. What is their baby's name?" 

"Sprinkle," he replies without missing a beat.

"Sprinkle?" Mike and Kristen asked.

"Small and round-shaped, much like Mike-n-Ike, uh the candy, not you, but smaller and equally brightly colored and I'm sorry did you say girl?" Brock zooms in on the gender. It was a girl? He could spoil a little tiny pretty pink princess?

"It's a little early to tell but I have a feeling that it's a little girl. Call it mother's intuition," Kristen smiles wide. 

"Do you guys have names?" Christa waddles over. Ray follows, offering to help her sit which, she swats his hands away.

"Rowan," Kristen smiles.

"Alexander." Mike nods at his girl.

"I think you are just putting something in the water, Brock." Bob jokes.

"You're next," he replies in a perfect deadpan to Rabbit.

Frank quietly joins the love fest and sits next to Brock. His hand rubs his low back before resting his head on his husband's shoulder.

Brock visibly melts into a happy puddle of joy from Frankie joining them. An irrational image of a group doggy pile enters his mind for what feels like the millionth time. While his touch starvation has dramatically improved, it still gives him irrational desires. His thigh would not survive a cuddle pile. He realizes almost belatedly that were it not for Frankie sharing the bed with him, he would probably have returned worse. Being stuck in a bed was lonely. Being stuck in a bed with little physical contact was maddening to him.

Brock wraps his arm around Frankie and pulls him in tight. "Cuddle me." 

"Ok!" Frank says slipping his arms around Brock's waist, his hand slipping under his shirt, resting on his belly. He kisses Brock's shoulder. He slides his leg behind his husband and drapes himself over Brock. 

Brock turns to Kristen. "I'm really happy for you guys. Congratulations on both the wedding and the new addition. All the babies belong to me. I'm still the uncle, right?"

"You are absolutely the uncle! Our baby needs her uncle Brock and Jack." Kristen looks over to Jack, "Who else is gonna teach her how to beat up the boys?"

"Exactly. Baby emo needs his uncle's how to defend himself from bullies." Gerard says as he carefully puts his hand on Lindsey's belly.

"You're having a girl." Frank comments. He just can feel it.

"Nope. This is a boy." Gerard shakes his head. 

Frank turns his head slightly to look at Brock. He raises an eyebrow, "Uncle Brock, thoughts?" 

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm happy I have babies to play with and spoil." Brock grins.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Lindsey asks with a satisfied smile.

"Jack promised food," Brock says, turning to his brother.

Jack looks up from his phone, "Uh, yeah. I was gonna cook but I wanted to get requests and ideas first."

"Brock's appetite is pretty limited but I know the other boys are like goats and will eat almost anything. Something easy so you can hang out and spend time with us too and not be slaving in a kitchen. Like pasta and sauce and bread?"

"You going to be ok with that, Brock?" Jack asks with a little tilt and a concerned expression.

"I don't know. But I can try. Maybe I can help." 

"That's a good idea. Brother bonding time!" Frank grins back at Jack before he squeezes his hubby. 

Jack smiles and stands, pocketing his phone. "If you really want to, that's fine. I can put a chair in the kitchen for you but you have to walk to it. But, really, you should just stay your happy little clam butt right there and enjoy your people."

"We are always happy to spend more time with you, Brock!" Ray says cheerfully. 

"Don't spill on my couch." Frank glares at him as he watches his drink swirl in his glass.

Brock snickers softly. "I should at least see what's available in the pantry."

"Not a whole lot but I've got some stuff at my place. I can go check or we can just order something."

"I can always go pick-up food." Frank offer.

"Do you think you could eat a grilled cheese or some pasta?" asks Jack.

"I'll try."

Jack nods, "It's settled. I'll cook pasta. And put a shake in the freezer so it gets cold, just in case. Sit there and relax," says Jack decisively. He moves into the kitchen to get a pot of water to boil.

"You need help, Jack?" Ray asks.

"Nah, man. I've been cooking pasta since I was eight. I got this. Any other requests? The last thing I need is three pregnant ladies _and_ one Brock puking up my food."

"No onions," Lindsey says.

"So far food is still ok." Kristen smiles.

"I'm ok, Jack. No fish." Christa says softly.

"Gotcha."

Frank presses lips to Brock's neck. He hugs his husband a little. He leans up and whispers, "I need to do laundry. Do you want some socks?" 

Brock shakes his head no, nuzzling his head. "I'm comfortable. Thank you, though." 

"Ok." Frank kisses him again, "I'm happy you are home."

"No sounds of beeping. No nurses popping in. No more uncomfortable bed." Ray says patting Brock’s knee.

"Hopefully my bed is okay to lie on though. Or the couch. As terrible as it was, the angle didn't pull the stitches or overextend the muscle. I only tried laying down flat once..." Brock grimaces at the memory of waking up in worse pain than before due to the angle, the burning over excruciating, and the panic as a result.

"Oh! That reminds me! I got you a wedge!" Frank pipes up. He kisses Brock’s cheek and pops up and rushes into their bedroom. He pulls out a Merlot color triangle wedge, "For your leg!" 

"Oh cool! That's awesome. Thanks, baby!" 

"I thought it would be worth a shot. If it helps, great! If not, we could use it as a position pillow." Frank replies as he pats the pillow. ' _Whenever we have sex again,'_ he thinks.

"Oh. That could be useful when I get big pregnant." Lindsey says elbowing Gerard. Frank returns and cuddles back up to Brock. He sits behind his husband and curls his legs around him. 

As everyone gets settled in, the television gets turned on and a movie gets picked. Frank encourages Brock to lean back into him. He runs fingers up Brock's neck and through the hair on the back of his head, "If you want you can rest your eyes, baby," Frank whispers in Brock's ear.

"Yeah, okay," he replies softly. He shifts a little to get more comfortable. "When's my next dose allowed?" 

"Well, I'm not sure, my love." Frank replies, "About ten this morning was your first dose."

Frank pauses, he doesn't want to move, "Jaaccckkkk?"

"Where are the drugs?" Jack asks. He pauses before snickering, "God that sounded so wrong." 

Frank giggles, "Kitchen counter." 

Jack pauses in cutting up herbs to grab Brock's prescriptions off the counter. He passes the bag to Frank, "Here." 

"Thank you, Jack..." Frank smiles. He reads the bag, "You get one of these."

Brock takes the little pill and swallows it with some water. He sighs and leans back. He grumbles, "Can't wait to get off of these things." 

"I know baby. But it helps you feel a little normal and not in so much pain." Frank kisses his cheek.

"Why don't you want to take them? They make you feel good." Mike asks.

"I hate drugs," he replies simply. "Even though I need them, even though I have no choice, and yes even though they help so much and I do feel better. I hate drugs."

"He's the kinda guy who would rather deal with a headache by drinking water and pretending it's not there," Frank says rubbing Brock's neck.

"I'm getting better with Tylenol," Brock grumbles.

"I know, grumble butt." Frank playfully pokes his side.

Brock whines playfully before settling back to watch the rest of the movie. It's not long after that the painkillers kick in and he drifts off to sleep, laying against Frankie.

Frank smiles as he hears Brock's breathing get heavier. He traces his husband's arm with his finger. "Is he out?" He asks Ray who nods. Christa is sound asleep on his chest. "Our poor babes are tired." 

Lindsey slips off the couch and pads into the kitchen, "Need some help good lookin'?" 

Jack turns and gives her a smile

He's buttering up some bread. "Movie not entertaining enough?" 

"Baby dad fell asleep and was snoring," Lindsey smirks.

"Old man already," he smirks. "When's he going to pop the question? Or is marriage not in the cards for you?"

"I dunno. I wanna get married. Maybe he doesn't wanna marry me." Lindsey shrugs, "We'll see. Everyone else is doing it." 

"That's not exactly the right reason to get hitched but alright." Jack shrugs. He adds garlic to the buttered bread but pauses at the onion powder. "You said no onions but will the powder be alright? If not, I can set some aside without it for you."

"It's the smell. The powder doesn't really smell. It should be ok." She smiles, "I don't wanna marry him cause everyone else is doing it. I wanna marry him 'cause I love the big dork, I also wanted to be married before I popped a kid out."

Nodding, Jack adds some of the onion powder to the garlic bread before putting them into the oven. He stirs the pot of boiling noodles. "That's a good idea. You're wanting a boy, right? Or was it a girl you see hoping for?"

"I want a girl." She leans over the counter and adjusts herself on her elbows, "Sugar and spice, you know." 

"Excuse me, but have you seen little girl toddlers and teenagers? They are just as a handful as little boys are." Jack hands her a spoon, "Can you stir this and keep it from sticking? I gotta start the sauce."

"I was a teenage girl. I was all sugar." 

"Bullshit but alright," Jack grins, getting down another smaller pot and pouring water in it. He grabs fresh tomatoes out of the pantry and begins chopping them.

"Oh, I was an angel… with a pitchfork." Lindsey grins as she stirs, "I just don't think this little bean is a boy. Call it a feeling." 

"I trust you. You got a name in mind?"

"Bandit Lee." Lindsey glances at Jack's face.

He tilts his head and wrinkles his nose in thought. "It's an unusual name. But alright. Got a reason why?" 

"It's something different." Lindsey shrugs, "Gerard isn't sold. He wants something _traditional._ " 

"At the end of the day, it's your baby and you get to name it. It's the right of the mother, so Gerard can just deal," smirks Jack with a devilish grin.

"Exactly." Lindsey smirks, "Do you ever want kids?"

He shakes his head no and adds spices to the tomatoes. "I don't share the same patience with children as my brother does. It's not in the cards for me."

"That's fair. To be truthful, I don't like kids." Lindsey says softly. 

"Uh, I feel like that's a little late there, darling. Does Gerard know?" snickers Jack.

"Sort of…" Lindsey shrugs again, "What about marriage for you?"

"No. I'm a devoted bachelor for life." 

"You'll disagree but I hope you find a good partner. Not a wife or _husband_ , but someone who is your partner in crime." Lindsey gives him a sad smile. Jack deserves love. He's a good man.

"Not for nothing but I _am_ straight," he chuckles.

"Hey… I didn't wanna assume…" Lindsey snickers, "I mean your brother is married to another man, so you know."

He laughs. "That doesn't mean it runs in the family!"

Lindsey laughs, "Okay fair enough!" 

Frank leans his head back, "Ask him about his new girlfriend, Carol." 

"She's not my girlfriend, Frank. I don't have girlfriends." 

"He just teases the ones he loves, like a child." Lindsey teases, "Like a Chihuahua barking at a Great Dane."

"Bite me," Frank calls out, "I'm not a Chihuahua."

"You are rather small and… yappy."

"I'm not yappy!" Frank cries.

Jack snickers, "Payback, bärchen."

"I'm also quite tough." Frank says with a nod, "You can't punt me like a little dog." 

Jack gives him a look. "Your head is like at my pits, dude. I absolutely can drop kick you. I'm even taller than Ray for Christ's sake."

"Height doesn't mean anything… it's all about spirit." Ray looks at Frank, "You're tall to me, Frankie." 

"Do you sometimes stand on chairs to feel big?" Lindsey asks.

"No! Shutup!" Frank snaps. 

Jack chuckles and adds the tomato mixture to the stove to heat up. He checks on the bread and the pasta, before melting butter in the microwave and grabbing milk and cheese. He's thankful the talk pulled away from Carol. 

"He's more like a Boston terrier," Mike adds.

"I would say either a Jack Russell _terror_ , I mean, terrier or a Pomeranian," Jack says. He best say it before anyone else does. Carolyn's words ring loud in his head. "I, of course, am a German Shepard." 

"You're a Belgian Malinois." Frank comments, "Or a Rottweiler. I'm not a damn Pomeranian."

"I'd be a Saint Bernard." Ray nods.

Jack shakes his head, "I agree with you, Ray, you're totally a Saint Bernard. But I disagree with you, Frank. I'm German. And I'm Brock's Shepard. And I'm an attack dog. Carolyn got that right on the nose."

"You're more like a pit bull. Loyal. A nanny but also protective of your own. I think I'm like a Labrador." Frank nods, "Brock's a poodle."

"Be lucky he's asleep. He would have words to say about being called a poodle. He is not a poodle, bärchen."

"But he is though. He's pretty and smart. Poodles are very smart. They are good guard dogs and good family dogs too. But they are pretty." Frank grins, "Nooo, he's a Newfoundland! Big, cuddly, loyal, smart, and protective."

"Brock could be a pit bull. He's got the muscles for it," comments Jack. He wonders what a Newfoundland dog is and decides he'll Google it later. "And he's stocky." 

"Ok. I can see that. Pit bulls are great dogs!" Lindsey comments. Frank nods as he runs fingers in his sleeping husband's hair, "You'd be a corgi, Frank. Jack… hmmm..." 

"Am I a corgi cause I'm short?" Frank grumbles. 

"A little, but you also have their personalities." Lindsey smiles.

"And stubby legs." Mike snickers.

"I can see that," concedes Jack with a nod. "And I'll speak for Brock since he's asleep and it's pretty obvious what he'd say about this. He'd say you have a cute butt to boot. Actually, he'd probably say it a little differently but you get what I'm saying. He is an ass man."

"Well, I hope he's an ass man, cause I sure am flat as a board upstairs." Frank snickers, "I do think I have a cute butt." 

"Jack. You'd be a Shiba Inu or something like it. Maybe a dalmatian." Mike says thoughtfully.

"Dalmatians are known for their super timidness. In what world am I timid?"

"I was thinking more about the looks of the dalmatian, cause they are cute… but fair. I'm a cat person so don't mind me…" Mike says putting his hands up.

"Yeah… he won't let me get a dog." Kristen says with a little smile, "Jack is a herding breed dog. Protective. Smart. Loyal. Quick thinker. Maybe a cattle dog or collie."

"German Shepards are also known for their military work and use in law _enforce_ ment. They are great guard dogs, highly protective, loyal, intelligent." Jack knows what he is and he's going to keep insisting he's a German Shepherd no matter what. Negative connotations aside, he actually likes German Shepards.

"So, Brock is a pit bull. Good guess, Jack. You are Shepherd. Frank's a French bulldog." Ray says with a nod, "Chrissy is a Poodle. Gee is a Chihuahua. Bob is also a shepherd. Mike is a Corgi. Kristi is a Great Dane. Linds was a greyhound. And me, Saint Bernard. Or at least that's what the internet says..." Ray comments as he tries to tuck his phone away. 

"I'm not a lap dog." Frank frowns.

"No, you're a French Bulldog named Petunia." Lindsey giggles.

"Awww that's cute. Petunia, you might want to wake your hubby up, gently. Food's almost done." Jack drains the pasta and begins portioning out Brock's bowl before mixing the sauce with the rest.

Frank gently shakes Brock and whispers in his ear, "Babe. Wake up. It's time to eat." 

Ray wakes Christa up easily. Bob shoves Gerard awake, "Wake up, you're drooling." 

"Brock. Wake up, my love." Frank rubs his chest.

Brock groans and shifts before waking up with a yawn. He stretches his back and moves to do his legs before he remembers he can't. Brain fuzzy, he grabs the couch back and pulls himself up until he's sitting upright. Another yawn escapes. 

"Hi, sleepyhead," Frank says softly before kissing his cheek.

" _Che ore sono_?" Brock mumbles.

"Oh, it's an Italian kinda sleep." Frank says rubbing Brock's arm, "Let's go eat and get some water in you." 

" _Sono_ is time, right Jack?" Frank asks, "It's almost 6 pm baby."

"Look at you, picking up the language," Jack chuckles.

Brock rubs his face and tries to think past the fuzzy and the fading dreams on the edge of his consciousness. 

"I hear it enough. But also I've been doing online classes at night to learn. Is my Italian good? No. It's terrible." Frank chuckles.

"If you'd like, I could help, bärchen."

"Really? I don't want to be a bother." Frank smiles. He's more than willing to take help.

"Wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it." 

Brock frowns and turns his head towards Frankie. His voice is thick with sleep. "When did you start learning?" 

"On our break. Maybe a little before. I had an app on my phone. But I signed up for a real class and am doing online stuff since you were hospitalized. I can say my name, where's the bathroom, days of the week, and numbers." Frank nods with a smile. He's actually proud of himself, "I didn't take it too seriously before. But now that I am a Rumlow, I should be able to talk to my relatives."

"We all speak English," says Brock thickly.

"He wants to make sure no one talks shit. I know his thinking." Gerard chuckles.

"That too…" Frank pauses, "I don't want to be called the stupid American." 

"Hate to break it to you bärchen, but you'll need advanced lessons before you get that fluent."

"I'm trying." Frank shrugs before crawling out from behind Brock. He offers his hand to his love, "Up." 

Brock takes Frankie's hands and pulls himself up into a standing position. He groans low and wobbles a little unsteady before he regains his balance. "Thanks." 

"Of course baby!" Frank loops his arm around Brock's, "I'm your crutch." 

Carefully and slowly, they make their way to the dining room table and Brock eases into his chair. The others happily fill the seats while Lindsey begins setting the table with plates and utensils while Jack brings out a large serving bowl filled with spaghetti. Fresh garlic bread fills the air as it's taken from the oven and placed in a bowl and delivered to the table. 

"It smells amazing Jack!" Christa says shifting in her seat. 

"It does." Frank says easing Brock into the chair, "What would you like to drink, baby?" 

"Water, please."

"It's too bad they don't make non-alcoholic wine…" Lindsey says casually as she sits down beside Gerard.

Jack sets two small bowls down in front of Brock. Both are filled with pasta, chopped up super fine. One bowl has the homemade marinara sauce and the other has homemade cheese sauce. He whispers to him before kissing his temple, "Eat what you can, if you can. I have shakes for you just in case." 

"Linds, what you're thinking of is grape juice." Frank snickers. He rubs Brock's arm with a smile and nod. 

"Oh yeah! That's a thing!" Lindsey says with shock in her voice.

"Pregnancy brain will getcha. And it gets worse." Christa says pushing on her stomach. Her head drops a little, "Stop it. I know you're uncomfortable. Don't kick me for it."

Ray snickers.

"Oh, the joy of pregnancy." Kristen smiles at Lindsey. 

"Careful doing that in public. People might think you are talking to yourself," snickers Jack.

"I kinda am…" Christa replies.

"Baby Floof can hear you and he replies," says Brock, still a little sleepy.

"Well, he can be a little nicer."

"He's Baby. They don't have reasoning at that age," he counters.

"That's why mom has to poke him."

"When's his due date?" Jack asks, setting down drinks.

"November 10th," Christa sighs, "but I have a feeling he's gonna get fed up and leave early." 

"Good. I'm excited to meet and hold him." Brock smiles at them before carefully taking his fork and scooping up a small bite of the tomato pasta. It tastes just like what Mom made back home. It's perfect. He hates it. It's just. No. He pushes the bowl away. After several moments of fighting himself, he tries the cheese one and finds there are no negative connotations with it and no anxiety. It's just pasta and cheese sauce but it's safe. He likes safe. 

"Yeah. He is gonna be a good baby and not keep me waiting long." Christa smiles and rubs her belly.

"Not on my birthday," Frank grumbles.

"Now, I want him to be a Halloween baby." Ray teases. As everyone digs in gives Ray appreciative groans. 

"I want him to wait until after your birthday, too," Brock speaks softly. He's waiting to see if the two bites of pasta will make him sick. He watches as everyone else eats and wonders if he would make it to the bathroom if he couldn't stomach the food. He likes the cheese one though.

"Though my birthday plans are being modified a little, I don't wanna share my birthday with the Rugrat," Frank says softly as he reaches out and strokes Brock's hand. 

"What were your birthday plans, _tesoro_?" 

"There was a haunted house I wanted to go to. I was also thinking of during the day going upstate and picking a pumpkin or two up. Maybe I would bake a pumpkin pie. A lot of walking." Frank shrugs, "But what about scary movies, junk food, and cuddles?" 

"We can still do that. I wanna do that. I'll find a way, okay?" Brock's voice is soft and he strokes the back of Frank's thumb.

"We'll look into it. If we can't that's ok. I just wanna spend my birthday with you." Frank smiles before leaning over and kisses his cheek.

"I love you, Frankie." 

"Love you too, Brock Enzo." 

"I have your birthday present from us coming soon, Frankie," Lindsey says with a smile. 

"So, it's not really a present but a friend of mine is opening a tattoo shop and he gave me a certificate for you to have two hours of work on a tattoo." Bob grins.

"Oh, baby! We could get you a tattoo!" Frank feels a little giddy at the idea of Brock getting a tattoo.

"Not sure about that but maybe. I'll think about it. Besides, it's your birthday gift. Not mine," says Brock. He slowly takes a second bite of the cheese pasta.

Jack notices his preferences and snags the discarded bowl, adding its contents to his plate. At least it'll be easier to eat. "I'm going to be honest, I've got nothing for your birthday, Frank. I failed to plan ahead and then things happened. Sorry, brother."

"Jack. You don't have to get anything for me. You do so much for me already. Just hang out with me, that's all I ask." Frank grins at Jack. He gives him a small nod noticing Brock's preference as well. 

"We got you a gift but it's not arrived yet," Christa says with a smile. 

"I actually made you a gift, Frankie." Gerard says with a little smile, "I'll bring it over on your big day."

"Mine is on its way. Hopefully, it won't be late," smiles Brock.

"What did you… Wait. _When_ did you buy it?" Frank's head snaps from Gerard to Brock. He gives his husband a little smile and squeezes his hand. He's been injured for weeks and doesn't know when he woulda had the time...

"There's this thing. It's called the internet. And sometimes I make phone calls." He grins cheekily.

"Oh, you are _funny_." Frank rolls his eyes as he laughs, "I mean you have been sleeping a lot. That's why I asked, ya jerk." 

"You love me. I took care of this before I got shot."

"I adore you. That's what I was asking, silly goose." Frank shakes his head, "I am sure that I will love it. Even if it's finger painting you did in Italy. I will love it."

Brock takes another bite of his pasta. He's decided this is safe and he's now working on eating the whole bowl. "Please. Finger painting is overrated. I used crayons."

"I am sure that it is a damn masterpiece." Frank smiles before taking another bite, "Gee, you made me something?" 

"Yeah! I think you and B will like it." Gerard smiles.

Brock leans over and whispers loudly to Frank, "I bet it's not as good as crayons." 

"It is finger paints… so it is inferior to your crayons." Gerard laughs.

"I bet I can throw together some macaroni art," snickers Jack.

"Oh, macaroni art might beat out crayons, my love." Frank laughs.

"No. No. No," Brock grins and sticks his tongue out at Jack.

"I'm just saying..." 

"Brock. I might have some butcher paper, construction paper, and Elmer's glue..." Mike offers.

"Don't sniff the glue, Brock," Jack grins. "Your drug-addled brain might think it's a good idea. It's not."

"I'm gonna stab you with the scissors instead."

Jack snorts, "You can't walk. Much less catch me."

"I'll pour superglue in your hair gel… Again." Brock grins his victory as Jack's expression turns grumpy and sour.

"Asshole." 

"Ok, boys. Don't make me get the get along t-shirt." Frank chuckles.

"The what?" 

"My mom used to put me and my brother in a t-shirt and force us to be nice." Frank snorts. The idea of the two boys in a shirt is hilarious.

"I would pay to see Rumrollins boys in the same shirt." Lindsey giggles behind her hand.

"We've never had that problem. This is us being nice," Jack says, waving his fork between his brother and himself.

"Is sister the bully?" Ray asks.

"We're all angels," Jack grins. "The real ones. Not the fake shit from Carolyn." 

"The Angels!" Lindsey, Christa, and Kristen faux cry out and dramatically put their hands on their foreheads.

"If I grow old and turn into her, will you still love me?" Frank asks Brock.

"He'll have to consult the cards!" Gerard snorts.

"I won't let you turn into her, promise, _tesoro_."

"Thank you, baby." Frank beams at him. 

"Brock. Can I ask a question?" Ray asks.

"Always, Sunshine."

"What is the plan of action for your healing? Like are they doing therapy or check-ups on you?" Ray tilts his head.

"Physical therapy. And yeah, Doctor Choi is going to be checking in on me. He's in charge of my care now."

"Oh good. I would really like to not see you in the hospital for a very long time." Ray says with a nod. 

"You know what, my brother, I second that. So very much. I just want to be home with my friends and family."

"It makes it easier to visit you too." Mike says leaning back in his chair, "I hate hospitals."

"I'm just happy to not be in that weird-ass airbed." Frank rests his elbows on the table.

"Agreed. Though, there's a chance I might miss the angle part. I'm rather iffy about sleeping in bed tonight, to be honest," Brock says quietly.

"We can give it a shot. If not maybe the couch." Frank nods. 

The rest of the dinner was filled with conversation. They moved to the couches again until slowly the couples made their exit, leaving Jack, Frank, and Brock. 

"Thank you, Jack," Frank says as he runs his fingers in Brock's hair.

"Mmm, you're welcome." 

"Are you staying the night or heading home?" Frank asks.

"Was thinking I'd stay the night. Or a week." Jack turns his body in the loveseat where he is curled up so he can better see his brothers.

"Okay! That would be great!" Frank nods, "I'll make sure the room is ready for you. Baby, do you need anything?" 

"I'm okay for now," Brock smiles.

"Okay." Frank kisses his cheek, "I'll be right back. Have fun boys." 

"You really gonna stay a week, Jack?"

"Yeah. I figured I could stick around, help you and Frank transition into a new normal. I'll grab some of my stuff later, before bed. I got some stuff coming in for you tomorrow, by the way."

"Okay. What are you going to for Frankie's birthday?" 

Jack hums to himself thoughtfully. There's not a whole lot that Frank seemed to need or want, or something that he couldn't buy himself. Jack got alerted when Frank's name was added to the family bank account. He approved of Brock's choice. Perhaps he could come up with something appropriate for the holiday, in addition to Frank's birthday. He shrugs, coming up blank. "I'll figure something out." 

"Kinda pressed for time, pal." Brock yawns and snuggles down into his cushions better. "It's kinda lame but you could always give him a gift card."

Jack bursts into snickers. "It's so lame it's hilarious. I'm giving him a gift card with his own money. Oh god, I might actually do that."

"You should. But don't use macaroni art on the card. You can't be better at kindergarten art than me," Brock warns with a grin. 

"I'll consider it."

Frank steps out and heads to the closet. He pulls a blanket out and disappears again before returning and sitting close to Brock, "All set. Have you guys ever heard of this scary real-life torture mansion, I read a thing on it in some magazine in the hospital?" 

Both men shake their heads, "No."

"It's this crazy mansion where they make you sign a waiver, essentially they torture their guests. It's free of charge. They have like free reign over what they do to you. Bury you alive, shave your head… beat you. Anything. If you make it 22 hours in that place you get $20,000." Frank says pulling a pillow in his lap, "And a weird part of me wants to try it." 

"Why?" Brock frowns, not happy that his husband wants to get tortured for any reason. 

"Cause it's a challenge." Frank shrugs, "My reason for bringing this up is, the place got kicked out of California and is now here in New York. But it's all sketchy. Like people leave bloodied, bruised, and broken. But they can't sue this guy cause it's like a huge release form saying over and over again, don't come here. Don't do this… I'm just fascinated by the whole thing."

"Sounds like a serial killer's fantasy, minus the killing part. Do they ever get the money though?" Jack wondered how any of that was legal.

"No. The closest anyone's gotten is 19 hours. But like, how is it going to be paid for, you don't pay to get in. Dude's got actors and props with, like, a film crew. It's all strange." Frank answers, "Will I, no. But my thoughts are how is that legal? How is it running? It's all sketchy." 

Frank knows that he has a husband who would never let him out of the house if he even brought the waiver packet home.

"Maybe you could ask your brother to look into it," offers Brock.

"I don't wanna make waves or start problems. I just thought it was strange." Frank shrugs, "Plus doesn't my brother have other things to do…"

"Yeah. True. It definitely doesn't sound legal," Jack agrees with a nod. "It's not one of ours if that's what you were wondering."

"Why… why would it be? Do we _deal_ in that sort of thing?" Frank squints.

"We deal in almost anything that makes us money, legal or otherwise," Jack shrugs, giving Frank a knowing grin. "Mostly illegal though. More money and territory that way." 

"We don't deal in like dark web red rooms, right? Like all the rest is good rat shit and that's whatever. But like I've listened to some stories and I dunno…" 

"Stories like what?"

"People bidding on the fate of someone held against their will, people paying women to step on small animals… human trafficking. Drug trafficking. Gang stalking… I can go on." Frank blinks.

"Well, at least some of what you said is true. Perhaps you don't want to know," Jack responds carefully.

"We don’t step on cats right! Or other small animals!" 

Brock interrupts before Jack can speak. "No animal cruelty that I'm aware of, but I'm not in the know of what the other families do. Some of the smaller groups who wanna rise in the ranks tend to do stupid shit. But I can assure you that the Lucchese Family does not harm animals."

"Ok good. That's how I'll become a serial killer… I swear." Frank relaxes, "Just avenge the poor abused animals." 

"I can see you doing that," chuckles Jack.

Frank leans over and rests his head on Brock's shoulder, "That's how I become Batman… except I'm skinny and don't care about real crime. And my parents are alive."

"You do have the rasp," he whispers to his love.

"Chrissy teased me because our voices should be flipped. You should have the deep rasp and I should have yours." Frank whispers back before kissing his cheek.

"Nah. I would sound like a douche if I had a rasp. Not just any douche at that, but like the posh fuckers that nobody likes. Or that one dickhead from Jersey Shore."

"Do _I_ sound like a douche?" 

"Hell no. You are fucking sexy and you know it. I'm just saying my face and body type just doesn’t match a rasp without making it sound… wrong."

"You don't wanna be my Pauly D?" Frank grins a little. He bites his lip a little, the idea of Brock being like a Jersey shore dude is hilarious.

"Hell no." Brock grins, reaching over and tipping Frank's chin up so he can kiss him.

"Jack could be your Vinny…" Frank adds inches from his lips.

"Not. Even." He closes the distance and kisses him.

"Love you _polpetto_." Frank whispers, "We should get ready for bed soon."

Brock nods. Bed sounds amazing. His bed with his husband next to him in his home. It sounded amazing. He pulls away and yawns, "I like the sound of that." 

"Alright, beautiful. Let's get you up and moving. Forward motion is good." Frank touches his husband's cheek. He looks at Jack and gives him a nod.

Jack stands and stretches. "I'm gonna run home and grab a few things for the night. You guys going to be alright for a bit?"

Brock nods, "Yeah. Thanks, Jack."

As he heads towards the door, he gives Brock's hair an affectionate ruffle, using his nails to scrape across his scalp like he knows his brother loves. "Welcome, brother. I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Maybe less." 

After the front door shuts behind him, Brock smiles sleepily at Frank. "Ready." 

"Always my love." Frank rises to his feet and offers his hands to his husband, "Up?" 

Frank pulls his husband up to his feet then helps him move to the bedroom. He helps him strip and into bed. He gets him to lie down and see how it feels. With a little whimper, Frank puts the wedge under Brock's leg, assuring him that if he needs to be moved to tell him and they will get him to the couch. It doesn't take long for Brock to pass out and begin snoring slightly. 

The next morning, Frank crawls out of bed and dresses for a quick run. He's not done this since Brock got hurt. He makes it out and around the park before Brock has even stirred from his slumber. He showers quickly and heads out to get breakfast started. The brothers must be exhausted and sleeping in will do them good. Frank cooks food putting it into a warm oven before returning to his room to wake Brock with a pill and some water. He lightly shakes Brock and speaks with a low calming voice, "Babe, wake up. It's meds time." 

Brock groans as he wakes, eyes scrunching tightly against the light. He stirs and yawns. The low burning slowly rises with his awareness.

"My love, if you wake a little, you can take your pills and feel better."

"Kay," he rasps out, voice thick from sleep and throat dry from snoring. He always snored more when he slept on his back.

"Slept hard, huh?" 

He nods, "Yeah. Don't remember when I fell asleep. Gimme pill?"

"Open up or here," Frank says holding the little pill in his fingers.

Yawning, he takes the little pill and sticks it in his mouth, reaching for the water. Washing it down carefully as to not choke, he hands it back to Frank. "Thanks, baby." 

"Of course. You gonna want some breakfast?"

"Okay."

"Alright lover, then we gotta get up." Frank stands and pulls his husband up. He gets him into a quick shower and comfy clothes. Sitting him softly on the couch, he kisses the top of his head and returns to plate him something light. He puts a tray up then places a bowl and a small plate with Brock's shake. The sound of soft knocks set Frank on alert. He looks to Brock then the door. He moves for Jack's door and knocks before going to the front door. Carefully peering through the peephole and seeing no one there he carefully opens the door. Three large boxes are stacked neatly in front of the door. He skeptically pulls the boxes in and drags them to the living room.

"Is this what you ordered." He asks, "Can I open it?"

"Dunno. But sure," says Brock.

Frank pads to the kitchen and pulls the scissors out. He cuts the tape and peels it open. A simple package with a displayed wheelchair greets him, he looks up at Brock, "This is for you..." He pushes the box towards his husband before cutting into the next one, revealing a walker looking thing. "A rollator?" He pushes that to Brock then cuts the smaller one open and finds an elevated toilet seat riser and a shower chair. He pulls it out of the box and sets it in his lap. It was kinda neat. It makes it easier for his injured bear to go to the bathroom. 

"You didn't order these right?" 

"No. Maybe Jack did? He did say something about ordering stuff last night. This must be it."

"Oh true. Well. I guess I get to put some stuff together for you while you eat." Frank grins eagerly, "Where do you keep tools?"

"There's a toolbox under the sink."

Frank nods and moves to go grab it. He's got no true idea what he's gonna need but he'd rather be prepared. Returning he sits on the floor and pulls the walker looking thing to him. It looks straightforward and easy to assemble. He pulls out the pieces and begins clicking the wheels in place, adding each piece until Brock's walker is done. He takes the wheelchair box and puts it together, this one takes a little longer than he planned. After some cussing and a little sweat, the wheelchair is in one piece. He pushes it around a little before nodding with satisfaction.

Brock watches carefully, his breakfast long since finished. It's so nice of his brother to take care of him like this. He realizes as Frankie is assembling the wheelchair, that this means he will be able to do the things his husband wanted for his birthday. 

Just before Frank grabs the shower chair box, the guest bedroom door opens and Jack steps out. He's clearly half asleep with his normally tamed hair now a mess and in pajamas. He yawns and pads his way over to them.

"Hi," he yawns again.

"Hi sleepyhead," Brock answers with a little smile.

"Food's in the kitchen. Coffee too. So eat," Frank says with a smile. He pushes the boxes toward their room.

"Oh, good my order came," mumbles Jack, stepping carefully around the debris on the floor. He makes his way into the kitchen and pours himself a mug of coffee.

"Thank you, _fratello_. I really appreciate this," Brock says as Jack joins him at the table.

"Thank you, Jack!" Frank calls from the bedroom. He unloads the toilet seat riser and places it on the toilet. He attaches the handles then moves to the shower chair, "This is gonna help so much. I was gonna go do this today." 

"You're welcome. I planned on it earlier and forgot. But, last night reminded me," Jack says into his coffee.

Frank enters the room with a smile, "I'm serious. This is gonna be so helpful." 

"Also, what's on the agenda for today?" Frank asks the brothers. 

"I don't think there was anything." Jack shakes his head and turns to Brock, who mimics the action. "I think today was just a free day unless you had something planned."

"I got nothing but taking care of my big baby," Frank comments forgoing food as the idea isn't appealing. He sits close to Brock and curls his legs up, "Unless you wanted to go somewhere?" 

Brock shakes his head, "No. I'm happy to be home." 

"Good! Means I can cuddle you." Frank leans over and rests his head on Brock.

"I'd like that. Maybe we can watch movies or plan wedding stuff. Play games? I'm not sure."

"I can bring my game system over if you guys wanna do that," offers Jack.

"Wedding stuff and games sound fantastic. Also means I don't have to wear like, _real_ clothes." Frank grins over at Jack. Turning back and leaning up to kiss Brock but being a little short of his goal.

"Lounging around in our underwear or PJs sounds good to me," comments Jack.

Brock smiles and closes the distance between him and Frankie, kissing him lightly. "PJ day it is." 

"Deal, my love. Maybe just comfort foods and blankets later." Frank sits up and ruffles Brock's hair, "I'll be right back."

He climbs over the back of the couch and heads to their room to change. He pauses a moment and looks to Brock, "Maybe we could watch scary movies?" 

"If you want, sure." 

"Yeah? Nothing too outrageous." Frank smiles before disappearing into the bedroom to change into sweatpants. Frank hurries back, with a laptop and curls up to Brock. They spend the day moving very little. Playing video games and watching movies, even at one point taking a nap. Jack assists with some of the wedding planning until all three of them are exhausted. They collapse into bed, hearts full, and thankful for the much needed quiet and relaxing day of healing. Tomorrow was going to be an adventure.


	31. The Halloween Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie Doodle's birthday!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few weeks after Brock's been shot and he's still working through his recovery. But nothing is going to ruin Frank's birthday!
> 
> Per the usual, this is a work of fiction and all mistakes are our own. Enjoy!

The Halloween Birthday

Pre-dawn filters in through the curtains, casting a light pink hue over everything. Shadows dance as the curtains move under the flow of the air conditioner, its low hum reverberating in the background. The guest room is cool, quiet, and mostly dark save the early morning light. Jack's eyes flutter open followed by a deep yawn. He rolls onto his back and stares blinking at the popcorn ceiling. A hand comes up to rub the sleep from his eyes and get the blood flowing in his face again. Another yawn escapes and he stretches, feeling a satisfying pop in his back. A glance at the bedside alarm clock tells him he managed to wake nearly ten minutes before his alarm. He sighs, thinking about the plans for the day. Today was Frank's birthday.

He gets dressed, spends a little more time on his hair that was getting to be too long again, and silently slips through the house and into the kitchen. Pulling out eggs, oil, and a measuring cup of water, he reflects on the last year and all the changes that have occurred. Some of it is good. After all, he wouldn't change meeting Frank and the band for the world, even if the two of them started on rocky ground. They had their low moments, moments that would span months as his brother dealt with the caged trauma in his head. Jack wasn't sure his new brother was going to survive the waves of depression Brock seemed to go through, but he was incredibly thankful that he had. He never thought that a kid who was barely an adult would make the most impact in ways none of the rest of the family ever could. Frank proved to be invaluable, trustworthy, and more than capable of handling their lives. After mixing the wet ingredients and making a batter, Jack pours the cake mix into a pan and places it in the preheated oven. As the cake bakes, Jack decides to start cooking some breakfast and brewing coffee.

Twenty-six. 2 fuckin' 6, is Frank's first thought after the smell of coffee fills the bedroom and wakes him from his strange dreams. Holy God, he _never_ thought he'd make it here, he figured he'd have died doing something stupid. He never imagined he'd be in a band being paid and paid well to play music. Let alone be married to the love of his life. He shifts his weight to his side and curls up to Brock. He rubs Brock's stomach and chest before kissing him on the neck, "Wake up…" 

Brock stirs and groans loudly, carefully stretching as he does so. He cracks open one eye to see his love. "Hi," he whispers. "Happy birthday." 

"Hi, beautiful." Frank grins wide. "How'd you sleep, my love?"

"Okay, I guess. Don't remember it. You?" 

"Oh fine, I suppose..." Frank stretches before kissing Brock's lips then neck, "Smells like coffee is ready for us… you ready to get up?" 

"My brain says no but my leg says yes. God, I can't wait to lay on my side," Brock yawns again, "and cuddle you properly."

"It's okay. Soon babe, at least I can kinda lay on you and make up for it." Frank sighs. His brain goes to someplace sexier than it should be. He snuggles closer to Brock. 

"I do like you on top," he sleepily mumbles his reply. Perhaps if he returns to sleep, he won't have to get up. He almost regrets complaining about the higher morphine drip always putting him to sleep. 

"No. No. No. It's time to get up, punkin butt," Frank whispers before kissing his lips. "Don't make me go low..." 

"Isn't that my job today?" Brock cracks open one eye to look at him.

"I thought you were just _riding low?_ " Frank teases with a wide smile.

"Don't you mean ridin' dirty?"

"You… riding dirty?" Frank raises an eyebrow, "The prince doesn't get dirty… he's posh. Proper."

Brock snorts. He's the furthest thing from being posh. "Please. I'm only proper when I have to be." 

"Hmmm. I could be rotten and test this theory but I won't 'cause you're broken. And I also don't want to get injured," Frank replies. He's planned his next move carefully as long as Brock doesn't react badly. He leans forward and kisses Brock's lips before crawling over him, stopping for a moment on top of his husband. "Come on, let's get you up, pilled, and fed." 

"Pills are needed, yes." Brock wraps his arms around Frank's waist and kisses him. "Are you excited about your birthday?" 

"Yeah. I guess." Frank shrugs. "I'm happy I get to spend it with you." _And not in a hospital._

"Me too." Brock kisses him again before murmuring, "Will you bring me a pill, please?" 

"Yes, darling," Frank answers with a single nod and a smile. He shifts slightly in Brock's lap before sliding off completely. He pulls sweats on before heading to the door, "Want a shake or food or both?" 

"Depends on what's cooking, good looking," he grins. He’s praying it’s just the shake. They don’t make him sick.

"Okay, I'll drug you then we can figure it out." Frank winks before slipping out of the bedroom. He pads into the kitchen and pulls the cupboard open and takes his pill bottle down.

"Mornin Jack!" Frank greets with a smile.

"Good morning, bärchen. Did you sleep well?" Jack asks while icing up fresh cinnamon rolls. He also made a small pan of bacon and eggs with diced potatoes. In the microwave, is a white bowl bubbling.

"I slept alright. How'd you sleep? It smells amazing in here, Jack." Frank beams up at him.

"I slept much better than yesterday anyway. I didn't sleep in this time, so that's a plus. I didn't know what you'd want, so I made a little bit of everything. I'm hoping Brock will at least eat a roll."

"They are his favorite." Frank smiles wide before wrinkling his nose as he comprehends the words fully, "You did this for me?"

"Only the soft and squishy ones. I remember, as kids, he'd grab a handful and pull off the outer layer and only eat the inside. And of course, it's for you. Mostly. It's your birthday after all."

"Was my husband a chubby kid?" 

"No. You would think that with the way he eats, but we've been active our entire lives. He just burns it off like butter melting."

"I was." Frank snorts as he fills a glass half full of water, "Until like Senior year of high school. I'll be right back with the big man in tow."

"Alright. I'll start putting food on plates."

Frank hurries back to his room and gives his husband a wider smile, "Here you go. One pill to make the burn go away." He drops the pill in his hand.

"Thank you, baby," he replies, voice slightly strained. He takes the pill and carefully sits up to drink the water.

Frank pulls the pillow from under Brock's leg, "Want your wheely walker?" 

"Yeah, sure. That will be good for around the house and short distances. Build up my strength and such."

"Exactly! Make your leg get used to the movement." Frank leans down and kisses him, "Wanna stand first?" 

"Probably a good idea, yeah? How else am I going to get out of the bed?" Brock snickers slightly.

"Crawl." Frank rolls his eyes with a chuckle, "Hands."

"Where's my magic carpet now, huh?" He laughs.

"Uh, I'm the one with the magic carpet. You have a tiger. If you wanna talk Aladdin…." He’s pointing to Tiger, who's half under a pillow. He takes Brock's hands and pulls him upright.

"Carpet has wheels now. Cause I'm old," he says once he's standing.

"Broken."

He shakes his head. "Not broken, just bent." Broken was defeated. Unfixable. Broken meant he'd lost the battle. He'd been broken many times during his darkest days and he didn't want to be that way again.

"There are two things I know about white people," Frank pauses with a stupid grin, "They love matchbox 20 and they are terrified of curses." 

Brock frowns and raises an eyebrow, totally lost in confusion. "Huh?" 

"It's from a TV show." Frank snickers, "But it's mostly true."

Brock shrugs, "I guess. Never noticed but alright. Curses are overrated. And not real. Now if you wanna talk about people who are fully involved in curses, go to Greece."

"Really?"

"Oh totally. If a Grecian woman puts the stink-eye on you, half the city won't talk or touch you until the curse is lifted." He makes his way over to the rollator and grabs onto it. It's a little low. "Can you see about raising the height? I think it's supposed to be at my waist at least."

"I sure can." Frank fiddles with the height until it's right. He looks up at his husband with a smirk, "Why'd that Grecian woman curse you?" 

"I didn't– there's no curse on me," he laughs. His voice lowers to a whisper, "At least, I don't think so." 

"You're cursed for sure..." 

"Not even. Besides, even if curses were real, what could I have possibly done to be cursed? I'm an angel."

"Yeah. A real angel with that bullet wound in your leg, mister." Frank snorts, "But you're cursed with good looks…"

"Not dastardly handsome?" He slowly walks with the rollator, fingers wrapped around the brakes, just in case.

"Nope. Delightfully handsome." Frank says walking slowly with him.

"Thanks, baby."

They make their way into the living area where Jack has placed breakfast on the table. He's sitting down, already eating the eggs and bacon with toast, knowing his brothers would rather eat the rolls. There's also an ice-cold shake poured into a glass for Brock, just in case. Next to it is a similar glass of regular whole milk.

"Smells good and looks even better. Thanks, Jack," Brock says, making his way to the table.

"Grits because you liked them in the hospital. Cinnamon rolls with extra icing, I pulled one apart so you can eat the soft inside, just in case. Shake and milk just because." Jack points out all the foods to Brock before turning to Frank, "Left you something in the kitchen." 

"For me?" Grinning wide at Jack, he makes sure Brock is comfortable before kissing his forehead. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen and sees a cake, covered in orange frosting with fat black bats and Happy Birthday written on it. "Jack! Really? I love it!" 

"Didn't know if you wanted chocolate or vanilla so it's a marble cake. Sorry about the bats. Just pretend they are Italian and they like meatballs. Hopefully, it tastes good. There's milk left if you want to eat it now."

Frank moves quickly to Jack and hugs him from behind, "I mean it, I love it! Thank you! I've never had anyone except my mom make me a cake before!"

"You're very welcome, bärchen. Happy birthday, brother." Jack squeezes Frank back and pats him on the head. 

Brock eats the grits and beams at the two of them, happy his two best guys are happy. Swallowing his bite, he takes a careful nibble of the center of the cinnamon roll and sets it aside to wait. Taste-testing seems to be working for him. 

"I think this might be the best birthday I've just in a long time." Frank pecks Jack's cheek before returning to his seat, "How is the roll?" 

"It tastes like ooey-gooey goodness. Thanks, Jack."

"You're welcome." Jack finishes his bite before asking, "So now that Brock can roll around, are you still wanting to do your original plans?"

"Possibly. I'll look and see if there's a wheelchair-accessible place. If not, we can improvise. As long as I am spending the day with the men I love, I'm a happy little bear." Frank says with a nod, "Do you guys have ideas for the day?"

"Pumpkin patch is good. We need a Jack-o-lantern by the best Jack-o-lantern around," Brock says, glancing at Jack and grinning.

"You just like saying that because it's my name, dork." 

"We _could_ all carve pumpkins…" Frank grins.

"Sure."

"We could go to Salem…" Frank winks, "Work on getting us cursed." 

"Hahahano," Brock shakes his head.

"Brock was telling me about how a Greek lady cursed him." Frank snickers before taking a bite of food.

"I didn't say that! I explained what would happen _if_ you met a Greek woman who put the stink eye on you because they all believe in curses. I did not say I was cursed."

"Mmmmhmmm. Sure." Frank winks at his husband, "I mean it would make _sense_ as of late..." 

He quickly eats his food and pops up again and moves the cake to the fridge, "We should save this for lunch!" 

"Okay, sure. What do you wanna do now?" Jack asks as he rises from the table and begins to gather the empty dishes. He's happy that Brock ate the roll, half the grits, and finished his shake. It was the most he's seen his brother consume in a long time.

"Hmmm… I dunno. Is the doc coming over today or is that tomorrow?" Frank looks to Brock, "We should get pumpkins early so we aren't making our little lizard stay in cool weather too long."

"It's tomorrow. And yes, please. It's going to be chilly tonight."

"We could go to the Village and see the parade tonight…" Frank suggests, "It's near the flatiron building."

"It's your birthday, you get to decide, _tesoro_." Brock slowly gets up and makes his way towards the bedroom and into the bathroom. This was gonna hurt and be quick. He didn’t want anyone to know. He returns while the boys are still washing the dishes. He’s tired and his ribs ache but he keeps that to himself. He sits back down and drinks the remainder of his milk.

"Well, I'm not the only one who is going. Maybe Jack hates parades…" Frank raises an eyebrow. Frank moves closer to Jack and hands him dishes, he starts helping to clean up. 

"I can take it or leave it," comments Jack. He puts the dishes in the sink and starts to wash them. "Though Brock is right. It's your birthday. We can do whatever you want."

"Ok." Frank nods. He's not entirely sure what he wants to do. He frowns a little, "I'm gonna help him get dressed. C'mon hot wheels let's get big boy clothes on." 

"Wow. Just wow. This is how you treat the injured?" Brock teases, shaking his head. He uses the rollator to help him stand and he follows Frankie. "You definitely did not inherit your mom's caring nature." 

"Oh, baby. I got all kinds of names." Frank glances back, "Just wait and see… I'm much more like my dad, funny and adorable." 

"Oh joy," Brock says dryly. He reenters the bedroom and sits on the bed, taking his shirt off.

"What are we wearing today? It's a little cloudy out…" he glances at the window before approaching Brock. He picks up the shirt as he stands slightly between his knees.

"Long-sleeved Henley and jeans? Or do you think I should wear sweats?"

"Maybe loose jeans? We could at least try 'em."

"Yeah. Alright. Not sure I own loose jeans though."

Frank pulls out the loosest looking jeans from the collection and hands them to Brock. He grabs a deep green Henley and tosses it over his shoulder then pairs underwear with it. "Alright, now the kinda sucky part. Stand up and drop yer drawers." 

Chuckling softly, Brock first puts the shirt on before pulling himself into a standing position, holding onto the rollator for support. Hooking his thumbs under the elastic, he pulls down the fabric of his pants. "Happy?" 

"I'm always happy seeing you naked, do you wanna try standing to put the undies on or sit?" Frank grins, "Either choice puts my face right near your er, _my_ happy place."

"I'll sit. Not sure I want to try bending just yet. Not sure why a bullet to the thigh means my balance is off but whatever." Snorting, he eases himself back down on the bed.

"Okay." He hooks the undies around Brock's feet and looks up at him. He waits for Brock to get up again and helps him pull them up. He puts the jeans around his ankles, "Alright pooter, get up." 

"I should be able to do this on my own," Brock grumbles, standing.

"You'll get there. How's the jeans feel?" Frank says, pulling the zipper up and looking up at him.

"As long as I don't get stomach sick, I should be fine. They're loose enough to quickly rip off if needed. Thanks, love."

"Of course, baby. What the hell should I wear…" Frank sits back and looks at the closet. "Thoughts or opinions?" 

"Don't suppose you can go out naked." 

"I can if I wanna get my ass arrested." Frank snorts, "Pick a color."

"Gold."

"Gold? I don't think I own anything gold..." Frank smiles, "Maybe gold underwear."

"Okay. Red. You look so amazing in red." 

"I can do red." Frank leans up and kisses Brock. He gets to his feet and pulls out a black and red short-sleeved striped shirt or a red shirt, "Eh or _eh_?" 

" _Eh_." Brock giggles and points to the second one.

"Okee." He pulls the shirt on and grabs a pair of dark blue jeans. Once he is dressed, he gives his husband a smile, "Come on, Rosie." 

"Excuse me. I am not a robotic maid." He chuckles and follows after Frankie.

"Yeah, maybe. But you got the wheels..." Frank giggles.

"Jerk," he chuckles.

"Yeah, but there’s _nothing_ you can do about it," Frank giggles.

"You are lucky I love you."

"Love you too baby." Frank looks back at Brock.

Jack folds up the wheelchair and places it outside the door then assists Brock into it. Leaving the rollator for when Brock is at home until he can walk better, Jack locks up after grabbing his jacket. Brock rolls himself into the elevator, Jack and Frank trailing behind. The doors open up into the lobby, and Brock pushes himself out.

"This isn't so bad. I can do this." 

"Hey, guys!" Gerard shouts across the lobby. 

"Hey, Gerard!" Brock grins happily, wheeling himself over.

"I have presents for Frankie!" Gee grins at Brock then Frank. He waves at Jack. 

"For me?" Frank beams.

"Yeah!" He pulls his shoulder bag over and opens it, he pulls out two wrapped gifts. 

Frank takes them and looks at Gerard, "Thank you." 

"Where're you headed?" Gerard asks. He watches as Frank flips over the package and opens it.

"Going to get pumpkins." Frank looks up as he reveals an abstract oil painting, the deep blue melting into light blue and white. "This is gorgeous! It will look great in our living room. Baby, look!"

"Wow. It's great Gerard! Thanks!" Brock grins up at both men.

"Pretty nice, Way," comments Jack, nodding his approval.

"I don't wanna keep you guys from your day but I wanted to make sure you got this," Gerard says with an excitement to his voice that was like a child.

Frank looks at the other gift and smiles, it's a smaller box. He already knew what it was. He just has a feeling. He cracks the box open and laughs, "Guitar picks!"

"They are custom! They have your autograph XO on them. So when you throw em in the crowd, it's like a momento."

"Dude! This is amazing! Thank you!" Frank smiles and hugs Gerard, "I love it!

Frank turns to Brock and Jack, "I'm gonna run these up to the apartment. I'll be right back." He kisses Brock's cheek and hurries off leaving Gee with the boys.

"What's the plan for his birthday? Are we doing anything?" Gerard asks.

"I made him a cake. And we were planning on going to the pumpkin patch. And a parade tonight," says Jack.

"Oh, nice. Lindsey was asking before I left if there are dinner plans. I didn't know." Gerard shrugs.

"We should do a surprise dinner. Before the parade. Not sure if we're still doing a haunted house or not," adds Brock.

"I have a feeling with you rollin' round, he won't wanna put you through a haunted house. Even if he wants to." Gerard comments, "I can wrangle the group if you wanna do a surprise dinner. Just tell me where and what time. We'll plan food."

"No reason it can't be a friends-only trip," Brock comments.

"You sure you want to include the band of merry men?" 

He laughs, "It's _Frankie's_ birthday. He should be surrounded by friends and family. Of course, everyone is welcome."

"I'll make a couple of calls and get the gang together." Gerard nods as he pulls his phone out.

Frank returns wearing a smile and kisses Brock's cheek, "I'm ready when you are my love." 

Gerard returns quickly, "Little Way and little wife are in Maine. He sends his love. The Toros will meet us there. Bob isn't answering his phone. Lindsey is all in."

"Small group is still good. Are you coming with us to the pumpkin patch?" asks Jack.

"Lindsey mentioned wanting to do pumpkins. So this works out… if that's cool?" Gerard shrugs.

"Yeah! Let's do it! As long as my hubby is cool with it, I'm always willing to hang out with my friends." Frank smiles, "Baby?"

Brock maneuvers the wheelchair around the boys and grins at them. "I'm good. Let's go." 

"Let's do it!" Gee nods.

~~

Frank pushes Brock along the sidewalk as they head towards the rows of pumpkins, "It might get bumpy." 

"I'll survive, babe." 

"if you see one you like let me know, I can stop and grab it." Frank leans down and kisses his cheek, "Maybe Jack can flirt and get us a deal." 

"That's not how that works _, tesoro_!" Brock laughs.

"We don't even need a _deal_ , Frank," Jack says. "You think like you are still poor." 

_I still am. I just married into money._ Frank smiles at Jack, "Yeah I know, still getting used to it. And it's not like I was gonna steal a pumpkin, Jack." 

"You would, just for the hell of it," snorts Jack.

"Nah, I'll steal one of the pies cause _pie_ ," Frank smirks. 

"I might just help you in that," he laughs.

"Brock's the getaway driver, he does have the wheels." Frank giggles, "Hot wheels..."

Brock groans, "Frankie."

"Yes, my darling husband?" Frank grins.

He sighs and shakes his head, "Nevermind. Let's go get you a pumpkin." 

" _Us_ a pumpkin." Frank corrects him. 

Frank pushes Brock along the row until he spots the perfect one. He hands it to Brock. He crouches down next to him, "Do you see one you like?" 

"There's a rather round one over that way," Brock points, "that might be good."

Frank retrieves it and puts it in Brock's hands, "This one?" 

Brock turns the pumpkin over in his hands. It's a little ugly but it's got a good shape and decent weight. He nods, "Yep. I like it." He places it in his lap next to Frankie's and holds them tight.

Frank pushes Brock a little further towards his brother, "You find one Jack?!" 

Gerard and Lindsey join with pumpkins in hand, "They have peaches for sale too!" 

Jack holds up a palm-sized pumpkin. "We should get several of these, too." 

"Is there a Frank being pocket-sized joke in here somewhere?" Frank tilts his head, "But they are very cute." 

"Oh it is gonna be the big pumpkin is Brock and little is Frankie?" Lindsey giggles.

"No. For the babies." Jack offers the little pumpkin to Brock. "Zachariah's first." 

Like magic, Brock melts into a Disney princess, complete with wide doe brown eyes with sparkles glittering in them. He swears he hears birds singing in the air. There's a song in the wind. And the baby pumpkin glows with a magic aura. He audibly squee's with delight and places it carefully amongst the rest of the pumpkin family in his lap. He pats it for safekeeping, of course.

Jack snorts with humor and backs away. "I'm going to get three more..." 

"He's all googly eyes now, huh?" Frank asks Lindsey and Gerard. They nod with little smiles, "I love it when he gets all starry eyes and silly smiles like this." 

"It's very cute." 

"We all just have to give babies to him. Like just Brock's daycare." Lindsey chuckles. 

"I already know our house is gonna be filled with kids’ toys and cribs." Frank snorts. He rests his chin on Brock's head, "You're gonna be the best uncle." 

"I can't wait," Brock trills happily.

Frank turns the wheelchair and heads towards the little house near the parking lot. He puts the brakes on and leans into his husband. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" Brock turns and tries to look up at Frankie.

"Nothing really. Waiting for Jack." Frank leans over and lines lips up to his husband's ear, "I bought a costume… for you and now I can't wear it." 

"What? Sure you can. At the haunted house tonight. You and the boys can go in costume."

"No, baby. It's not one of those costumes..." Frank smiles with a little laugh.

"Oh," he replies softly. "I'm sorry?" 

"Why are you sorry?" Frank kisses his cheek, "Just means I have to keep you waiting and guessing."

"You seem disappointed. So I'm not sure why you think you cannot wear it."

"Brock." Frank blinks before coming around and crouches in front of him, "Think." 

"I know what you are thinking but there are other ways."

"What am I thinking, love?"

Brock takes a deep breath. His face is somber. "That I will not be able to… _perform_. Due to my injury. And you'd be right. Mostly."

"I'm not worried about that, baby." Frank strokes the side of his face, "We have all the time in the world to play." 

He shakes his head, confused. "Then I don't understand."

"Nevermind, babe. It's not a big deal. I'm just happy that you're out of the hospital and able to get around." 

"Is it because of the chair?" he asks quietly, "I don't want you to not be able to wear the costume. Please. I want your birthday to be good."

Frank fishes out his phone, he pulls up the items he ordered and shows the items he purchased. He hands his phone over to Brock. "This is the costume, Brock. Do you understand why I can't wear my costume out… _in public._ "

Brock takes the phone and his eyes widen in surprise. "Holy shit. Holy…. Crap... I mean… I knew what you meant. I just…"

"At the time, I was going to steal a pair of your Rays and wear them as well."

"Frank. I knew what you meant when you said it wasn't a _public_ costume. I got that. That's why I apologized… cause you seemed disappointed you wouldn't be able to wear it for me. Because of my injury. I don't understand why you can't."

"I didn't think you would be interested in it," Frank wrinkles his forehead, "I am confused too."

"I think we were both talking the same thing and thinking we weren't? Or we talked ourselves into a circle. It's definitely a non-issue. Come here, _tesoro_ ," Brock opens his arms for a hug.

Frank smiles softly and leans in to hug him, "Love you baby." 

Hugging him close and tight, he whispers into his ear, "I love you too, sweetheart," before pulling back and kissing him deeply.

A woman clears her throat, "Disgusting," she mutters under her breath.

Brock pulls away first before shooting daggers at the woman. "Don't like it then don't look. Fuck off." 

"Don't parade it in our faces." She crosses her arms over her chest, "I don't understand you people." 

"Are you talking about my _disabled_ husband?" Frank pipes up, "He can't help that he is in a _wheelchair_. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Military vet at that," adds Brock.

"What?! No!" She can't find the words. 

"He served our country and this is how you treat him?" Frank raises his voice, people around hearing the scuffle, "It's shameful how you are treating _this vet_."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" she sputters as she backs away. An older man with his wife approaches and offers their hands to Brock, thanking him for his service.

Frank smugly smiles as she backs away.

Leaning over, Brock whispers to his husband, "That was fun." 

"Mmmhmm. Too bad Jack wasn't here. He'd enjoy it." 

"The evil part of me wants to do that again and include Jack just for the hell of it."

"I mean we can always go to the mall. I can give you your tags back, really sell the bit." Frank snickers, he leans over and kisses his cheek.

"It is Halloween. Wanna be a little hellraiser?" Brock chuckles softly.

"I _am_ a little hellcat…" Frank smiles, " _Your_ hellcat." 

Smiling, Brock pushes on the wheels and moves himself along, back towards the others. "This is true, very true." 

Frank follows behind him, "We should pick up candy!" 

"Sure! Though we don't get trick or treaters at the house, so maybe we can pass out candy elsewhere."

Frank snorts, "Fuck those little ass kids. I want candy..."

"You can have all the candy you want, love."

~~

"I love them!" Frank steps back and looks at the pumpkins, "They are perfect!" He takes a seat beside his husband and kisses his cheek.

"They are so cute. It looks like we are a family with three adults and three children," Brock laughs.

"It wouldn't be totally incorrect. Considering you are planning on kidnapping the infants," chuckles Jack from in the kitchen.

"This is why you have to stay with us Jack, so he _doesn't_ kidnap a baby or three…" Frank snorts.

"Don't worry. I've got your back." 

"Good cause he's much stronger than me." Frank laughs. He runs fingers in Brock's hair, "At least we know he isn't crusin' the maternity wards picking out random children."

"No," Jack laughs, "Just our friends'!"

"What's a little child abduction between friends?"

"This is a true mark of friendship. Stealing your friend's baby and they don't even care."

"Ah yes, the old tenant of let me steal your offspring. It was in the Bible, right?" Frank laughs.

"I think it's more like fairy tales of imps stealing babies and sucking the life dry but that might just be a European thing," Jack grins before making his way towards the guest room.

"Baba Yaga?" 

"Probably!" He calls over his shoulder.

Brock grumbles softly to himself, "I'm not Rumplestiltskin or Baba Yaga or any other child-stealing heathen."

"I mean if it keeps you young…" Frank tilts his head, "What's a few young souls between friends, right?" 

"I'm not stealing their souls!" 

"Temporarily borrowing…?" Frank moves closer to Brock almost sitting in his lap, "I gotta keep my papa bear young." He kisses Brock's cheek.

"I'm young because of you. You keep me vibrant and healthy."

"Oh, it's me, huh?" 

"Of course. Now, come on. I need a pill and we need to change for colder weather. It's dinner time."

"I can be the appetizer?" Frank smirks before standing and offering his hand to Brock, "Where are we going for dinner?" 

"It's a surprise. Keep your jeans on, but maybe wear a jacket or a long-sleeved shirt." Brock rises from the dining room chair with the help of Frankie. They go into their bedroom so Brock can grab his jacket and Frank can switch into something a little warmer.

Once they are changed, the three of them make their way to Frank's car, the only one of the three of them to have the space to fit Brock's wheelchair. Thankfully it's a lightweight design that allows it to be collapsed down and fits perfectly into the trunk. Since it's Frankie's birthday and he has no idea where they are going, Jack offers to drive, with the promise to keep Stella safe. 

Frank sits in the backseat. He's deciding if he is going to drink at dinner. It's not like he's gotta be up sexually. It is his birthday and there is no one he's gotta make a good impression on. He's also not dressing up so he doesn't have to worry about that. He nods to himself and watches the building as they pass by. He listens to Brock humming along to the radio. "Where are we going?" 

"It's a surprise. I don't think you've been here before," replies Brock, taking his hand. "You're not supposed to know where your birthday dinner is, silly."

"Ok, that's fair. The neighborhood doesn't look too familiar so it's safe to assume that I have never been here." Frank smiles and squeezes his husband's hand.

"Is it just us?" Frank asks.

"Right cause Jack is just the driver and he's not staying," Brock snickers sarcastically.

"I guess I'm just chopped suey. Thought I was at least worth a pig or two," Jack adds, turning into the parking lot.

"No, no! That's not what I meant! Us three! Jerks."

" _We're_ the jerks? You practically threw Jack away. Just discarded him," Brock laughs.

Jack looks at them through the rearview mirror for a moment and winks. "He's just getting used to the posh life. Soon he'll have me calling him sir."

"What no! I'm not… I didn't discard Jack!" Frank sputters a little, "I am trying to get you to let me call you a nickname!" 

"Jerk is not an appropriate nickname, Frank," laughs Jack.

"No that's not what I meant!" Frank felt the rush of heat on his face. He was flustered and a little embarrassed. _Fucking Rumlows._

"Relax, bärchen. We're just fucking with you. It's fine." 

"Jerks." Frank mutters, "Is this what I get to look forward to in Italy?"

"Yeah, pretty much, _tesoro_."

"It's gonna be worse cause there's three of you." Frank groans, "I thought you had to be nice to the birthday boy…"

"Just wait until he gives you birthday spankings," Jack smirks. He pulls into a parking space.

"That's not a punishment… that's foreplay," Frank beams, "But, he's injured. So yeah..."

"My hand still works." Brock intones before opening the door. He wonders if he could get out on his own using the door and car for leverage.

Frank hurries to the trunk and pulls the wheelchair out. He sets it down and opens it, he looks up to Brock, "Do you think you could use crutches?" 

"Physically, yeah probably. Will I feel comfortable using them, probably not? Maybe later in my healing."

Frank pushes the wheelchair to Brock and he looks up at the building, "La Esquina..." 

"They have a lot of vegan options."

"Really? You picked a vegan restaurant?" Frank grins wide, "Are you going to have options to eat?" 

"Yeah. I looked at the menu. It'll be okay." _It’s not like anything stays down for very long anyway._

"Baby, that's really sweet! This is why I am so in love with you." Frank smiles, he kisses Brock's cheek. He pushes the wheelchair to the door. He nods at Jack to get the door. 

Jack grins and opens the door for them.

The interior is warm with painted wooden walls and colorful accents. A blonde with a big smile greets them, "Hello! Welcome! Are we here for dinner and drinks?"

"Yes, we have a reservation for Rumlow," Jack smiles at her.

"Excellent! Right this way!" She beams at Jack. 

Jack grins and motions for Frank and Brock to follow. They weave through the building, weaving through the crowd and tables. The smell of fried food fills their noses as they pass by crowded tables under low light. Hundreds of people chatter and fill the room with the noise.

"Since we have a wheelchair, we're going to use the elevator. It's a bit… _old fashioned_ but it's safe." She pulls the cage open and invites them inside.

"Looks more like a Faraday cage than an elevator," Brock comments, wheeling himself in.

"A Faraday cage, babe." Frank snickers. 

The hostess steps in after Jack and closes the cage. She flips a switch and the machine groans alive and shakes the entire elevator. Frank grabs Brock's shoulder as he mutters, "Deathtrap." 

"Yeah, pretty much," he chuckles.

The elevator shudders as it stops, the hostess opens the gate and reveals a rustic open design basement with candles in red holders at each table. The bar was lit up a crisp blue-white. What catches Frank's eyes is the black and orange balloons and streamers, Halloween decorations, and then the smile of all the people he knows and loves. 

"Oh my god." Frank takes a step back. His hand covers his mouth as he looks at Jack then his husband.

"Happy Birthday Frankie!" fills the open space and Frank feels his face turning all kinds of red.

"When did you plan this?" Frank speaks quietly to Brock before music resumes.

"This morning," he replies sheepishly. "It was Gerard's idea." 

"Baby, thank you." Frank leans in and kisses his cheek. Before he can speak his sister rushes up and hugs him.

"Happy birthday baby brother! Here I got you a drink!" She speaks almost rushed. Her hand pushes a shot glass in his, "Drink!" 

"Thank you, sis." Frank chuckles before he glances at Brock, he can have a couple of drinks. It will be fine.

"I know you can't drink but I know you would in spirit." Christine leans in and kisses Brock's forehead.

"Probably. How are you doing, Christine? How's my baby girlfriend?"

"Oh, I'm great! Real great! Baby is with her boppa. She hasn't stopped babbling about her Brock." Christine says with a soft smile.

"Awww." 

Two men, both appear to be the same age as Frank, a taller one with dark hair and a shorter one with messy chestnut hair, approach Frank and shake hands but it turns into a hug. He pats the taller one on the shoulder and pauses, "Guys. I uh, I got married." Frank says quietly to the two.

"Who is the dummy who married you?" 

Brock pushes his wheelchair over to Frank, "That would be me." 

"Oh. Frankie. I never realized..." The taller one says with a smile, "I'm Tucker Rule, and you're the _husband."_

"Brock Rumlow," he replies with an easy smile and his hand extended to shake.

"It's great to meet you! You're the reason my boy's been silent for the past few months." Tucker chuckles.

The other man extends his hand to Brock, "Evan Nestor, a pleasure to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you," he nods. 

"Tucker has played for a few bands we toured with and we just hit it off. And Evan was the brother of an ex. He liked me better so I gotta keep him." Frank grins at his friend, "This is my husband Brock, he's not a cripple, he got shot a couple weeks ago."

"Oh, are you a police officer?" Evan asks.

"No, but I am retired from the military. I got into a recent scuffle and the guy had a gun."

"Oh shit. You're lucky to be alive." Evan says with raised eyebrows, "You look good for a gunshot victim."

Frank steps behind Brock and pushes him towards a table. He leans over and whispers, "Do you wanna sit at the table and not this thing?"

"Yeah, this is starting to hurt my ass."

The two men follow. They talk quietly amongst themselves, a quiet argument that resolves once they quit walking.

Frank puts the brakes on and offers his hands to Brock, "Come on up love." 

Grabbing Frankie's hand, he hoists himself up and eases him into the chair. "Thank you, baby." 

"Of course, my love." Frank tilts his chin up and kisses him softly. 

"So, Frank..." Evan starts quietly, "When's the last time you talked with my sister?"

Frank forces himself to act naturally, "It's been months. Why?" 

"She just hasn't checked in. She and mom don't get along anymore since she _dumped_ you. She just said she was traveling and hasn't been back since like July." Evan comments with a shrug.

"Of course she said she dumped me," Frank mutters to himself as he folds the wheelchair down. Once he's done, he sits beside his hubby and takes his hand then kisses the top of it.

Brock snorts softly to himself. He decides to look over the drink menu. He might get tea. He's going to ignore the conversation.

"That snake's probably landed a rich dude and is yachting in Greece or something." Tucker rolls his eyes, "Lord knows she struck out in the music industry."

"True."

"She probably tried to sleep with Brock," Tucker snorts before taking a drink.

"No that would have been my brother," Brock snickers.

"Really?" Evan covers his face.

"Mmmhmm." Frank nods.

"Yeah, that was pretty funny. To be fair, he didn't know she was Frankie's ex."

"Well, at least she is consistent." Tucker shakes his head as he drapes an arm over Evan. "Gentlemen, I'm going to get my friend here another drink and send something your way, Doodle. It was a pleasure meeting you Brock. I'm sure we'll be back." 

"Sounds good…" Frank shakes his head and smiles. He likes the idea of people coming up to him instead of having to mingle. He watches his friends walk to the bar before looking at Brock, "What looks good?" 

He picks up a menu and glances it over before peering up and seeing Lindsey and Gerard approaching, "Incoming." 

"Hey, guys! Happy birthday Frank!" Lindsey says hugging him then moving around the table and squeezing Brock. Gee just waves with a little smile.

"Hi, guys! Thanks for coming!" Frank grins up, "How did you get a hold of Tucker and Evan?" 

"Christine. And Linda. She had to convince Carolyn not to come." Gerard snorts.

"The woman does love herself a margarita." Frank sighs, "I appreciate you guys coming. Especially spending the afternoon with us." 

"What I get to see my Brock… that's a pleasure," Lindsey answers softly.

"Hey guys," Brock says happily, hugging them both. "Thanks for your help, Gerard." 

"Of course! Anytime!" He smiles warmly, "It's been fun wrangling blasts from the past." 

"Are the Toros coming?" Frank asks.

"Yeah, Christa is having some… issues." 

Brock frowns, concerned. "What? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" 

"Wardrobe issues. Baby is fine. She's fine otherwise." Lindsey smiles, "She isn't comfortable. She's been having weird, almost like cramps all day." 

"Baby's coming." Frank says quietly, "Chris went through this with Emmy. She had cramps. Then the next day, pop here's a baby." 

"Good. She's miserable housing him." 

"The demon spawn." Gerard chuckles.

"Careful now, Godfather might have you swimming with the fishes if you talk about the sacred offspring like that…" Frank teases.

People come and go from their table. Soon little gifts start to make a pile in front of them. Frank introduces Brock to new faces, former band members, college friends, and old neighbors.

Ray and Christa arrive with a bag. Christa hugs Brock and accepts the gentle kiss on her huge stomach. They take a seat at the table next to Brock and smile as they take menus and order food.

Ray and Brock chat quietly. Soon the bar settles and meals come out. Frank scans the bar and frowns at the lack of Jack.

He takes small bites for his food and sips his margarita. He can feel the flush of alcohol in his system, he should slow down but he puts the thought behind him and takes another drink.

Jack enters the restaurant and makes his way towards the back and downstairs. He spots the table and smiles, shifting the awkward weight in his hand. He's not sure how Frank, Ray, and Michael carry these things. His gift is nearly the same size albeit vastly thinner. Grinning at the table, he nearly shouts to be heard, "Hey. Sorry, I'm late." 

Frank watches as Jack enters with a smile. He grins wide at Jack, "Hi! Where did you go?" Frank's voice is louder than he expected, "Come join us!" 

"Hey, Jack!" Ray greets him.

"Needed to run back home and grab something, that's all." 

Jack sets the case and the thinner rectangular package down and sits across from Frank next to Brock. He picks a menu up and orders food. 

After the meal concludes and the dishes get taken away and drinks replenished, Ray pipes up, "I think it's time for gifts, Frankie!" 

"Smallest to largest!" Someone comments from a table in the back.

"You ready, baby?" Brock asks, taking a sip of his tea.

"Yeah. I am." Frank smiles. He leans over and kisses Brock, "Hey, did you plan on having the biggest gift?" 

He picks up the smallest rectangle. He peels away the paper and reveals a gift card for a guitar store, he looks up after reading it was from Tucker, "Thanks, Tuck!"

Frank opens another set of gift cards and small packages, revealing books and a customized keychain from his sister. With each person he thanks, he feels himself get a little more embarrassed with each gift. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or genuine feelings.

He gets to the second-largest gift and sees the tag reads from the Toros. Frank grins at them and pulls open the package. He peers inside the little box and looks up in confusion, "What is this?"

"The top is from Ray. He thinks he's funny." Christa groans, "The bottom's mine."

Frank pulls out a small box filled with items, an after-sex clean up kit. A wet spot towel and blow job mints were the first things his eyes land on. "Thanks, Ray." He hands the box to his husband. Frank runs a hand over a crimson blanket, "I love it, Chris. It's beautiful." 

Frank picks up the thinner package. He pulls the wrapping off and leans the black frame back and stares at the image inside. There's a large sound wave that reveals an image of him and Jack. Below it, cursive words read 'Bärchen and I: Brothers not by Blood.'

"Jack. This is amazing. I… I love it!" Frank runs his fingers over the waves. He turns the frame to show the others. Frank rests the frame back in its box before getting up and hugging Jack. 

"You are very welcome, bärchen. Happy Birthday, brother," Jack says into the hug.

Frank smiles at Brock putting the box between them. He looks at the large rectangular present, he raises his eyebrow at Brock. He picks the box up, scooting his chair back and resting on his knees. He pulls it open and peels away the tissue and plastic, revealing a shiny electric guitar. The black lacquered wood gleaming in the light, his finger runs over the resin pickguard, the flecks of gold that vein through the red almost dance in the light. At the neck in a gold script is the word _Fender._ He looks up at Brock and can't keep the smile from his face.

"Baby, this is beautiful!" His fingers trace over white engraving in a flowing script that follows the curve of the bridge and pickups. He reads the words aloud butchering the Italian, "I love you to the stars. _Sei la mia vita, il mio amore, il mio tesoro, la mia anima_.”

"You are my life, my love, my treasure, my soul," Brock translates. 

"Brock, I love this so much." Frank grins. He closes the box and sets it on the chair next to him. He rises to his feet and leans over the table to kiss Brock, "It's perfect. And beautiful. Thank you, baby!" He touches Brock's cheek. 

"I hope she plays well for you, love. Happy birthday, _tesoro_." He smiles at Frank before lightly kissing him.

"I know she will." Frank grins kissing him once more, "This is the best birthday, I've ever had. Thank you, Brock." 

"You're gonna be the best dads! I swear," Christine says loudly from two tables over. She rises from her seat and sits beside Jack.

"Chris, we aren't having kids." Frank chuckles. Christine hugs him tight. Frank looks at Brock and raises his eyebrows.

"I am so happy that you're my little brother!" 

"I love you too sis." 

Christine rises and hugs Brock, "You are such an amazing man. You are an amazing husband. I love you being my brother." 

"I appreciate that Christine. Thank you. Love you too," he replies, hugging her back.

Christine stumbles back and lands in Frank's lap, "Let's get you some water." 

His buzz fades as he goes into dad mode. He pulls out his phone and hands it to Brock. He hopes his husband knows what he is thinking.

Brock nods, easily unlocking the device and sending a text to Linda the location of where they are at for Frank's birthday and come to pick up Christine. He puts the phone down next to him, in case his mother-in-law responds.

Frank listens to his sister babble on about staying in love and how important it is. 

_Linda: Alright we are headed out. She's a crier so be warned._

_Frank: It's Brock. How much of a crier are we talking here? Quiet and subdued or more like any woman on reality TV?_

_Linda: like a halfway point. She can be a sobbing mess or happy tears. Water her and maybe bread?_

"No, I mean it!" Chrissy says sitting beside Brock, "Don't take him for granted… I mean it!" She pinches Brock's chin, "Treasure each other."

"Uh, yeah. I know, that's why I call him treasure." Brock pulls away from her grasp. "You should try some buttered bread. It's great."

Frank joins them and takes a hold of his sister, "Let's leave the nice man alone, here's water..." 

"I was just telling Brock how wonderful you are." Chrissy looks at him, "He can't let you go."

"I think he knows." Frank nods and hands her the cup.

"I learned my lesson," Brock mutters under the breath and a wink at Frank. "Together forever until death does us part." 

"He's not going nowhere." 

"That's what I'm saying!" Chris leans back and nearly dumps water on herself 

"We know sweetie," Frank says leaning back and sitting her upright.

Jack reaches out a hand in an attempt to steady her. "Easy with the movements. Don't want you falling and hurting yourself."

Frank nods at him.

"You. Brother-in-law. You are a fuckin' gem." Christine looks at Jack, "You are an awesome brother." 

He smirks at her, "Family is everything. I'd die for Brock." 

Christine sniffles a little, "That's… that's so sweet!" 

Frank looks at Brock and mouths 'how long?'

"Brock is _so_ lucky!" She sniffles again, "Frank doesn't even like me."

"That's not true. I love you, you're just drunk." Frank shakes his head.

Christine's tears run down her cheeks.

This was starting to get beyond what Brock can handle. Sure, he had a sister and all. And yes he was more in tune with the feminine aspects of life but drunk women were way beyond his boundaries. He just didn't know how to handle them. Any word or action could set them off. Like real bombs, they were dangerous and complex. But unlike real explosives, drunken women did not come with an instruction manual. Brock texts Linda again, using Frank's phone. _Please hurry!_

"How about we go to the bathroom, sister." Frank rubs her shoulder. He helps her to her feet and moves her away, "We’ll be crying in the bathroom. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be too long, Frank. You don't belong in the girl's bathroom, no matter how pretty you are, baby," Brock calls after him, grinning.

"I won't. Just get her… centered." Frank nods and chuckles as he calls back. He pulls her into the restroom.

"Poor thing," Christa comments as she shifts in her seat. She's uncomfortable. Her hand pushes on her stomach.

Brock perks up at the distress signal from Christa and carefully manages to scoot himself over so he's next to her. He can't keep the happiness out of his voice. "Hi." 

"He's shifted weird in there. He's also sitting very low. Chairs hurt." Christa sighs and frowns at Brock.

"Frankie says that means he's coming to visit. Permanently." Brock puts his hand on her stomach and rubs gently. 

"Fuck I hope so. I am so incredibly uncomfortable." Christa shifts again, "If he came now, it wouldn't be soon enough." 

"Baby love, please don't come now, I don't know how to deliver you properly," Brock whispers to her belly. He kisses her. Pulling back he looks up at her, "You could get into a squat position and give him a push. See if that breaks the water. Also, I hear walking can induce."

"Sex can too." Ray comments.

"Yeah but she's not gonna let you near her," Brock giggles. "You'll have to wait a little longer, brother." 

"For a long time!" Christa points at him.

"Ouch. That's alright. If you're ever in need, Sunshine..." Brock winks and blows him a kiss, maintaining a straight face for all of five seconds before bursting into giggles.

"I'd call Jack before you big man..." Ray playfully winks at Brock then nods at Jack.

"Oh, that's just hurtful." Brock places a hand over his heart, laughing.

"He'd treat me like the precious flower I am in bed." Ray laughs harder.

" _Precious flower_?!" Brock chortles. "I'm the one okay with your equipment!" 

Jack leans over, "You are kinda rough. Ray just needs a more gentle touch, brother."

Brock snaps his head to him, "Oh shut up." He blows a raspberry at Jack before turning back to the baby. "You love me, right Baby Floof?" 

"I've heard stories, Brock." Ray teases.

Eyes snap up and look at Ray over a very pregnant belly and very maturely sticks his tongue out at Sunshine. "Jerk." 

Jack chuckles, "Brock's not drunk. On alcohol. Just baby love."

Christa groans, "At this rate, you can have him free of charge."

"Come on, baby. Come to Uncle Brock," Brock whispers. He changes his mind because Linda is on her way so she can deliver the baby. "Be nice to your momma. God, I wanna hold you and love you and spoil you and babysit you and play with you. Then, give you a bottle, put you to bed, and give you back to your parents."

"That's quite specific there Brock," Frank says softly as he places his hot mess of a sister in a chair. Her makeup is a little smeared as she nods at Brock and drinks a glass of someone's water.

Frank takes a seat next to his husband and kisses him on the cheek, "How long?" 

"I don't know. She didn't say." 

"I think Chris is gonna be ok." Frank smiles up at his love.

"Sorry, Brook… Brock." Christine says with a nod. Her eyes track to Jack, she gives him a wide smile, "You. You aren't gay right?" 

He shakes his head, "No. I'm not." 

"You're single?" 

"Yes," he hedges, frowning slightly.

"What do you think of single mother divorcees?" She moves closer to Jack.

Frank turns his attention to his sister. He pokes Brock in the side to pull his attention from the baby.

"I'm not… I mean, while kids aren't my favorite in the world, babysitters have been invented for a reason. Why… do you happen to know anyone?"

"I do." She leans in her chair and bites her tongue, "She is young. Ready to experience life..." 

"Chris," Frank warns her.

"Shh… infant. The adults are talking." Chris hisses at him then turns back to Jack, "I can show you some things those others can't."

It clicks. "Oh, you mean…. No. I'm sorry but no. We're family now and I just wouldn't feel comfortable," Jack grimaces slightly. "But I, uh, appreciate it."

"What? Really? No strings attached. Nothing…" Christine drops her head, "No one wants a dried out cow." 

"Christine Isabelle." Linda's voice snaps into mom mode from across the room. 

Frank snaps up and sits at attention. That voice meant business. He sets his drink down and folds his hands in his lap.

Frank Sr. comes in behind her. He approaches Brock and offers his hand, "Heard you married my kid a couple weeks ago…" 

"Yes sir," Brock says, firmly shaking his head. "My apologies for how it happened. But I do hope you'll come to the official ceremony in December. We'd be honored."

"Don't apologize. Linda says you rented an island full of turtles… or something?" He asks.

"Sounds close enough. It's called Turtle Island. It's an island in Fiji, with turtles, yes."

"I would love to come to your wedding to my son… again." He smiles at Brock, "He's a new person because of you." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Christine looks away from Jack and looks to Linda, "Hi momma! We're celebrating Frankenberry Frankenstein's birthday!"

"I can see that, darling but I think it's time you head home. Emmy is sleeping in your bed waiting for you." Linda says softly, pushing her hair back. 

"I did the thing..." Christine frowns.

"No. You are fine. Nothing happened. Go with Mom, okay sis," Frank assures her.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Never. Kiss my niece for me when you get home." Frank nods with a smile.

"Oh and Brock…" Frank Sr. says watching his wife gather their daughter.

He looks up at him, smiling, "Yessir?" 

"Hurt him and I'll break your fuckin' neck, kid." He winks and gives Brock a smile before turning back to his wife, "Come on girls. Don't puke on my seats, car just got cleaned." 

Linda hands Chrissy to her husband, "Don't listen to him, honey. He can barely open pickle jars. Happy birthday, my sweet little angel baby." Linda kisses Frank's forehead and speaks softly but loud enough for Brock to hear, "I'd say have _fun_ tonight but I don't think his dick is working." 

"Mom!"

"What?! I'm just saying…" Linda smiles before patting his cheek. She turns to Brock and kisses his cheek. "You look good. You got more color." 

"Thanks, Linda. My dick is working just fine, thanks," Brock murmurs to her softly. "The rest of the body however…." 

"I think you're over-cautious." Linda comments, "But, you know your body best, love. Text me when you boys get home… who's the DD?"

"I am. Jack too, if needed. Don't need my left foot to drive, just to get in the car and walk. Important stuff." He gives her a wry grin.

"As long as someone gets you boys home safe." Linda says with a nod, "I should go before my husband leaves me here, love you three." 

"Hi, Christa! You are gonna pop. I bet in the next twenty-four hours." Linda leans over and kisses her cheek, "Hi Ray. Text me when she does go in. I'll bring her popsicles."

"Will do ma'am." Ray nods and watches her walk away, "Wow."

"Yep." Brock nods.

"I'm. So sorry." Frank says with wide eyes. He can't make eye contact with Brock. His whole family is a mess.

"I'm not," Brock grins at him.

"I kind of am," Jack rubs his head and takes a shot of whiskey.

"You know, you have 45 days to return me to sender..." Frank looks up at him.

"Why would I do that, _tesoro_?"

"The circus you married into is too much?" Frank winces, "I'm sorry my dad threatened you… and called you kid." 

"He's older than me. He's allowed to do that. And as the father to my husband, I expected him to threaten me. It's tradition. As for your family circus…" Brock pauses, "Well. I've got my own, yes?"

"I wouldn't know," Frank says softly. 

Brock's head snaps to Frank. He's confused. "What? What're you talking about, love?" 

"Nothing. You're right. We both have crazy families." Frank says shaking his head before taking another drink. He's too sober. He finishes his drink and winces as the heat burns through him.

Brock frowns. He doesn't believe that for a second. He shakes his head and works on letting it go. Why did every group gathering always end up with people hurt and exhausted? Why was there so much drama involved? He sighs and drinks more of his tea, pushing the dark thoughts away. He's just getting tired, that's all. He’s already slipped off to the bathroom while Frank was socializing to empty his stomach. Turning to Jack he smiles, "So how does it feel to have your sister-in-law hit on you like a hunk of meat?"

"Disturbing. I'd rather not do that again, but there are worse things, I suppose." Jack nods, "Always worse things."

Frank slides out from his seat and heads for another drink at the bar. Jack follows, close on his heels.

Christa leans over to Brock, "I think we are heading home. Ray's saying his goodbyes to the others. I'll come over tomorrow and we can talk about designing your new house." 

He hugs her, "Alright. I love you. I love you both." 

"He's gonna come say bye but I called dibs first." Christa smiles, she leans forward and kisses his cheek, "Go easy on the kid. He's just embarrassed by what happened…"

"I hope it's all that it is," he murmurs. "Take care of yourselves. I need you and Baby okay and safe. I need my brother safe."

"I will. You know I will. Text me when you get home too." Christa says rising to her feet, she strokes his cheek.

Frank returns and kisses her cheek, "You headed out?"

"Yeah. I'm tired and uncomfortable." Christa says patting her belly.

"Thank you for coming! I appreciate you guys so much." Frank hugs her.

Ray stands beside Frank and ruffles his hair, "Don't stay out too late, hubster needs his sleep to heal."

"I think maybe another drink or two and we are gonna call it a night," Frank says quietly.

"Good. Have a fun birthday. Love you, Frankie." Ray kisses his temple. 

He leans over and whispers in Brock's ear, "Love you Brother. Why do you look mad?" 

Brock shakes his head. "I think I'm just tired and starting to feel the meds wear off. Worried about Christa… about Frankie."

"Wheel out with me? What's going on?"

Ray cups Brock's face.

He gives him a tired huff and a smile. "My mood crashed all of a sudden and I'm not sure why. It feels crowded in here. Too loud, too full, too overwhelming." He sighs, "Help me into the chair? Maybe the night air will be good for me." 

Ray helps Brock up and into his chair. He squeezes his brother's shoulder, "Let's get some air. Christa is going to pee. So we have time." 

Brock nods, turning to Gerard to pass along that he needed to get some air to both Frankie and Jack. He wheels himself to the elevator that he still swears is an old Faraday Cage.

Ray pushes him out into the cool New York night air. The sound of people talking and cars going by feeling like a breeze, "Why are you stressing, B?" 

"I don't really know. Other than the same thing I'm sure you are probably stressing about," he replies, taking a deep breath of the cool air.

"You mean my child that is coming… soon?" Ray gives him a soft smile, "Why are you worried about Frank? He's over the moon still."

He sighs, lips pulling to the side in thought. He licks his lips, "It was something he said. That I'm probably reading too much into. Because I'm tired."

"What did he say?" Ray smiles, "Come on Don Quixote out with it..." 

Brock rolls his eyes before replying, "It was the family circus comment. I said I had one too, and he replied that he wouldn't know. Made me feel…. Shame."

"Shame? For what?" 

"Not entirely sure. Maybe for going to Italy without him; for leaving him. For the secrets that I still keep– things that he's not ready for or that I'm afraid to share. I don't know. Maybe it's all of those things," Brock sighs and puts his head in a hand. _Like how eating is still a struggle for him._

"You are fighting windmills." Ray smiles, "I think I know what he was saying and it's none of that… wanna know what he means?"

"Please. Because otherwise my gremlins are gonna keep spreading venom." 

"He's not met all of your family." Ray smirks, "All he knows is what you've shown him… he wouldn't know if you have crazier members of your clan. Yes?"

"Okay this is true, but he sounded… upset. Disappointed. More than normal. Christa said he was embarrassed so that might have had a factor."

"Exactly. He just had his sister get tanked and become a mess. You've never seen him that bad… maybe he's afraid you won't like who that person is. Maybe he thinks you will be turned off by it." Ray offers, "Don't let those whispers turn this into something sour."

He thinks about this and nods. It makes sense. "Okay. Thank you. Especially for being the voice of reason. And for being an awesome brother."

"It's what I am here for, Brock. You know I love you and will always help. Frankie loves you. Everyone does." Ray smiles as he pats Brock's cheek. 

"Fuck I had to pee!" Christa announces then makes a squeak, "Brock! I didn't know you were here..." She waddles next to him.

"Hi princess."

"Brock just needed some fresh air." Ray pats his shoulder, "He's gonna collect his drunk small husband and take him home to bed, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm so ready for the day to be over. And I didn't even take him to the haunted house," he groans.

"I bet he won't even care. As long as he gets to go home with you." Christa smiles, "Honestly, the haunted houses aren't that great here… though you did miss the parade." 

Brock groans again in despair. Poor Frankie's birthday. His love really wanted to see the parade. He sighs. Perhaps next year.

Christa kisses his cheek and gives him an awkward hug, she takes Ray's hand and follows him to their car. She glances back and waves at Brock before sitting in the passenger seat. The car pulls away and leaves Brock alone for a moment. 

Frank steps out in a moment of calm in the night air, he crouches beside Brock. He loses his balance slightly but quickly recovers, "Baby, why are you sitting outside alone?" He takes his husband's hand and laces his fingers between Brock's, "Gee said you needed air, are you hurting, we should go home?" 

Brock looks at his husband. "Are you having fun? Are you enjoying your birthday? We missed the parade. I'm sorry."

"Of course I am. I get to spend the day with my love. My friends and even my strange family." Frank smiles at him, "I forgot about the parade. I didn't think we would do even half of this. I am so happy Brock."

"Good. That's all I've ever wanted for you; is to be happy. I promise you, next year we will do haunted houses and go trick-or-treating in full costume. And do the parade. But for now, can we go home?"

"Yes baby, I'm ready to go home. I'll go get Jack unless you wanna order a car?" Frank smiles.

"Only if he doesn't want to leave, will we order a car. Either way, he can at least help us load up your gifts in the back seat."

"Brock. I love that guitar. It's so fucking beautiful." Frank grins, "I'll go grab him and be right back. I'll send Lindsey and Gee out to say goodbye." 

"Okay, baby. Leave me the car keys? I'm going to get into the car after they say bye. Might see about them helping me. I'm cold," Brock says softly. The night air was nice but at the same time, it penetrated deep into his bones and chilled him to the core. It didn't help that the wind was strong tonight and it only further chilled him. It sucked that he left his jacket in the car.

Frank rises to his feet and pulls his keys from his pocket then hands them over. His fingers touch Brock’s chin and lift it, "Love you." 

Frank heads inside and finds Jack who is chatting up a pretty blonde girl at the bar. He really does like blondes. _What’s Carol gonna think…_ He snickers to himself. He taps Jack's shoulder.

Jack turns and grins at Frank. "Hey, little brother. Frank, this is Heather. Heather, my brother-in-law and birthday guy, Frank."

"Hi, there!" Frank gives her a little wave and smile, she's younger than he expected to see but gorgeous. He hopes Jack makes a touchdown… or home run, "Hey, so the hubby wants to go home. We are gonna take Stella. You gonna be okay?"

Jack glances back at Heather and gives her a questioning look. This was the moment of truth for him. To see if all of his hard work paid off or not. Heather would either tell him to leave or stay. "I would really love to stay here with you, get to know you and Madison better."

Frank looks around. Madison? Who? Two? Is he pulling two in? He tries to keep his grin small. 

Heather's eyes dart down where Jack's hand rests on hers. After a moment's consideration, she grins. "You can stay. Maddie will absolutely love you. She's been wanting to do this for years. Our place isn't too far from here. Did you perhaps want to leave? With us?"

Heather motions to someone over Jack's shoulder. A tall, voluptuous brunette with soft body waves in her hair, and a deep red, strapless, skin-tight cocktail dress and matching heels walks over to them. She kisses Heather, "Sorry it took so long. There was a line." 

"Alright, Jack. We'll see you later." Frank grins wide. 

"Goodnight Frank. Happy birthday again. Tell Brock goodnight too," Jack says absently. He's more interested in checking out Madison's smoking hot body.

"Will do..." Frank pats his shoulder then heads to their table. He drops two hundred dollars in the black book for the waitress. Gathering his gifts, he makes his way out to his husband. Carrying it all is a struggle but he manages to make it to the car without dropping anything.

"Brock. Open the trunk please." 

Reaching over, he presses the trunk release, hearing the satisfying puff of air. He looks as best as he can, even looking through the rearview mirrors for Jack. Was Frankie doing this all by himself? He shivers and cranks up the heat a little.

"Thank you, babe." He says with a little smile as he sets his items in the back, except the guitar. She's going in the backseat. He closes the trunk and moves to the door. He slides the guitar in the seat then moves to the passenger door, "You gonna be ok to drive?" 

"Yeah, like I told Linda, I don't need my left leg to drive. I'll be fine. I take it Jack's not coming?" Brock cranks the car on fully and puts her into drive.

"He's _coming_ tonight just not home with us…" Frank replies unsure of Brock's tone, "He says goodnight and he loves you." He trails off at Brock's silence. His head tells him to stay quiet. He says anything more and he'll say something stupid. Or piss Brock off. The tequila in his system says to push back but he doesn't listen. He's feeling good. The line just before he's messy drunk, he had intended to saunter into the messy drunk territory but the quiet inside the car tells him he made the right choice. Frank takes Brock's hand as he drives them back to the apartment. At least someone is getting touched tonight, he's not worried about it. He’d gone months without and now he'll be waiting a little longer, they fucked a lot in the beginning, so it _might_ make up for it. He has to start running again, lose this pudge he's got. This is punishment for being such a bad submissive. Brock seemed fine, so he should be fine. He's never been with two women at once. Girls in bed were something different. They always smelled good even after they got sweaty and fucked out. Brock seemed to always smell good even after a long hard gym session, it was sweaty but never gross. Maybe after he put Brock to bed he'd tune the guitar and have another beer. 

Maybe Brock would be interested in a threesome… how would that work? Brock can barely fit inside of him. 

Frank glances around and realizes they are pulling into their garage and snaps out of his head. Once the car is in park, he unloads Brock's chair and gets him in it. Frank wheels his husband to the elevator and into their apartment. He helps Brock out of the chair and onto their bed. He drops down and helps Brock undress. Silently, he rises to his feet and hurries into the kitchen, only clipping the wall once. He grabs a bottle of water and a pill for Brock. He places the pill in his hand and the bottle beside the good leg. "I'm going to grab the gifts. I'll be right back." 

"Alright, baby," he replies quietly, taking the pill. He didn't realize just how much pain he was in until the adrenaline of the night started to wear off, or how tired he was. 

Frank makes two trips. He pulls the guitar and picture into the house first placing them carefully down. The next trip is everything else. The voice in the back of his head telling him things, bad things. He tells himself to stop and to breathe.

As soon as Brock gets comfy, sure enough, he has to pee. Typical. Goddamn Murphy's law. Since Frankie is out grabbing his presents, Brock swings his legs out of the bed and grabs onto the rollator. He's never been more thankful Jack bought him old people stuff. It's been so helpful. Slowly and carefully, he makes his way to the bathroom. He tells himself that this will be quick so he puts all of his weight on his good leg and holds onto the counter tightly.

As he goes, he begins to think about one of the things he wanted to do this morning before Jack made them breakfast. He didn't think his leg could handle any sex position in which he was on top or in which he needed to put weight on it. He might be comfortable enough if Frankie wanted to ride him but he was worried about Frankie's leg hitting his own. Maybe reverse cowboy? His original plan had been to have Frank ride his mouth this morning. He might be up for that, now.

When he's finished, he flushes and makes his way slowly back to bed.

Frank returns with the rest of the presents. He'll buy a stand for the guitar in the morning. Maybe he'll put the frame up in the guest room, it's where he's been working on music. Maybe he could get a small office built for himself, just outside of his own studio. He pulls the box of random silly things from the box from Ray and Christa, he opens the blanket and drapes it over the chair. It's soft and gorgeous. He throws away the trash before tidying up and heading into their bedroom. "Babe?" Frank's voice is soft as he enters. 

"Yeah?" He asks, sitting on the side of the bed and working his way back in.

"How are you feeling?" Frank says entering the room and giving him a soft smile.

"Pill's kicking in. Had to pee. Ruined my comfy spot." He grunts a little as he wiggles and scoots his hips across the mattress until he's back in his spot. He pants a little from the "workout." Turning his head to look at Frankie, he gives him a grin, "Hi." 

"Hey!" Frank grins wide, "Do you need anything while I'm up?" He shimmies out of his jeans and tosses them in the hamper.

"No. Just you." He grins at his husband and watches him strip. "You gonna show me that costume you have?" 

"Do you wanna see it?" Frank grins.

"Show me," he nods.

Frank pulls the pieces from his drawer. And scurries to the bathroom. He shimmies into the tightest pair of undies he's ever owned. He moves his junk around to make the look more complete, he pulls the drab olive and green coat on. It's the real deal, he bought it from a uniform website and it is itchy as hell. He pulls the dog tags back on and takes a breath. He nods at himself in the mirror before stepping out into their bedroom, "So… how's this Commander?"

"Holy fuck!" Brock sputters, sitting up so he can see a little better. Frank was beyond sexy.

"Is that good?" Frank smirks.

"Jesus," Brock groans. "Yes. Holy fuck, yeah." 

Frank moves to the bed and sits on his knees, "How do you wear these jackets… they are itchy." 

"Usually there's clothing under them, not bare skin," he smirks.

"Ohhh that's what I'm doing wrong… I could grab a shirt. Maybe some pants?" Frank playfully teases.

"Fuck no… Get your ass up here and straddle my waist," Brock growls.

Frank crawls up the bed and carefully straddles Brock's lap, placing his foot carefully near the injured leg, "I'm here… do you like what you see? What do you want me to do now?" 

"What I wanted you to do this morning. Ride my face. Fuck my mouth," Brock groans out. His hands run down Frank's chest to cup his ass and squeeze.

"Is that what you want?" Frank grins and feels his face warm. He hesitates a little before speaking again, "Is that an order?" 

"Betcher ass it is, _Soldier_ ," Brock growls.

Frank leans in and kisses Brock deeply. His fingers run through his hair on the back of his neck, running his nails over his scalp. Frank rolls his hips into Brock. He's not ready to go yet, but he can get there, "Sir yes… _sister_?" 

He sits back slightly and tilts his head. 

"Wait what?" Brock's face is scrunched in confusion.

"Did you call me sister?" Frank grins against his lips. He kisses him again.

"I said, soldier…." Brock snickers into the kiss. "You must be hearing things. It's the old age you've got going now. Or the alcohol."

"Old age… sir? Are you _sundowning_?" Frank giggles before grinding against him again, making himself moan in the process.

"You're the one who has the hearing problem," he retorts.

"Kiss me," Frank murmurs.

Pulling Frankie forward, he kisses him, tasting the tequila on his tongue. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of Frankie's head while the other slides up his ass and rests on his hip. A little moan escapes.

Frank grinds against him, kissing him deeper. He wishes Brock could handle being inside of him. He focuses his attention back on his husband, "Love you. So much," he whispers between kisses. 

Groaning, Brock hisses him harder and deeper. His hands slide off the jacket before grabbing his dog tags to pull his love back into a hot kiss. "Love you too, baby. Wanna make you feel so fucking good."

The tiny trilling sound of Brock's phone blends with Frank's deeper sounding ringtone pulls his attention away for just a moment. "Wish I could ride your cock… I love your dick so much." Frank moves his mouths to Brock's throat before taking his teeth over the skin.

"Oh fuck Frankie," he groans in response, tipping his head back. The words go straight to his already hardening cock and he wishes he could fulfill his boy's wish. He groans, the sound of both of their phones distracting him. "We need to check on that. Could be an emergency."

"It can wait… I want you to myself." Frank pants out as he rests his head on Brock's shoulder, "Can I suck your cock, please?"

"It's… fuck… it's both of our phones," Brock pants. He's fighting the urge to give in and just shove Frank down on his dick. But they've never been both called at the same time. The feeling of something being wrong returns in his head.

Frank sucks on his neck and pushes his hips into Brock. He pulls back and whispers in his ear, "If it's important, they'll call back. I wanna make you cum if they don't, I need to make you cum in me…" 

"Fuck! Yes, oh fuck yes. Do it. Suck me. Choke on my dick, baby," Brock groans out, hands pushing against Frank, trying to get him to move.

Frank grins against his lips before pulling his leg over Brock’s thigh careful as possible to not hurt him. His other leg follows and he begins kissing down Brock's chest and stomach. He already has an idea on how to keep from straining that leg.

Brock groans with need. "No, baby. Up. Want you to ride my face still. Need your cock down my throat."

"Oh...ok!" Frank smiles up at him, "How?" A little part of him wants Brock to manhandle him how he wants him. Maybe if he lingers a little, his hubby will. Frank slowly crawls back up, he kisses Brock. This is new.

Brock pulls him up more, grabbing him by the hips. He pushes at one of Frankie's legs so that he's off to the side of Brock. Grabbing the back of Frank's upper thighs, he drags him back so that his husband's ass was in front of his face. He growls, "Straddle my face and gimme that cock." 

Frank makes a small squeak at the feeling of Brock yanking him backward, "Babe! I still have my shorts on..." He places a soft kiss on the top of Brock's good leg while the other hand rests on the outside of the hurt leg. His fingers gently brush the skin. 

"Then take them off before I rip them off," Brock growls and paws at the underwear. A growl which turns to a small squeak of alarm. "Please don't touch there." 

_Do I be defiant and sass or follow orders…_

"I won't hurt you, I'm nowhere near your owie." Frank tries to assure him but moves his hand. 

"Is that an order Commander?" Frank switches gears as he places quick kisses along Brock's hip where the once sharp and defined 'V' called home. It's softened considerably in the months that Brock's been… out of commission.

The switch in gears confuses Brock for a moment. He asks, "Order for you to not touch the injury? Yeah… I guess. It's sensitive."

Frank rolls his eyes, probably harder than he should have but is quickly thankful for Brock being at the opposite end of him, "Nevermind." He pushed himself off Brock and on to his back.

"Wait you meant…. I'm sorry. The brain’s a little mush. Sorry." A hand comes up to cover his face, mentally berating himself for being an idiot, and ruining the moment. 

"Are you me now with the apologies?" Frank snorts as he lifts his hips and pulls the underwear over his hips. The skin-tingling slightly and is followed by a slight itch that he pushes in the back of his mind. 

"Sorry," Brock mumbles again. "It's hard to focus and… stuff." 

"Do you even want to do this?" Frank asks softly, "Or did I peer pressure you into it..." 

"Yeah…. No… wait. I wanna do it." Brock groans. His tiredness mixed with the drugs was making his brain foggy and stupid. "Wanna do you. It. Sex. Adjacent." 

Frank throws the undies across the room and sits up, "Sex adjacent?" He leans over and kisses Brock, "You're not allowed to be this damn cute, sir." 

“Sorry.”

"Now, how was it that you wanted me?"

"I wanted to do 69."

"Oh… you mean like this?" Frank crawls to his knees and kisses Brock before moving over Brock. Keeping one knee on the bed he lifts his body a little higher for Brock, a hand planted in the bed the other grips his husband's cock. He's not sure if he's even doing this right. He carefully runs his tongue the length of Brock's cock before going for it and sinking his mouth halfway before pulling back.

"Fuck," Brock moans, hips rolling a little. His hands push Frank's hips down, one hand guiding his husband's cock down his throat. Another moan reverberates in his chest.

Frank moans around Brock's cock before he takes his cock deeper. His hips stutter slightly as his knee gets a little weak. His free hand strokes down as he pulls up.

Their phones come alive again ringing together again, this time it's accompanied by the sound of someone banging on the door and shouting in the hall. The noise causes Frank to jump slightly and pull off Brock's cock. 

Brock suddenly gets a face full of ass and a throat too full of dick and he chokes. Each cough makes him choke more. His eyes water. His hands come up to grab at Frankie's hips and thighs, trying to get him off.

"Fuck. Baby, 'm sorry!" Frank scrambles off Brock. He drops himself onto the bed beside him, "I'm so sorry!" 

Brock inhales sharply and dissolves into a coughing fit, pushing up onto his elbows. He coughs harder until he can finally get air. His face is slightly red and his eyes and nose are watering. He wipes his face and takes steady breaths.

"I mean, you did wanna choke on my cock..." Frank whispers.

"This is not what I had in mind," Brock pants out slowly.

He leans across and grabs a phone, he sees Ray's name and groans. "It's our relationship fire extinguisher." He drops the phone on Brock's chest. He crawls across the bed and carefully stands. He grabs Brock's shirt and throws it on before pulling on sweatpants.

"Don't call him that," he gently chastises. "He's family."

"He's a cockblock." Frank growls as he pads out of the room.

"That's more like it," Brock calls to Frank with a laugh. Still chuckling, he answers the phone, "Hey what's up?" 

"You're home right?!" Ray asks with a panicky voice.

"Yeah, I'm in bed. Why?"

Frank pulls the door open to see Ray's frantic face, "What do you want, sexual fire extinguisher?" 

Ray pushes past Frank as he hangs up on Brock. He heads for the bedroom.

"Sure. Yeah, come in… not busy at fucking all." Frank hisses as he slams the door. 

Ray enters the room and turns the lights all the way up.

Brock stares at his phone then stares at Ray. He smirks playfully, "You know if you wanted a threesome Frankie, all you had to do was ask."

"Fuck off, Rumlow," Frank calls from the kitchen. He fills a glass with water and chugs it.

"Brock! I need you!" Ray says picking up a piece of clothing and tossing them at Brock.

It hits him in the face and he shakes it off. The tone in Sunshine's voice held fear and urgency, not playfulness. He should probably cover up his dick. It's just hanging out. "What's wrong, brother?" 

"Chrissy. She's having the baby in my car! It won't move! I ran. You were close." Ray says even more frantically.

"Jesus, Ray! Why the hell didn't you call 911? I can't just jump out of bed and run to save her. Fuck, I can barely _walk_." With a groan he shoves his body off the edge of the bed, grabbing clothing. "Help me." 

"Oh… I didn't. I didn't think about it." Ray says, sounding shocked. "I'm so sorry." He helps Brock get dressed.

"So you left your 'in labor' wife in the car in midtown Manhattan? Alone?" Frank asks skeptically with a frown. 

"I didn't know what to do?!"

"Don't bring Ray to a gunfight…" Frank groans as he disappears into the bathroom.

"Sunshine, I love you. So with all due respect, this logic is why you get left behind at gas stations," Brock grins.

"She stopped to get snacks… preggo snacks. I got gas and it just died. I'm sorry. I… I think she peed in my seat or something… I just. Ran." Ray rambles.

"Her water broke. How long ago was that? Was she having contractions before you left?" Brock asks, grabbing for his walker.

"Twenty minutes? She was all groaning and whining… I think so." Ray blinks at him.

Frank stands in the doorway and glares at Ray, "I'll get the car and have it by the exit." 

"Take the Lambo, it's faster," Brock calls after him.

"There is no room for preggo." Frank replies, "And I don't drive Betty." 

"Yeah okay. I'll be there soon." 

"No rush. Ray already left her alone." Frank pulls his wallet from the table by the door and his car keys.

"Well, labor can take several hours. Let's hope that's the case here." Brock turns to Ray, "I'm useless. Go with Frank. He'll take you to the hospital. I'll come after."

"You sure? You should come."

"I want to. I will. But right now, getting you and your wife to the hospital is the top priority. And sadly, my brother, I will only slow you down."

"I'm sorry I bothered you." Ray says quietly, "But, you're not missing out. I'll carry you."

"You're not bothering me, brother." Brock stands and makes his way out of the bedroom and towards the door where his wheelchair was. "And you can't carry me either." 

"I can too, come here," Ray says, stopping in his tracks. He kneels and waits, "Hop on, I'll give you a ride." 

"How'd you know I've always wanted to ride the bull?" Brock chuckles and shakes his head. "I'll hurt your back, silly. Just help me into the chair _outside_ in the hall and then you can race my ass down to the car. I'll even wheee like a kid for you. Get you used to it."

"Is that what Frank does when he rides you … wheeee…" Ray snickers.

"Wanna find out?"

"Didn't think your dick worked."

"It does. I can't _move_ , which is why Frank has to ride but I'm still functional, thank you very much. Just push the wheelchair into the hall."

Frank pulls his phone out and dials a number, "Hey, can you do me a favor? There is an SUV at the Shell on First and 96th. There's a woman inside, she is going into labor. Can you go check on her? Her idiot ass husband came to my place by the park leaving her alone. It's like two blocks from your place? Cool thanks, dude." Frank starts the car and sighs, he might be a little buzzed still but he's fine. He pulls the car up next to the door and waits. He watches Ray pushing Brock out of the building and to the car. Ray loads him into the backseat behind him.

"She'll have had that kid by the time we get there," Frank grumbles. He knows that's not true but he's pissy.

"I doubt it. Mom was in labor for eight hours with me and Brooke," Brock says casually, buckling.

"That poor woman probably had to forcibly evict you two little demons." Frank snorts as he puts the car in gear and speeds to the gas station.

"Please. We were a delight. Mother tells us so all the time."

"Maria doesn't want to hurt your feelings… you two probably beat her up." Ray snickers.

"She had drugs so… take that as you will."

"Two screaming crotch demons firing out at Mach 5." Frank chuckles as he turns into the parking lot. He sees Tucker standing by the open car door with Christa, "We're here. Get her in the front seat." 

"Okay yeah let's stop talking about my birth and focus on Baby Floof's." Brock shoves Ray, "Go get her and help him get her in the car."

Frank watches as Ray hurries out of the car and carefully collects the angry wife from her seat. "Good thing you picked out leather seats." 

Tucker approaches the car and whistles, "Look at this ride… when did you get taste, Iero?" 

Frank snorts as he rolls down Brock's windows.

"Hey! What's your name again? Thomas?" Brock greets with a little snap of his fingers. "Taylor?"

"Tucker, we met a few hours ago..." 

His nice demeanor shifts into something a little irritated. So he forgot the dude’s name?! Who cares. He knew it was T-name! "Yeah. I met a lot of people tonight and I took my meds. Sorry." 

"It’s all good, my man." Tucker gives him a confused look.

"Brock." Frank's voice is cool as he looks in the rearview.

Brock ignores Frankie and focuses on Tucker. It's not like Frank needed a response anyway. "Anyway, I wanted to say thanks for helping." 

"It's not a problem. I live across the street. I don't mind helping a lady in distress." Tucker smiles.

"Thank you, Tuck. Stupid Stu wasn't using his head." Frank says looking over at his friend.

Brock gently nudges his husband. "Oh come on now, Frankie. He's got Frantic Father’s brain. It's like those commercials where the parent leaves the overnight bag at the house in a rush to the hospital even though they've practiced it like a hundred times."

"Yeah. He just had to grab his boyfriend before his wife has their baby." Frank rolls his eyes. He hears the car door close and the passenger door open. 

Christa sits awkwardly in the front seat at first. Her makeup slightly smeared as she sniffles.

"Sorry," Christa says quietly.

"It's fine," Frank replies. He looks to Tucker and bumps fists as Ray sits in the backseat and slams the car door.

"Please go!" Christa says softly.

Frank peels away and heads to the nearest hospital, choosing Mount Sinai. He pulls up to the ER doors and lets Ray and Christa out. He finds a parking spot and helps Brock out of the car, "I brought you shoes cause I knew he wouldn't. Kick your feet out and I'll help you get shoes on you."

"Awww, babe. This is why I married you," Brock grins, carefully easing out his feet.

"Cause I bring you slippers?" Frank says with a small smile and a soft voice. Fuck that smile makes him melt every fuckin time. He slips them on to Brock's bare feet. He takes his hands and pulls him out of the car and into his chair.

"Yes because you brought me slippers. It's the tiny little things that you do for me that make me so incredibly thankful you are mine, every day. I appreciate all that you do. I love you."

"I love you and adore you, Mr. Rumlow." Frank leans in and kisses him, "I also got your jacket too."

"Thank you, baby. I know this wasn't in the plan for the night. But I'm glad we're in it together." Brock reaches up and pats him.

"I'll follow you anywhere." 

"Oh, you know what would suck? If they thought I was a patient," Brock snickers as they enter the hospital. "And they like, try to keep me from leaving." 

"I'll get my first felony charge for fighting hospital staff." Frank grins, "They can't have you."

"It'd be a good Twilight Zone episode though."

"It would actually." Frank says leaning over as he pushes the wheelchair to the door, "At least this is a different hospital..." 

The wait in the waiting room until Ray comes and finds them. He leads them back to the birthing suite. Christa lies in the bed with IVs and other cords hooked to her. She looks less miserable now, "Hi boys!" 

"Hi, Christa. How are you uh, feeling?" Frank asks with a little smile.

"Like something is vice gripping my insides. Thank you for driving me."

"Anytime." He takes a seat by the window. He lets Brock wheel himself closer to her. He already knows his husband is going to attentive to her needs.

Brock reaches over and takes her hand. "You're going to be just fine. I'm guessing they gave you an epidural to help."

"They did. Now I just gotta stay calm and not panic." Christa gives him a soft smile.

"Just focus on your breathing and you'll be alright. You're amazing. You can do this."

~~

Hours pass with periods of commotion, her contractions waxing and waning. Frank fights the need for sleep but ends up dozing off on Brock's shoulder with their fingers laced. Frank is woken up at 4:30 in the morning. They are being asked to move to the waiting room because Zachariah was finally coming. Frank sleepily pushes Brock into the waiting area and helps him into a padded seat. He takes a seat beside him and curls into the chair. His head still rests on Brock as he tries to stay awake. He yawns and blinks rapidly but it is no use.

At 6:25 Ray comes out with a huge smile and wakes them with the good news. 

"He's here! He's perfect! He is wonderful!" Ray beams, "The families are on the way. The boys are too." 

"Congrats Ray!" Frank sleepily rises to his feet and hugs him.

"Thanks, Frankie!" 

"Congrats, my brother," Brock says. "How is she doing?"

"She is great! Chrissy is a fucking badass. Did you wanna come see him and her? He's beautiful, Brock!" Ray beams at his friends.

"God yes, please," Brock grins.

Ray pushes Brock as Frank follows behind. Once they reach the window he points out Baby Toro. Bundled up with the smallest hat on his head. "Doctor said he was the largest baby he's delivered in a while. He's perfect."

"Zach is cute. You made a cute baby, Ray." Frank says with a smile.

"He's perfect. He's a beautiful baby. I love him," Brock says, scooting his chair closer. If he could he would press this face to the glass. He wants him.

"Isn't he, he's pretty." Ray grins wide, "Chris is sleeping. They are gonna bring him back soon. Did you guys wanna wait or come back when she's less of a Zombie?"

" _Lo voglio_ ," Brock whispers. 

"You can't have him. He's not a toy." Frank whispers in his husband's ear, he actually understood that. He looks to Ray and smiles, "I assume Brock wants to wait here to see him. I think his brain is Italian right now."

Brock turns to Ray, " _Posso tenere il bambino_." 

"What about Bambi?" Ray asks with a head tilt.

"Baby," he corrects in English.

"I know that one!" Frank smiles, "but what about baby Floof?"

"I want to hold him." His voice holds a tint of sadness. His nephew was so far away. And his parents should be the ones to hold and love on their little squeaker. He'll just wait his turn after parents and grandparents take their rightful turns with the baby. His eyes track every movement Baby Floof makes, utterly fascinated, and in love. It almost makes him want one of his own but he knows he wouldn't be the best parent. His lifestyle is not safe for kids anyway. He would never want to raise a child in a mafia life. He sighs and tries to get closer to the glass.

"Let's head back to the room, they should be bringing him back soon. You can meet the parents and see her. I know her parents are fussing over her." Ray pats his shoulder. 

Frank leans in and whispers, "All you have to do is ask, Brock." He pecks his love’s cheek and glances at the window at the little potatoes wrapped tightly, moving slightly, some yawning and twitching their little noses. _Maybe they are kinda cute_.

Brock slowly nods. He doesn't really want to leave just yet. He doesn't want to take his eyes off the baby. His baby. His nephew. Protect the child at all costs.

"Do you want me to bring him back to the room?" Ray asks Brock with a tiny hint of a smile.

"Okay," he nods. He didn't really hear what was said. He's solely focused on the tiny blue blanketed bundle. He just knows they are leaving for the room. Leaving Baby Floof. He's never going to call the baby by his legal name.

Ray picks up the phone and quietly talks to a nurse inside the nursery who lifts the tiny baby from his plastic carriage and gently places him into one with wheels. She heads for the door with him. 

"Hey! No! You put him back! Stop it! Hey! That's mine! Stop it!" Brock shouts at the lady. He bangs on the glass. "Don't touch him! Stop stealing my nephew!" 

"Babe! Brock!" Frank reaches down and touches him, "She's bringing him to their room! Relax!" 

Brock stops, realizing his mistake, and sits back in the wheelchair. He feels his face flush with embarrassment and shame. He whispers, "Sorry." 

"It's okay. Let's go meet the little baby." Frank grins wide. Frank pushes the wheelchair after Ray. He's exhausted but he's putting on a tough face. 

The room is full of faces, Ray's mom and dad are sitting quietly in chairs to the side. Christa and a woman who looks eerily like her are speaking softly to each other. Frank wheels Brock in quietly and tries to not draw attention to themselves.

Brock suddenly finds himself not wanting to be there with all of these people. The new faces only further feed the notion that he has no right to intrude on the immediate family and their time together. His brain gremlins whisper to him that he isn't even actually family. They are his but he isn't there's. He's only known them for less than a year. 

"Momma, this is Brock. The man I was telling you about." Ray pushes his chair closer to her, "This is my mom, Mariana."

_"Este é ele? Ele é maior do que eu esperava."_ His mother looks up at Brock and smiles, " _Ola Brock._ " 

Ray smiles, "She says hello."

"Ma'am," he nods in greeting. "It's nice to meet you." 

Ray translates for Brock as she puts her hand out and replies, " _Você também. Muito bonito este aqui..."_

"She says you are quite handsome." Ray smirks, "This is Frank's new husband." 

"Well, I see where you got your good looks, Sunshine," Brock mutters just under his breath once he sees Ray’s dad. Just to fuck with Ray.

"This is my dad, Reggie." Ray steps to the side and introduces his father. He rises to his feet and is the same height as Ray.

"It's good to meet you." Reggie offers his hand, "Mari speaks English but it's not strong and she gets embarrassed."

"Hi, momma Toro. Reggie." Frank nods with a smile.

"Hi, Frankie." Reggie nods at Frank.

" _Foi ele quem salvou Christa_?" Mari asks Ray.

"Yes, mama."

"It's nice to meet you both. You've raised a great son," Brock says, smiling. "I'm sure you are as proud of him as I am."

"Very much so, Raymond is going to be an amazing father." Reggie smiles wide.

"Brock! Brock! Come here!" Christa says excitedly, "Did you see him? How perfect is he!" 

Brock breaks into a wide grin and he scoots the chair closer into the room. It's too tight however so he puts the breaks on. Gritting his teeth, he plants his feet and pushes himself up and into standing. 

The nurse wheels the little lucite baby carrier into the room and next to Christa. She quietly lifts the small blue bundle out of the container and into Christa's arms. 

“Do you wanna see him?” Christa asks him with a smile. She tilts her body towards Brock, “He is absolutely perfect. My little angel.”

"Frankie," Brock says, holding out his arm. He'll need to walk to see his nephew, as the room is too small for the people, the instruments, and his chair.

Frank takes Brock's hands and helps him, “Do you want me to stand behind you like a brace?”

He nods, "Yeah. Or to the side. The rails will help me, too." 

"Okay honey. I got you." He moves him slowly to the side of the bed with Christa. He uses his body as a partial brace for his husband. He peers over and grins at the little smush face.

"Hello." Christa's slightly older doppelganger says to Brock, "I'm Carmen, Christa's mom. You are the one who got my girl back before the police?"

Frank looks at Ray.

"Yeah. Brock and a few of his associates were able to track her down and get her the moment she was left alone. Military dudes… crazy." Ray babbles nervously. He might have fucked up.

"My brother and I were Special Ops. Reconnaissance is one of our specialties," Brock says casually. 

"They know a little about a lot of things, just enough to make them dangerous." Frank chuckles.

"In a good way," Brock quickly assures.

"If her dad would have been with you, he'd have killed the motherfucker." Carmen says cooly as she puts a careful hand on Brock's back, "Thank you for saving her. You are forever in our debt." 

"Brock is amazing. He loves Ray and Chris a lot." Frank rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"Did you wanna hold him, Brock?" Christa says happily. She runs a finger over Zach's little nose softly.

"Yes," he says so quickly he isn't even sure it came out as a word. It might have been gibberish. Perhaps it was just a noise. He wants him.

"You ready?" Christa sits up a little more and begins to pass him over, "Support his head..." 

He hesitates. He's realized too late that to hold the baby, he'd have to let go of both the rails and Frankie. The last thing he wants is to fall and drop Baby Floof.

Frank nods at Carmen who backs up and grabs a chair, “Here. Have a seat.” Carmen's voice is gentle and warm as she touches his shoulder with her fingertips. 

Frank holds his arm and eases him down in the chair. He kisses the top of Brock’s head. He knows his husband is about to be too enamored with the little person in his arms, “Zach has his dad’s nose.” 

"Sorry. Thank you," Brock mutters to them both. Dr. Banner was right about his injury making him feel useless. Like a burden.

“Don't be sorry. That’s what I’m here for babe," Frank whispers in his ear. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Brock.” Christa says with a huge smile, “I finally get to see my two favorite boys meeting.”

“Next to you, Ray.” Christa quickly adds. Frank takes the baby softly from Christa and places him in Brock's arms. The nerves of holding something so fragile makes him tense slightly.

Brock melts the moment the baby is in his arms. His voice is a loud whisper, "Hi, Baby Floof. I'm your Uncle Brock." 

“Isn't he perfect?” Ray says giddily from across the room.

“His name is Zachariah Enzo.” Christa smiles at Brock.

Brock snaps his head up to look at her, in disbelief. Baby has his middle name? He looks back down at the adorable baby in his arms and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I think you need to build another room in your house, Ray.” Frank smirks, “I don’t think you’re going to be having much alone time for a while.”

“Brock?” Mari speaks softly, “Why floof?”

“I was wondering that too.” Carmen smiles with her head tilted to the side.

"Sunshine is Floof. This is Baby," Brock answers absently without tearing his eyes away from his nephew. His eyes water from joy.

The small bundle moves slightly, opening his mouth and wrinkling his nose. Brock sniffs a little and clears his throat before speaking softly, _"Sei mio nipote. Non carne della mia carne, né osso del mio osso ma molto notevolmente, tutto mio. Per chi darei la mia vita. Ti proteggerò. Prego che la vita ti porti sole, risate e gioia. Possa Dio vegliare su di te sempre. Ti amo, dolce bambino."_ He kisses the soft forehead again. "For as long as I am alive, I will always be there for you."

The room goes silent as Brock speaks. 

“What he say, Raymundo?” Mariana says breaking the silence which causes the room to break into a light laugh. 

“I don't know momma,” Ray replies.

“I only picked up like two words… maybe three,” Frank says quietly. He wonders if Brock slept at all.

"Sorry. It's… a blessing. And a promise," Brock replies.

“Chrissy. I have to get to work. I will stop by and see you on my way home tonight, okay?” Carmen leans over the bed and kisses her daughter on the cheek.

“Okay. Momma, is dad coming?” She asks.

“After work.” 

Christa nods and watches her mother hug Ray then lean into Brock’s space and carefully kiss the baby on the forehead, “See you soon, sweet prince.”

“We should give them some space too, Mari.” Reggie says with a chuckle, “Chris is probably exhausted.”

“Oh yes. I'll bring food later.” Mari says with a nod.

_“Mãe nada picante. Obrigado por ter vindo. Eu te amo.”_ Ray says, kissing his mother's cheek.

“ _Picante? É bom para o bebê. Criança quieta. Você não sabe nada_.” Mari hisses at her son. Ray shushes her and escorts his parents out the door after the baby receives kisses and praises from his grandparents. He closes the door and exhales, finally they are alone.

"You can take him back," Brock whispers reluctantly. He can't keep the baby forever. He needs to go home soon. And pee. And sleep.

“You sure? You can hold him as long as you need. Or want.” Christa says smiling wide.

"You would never get him back otherwise. And I have something to give you."

“To give me… what?” Christa says tilting her head.

"Baby Floof's Birthday present," he replies.

“He's a baby… he doesn't need anything,” Christa speaks, sounding more confused than her face reveals.

"It's a celebration of life." Brock turns to Frankie. "Grab my wallet, please. Since I have him." 

Frank nods and locates his husband's wallet in his pocket. He kneels next to him and smiles softly. He knows what's about to happen, he also knows the reaction that's coming too, “Which one? Blue or green?”

"Blue, I believe." 

Frank pulls the blue card from the wallet and holds it carefully. He passes it to Christa, she is closest. He smiles at her.

“A debit card? No. I don't need your money…” Christa says confused.

"Read the name," Brock says, snuggling the baby. God, he smells good.

“Brock. I don't understand.” Christa shifts and winces a little. Ray joins her side and takes the card from her hand. He looks at Brock suspiciously. He better not be giving them what he thinks he is giving them.

“Brock?” Ray asks.

"On the back is a phone number you can call to set up a PIN. And get the balance checked. It's a partial trust fund account. You have control over it and are to use it for his expenses. Once he reaches 18, the funds are his to do with as he pleases, provided he stays in college and finishes. It will gain interest over the years."

“Brock!” Christa says covering her mouth. Her mind is panicking a little, she can never repay him if it's well, extravagant. 

“Brock. You didn't have to do this…” Ray says looking up at his brother. He can see the exhaustion in his warm eyes.

“Yes, he did. He loves Zach. He's loved him when he was just an idea.” Frank replies before his husband can.

"I'm his uncle and Godfather. I will love and care for him as if he is my own son. Because that's what Family does. That's what _I_ do."

“You better hand your hubby that baby cause I am gonna squeeze you,” Ray says with a smile. He glances at his wife who has tears rolling down her cheek.

“I can't repay you.” She whispers.

"Money is nothing. Family is everything. That is a gift I can _never_ repay. Life is hard and I never want you or him to want for anything. Honestly, I don't care what you do with it, just as long as my brother, sister, and nephew are safe, happy, and healthy. I do want him to go to college though. And I know it's expensive. If it's not enough, let me know. I'll add more."

Frank leans down and takes little Zach and hands him over to his mother. He watches her cradle him close before glancing back to see Ray hugging Brock, hard. He gives his husband a little smile, “He really is precious, Chris.”

“Thank you, Frankie.” 

"I love you, Ray. My Sunshine. My brother."

“Love you too Brock! He is going to be the most spoiled baby. I already know this.” Ray smiles as he glances at Christa. 

“You're not buying him a car. He gets my old car. He's gotta learn to be humble.” Christa winks at Brock.

“He could have Brock’s Lambo,” Frank answers with a serious face.

"He can have the Lamborghini when he graduates college. He gets all As, I'll buy him whatever car he wants," Brock says thickly. He nudges Sunshine. "You should set up the PIN. Make sure it works. I haven't signed all of the legal documents because I was in the hospital but my lawyer and bank did me a solid in setting it up early. There are just a few things needed to make it binding."

Ray nods and pulls his phone out and dials the number on the back of the card. He enters numbers on the phone then sets the pin. Curiosity of the amount gets to him and he presses the number to check the balance. As the automated voice tells him the amount, he feels the blood drain from his face. “A mill–. A million.” His knees soften and he collapses to the floor. His phone clatters across the floor as he hits with a thud.

“Shit,” Frank says, moving to Ray's side. He looks up at Brock with a slight panic in his eyes.

“What's going on?” Christa hisses trying to keep her voice soft to not disturb the baby. 

Frank picks the phone up and hands it to Christa. She puts the phone to her ear and listens to the voice repeat the amount, “Brock Enzo!”

"It's not enough? I can make a deposit…." Brock looks at Sunshine, very concerned he broke his brother. "You can use it to cover his birthday." 

“Brock! This is way too much! Oh my god! Brock!” 

"Interest should kick in soon if it hasn't already."

“A million and twenty-eight thousand is more than enough for a fucking lifetime! This is too much!” Christa whispers.

"Oh good the interest did kick in. But college is expensive. Babies are expensive."

“Brock... I can't even, I am gonna have to give you another kid just to repay you.” Christa sniffles.

"And they'll get the same card and the same benefits," Brock replies without hesitation.

“Brock no.” Christa covers her mouth.

"I'm planning on doing it for Baby Emo and Baby Sprinkle too."

“You should have your own…” Christa insists, “You'd be an amazing dad.”

"Being a billionaire doesn't make me a great dad," he says, still looking at his brother on the floor. 

Frank snorts. He's seen Brock with babies. Old ladies. Brock is a gentle soul even if he has a sordid past, it doesn’t change the fact that Brock has so much love to give, “It's more than that Brock.”

“A little more time with this little demon and Brock will be dying to have one.” 

"He's an angel, not a demon," Brock corrects softly. "Is Sunshine okay?"

“Do you want to see my proof of his demon hood?” Christa raises an eyebrow.

“He's coming around.”

"Um, no. You'll heal. Women's bodies are amazing and are designed to bestow life. It's a beautiful thing but I am not at all interested in seeing it. It's not pretty to me, okay."

“He's afraid of vaginas,” Frank mutters.

"Will you stop saying it like that," Brock hisses.

“Am I wrong?” Frank looks at him. Ray groans and sits up taking his attention from Brock to Ray.

"Maybe," he mutters under his breath.

“Brock Enzo Rumlow. That is way too much! You don't need to give that much! Not for one.” Ray says groggily. Frank helps him to his feet and wipes off his back. 

"Will you guys please stop yelling at me? You'll wake the baby. And my head is starting to hurt. And I'm sorry. I love you okay." Brock sighs and puts his head in one hand.

“No one is yelling Brock,” Frank says with a frown. He can tell Brock is crashing. Soon he was going to be hurting. It was time to get him moving soon.

"Meant it figuratively," he mumbles. He's exhausted. And for some reason, he has the overwhelming urge to cry. It feels like he's being punished for trying to do good. He _must_ be tired if he's thinking like that.

“You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart.” Christa says softly, “It is unexpected. That's all.”

Ray moves to Brock and hugs him harder.

"You guys know I can afford this. Right? _We_ can afford this and not even notice." He returns the hug, hard and with a sigh. He needs cuddles. And sleep.

“I know you can,” Ray whispers. He kisses Brocks cheek, “I am more than thankful. I am so fucking grateful for you, you're the best brother I have ever had.” 

"Ok. Didn't want you to think it was gonna cause us hardship. It's not. I think Frankie would agree that what we have is more than enough and I just wanna share with my favorite people." There's a hint of a sleepy whine in his voice. As much as he wants nothing more to stay with them and Baby Floof, he's beyond his limits. He clings to Ray, unconsciously seeking comfort for his moodiness. 

“I know Brock. It's why I love you.” Ray smiles and kisses his cheek. 

“How about we get you in your chair and say our goodbyes,” Frank suggests.

He wants to argue and hesitate and stay but after a moment, he just nods. They both need to sleep. "Okay." 

“I'll help you to your feet.” Ray says softly, “Three. Two. one.” He lifts Brock to his feet. Brock groans softly and grabs onto the rail for balance. Frank pushes the wheelchair close to Brock. He is ready to go home. He needs sleep. And food. His head and hips hurt.

“Come on baby. Let's go home.”

Ray steps back after Brock is seated, he picks up the baby from Christa’s arms. He brings him to Brock's level so he can say goodbye to the little bundle.

"Hey, Baby. You be a good boy for your mommy and daddy, okay? I love you, little prince." Brock kisses him softly on his chubby cheek.

"We can come back later, love." Frank offers as he brushes Brock's hair.

"Yeah. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow is good," Brock sighs sleepily.

Frank smiles and kisses his head, "Love you guys. I'm gonna take him home, feed him, and put him to bed."

"Yes, please. Love you guys. I'm going to go night night now." 

Frank waves goodbye and moves his hubby down the hallway to the elevator, "Maybe we can get you into a shower?" 

"Sleep first? Please?" 

"Yeah, I meant after we wake up. Before Choi shows up." Frank escorts him to their car. Once Brock's in, he breaks the chair down. He speeds home, unloading Brock feels like it's slow motion. He gets Brock into the house. 

"Help me get you naked."

"Okay." Brock pulls off his shirt. The sleepiness has made him quiet and subdued. Tossing his shirt somewhere in the direction of the dirty laundry hamper. 

Once Brock is seated, Frank pulls the pants from his legs and drops them. He tucks the wedge under his husband's leg. He strips down and lies beside him. He turns his head to speak but the soft expression on Brock's face is all he needs to know that his love is out cold.

~~

The next few days go by like a whirl. Frank carts Brock to the hospital for baby time every day. Once Christa and Ray are released with baby Zach, heading home Ray drives ten under the speed limit. As they pull up to their house, a large box is waiting for them. Ray carts it into the house with Christa and baby in tow. 

“What is it?” Christa asks as she sets the carrier on the coffee table.

“Rocker?” Ray looks up at her.

“I didn't order it.”

“I didn't,” Ray replies. They share a look and give each other a silly smile.

“Brock.” They say in unison.

“He is like the fairy godfather I never imagined I would have.” Christa smiles. She turns to Zach and carefully pulls him out of the carrier. She holds him close to her as she moves around the house. 

_Ray: WE LOVE THE ROCKER! Christa is over the moon. This is the exact one she was looking at! How did you know?!_

_Christa: Thank you, my love. I love this chair so much. Can't wait for you to come see the nursery with it inside. I added a little pop of color. Love you, B._

Ray puts the chair together after two beers and a lot of cussing, he carries it up to the baby's room and sets it in the corner. He glances out the window and watches as the little white cotton puffs begin to fall from the sky.

He can hear Christa humming a Christmas song in the other room. He sighs, within days, their Christmas tree would be up. He wondered how long it would be before Frank would decorate for Christmas. 

~~

Frank double checks his bag. It's just a backpack. An overnight trip is nothing. He stares at the suit bag and frowns. Fucking Gerard and his aesthetic needs, but he does look quite handsome in that suit. He zips up his bag and grabs his passport from the safe. 

"Brock! Are you staying or going?" Frank asks. 

"I'm coming. Hold your horses," Brock calls back. He's trying to fit a second coat into his duffle. And a blanket. The duffle really only holds mostly his weapons and the lifelines called coats to keep him from freezing.

"I swear if you are packing another marshmallow coat, I'm going to be bratty the entire trip."

"It's not a marshmallow coat," he shouts. Then under his breath, he murmurs, "It's a peacoat. And it better fucking fit." 

"How many jackets?"

"I had to discard the jackets to shove the heated blanket in. So, leather jacket, peacoat, thermals, and a scarf/gloves set. And a sweater. My ass will have to freeze. I can't fit pants and sweats."

Frank leans on the door, "We aren't going to Antarctica." 

Brock turns to Frank and gives him a very concerned and exasperated look. "Might as well be! It snows up there! Like all the time! I am not made for the cold."

"Throw your sweats in my backpack." Frank smiles, "It's been snowing here for almost a week off and on."

Brock grins wide and hobbles over to him, kissing him. "Yeah but like it's _North_. So like it's more cold and more snow and I can barely handle it here. This is my Antarctica. Snow is pretty from behind closed doors next to a fireplace."

"I should take you to meet my cousin who lives in Alaska." Frank smirks as he shrugs off his backpack, "It gets like negative 34 degrees." 

Brock squeaks in alarm at the horrible terrible hell that would be the frozen tundra of Alaska. He would die like a frozen popsicle.

"You are literally going to be in the hotel with Jack the whole time." Frank smiles at him, "I paid for you guys to have a spa day to keep you out of the weather up until the event then it’s red carpet and indoors. And that's only if you wanna go with me."

Brock wraps his arms around Frankie, ever mindful of the cane in his left hand. He pecks him on the nose before kissing him on the lips. "But I wanna be with you. I just don't want to be in the cold."

"The red carpet should have a bunch of tall heater things." Frank grins at him, "You can wear a jacket."

"I shall wear a big fluffy coat," Brock nods.

"And you can. I am the one who has to show off this slim-cut suit. This is why I haven't been eating carbs or sugar. Just salad and water." Frank frowns a little, "I gotta look supermodel svelte. Fall through a crack in the floor thin."

"I like you small but not so thin it's unhealthy. I like your little pudgy tummy. Twinkie's aren't tiny, they're stuffed and fluffed."

"And full of cream?" Frank tries to keep a straight face.

Brock smirks, a slow grin pulling at his lips. "Yeah. Full cream center. One of my favorite flavors." 

"Is it?" Biting his lip to keep the smile at bay, "I didn't know that...

"Are you gonna stuff me full or no?" Frank grins this time, he is thoroughly entertained.

"I'd rather suck the lollipop and use my tongue to get the cream out. But yes, I do also enjoy stuffing the Twinkie," he grins. He kisses him lightly again before stepping away.

"I meant my backpack, you dirty old man." Frank moves to the bed and drops his bag for his husband to use.

"Liar but alright." Laughing, he picks up his sweats and shoves them into Frank's backpack. He zips it up and passes it to him. "Ready to go?" 

"Waiting on you, since day one," Frank replies as he pulls the bag back on.

"Rude," he laughs, grabbing his duffle and carrying it in his right hand. He follows Frankie towards the door, shutting off lights as they go.

_Frank: Jackson Browne, we are headed to the car, where are you?_

_Jack: I am in the hall and headed towards you, Franklin Roosevelt so just you hush._

Frank pulls the front door open, "Jack. Did you bring three parkas like my husband and a heated blanket with mukluks?" 

"I don't even know what that _is_ ," frowns Jack.

"Mukluks. Really? Big, tall, traditional snowshoes? Like snow boots but gross and made from animal skins?" Frank tilts his head, "I'm taking you two to Alaska. We'll see the midnight sun."

Brock shakes his head no and hobbles faster before Jack might actually agree with his husband. He ain't going to Alaska.

"Alright, well… nevermind then. Let's go hop a flight to Canada." Frank shakes his head. He takes Brock's duffle and heads for the elevator.

Brock pushes the elevator call button and waits. "I don't need snowshoes because I am not going to Alaska."

"No. You'd freeze before the plane even crossed into the territory." Frank snickers, "I'm teasing anyway. My cousin doesn't like gay people." He follows his husband into the elevator and through the lobby. They exit the building and out into the cold New York air. 

Brock whines and pulls his coat closer around him. He should have worn his scarf. Or a cat. He tries to hunker closer to Jack to shelter him from the wind.

Frank opens the car door for his husband who looks utterly miserable, "Come on my summer baby. Into the warmth."

Brock slides into the car, carefully keeping his leg away from anything that could hurt it. He tries to tighten his coat more before buckling and shutting the door. 

Frank slips in the other side and buckles up. Once Jack is secure in the car, it speeds off for the airport. Frank reminds Brock that it is a short flight and it will be over quickly. They move through the airport and board the airplane. 

As the plane takes off, Frank squeezes his husband's hand and reminds him to breathe. He looks at Jack and gives him a nod. The plane is moderately empty which makes Frank feel better. He prays for no turbulence as they cruise along into Canada. 

With only some minor shakes, the plane lands safely with no major incidents. The second they land on the ground a switch flips and it seems like Brock goes into manager mode. His posture stiffens a little and even his tone of voice gets harder. He checks them into the hotel and leads them up to their room. 

As soon as they are in the room, however, Brock makes his way towards the bed, unpacking his duffle and pulling out his heated blanket. He plugs it in and sits on the bed, wearing the blanket around his head and shoulders. A little shiver escapes. Fuck he hates the cold. And winter. Winter is the worst.

"I feel like you're not leaving this spot." Frank chuckles. He drops his backpack and crawls up the bed to Brock, "I know a way I can warm you up?" He places a soft kiss on his husband's lips. He adores him but he's also a bit of a drama queen. He should be getting ready for the show but a little warming up the husband makeout wouldn't hurt. He's just gotta shave, comb his hair, drink water, and get in the stupid suit. Besides, he's feeling a little bratty.

Brock likes the idea of being warmed up and so he quickly buries his hands under Frankie's shirt. His ice-cold, chilled to the bone, hands. Frankie's back is warm. He smiles at the relief.

"Not what I had in mind, sir." Frank grumbles as he crawls into Brock's lap, wrapping his legs around him, "I wanted this..." He kisses Brock a little more passionately this time. 

A little murmured, "Oh," escapes before he's kissing Frank harder. Hands wrap around him and pull him closer, seeking warmth under Frankie's shirt. A soft moan rumbles in his chest. 

Frank smiles into the kiss. He wraps his arms around Brock's shoulders letting his hips roll into his husband. As the kiss deepens Frank lets a moan out that's been aching to escape. He pushes the blanket from his husband, moving from his mouth to Brock's neck. His husband's once icy now only cold hands move along his skin causing goosebumps to rise. He hasn’t brought up sex since his birthday. He learned his lesson; he doesn't make the calls. It is all Brock. He knows this is gonna backfire cause someone is going to show up. Or call. He misses the beginning of their relationship, the fun and exploration of each other, how kinky they used to be. His nails scrape Brock's scalp as Frank kisses him a little rougher. 

Pulling away and out of the kiss, Brock moves to Scorpio and latches on, sucking hard. His hands grab Frankie's ass and shove them tighter together. Releasing his tattoo, Brock nips along Frank's jawline before he presses his lips to the shell of his ear. He groans out a whisper, "We don't have time for this." 

"I'm just warming you up." Frank replies with a small whine in his voice, "I can move if I'm too distracting." 

Brock swats Frankie's ass hard before kissing him hard and quick. "You know exactly what you are doing, minx." 

Frank grins wide, "I don't know what you're talking about..." He starts to move away from Brock with a playful smile, "I'm just far too distracting to my boss…" 

He tilts his head and kisses Brock's neck before his teeth scrape over Brock's skin. He leans up and whispers in his ear, "Not like I wanted to get fucked like a cheap whore in this fancy hotel." 

"Yes you do," Brock growls. "Maybe if you behave during the awards, I'll treat you real good after. Go get into the shower. Start getting ready."

"But I wanna play…" Frank grins, he bites his lip, "and I don't wanna be good." 

Brock sighs, "Okay. I lied. I'm planning on fucking you anyway. I just need you to get ready so we aren't late. Come on. Shower and shave."

Frank sighs and nods. He pecks Brock's lips before leaning back on the bed. He slides off the bed and rises to his feet. He pouts slightly. He rifles through his bag and pulls his shower kit out, "Are you going to shower with me?" 

"Sure. I need a shower."

"You don't have to. It might make you cold again." Frank pulls out sheer black briefs. He wiggles out of his shorts and pulls his hoodie off.

"You planning on using cold water?" Brock snorts playfully. He begins to unbundle and strip where he's sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No. I probably should tame the beast."Frank chuckles. He scans his husband's body on the bed, "How's your leg?" 

"Not too bad at the moment. Nothing more than normal. Bearable."

"Good. You're getting stronger by the day. I swear." Frank steps up, cupping his husband's chin, "Come on pretty boy, let's go shower so I can wear this monkey suit."

He takes Brock's hand and helps him to his feet. He pulls him into the bathroom. The shower is quick and easy. He shaves and removes the little bit of stubble on his face. He slips into his undies and dresses in his suit. He applies cologne before slicking his hair back. He turns to Brock and opens his arms, "I look ridiculous."

"You look fine, _tesoro_. Very nice. Very handsome," Brock says, pulling on his suit jacket. 

"You think so?" Frank yanks on the tie, "I feel silly. God, you look hot..." 

He smiles, "Of course you are going to feel silly. It's not something you're used to. Don't worry about it, baby. You look good."

"Okay. Thank you." Frank picks up Brock's cane and hands it to him, "Ready to meet the boys?" 

"Yeah! Always happy to see my boys." He takes his cane and grabs his coat, throwing it over his arm before heading to the door.

"I should get you a fancy cane," Frank smirks at him as they slowly move to the elevator. He pushes the button to take them to the main floor, "You know, I've heard canes make a great tool for punishment, for like spanking."

"Do you remember the paddle?" Brock asks casually. He honestly didn't think Frank would do well with a cane. It was a much different feeling than his hand and would feel worse than the paddle attempt. A solid object hurts worse than flesh against flesh.

"I do," Frank answers quietly. His head drops slightly.

"And what are your thoughts now, on both the paddle and a cane?" He keeps his tone neutral and casual. While this was a serious conversation, it didn't need to be heavy talk. 

"It hurt but I feel like I am a little better at handling pain now than I was in the beginning. But it was just a playful idea… just throwing it out there." Frank replies with a shrug. He looks up at Brock trying to read his mind. Is this going to be something he is willing to do or no?

"A playful idea without the desire to attempt or no?" He asks.

"I am open to trying it again. Or something else." Frank nods, he takes Brock's freehand, "That is if you're willing." The elevator dings then makes a buzzing sound. Frank repeats the mantra of _please god, don't get stuck_. He squeezes his husband's hand. _Is now a good time to mention that I don't like small spaces?_

Brock looks around and waits to see if the elevator was perhaps being called or serviced. The illuminated light shows they are on the ground floor at least. 

Frank pushes the door open button. He hits it again and looks at Brock, "I don't like small spaces." 

Brock turns to look at his husband. "What? Really?" 

"Enclosed small spaces are a no go. Hard limit. Nope." Frank answers nervously. He hits the button again.

"This isn't a small space baby. Just take a few calming breaths and focus on me. You're okay. I'm sure it's just a glitch. Give it a few moments," Brock says calmly, gently running his thumb over Frankie's hand in their hold.

"We're gonna be late," Frank says softly. He pulls at the tie a little. "It's hot in here..." 

"It's fashionable to be a little late, darling." Brock looks him over and notes the rising panic. "This is really bad for you, isn't it?" 

"Not good. Had worse… James threw me in a big container and sat on the lid. That's bad. This is not great but I'm good. I'm fine…" 

"So it's a phobia then?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I guess. Why are you so calm?" Frank looks up at his husband.

"Like you, I've been in worse situations. It's not a phobia for me. I also know how to get out. If I didn't have my leg injury, that is. I also know that this isn't permanent."

"It's hot in here." Frank nods taking in Brock's words, the last sentence echoing in his head, "Are we going to suck up all the oxygen? I don't wanna suffocate like this…Oh god. What if we're stuck here for hours?" Frank can feel the panic rising in his chest. 

"We aren't going to suffocate, baby. I promise. Come here, love," Brock pulls Frank close into his body.

"I don't like this. I'm taking the stairs if we get out of this flimsy death trap." Frank lets go of Brock's hand and wraps his arms around his torso, "God, I'm hungry." 

"Me too." Brock sighs, mind working. Decision made, he pulls away from Frank, handing him the cane. "Hold this. And help me remove my jacket." 

"What are you doing?" He takes the cane and pulls the jacket from his arms. 

Brock grins and kisses Frank before carefully making his way over to the doors. Planting his feet, being mindful of his injury, Brock wedges his fingertips in between the small crack and begins to pull.

"Brock. You're gonna hurt yourself." Frank warns him, "You're gonna break it."

"No," he grunts out. He readjusts and adds as much force as he can muster. Slowly, he feels it budge. The gap grows with each passing second until Brock can shift and grab a better hold. He puts a shoulder in and pushes until finally, the inner door retracts automatically. 

"What now? Maybe we should call for help..." 

Panting heavily, he gives Frank a look before inching close to the second, outer door. Getting the second door open is just as hard as the first, but it only feels worse because he's already worked up a fire in his muscles. After several minutes of straining, Brock finally gets the door open, revealing the lobby.

"OH THANK GOD!" Frank blurts. He hands his husband the cane. He pulls his tie a little to bring him lower. 

Brock slumps against the wall, uncaring about patrons passing by and staring at them. He's panting hard and sweat has broken out across his upper body. He takes his cane with a thankful smile and tries to regain control over his breathing. He ignores the fire in his arms and legs for now.

Frank dabs the sweat from his forehead using the weird pocket cloth thing. "Thank you for springing us. When you're ready we'll walk, okay?" 

Brock nods, not fully trusting his voice. He realizes it's probably not a good idea to _stay_ where they are simply because he's not sure if the doors will automatically shut or not now that he's pried them open. Forcing himself to his feet, he motions for Frank to follow and he gingerly walks several feet into the lobby, where there's thankfully a chair for him to sit in. He stops, just before doing so, however. They have a deadline to meet, so he takes Frank's hand and heads outside.

"How much time do we have left?

"Twenty minutes." Frank says softly, "The place is like fifteen away. Fashionably late..." 

"Depends if we speed or not. I'm sure we'll make it, provided we don't hit traffic or red lights. Or people. Let's not hit people. Or a moose. They hit back."

"We'll make it in time. If we don't make it there in time we can sit at the bar until the first intermission." Frank squeezes his hand.

"I'm not sure I can handle bar food," Brock grimaces. "We'll make it in time. Well, you will. I'm going to see about sneaking in some food for us to eat while we watch it show."

"Baby. It's usually catered with good food. Especially backstage."

"Oh. Very nice then. That's a much better option than sneaking in food," he chuckles, opening the door of the hotel for Frankie. The blustery freezing cold attacks his back and tries to permeate through his coat. He shivers a little.

Frank watches as the black SUV rolls up and the driver rushes out and opens the door, "You first." He helps his husband into the car then crawls in beside him, "Let's hit the road." 

The driver hauls ass to the venue and gets them there just before the boys are supposed to walk the red carpet.

"Where the hell were you guys?" Ray hisses as they start walking towards the row of photographers and fans shouting. The carpet is littered with interviewers. Lucky for them, their time is limited. 

"We got stuck in the elevator," Frank says quietly as they begin walking. 

"How'd you handle that?" Gerard snickers.

"Ask my husband," Frank says quietly.

"I pried open the doors." 

"You pried the doors open at the hotel?" Gee blinks at him. 

"Frank is claustrophobic. And we had a deadline. We were going to be late," Brock says simply.

"Damn Rumlow," Mike grins at him. 

"You have the strength for that?" Ray teases.

"Barely," replies Brock, completely missing the joke.

They stop for pictures and smile. Frank's eyes watch Brock as they pose. He watches the brothers talking quietly. Brock looks delicious in his suit. Once they start walking Frank joins Brock's side.

"You and Mr. Rollins look fuckin’ handsome tonight." Frank beams up at Brock. He glances over at Jack.

"Not so bad yourself, Mr. Rumlow Jr," Jack grins as he approaches. He hugs Frank. "I'm sorry I'm not going to be able to stay and chat. Brock's got me running security for you boys. I'll catch up with you after the show when you win."

They enter the building as a group and are quickly escorted by a page to their seat. Frank slides his hand inside of Brock's and grins up at him. They sit through awards and a few performances. 

"The Killers are a pretty damn decent band," Frank whispers after their performance ends.

"Eh, you know me. Not my preferred style at all but they do have talent."

Frank grins at his husband and shakes his head.

He helps his husband up at the intermission and gets him some food and tea. Frank chooses a gin and tonic. He can feel the alcohol going down. Brock slips off to the bathroom about midway through the meal and he works on finishing his drink.

"Can we get food after this?" Frank asks Brock when he returns from the bathroom.

"Of course. Real food, not this crap," Brock nods. He takes Frank's hand and gives it a squeeze. "It's going to be alright, _tesoro_. I promise."

Frankie assumes they didn't win but it's nice to be invited. Anytime he can get his sexy as fuck husband in a suit is a good time. He quietly listens to Ray and Gee talking with Brock. He can't help but snicker when Brock chastises him for leaving the 'little prince' at home and not bringing him with them. 

A ding tells them it's time to go back, Frank holds Brock's hand. "If we don't win, will you still love me?" 

"Of course, silly. Why would you even ask that? I will love you until the end of time."

"Just checking. Have you seen the Helena video? I know you've obviously seen ghosts." Frank asks with a head tilt as he takes his seat. He leans up and kisses Brock quickly.

"No. Why?" 

"I didn't know. It was kind of a cool video. The guys had to carry a casket but I'm too short so I just, like, touched it the whole time." Frank grins at him with a huge smile.

Brock shakes his head in disbelief. A little teasing grin spreads across his lips. "What is it with you boys and doing music about death? Typical little emos."

"It was the song for Gee's gramma," Frank says softly, "It's why you met me." 

"You just wait until we start recording the next one…" Gerard leans over and grins.

"You are lucky I love you, you little emo twits." Brock grins, "That can be your Twitter name."

Frank pulls his phone out and steals the name with a grin on his phone the entire time, "Done." 

He leans up and whispers in Brock's ear, "You know you love having an emo twink on your… arm." 

"I love the twinkie," Brock whispers back, "but I can do without the ghastly emo aesthetic and coffins. And screaming into a mic and calling it music."

"I mean… we are here. So I think, Mr. Rumlow, it actually is music. And we won an award in Latin America for Best International Band." Frank says looking up at him. He lowers his voice for Brock, "I thought you liked me being your little screamer."

"Only when you are screaming my name," he growls back quietly.

"Think you can make that happen tonight?" Frank raises an eyebrow with a snarky smile.

"Only one way to find out," he smiles.

"I'm only being good until my category… all bets are off then." Frank winks at his husband, "I'm feeling surprisingly playful." 

"Noticed, _tesoro_." He chuckles and lightly nudges Frank, "Pay attention to the show at least." 

"Maybe… unless that's an order?" Frank smirks. He bites the tip of his tongue, "I'd much rather _poke_ the bear." 

"Sorry, love. I'm not a bottom." 

"No, I am. I can't imagine topping you…" Frank snickers, "It's like a Chihuahua trying to jump a Great Dane." 

The speakers announce the next category, Best international group video. Frank perks up. The voice introduces each band, ending with My Chemical Romance. Frank slips his hand in Brock's and squeeze, only to release it when the name The Killers is announced as the winner. Frank frowns as he decides he no longer cares about being there. 

Brock leans over and whispers a sympathetic, "I'm sorry guys." 

Ray grins wide, "At least we were nominated! This has been fun!"

"This is why you are Sunshine," Brock chuckles.

Frank shifts in his seat a little. He's uncomfortable. He wants to leave. 

"Because of his unfailing optimistic outlook?" Bob asks with a smile.

"Absolutely. Keyword is unfailing. I love you guys. You'll get it next time."

"Love you, B," Ray grins wide.

"Love you, Brock," Gee smiles.

After the final performance, the show concludes. A woman with long black hair ushers them into a room just off the exit door. Frank squeezes on Brock's hands to not lose him. 

A woman hands Gerard a microphone, "Tell us how it feels to be nominated?" 

"It's an honor." Gerard grins.

"It's nice to see a band like ours getting recognized. It's not all just screaming and sad music." Frank glances at Brock.

"Yeah, The Used was nominated too!" Mike comments.

"Anything you'd like to say to the fans?" She asks.

"Thank you for the continued support and love." Gerard nods.

"We're the little emo band that could and we'd be nowhere without them," Ray adds.

"How'd you guys all meet?"

"I met Gerard. He recruited Mike who brought in Frankie. Then Bob joined the band. We almost fell apart a couple of times if it wasn't for our manager. He's the reason we haven't died," Ray says with a wide smile at Brock.

"Is that him? Sir, come in here. Tell me about your experience with the boys?" The interviewer says with a smile.

Brock snaps out of his inner musings at the sound of his name. Usually, he didn't have to pay attention to these things. Hesitantly, he approaches the group, gravitating towards Frankie. "In a few words, I'd say it's been a wild ride of a rollercoaster. These are good boys."

"I assume you are a fan of the music they make?" She asks with a smile. Frank's head shoots up and looks at Brock with a smile.

"Oh hell no. They can make their emo death metal punk music all they want. I'll wear my headphones." Brock glances at them and chuckles.

"Oh, you love us." Ray teases.

"This is true. You may be little emos, but you're my emos." 

¹"Your favorite emos." Frank grins as he puts his arm around Brock's waist.

"This is also true. Though it's not like there's any competition. You're the only emos I know," Brock chuckles. "Thank God."

"We can introduce you to some. The Used is here. Taking Back Sunday." Frank offers.

"Coheed is up Brock's alley," Ray adds.

"What happened to Sunday?" Brock asks, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head. "I'm sure they aren't Sunshine, but thanks." 

"You might like them, they sing. They sing a lot of music with heavy religious undertones. Their album is all about the book of revelations." Ray offers.

"Which is all about fire and brimstone and oh look more death," he replies sassily, rolling his eyes a little.

Frank glances at the interviewer, her hand covers her mouth as her shoulders bounce.

"What about System of a Down? The lead singer, Serj, used to sing opera. Boom! New favorite band!" Frank grins wide at his husband.

Brock considers this. He does like opera…. He hedges carefully, "Is he emo too?" 

"Not so much." Frank shrugs. 

Bob smiles wide, "It's melodic metal music."

"But don't let that scare you away!" Gerard says quickly.

Mike begins quietly humming the tune to a song. Ray and Bob look at each other with a huge grin. "I don't think you trust… in... My… self-righteous suicide! I cry, when angels deserve to dieeeee!" 

The two men break into a huge laugh. 

Brock gives them a deadpanned side-eye, "I hate you both."

Ray laughs and calms slowly, "Oh no, you don't. Especially me."

_If I don't annoy you, am I even your husband?_ Frank snickers to himself.

"Yeah okay, Sunshine. You win," Brock sighs dramatically. 

"Is Ray your favorite?" The interviewer asks then exhales.

"He's Sunshine. And my brother from another mother and best friend. Next to Frankie, yeah, he's the favorite."

"Off the record, there's talk that you got married, Frank. Is that true? Who's the lucky lady?" The interviewer asks.

"Question," Brock interrupts before the others reply. "Why does it need to be off the record? Is this something we shouldn't be telling people?"

"Oh. Well, the label sent over off-limits questions… someone in the office pulled up a marriage certificate with Frank Iero's name on it… it is more for my own curiosity." She smiles.

Frank glances at Brock, who considers it. He's not entirely sure he wants his name to be made public. He gives a minute shake of the head. It's not a good idea. There are people in the family that do not know he is married yet.

"I can't comment," Frank offers her a smile, "but Ray had a baby!"

"I did. He's perfect too!" Ray beams.

"Are you excited for them to start recording the new album?" She asks Brock.

"Yeah, it's a great way for them to stay home with their families. It's a reprieve after the tour."

"About that…" Gerard says with a smile.

"You can't have another tour until after the new album, Gerard," Brock states like a father mildly scolding his child for not eating their veggies.

"We are going to, uh, LA to record." Gerard offers weakly.

Frank shoots his head up to Brock. He is curious about his reaction.

" _We will talk about this later_ ," Brock replies in Italian.

Frank winces a little. He knows the tone.

"Alright. Last question for you. If you _had_ to pick a song of the bands to listen to, which would it be?" 

The entire band turns to face Brock. They all know he hates the music. This answer should be interesting.

"I suppose I could deal with Ghost. It's close to home and personal." Brock glances at Ray and Frank.

"It's a good song and a great video!" The interviewer says with a wide grin.

"He's in the music video too!" Ray adds with a smile. 

"Alrighty gents, we are all done. Sorry about your loss." She smiles. 

"Thank you. We'll get them next time. I know my boys. They are great guys and musical geniuses. Even if I'm not a fan of their music, I'm a fan of _them_. They can do it and they will," Brock boasts confidently. He means every word.

"Aw Brock!" Frank says. He loops his arm in Brock's and walks slowly with him towards their car. 

~~

After a nice meal, the band heads back to the hotel. They part ways after a quick hug. Frank stands with Brock at the elevator.

"You sure they are fine?" Frank asks warily.

"They are working again, so I'm going to say yes. Tell me, why hasn't this come up before? You never said a word in the elevator at home, only that the height bothers you."

"Our elevator has never gotten stuck. Second it does. I'm taking the stairs." 

"The only upside to that is you would definitely get your cardio workout for the day," Brock replies with a shake of his head.

"I'm also distracted. So I don't think about how _small_ the space is."

"It's not that small," Brock says. The doors open and he steps inside, turning to face Frank. "People live in houses smaller than this." 

"That's called a coffin." Frank hesitates. He forces himself to move into the elevator car.

Brock offers his arm. "How is this any different than your bunk?"

"The bunk is open-mouthed. I can escape." 

Looking up, Brock points out the lighted panel. "You know how in movies you can climb up and get out through an escape hatch?"

"Brock." Frank looks at him with a groan, "How tall am I?" 

"I'm just saying that it's there and it's a possibility."

"For your giant ass, yes." 

"Adrenaline allows us to do things we never thought we could do. I'm sure, given the right circumstances, you could climb the walls and escape. You could even train for it."

"Train for it?" Frank tilts his head, "Besides, as long as I have you… I don't need to worry about it. My big scary husband can rescue me."

"This is true," he replies, pulling Frank close. He kisses him lightly.

"I would like to point out that I was well behaved. One might even say, I was a good boy tonight…" Frank grins up at him, "Does that get me anything special?"

"Sure. Maybe ice cream?" 

"Oh, you're cute." Frank pokes his middle, "I can always go see if there's a cute girl in the bar who's interested."

"For Jack, of course."

"Oh, Jack doesn't need my help. Maybe I can bring a playmate back…you know to remind me what it's like to be a top again." Frank bites his lip, he can feel himself playing with fire. But then again, that's what he wants, to get burned. Or at least feel the sting, "Maybe you can play too. Or maybe not..." 

"Oh you are cruising for a bruising, aren't you," Brock smirks.

"I mean. I'm just looking for a little fun… if I get bruises, that's just a bonus." Frank raises his eyebrows and smiles wider, "How am I doing on that?" 

"Working on that nicely." 

"What else can I do to make it happen?" Frank hesitates. An evil idea pops in his head, it might cross a line but _it could be fun,_ "I mean, I think Gee is _alone_ on the third floor..." 

"Oh? What are you suggesting? Another peep show? Considering that didn't quite pan out the way you two wanted to, I'm not even sure that's a good idea."

"No peep shows. Maybe an active _participant_?" Frank suggests with a planned nonchalant shrug. He watches the number change to their floor from the corner of his eye. He feels a wave of relief as the doors chime open and light from their floor pours into the elevator. Frank steps out into the hallway and waits for Brock. His silence makes him second guess his choices.

Brock frowns at the suggestion. He's not too sure about that. Granted his and Gerard's relationship has improved and evolved over the last several months but he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable sharing. The break taught him a lot about his jealousy and even more about his control issues. As hard as it was, it broke the vicious circle that made him a bad partner. Perhaps they could compromise. "Active in what way?" 

Frank blinks at him. Well, this isn't how he expected it to go. He didn't want that. He was happy with Brock. "Nevermind..." He puts the key into their door and opens it for Brock. 

"Wait, why? You just said you were interested in it," he replies, entering the hotel room.

"I was trying to push buttons, my zen master husband." Frank closes the door once Brock is in the room. He shrugs his jacket off.

"Oh." Brock tosses his jacket onto the bed. Slowly he undoes the cuffs and buttons on his shirt, watching Frank. "To be clear, you aren't interested, truly, in having Gerard in the bedroom?"

He drapes his jacket over the back of the chair, "No interest. Not at all. It does concern me you were willing to compromise." Frank says loosening his tie and pulling it off.

"Concern? I thought you would be pleased." 

"I made an assumption and that's my bad," Frank says, putting his hands up before he goes back to unbuttoning his shirt.

"Why are you apologizing?" Brock frowns again. He sits on the bed, carefully toeing off his shoes. "Do you not want to have this discussion?" 

"No, I do. I was trying to get a rise out of you and you handled it better than I thought." 

"Or worse depending on how you look at it," Brock snickers.

"True. I was hoping for an inferno but I got a warm breeze instead." Frank glances up from his cuff. He grins at Brock, "I dunno what I gotta do, husband of mine." 

"Never thought I would be apologizing for my _lack_ of jealousy but here I am. I'm sorry," Brock smiles softly.

"You don't have to apologize, baby." Frank steps up and stands between Brock's knees, "It is a sign of improvement and trust. It's good." 

"As much as I liked you in that suit, I like you out of it more." Frank grins at him. He presses his lips to his husband's forehead, "Sorry for trying to be aggravating." 

He steps back and gives him a small nod before he shrugs the button-down shirt off and rests it on his jacket. He opens his backpack and hands Brock his sweatpants. He pulls out boxer briefs that have little otters on them. He drops them on the bed as he works on taking his belt off. He pauses what he's doing, he picks up his phone and glances at Brock. 

"Those are adorable," Brock comments, staring at the tiny otters.

"Thanks. They came in a four-pack of cute little animals." Frank grins wide. He picks out music to fill the quietness of their room. 

"Hmm… what are you wearing now?" He asks, picking up the otter underwear.

"Wouldn't you like to know…" Frank teases.

"But you are wearing some, yes? Not going commando?"

"I am. They are kinda sexy too." Frank smiles as he turns his back and leans against the dresser.

"Show me." 

Frank lowers his pants enough to show the sheer material of his underwear. He gives Brock a smile before covering the material back up with his pants.

"Very nice. Come here," Brock crooks his finger at Frank. He readjusts his position on the edge of the bed and looks up at his husband.

"Me?" Frank asks with a playful smile.

"No one else around. Come. Here." 

Hesitating for a moment, Frank takes the small steps towards Brock. He positions himself just in front of Brock's knees. He looks down at him with a soft smile, "Yes, sir?" Frank asks quietly. 

Brock's hands come up and unbutton Frank's pants again, lowering the zipper. He pushes the fabric down, slowly revealing the black sheer fabric, until the pants are pooled at Frank's feet. A thumb flexes out and rubs over the fabric, fascinated by the mesh. It was softer than he anticipated. Shifting his hands to grabbing both of Frankie's hips, he opens his knees up, pulls his husband in closer, and puts his mouth over the bulge. He blows heat at first, testing.

Frank exhales at the feeling of heat, his hips slightly push towards Brock. His fingers run through Brock's hair, "Do. Do you like them?" 

Instead of replying, he sucks, finding the mesh not so bad in his mouth. His tongue flattens and laps at Frank's cock. A small moan escapes.

Frank pants out Brock's name. The feeling of the soft mesh, the heat, and the wetness of his husband's mouth was amazing. His nails rake over Brock's scalp. Words can't express how amazing his husband is. He just wants to worship this man, the same way Brock worships him. 

Pulling away slightly, spit glistening on his lips and chin, he looks up at Frank. "I wanna see you come in these." 

"Ok." Frank nods eagerly. He runs his teeth over his lip, "How?" 

"You're going to ride my cock while wearing them," Brock responds with a husky voice. The tent in his pants that had been slowly growing now hardens quickly at the idea. The moment he saw the sheer fabric, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Yes, sir." Frank nods. He leans down and kisses Brock. How exactly he is going to ride Brock with undies on is going to be interesting, "I think you're a little overdressed for the situation." 

"Then perhaps you should fix that, my love." Brock screws up his face at the change in songs, suddenly finding his brain focused on it. "And maybe change the music." 

"What's wrong with the music?" His hands rest momentarily on Brock's shoulder before he pushes the button down off of him.

"It's distracting me from you," he murmurs.

He gives Brock a soft smile. "Any requests?" 

Brock shrugs, "Something soft and quieter? Opera isn't exactly sexy music, I suppose. It's background noise. It needs to stay that way, and this… didn't for me."

Frank steps away from Brock. He picks his phone up and finds the exact thing requested. He isn't going to play classical. Maybe if he is lucky he can get his husband to branch out a little more. Experimenting with something different, he picks lofi, soft beats with no words. "I made that playlist with you in mind, sir," Frank speaks quietly. 

He returns to Brock, a soft hand tilts his love's chin to him, he kisses him deeper. He pulls back, "Stand up." 

Chuckling deep, he pushes himself to stand. "Was that an order, _tesoro_?" He's teasing, of course. He kisses him.

"Yes, it is." Frank grins back. His fingers work to unbuckle his belt.

Chuckling softly, Brock pulls off his white undershirt and tosses it someplace in the direction behind Frank. He runs his fingers through his husband's hair. He smiles, feeling love, and adoration rise in him. "I love you." 

Frank tilts his head up and smiles, "I love you more!" He pulls the belt from the loops of the pants before he unbuttons them. He presses his lips to Brock's chest, in careful, soft kisses. 

"I love you most," Brock murmurs with a smile.

Frank pushes his husband's pants to the floor. He places kisses down his chest until he is face to face with Brock's cloth-covered cock. His fingers curl into the elastic band and pull until it reveals that perfect and glorious cock. He can't help himself when he leans in a little to run the tip of his tongue over the head of his cock, just for a little taste.

"Love you to the moon and back." He rises a little and kisses Brock's low belly.

A soft groan escapes and he pulls Frankie up and into a hard and deep kiss, one hand gripping hard on a hip and the other grasping the back of his head, holding him close.

Frank moans into the kiss. His fingers pressing into Brock's chest. He pulls back slightly to catch his breath. He lightly pushes Brock back to the bed and crawls into his lap, continuing to kiss him.

Frank grinds into Brock. The feeling of the damp mesh rubbing against his own skin and the heat from Brock's body sends goosebumps all over his skin. He lets out a little whine against his husband's lips, "Prep me?" 

"Grab the lube," Brock murmurs.

Frank kisses him again, this time capturing Brock's lower lip and pulling slightly as he slides off his lap. He grins wide at his husband before heading to his bag and pulling out the bottle of lube. He returns to Brock and puts the black bottle in his hand, "How do you want me?" Frank sits beside Brock on the bed, he leans in and kisses his husband's neck and throat before kissing across his chest. His hand roams across his skin, raking nails carefully in strategic places like his sides.

"Wait," Brock moans out, loving the attention he was getting from his husband. He kisses Frank deeply before moving himself carefully so that he's laying down on his back. Once he's comfortable, he motions for Frank to join him. "Straddle and lie down." 

Frank tilts his head slightly and nods. He carefully crawls onto Brock's lap and lies on him, facing that beautiful face. He cups Brock's cheek as he leans up to kiss him.

Capturing his lips, Brock runs his hands over Frank's back and ass, before grabbing two handfuls of ass cheeks. He doesn't break the kiss as he grabs the lube and coats his fingers. He does pull away to kiss and nip at Frank's neck at the same time that he pulls the sheer underwear to the side, running little circles over his love's hole. He slips in two fingers.

"Oh fuck yes," Frank moans softly as he pushes down onto Brock's fingers. One hand rests on Brock's chest while the other is buried in Brock's hair. His mouth finds his way to his husband's shoulder from his neck. He kisses first then bites down, he doesn't want to break the skin but maybe leave a mark, pulling his teeth back he chooses to suck on the spot. 

Brock moans loud, fingers pumping in and out of Frank's tight ass. He twists the digits, stretching him. Finger fucking him as hard as the angle will allow. "Love your gorgeous fuckin' ass. Love how tight you are for me." He growls in Frank's ear, "Be thankful for what little prep I'm giving you. Whores don't deserve to be stretched. I wanna make sure you _feel_ my cock."

"Oh god! Fuck Brock!" Frank arches his back, "I– oh fuck. I wanna feel you." His moan melts into a groan with the feeling of Brock twisting his fingers.

Withdrawing his fingers and kissing away the whine that escapes from Frank, he blindly manages to squirt lube on his cock, giving himself several strokes and lining up. "Push back. Take me." 

Frank sits up then eases himself back down into Brock's cock. With a heavy moan, his head rocks back slightly and allows himself to tighten and release his muscles around the welcomed intrusion. His fingers press into Brock's stomach. He adjusts his position on his knees and slowly rises and falls, "You feel so good in me." His voice deepens a little as he leans in, "How do little whores like me deserve to be treated?"

"Hard. Rough. Should spank you. Gag you. Hurt you," Brock groans out.

"Please! Oh, fuck please rough me up… I'm a bad little whore." Frank begs as he rises. He whimpers as the undies slide into place and rub him slightly. His hand goes back and pulls them to the side more.

"Fuck," Brock snarls. He, too, can feel the underwear protesting the movement. "Want me to hold them?" 

"Or… fucking shred 'em." Frank pants out as he tries to get a rhythm started, "Whores don't get to keep nice things." 

With a groan, Brock pulls out, letting the underwear snap back into place. Taking two equal handfuls of the fabric, he rips the entire backside, leaving plenty of space for Frank to bounce on his cock and still wear the underwear.

"Thank you, baby." Frank moans out. He leans back slightly, grabbing hold of Brock and easing him back inside of him. He lets out a moan and sits all the way down. The way he feels with Brock buried deep in his was one of his favorites. He arches his back slightly, he grabs Brock's wrists and places his husband's hand on his hips. He just needs to get started and Brock can do what he wants to him. Quickly, rising and falling on his perfect husband’s dick, he leans forward slightly before he finds the right pace. He lets out another moan and grins at Brock.

"That's right baby, bounce on my fucking cock. Take it. Take it like a fuckin' champ. Work those hips." Brock chants out, moans falling freely from his lips. 

Frank keeps going, he's working as fast as he can. He can feel it building inside of his body. That delicious tension that rests in his low belly, "Fuck your cock feels so good… " He can feel the beginning of his thighs burning. This is why he hates being on top, deciding that he wants to make Brock come quicker, he changes his position and works as fast as he can, pushing against all the burn in his muscles.

Brock's fingers tighten harder into Frankie's flesh. While he can't thrust up, he can help and pull Frank down, taking some of the brunt of the weight. The sight of Frank's dick smearing precum into the sheer fabric from all of the bouncing is intoxicating to him.

Frank glances back and pays careful attention to where he rests his hands on Brock's thighs. Using his husband's limbs he gets a little leverage and works faster. He moans out Brock's name louder as he feels his orgasm coming fast. "Fuck. Baby. I'm gonna. Soon!" He bites his lip hard as his fingers dig into Brock's skin.

"Fuck yeah, do it. Cum for me. Soak those fucking panties for me, baby. Wanna watch you cum," Brock growls. He's fighting his orgasm. A gasp and another moan follow as his hips unconsciously arch and roll as he nears his peak.

Frank groans as he works faster, rising, and falling. The feeling of Brock's hands holding on tight and pushing him down adds the need to come. He wants to make Brock come. He can feel buzzing inside of him reaching a fevered pitch, he moans in response to Brock as he starts to lose the pace a little. Jerking forward slightly as he falls on to Brock's cock. He gasps in as his head falls back, everything crumbles. He comes and moans, "Fuck daddy come in me! Please!" 

Brock's eyes widen at the name. He doesn't have the time to even think about it. Instead, his focus is laser pointed on the sight of Frank coming into the mesh fabric, filling and soaking it. It was a sight he was sure was going to be ingrained forever in his brain. A bead of cum slips through the mesh and drips onto his skin. It's enough to send him over the edge, head tipping back and crying out Frankie's name. Waves of pleasure course through him until they fade to ripples. He moans long and drawn out, "Oh fuck!" 

Frank sits still on top of Brock, enjoying the feeling of Brock's hips push slightly into him. "I love you, Brock." A rush of warmth in his cheeks at the feeling of the wet mesh against his skin. He drops his head a little and meets his eyes with Brock as he bites his lip.

"I love you, too, baby. So fucking much. So good for me," Brock pants out, chest heaving from exertion. "God, you're so fucking perfect." 

"Did I hurt your leg?" Frank glances back at his husband's thigh. He carefully lets Brock slide out of him. Folding over Brock's chest, he leans up and kisses his perfect lips.

Shaking his head, Brock replies, "I don't think so. I'll know after the adrenaline runs out." 

"Fuck. I can't get enough of you." Frank says softly as he shifts his weight to one side. He's not sure if Brock wants him on top of him or not. He's hoping Brock didn't fully hear the daddy slip.

"Me either, baby. Need you so much. Love you." Brock smiles up at him before sweeping a finger through Frank's cum puddle and licking it. A soft moan escapes.

"Surprised I still have them on," Frank teases a little as he watches Brock's mouth.

"My brain and body are still mush from the mind-blowing orgasm you just gave me. Sorry I ripped them. It's a shame. These are fucking perfect." Brock sighs, content. Frank's right though, they are already ruined, so he goes ahead and rips the rest of the underwear off his husband. Using the dry spots to carefully wipe Frank down. Had he had the presence of mind to shred them earlier, he would have sucked them clean while the cum was still hot and fresh. He couldn't stand it cold. He tosses them to the floor just because he can and gently tugs on his husband for cuddles.

"It's a good thing I have them in several other colors. I accidentally bought thongs too." Frank smirks. He cuddles closer to Brock, he presses his lips to Brock’s neck. "Thank you for being my date tonight." 

Frank quietly lies next to Brock. His fingers trace along his husband's ribs, "What do you think about taking a car home instead of flying?" 

"You know my thoughts on commercial flights. Any time I don't have to fly on a public plane makes me happy. Mini road trip sounds fun. Just the two of us?" Brock pulls Frank closer, enjoying the warmth.

"Okay! It will be fun!" Frank tilts his head up at Brock, "Jack flies with the boys as a bodyguard?" 

"Good idea. Someone's gotta keep them under control," he chuckles.

"Especially that Ray. He's trouble." Frank giggles at the idea of Ray being anything besides joyful.

Nodding, he chuckles softly. "He's a sneaky one. It's carefully hidden behind his Floof and bubbly personality. Baby Floof is going to be such a handful thanks to his troublemaker of a dad."

"That is true. Mommy and daddy are in for trouble." Frank grins up at him.

"Speaking of _daddies_ ," Brock purrs low and rich. "Is there something you wanna tell me, baby?" 

Frank's eyes widen slightly and quickly drop. He actually heard it, well shit. He laughs nervously, "No..." He buries his nose into Brock's chest, "What are you _talking_ about?"

"Oh I dunno, maybe…. you calling me _daddy_ when you came? Makes sense though since I call you baby often but I don't recall you ever finding that kink enjoyable. Maybe you need to rethink some things, yeah?"

"I don't! It just _came_ out..." Frank murmurs into Brock's skin, "I don't have a daddy kink. Sometimes… it pops in my head." 

"Oh, so this happens often then? And you still don't think you have daddy kink?"

"I don't…" Frank looks up at him. He didn't, right? Oh god, what if he does? He blinks at his husband. Is that going to change things? He's an idiot, why can't he keep his mouth shut.

"You don't sound so sure about that, sweetheart. Sounds like this is something we need to talk about. Figure out what's going on in that pretty little head of yours," Brock says softly.

"Okay." Frank says quietly, "I'm sorry." He tries to scoot down a little, he wants to shrink more. 

"Wait. Why are you apologizing?" Brock asks lightly and with a little playful grin.

"I made it weird." He whispers.

"Only for yourself, baby. Do I look bothered?" Brock grins again before answering his question, "No. I'm not." 

His eyes look up at Brock's. "You sure? I didn't mean to say it out loud. I know you don't like it, it feels weird."

"Just because it's not my kink doesn't mean it can't be yours."

"I feel like I have too many..." Frank says softly. 

"Really? Name them."

"What? Name them? Like...right now?" Frank lifts his head.

"Sure. Since you think you have so many. Tell me," Brock says lightly.

Frank wrinkles his forehead as he opens his mouth slowly, "I mean, starting off light. I like to be spanked, choked, tickled, bitten." He pauses, "Restrained, watched. Apparently a daddy thing." 

"Okay, now how many of those are because they are also my kinks?" Brock smiles, his point slowly coming across.

"Brock. In the beginning, we talked about this and it made you uncomfortable." Frank runs fingers over his husband's skin, "I don't want to make you more uncomfortable." 

"Yeah, I get that. Daddy kink has a wide umbrella of shit and there's plenty I'm not interested in. For example, DDlb. I love babies, I do. But I'm not going to sexualize it and I'm not going to infantilize you either. Just because I call you baby, doesn't mean I'm going to diaper you or treat you as such either. Age regression is a therapy I learned from Sam and I would never make fun of or sexualize that either. You calling me daddy in bed isn't that bad. It's your kink and I'm not going to shame you for it. I'm not nor will I ever be a sugar daddy again. That's a hard limit for me and I would break all of my vows and divorce if you were playing me." Brock's voice lowers, "I will never be used again."

Frank sits up. His forehead wrinkles as he looks at Brock, he doesn't know the right words to say. He wants to apologize, again. He wants to protest and remind Brock that he wasn't like that. He has never cared about money. He could feel the heat rising from the back of his neck, "I know." 

"Not saying you are and I know you aren't like that. I'm just vocalizing my stance on that particular type of kink. My point before I got off on a tangent was that while it's not something I would get off to, there's plenty of other things that would. If it works for you, then so be it."

"Ok," Frank nods. Head full of swarming bees and leans down and pecks Brock, "I have to pee." 

"Is this another kink of yours?" Brock grins, "Am I supposed to pin you down and you soak the bed, or is this the thing where you wanna go on me? Because I am not about to be pissed on."

"You're a pretty idiot." Frank shakes his head, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back." He slips off the bed and grabs his phone.

"Oh, you've got your phone. That means you aren't really going to go pee," Brock grins. He snickers, "Remember to flush halfway through. Smelling shit ruins the fun."

"I'm texting Jack and seeing if he wants a bunkmate," Frank grumbles. 

Brock's grin fades rapidly. He was joking. Teasing Frankie was fun but he didn't mean anything bad from it. His phone vibrates and he glances at it, ignoring it in favor of focusing on his husband. He probably crossed a line when he was talking about being a sugar daddy. He inwardly grimaces, kicking himself for his poor choice in wording. "Frankie. I'm sorry." 

"Answer your phone, asshat." Frank's voice calls from the bathroom.

Sighing, he grabs the device and reads the text message. It's from Frank?

_Frank: I will pee in your shoes._

_Frank: and shred the drapes._

Brock throws his head back and laughs, long and loud. All of his worry about the conversation is washed away. He has to force himself to calm down a little just to be able to type back a response.

_Brock: Don't make me spray you with water, bad kitty._

"You'd have to catch me first, old man." Frank calls out, "I'm still faster than you." 

Frank pees, flushes, and washes his hands. He pulls up his phone and checks his bank account and sighs, he's got a little money there. Maybe Brock doesn't trust him and that's why he mentioned being a sugar daddy. Fuck, he shouldn't have said a fucking word. He is an idiot, "Hey. B. I'm uh, gonna shower." 

"Without me? Okay. I see how it is." Brock calls to him before texting him.

_Brock_ : _Seriously though, I'm sorry if I upset you. I love you more than meatballs and babies and all the stars._

"Get your cute butt in here if you want to shower. You're not that much of a cripple." Frank calls back. He reads Brock's words. He sets the phone on the counter.

"Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" laughs Brock. It does take him a little bit to sit up and make his way to the bathroom though.

He stands at the bathroom door and smiles at Brock, "About time you made it here, hop along." 

"Oh come on, give me some credit. I'm a whole five seconds faster now," Brock chuckles, setting his cane against the cabinet. 

"True. You are quite the speed racer." Frank grins as he steps back to the shower, "Come on, punkin butt." 

"I'm coming. Hold yer horses. I ain't as young as I used to be," Brock says in his best old and decrepit voice.

"I really shouldn't be dating such an old man… it's gross." Frank smiles wide before biting his lower lip as he steps into the shower, "Careful of the edge, please." 

"The moment I call you whippersnapper, shoot me. Okay, baby?" Brock snorts as he carefully follows Frank into the bath.

"No, I'll just put you in a nice home upstate." Frank offers his hands to Brock.

"Don't you fucking dare," he warns, lightly. "I'd rather die than be in one of those shit-holes. No, you can just ship me off to my parent's house. Or in a tin box. I don't wanna be old and decrepit. Just old."

"You're not gonna get that bad. I won't let you, love." Frank says softly.

"Good. I'd like to keep what little pride I have left," Brock sniffs a little haughtily before grinning. He wraps his arms around his love and kisses him.

Frank leans into Brock and kisses him back. "Love you." His hand reaches back and turns the water on, "You know… I'm not a gold digger right?" 

Brock has the grace to look sheepish. His shoulders slump. He knew he crossed a line. "Yes, I know that. I trust you with my life; my everything. I didn't mean to actually imply that you were. I'm sorry. My intention was only to prove how much of a hard no that is for me, even in roleplay. It came out wrong and I'm very sorry, Frank."

"It's okay. I just never want you to _actually_ feel that way about me."

"I have never. In fact, I encourage it a little. I want you to feel comfortable about the upgrade in economical status. I want you to go out and tell me you happily spent thousands of dollars on something. I want you to buy nice things and not have to ever worry about the total. I want you to have the same freedom and joy that you have when playing music as you do when shopping or something. I want those things because I love you and love seeing you happy. I encourage that because I know you aren't in this for the financial freedom, but for _me_. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have added you to the joint account. I was careless with my words."

"I love you and I'm sorry I let it bother me. I also won't be diving down any daddy rabbit holes any time soon." Frank leans up and kisses Brock, "I'll never buy anything crazy expensive… a thousand dollars? You're outta your mind, Mr. Rumlow."

"Okay. Though, honestly, I kinda encourage it, with the way I talk. I'm really not surprised this came up." Brock purses his lips together in thought. "Case in point: I said thousands. Plural. I gotta take care of my best _boy_."

"Oh no. No. No." Frank smirks, "I'm a cheap date, like three fifty and I'm happy. And I like that you call me baby. I blame porn for the daddy coming out of me." 

"Three thousand is cheap when we have over one hundred billion dollars in the bank. Three dollars is like a speck of dust. Just you wait. One of these days I'm going to change your perspective." 

"I hope not."

"Okay fair. I don't want you so far on the other end of the spectrum either. Maybe somewhere in the middle." Brock smiles at him. 

"What you don't want me to eat top ramen and drink two-dollar beer in my holey thrift store pants?" Frank teases.

"God no. At least be somewhat posh." 

"Ha! Me. This. Posh?" Frank laughs and steps back. He waves a hand down his body, pale and covered in tattoos, "I'm still thinking of getting a tan before the wedding, if not Italy."

He picks up the shampoo and hands it to Brock after taking some for himself.

"I like you just the way you are, love. Perfect." 

After he lathers up, "I know you do. Skinny and pale." 

"You know me so well," he chuckles in reply. He washes and scrubs his hair, lost in the mental musings of his mind. Something occurs to him and he finds himself questioning, "You ever pee in the shower?" 

"What?" 

"What? It's a question." Brock keeps his voice cool and level.

"I mean, I have before…," Frank glances down and checks that Brock isn't in fact peeing, then looks up to his husband's face, "Why?" 

"Just… toying with an idea." 

"I'm not… I'm not into golden showers Brock." Frank prays in the back of his mind that Brock isn't either.

"I'm not either," Brock says dismissively, turning to rinse. "That's not what interests me. Or what I think might." 

"I'm not following, Brock." He tilts his head to the side.

Brock isn't sure if he should say something now or work out what he is thinking and feeling first. He frowns hard. This never interested him before and it's more than a little unnerving. He has an idea and one that whispers all sorts of sordid things in his mind. Then there was the fact that Frank made his stance on the subject perfectly clear. If he was developing a new kink, it was something probably best saved for lonely nights and porn. 

"Can you please clue me in? I'm curious." He tilts his head to the side. 

His face flushes as he grabs for the soap, purposely not looking at Frank. He's not sure how to respond. There are so many things he could start with and he's not sure which one would end in the least amount of discomfort.

"Do you want to… pee on me?" Frank asks softly.

"No. That's. No that falls under the shower aspect. No." Brock swears his face mimics Frank's when his love is under duress. He can feel the heat burn his skin and it's not from the shower.

"Just not my face, please." Frank says with a nod, "Okay?" 

"Not doing that. Promise." He clears his throat. "How long, uh, how long can you hold it?" 

"I don't know. An hour maybe?" Frank answers even more curiously, "What are you thinking, baby?" 

"You. Squirming. That maybe next time you have to go, maybe you _don't_. Maybe you wait until you can't get still. Maybe I follow you into the bathroom and pin you to the wall and make you wait some more, pushing and moving against my dick. Begging me to let you go. Tickle sex is fucking hot but you all needy and flushed and desperate is–" Brock cuts himself off as a little moan escapes at the idea. He didn't care about the piss itself so much as what it would naturally do to Frank. Another image enters his head, one where Frank soaks his underwear in a different way and Brock finds that image is hot too. Again it wasn't the source that interested him– he much preferred Frankie to cum soak his panties, but it was the look it produced. He liked wet underwear. Plain and simple. He liked that Frank was the one soaking his pants, versus a spilled drink in his lap. Brain hurting, he focuses back on the image of him forcing Frank to hold and squirm until he doesn't and Brock fucks him in the shower.

Frank leans up and wipes away the lathered shampoo from Brock’s forehead before it falls in his pretty brown eyes, "Ok. We can. Maybe, let's do this at home to start?" 

"Also, let's try this when I can't overpower you. Cause I could right now… I think." Frank adds. 

Brock isn't sure he heard correctly, having been lost in his head for a moment. "Huh? You're agreeing to this? I mean, you said that was a no."

"I mean… there's an _umbrella_ to golden showers." Frank smirks as he plays back on Brock's words from before, "I will try anything once. Except having my face peed on. That's a no. Flat and hard no."

"I'm not even truly interested in the piss itself, so you'll be fine. I don't have a pee fetish," Brock says firmly. "But I do have a squirming fetish. And it never occurred to me until earlier that this would produce the same results as tickle sex. But with more shame and humiliation. Kinda like the first time you soaked your little panties for me all over my car just from spanking you. Wish I'd fucked you right then and there. Might do it again. Recreate it."

"The whole thing, kidnapping and all?" Frank grins at him. He's always game for anything with this man.

"If you want. Or as we are driving back home one night, I just pull over and drag you out of the car. Spank you until you cum. Want a mirror this time. Wanna watch you get off. Maybe I won't touch you for days leading up to it though. Make you edged and overly full. Maybe you'll cum so much you soak through your underwear and wet your pants. And then I'll lick you clean until you'll blow again."

"I'm game." Frank says with a wide smile, "You know I love being spanked." 

"And I love it that you cum from it. Love it even more when you're clothed. I'm buying you more of those sheer underwear, by the way. I'm gonna get you to ruin them all for me."

"I like the sound of that." Frank replies while rinsing his hair, "Remember bowling night? The toy? Would you… wanna–"

"Yes. Fuck yes."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere less noisy? Up the challenge?" Frank scrunches his nose, not quite the word he was looking for.

"Yes. And with more people. All strangers though. Maybe take you on a walk. Or maybe I let you be noisy and squirm and beg. I like hearing you sometimes. I bet I can find a charity ball for us to attend. See how many times you can cream yourself before we write them a check and leave so I can fuck you." All of this talk about fantasies was starting to have an effect on Brock. He could feel his body warm a little. Some of his blood runs south but it's nothing to focus on. He carefully steps out of the shower, leaving Frankie to turn off the water. He grabs their towels.

"Okay..." he watches him exit.

"And you said you'd never make a big purchase over a thousand," he teases, handing Frankie his towel before beginning to dry himself.

"Oh, there should be a price limit." Frank points out, "Big spender."

"Boss." He gives Frank a smirking look and a wink.

"I don't trust that tone of voice, Rumlow." Frank sighs, "Can it benefit like animals at least?" 

"Any charity you want, baby." 

He steps out of the bathroom. He steps to the chair and collects the otter underwear. He pulls them on and sits on the bed, "I'm excited for the road trip home." 

"Me too. Though, I'm just happy to be leaving Canada. It's too cold here," he replies, joining Frank on the bed, naked. He's going commando tonight.

"It's not _that_ bad, my love." 

"To you maybe," he grumbles. He slides back under the covers. His leg aches. Thankfully the road trip wasn't too long of a drive. Still, he'll have to stretch and walk every few hours. He's been restless since he got shot. Every position bothers him after a few hours. Even when sleeping, unless he was taking his newest drug, a prescription for muscle spasms which calmed the nerves and made him pass out hard. He was appreciative after a particularly nasty week in which he and Frank had hardly slept. They had short fuses then. Dr. Choi came over and did a check-up before giving him the new pills. He'd been able to sleep every night since.

"You know, Jack is from Italy too… he seems fine." 

"It's the German blood in him. Keeps him primed for another tundra wasteland the next time he wants to invade Russia. Or the other way around."

"You are ridiculous. Adorable but silly." Frank snuggles under the blankets. He kisses Brock's cheek and whispers, "I love you, husband." Frank cuddles close to Brock, listening to his heartbeat to pull him to sleep.


	32. The Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Frank drive from Canada to New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a mild non-con scene in this chapter and new kinks are introduced. Please read the updated tags before continuing. We don't want you to stop reading simply for this and so at the risk of spoiling, I will say that things are worked out between Frank and Brock. However, the kink remains, though it's not graphic. The story is almost over and part two is in the works so please don't be discouraged by the darkness that overshadows this and the next two chapters. This does have a happy ending, promise.

The Road Trip

Frank woke early. He lies in bed listening to his husband breathing for a while before deciding to get up and get dressed. He pulls his phone out and does a little research before he leaves a note for his husband. He presses soft lips to Brock's forehead. After hopping a bus, he walks into the Enterprise rental place. The young man behind the counter looks him up and down, his face gives away the decision he's made about Frank. He's gotta start dressing more like Brock. Maybe people will stop automatically assuming he's a bum. He's wearing regular jeans and a band shirt with an actual jacket that his husband urged him to buy for crying out loud. 'You'll freeze to death. You're too small and hoodies aren't coats,' was the argument Brock made.

"We have some great economy and compact cars." The young man smiles at Frank.

"I need something with more room. I saw a Range Rover or BMW X7 out on the lot, it looked big enough. I'd like something like that." Frank speaks with a cool confidence that he'd listened to Brock use the same tone so many times, in both English and Italian. It always seemed so smooth and in control. It was one of his favorite things to imagine. Brocks in control, using that voice to make him do dirty things that he protests doing but in reality, is dying to do.

"Those are going to be more in cost." 

"I can afford it," Frank answers flatly with an unamused face.

"Okay. Color preference?" 

"Red," Frank says with a nod. The young man smiles wide. He takes Frank's information and payment; he uses his private bank account for this. After the car gets detailed and washed, he's handed the paperwork and keys. He gives the kid a smile before sliding behind the wheel. It was soft leather seats, which he wasn't a fan of but his husband surely would be. 

He rolls up to the hotel and sees Jack heading out of the doors, he slows in front of him and rolls the window down. The unhappy face quickly melts away to a smile at the recognition on Jack's face. "Hey sexy, how much for a good time?" 

"Who says I can be bought?" grins Jack, approaching the car. "Nice ride."

"Well, my husband is rich..." Frank snickers as he leans over. He hasn't gotten to spend much time with Jack since he had stayed at the house with them. He misses his favorite brother's company.

"Wanna ride?" Frank asks with a big smile.

"Actually I should be offering it to you," Jack snickers. "Since, you are the bottom."

"Oh yeah, true. Where you headed, big boy?" Frank asks after he tilts his head. He pulls his phone out and checks to see if his husband has woken up.

**"** Breakfast. Got a late start today. Again. I swear you two are turning me into a lazy bum."

"I mean, I can wake you up early. Honestly, I'm surprised we didn't keep you up late." Frank snorts, "When we get home, I need to start working out again if you wanna join me."

"Sure. Brock's doing physical therapy. We can work out at the same time. " 

"Perfect! I told him I was gonna get me some more muscles." Frank smirks, "What kinda breakfast are you thinking?" 

"Dunno. But I want to test out the local food. Maybe something with real maple." Jack leans against the car door. "Is Brock up? He joining us?" 

"I'm texting him." Frank smiles as he puts the car in park and turns the hazards on. He types out the message and sends it to Brock, "Why don't you hop in and get out of the cold?" 

_Frank: you awake, pooter?_

_Brock: yeah?_

_Frank: get dressed and come outside._

_Brock: Okay._

Twenty minutes later, Brock hobbles outside, breaking into a grin when he sees Jack and Frank in the shiny red car. He approaches, "Hey guys." 

"Thought you fell asleep again." Frank jokes, "Hop in handsome, let's get some food." 

"This is a nice car, Frankie," Brock comments as he slides into the backseat of the car. "Very nice choice." 

"I went in with the mindset of WWBD." Frank grins back at him, "I even channeled my inner Brock when they looked at me like I was homeless."

"Tiny hobo," Brock snickers. "You're so cute, baby."

"Thanks, I try. They kept trying to get me to take like a Honda. And while I am a Honda guy, my husband isn't. And you're a giant. Both of you." Frank realizes he is babbling.

"Yeah but at least I'm lean muscle," Jack protests lightly. "Not like Brock who's got some bulk still." 

"Bean pole," Brock says, poking Jack.

"Don't take this the wrong way baby but Jack would have been closer to my type than you." Frank smiles with a shrug, "It's why I thought you were going to do something bad like gay bash me, the first time we met."

"What? Really? Even after I was nice and tried to replace your ripped pants?" Brock frowns, "I'm a nice guy. Sometimes." 

"I figured when I touched your cock in your car that I was safe. I didn't think a guy like you would want me." Frank smiles, "Look, that place will have good food." Frank points to the sign that just reads diner.

"It doesn't even have a name. It's just Diner. That screams terrible horror flick from the 70s," Jack says, leaning over to look. "Invasion of the Body Snatchers. All of the X-Files."

"No! I have a theory. The plainer and less noticeable a place is the better the food. Or the smaller the space." Frank says with a laugh.

"Clearly you've never seen "Don't Torture A Duckling," Jack mumbles. 

"Why would you torture a duck?" Frank cries out, "I have not been wrong so far."

"It's a movie title from the 70s. It was big back home," Brock clarifies. "It didn't have actual ducklings in it."

"Do I wanna know what it's about?" Frank asks, sounding a little distressed, "Also, tell me where to go." 

"Small village. Torturing kids. Bad priest. Very dark movie." Jack says, "Horror thriller from hell. Here's fine. I was kidding about the horror flick aspect."

"Oh. Interesting." Frank says with a nod.

"Since I'm kinda being kidnapped, I'm game for anything but diners. I can't stand them," Brock comments.

"You married a man who lived on diner food and street coffee…" Frank looks back at him as he pulls away, "Point to a place, Princess and I'll stop." 

"Prince." Brock corrects. "I'll search for a spot. Just drive in some random direction."

While Frank drives, Brock pulls up a search of the best places to get breakfast near him and scrolls through the filters, removing the ones that looked like a diner. He comes up with several, picking one. "We're going to a place called Eggspectation, just because it sounds cool. And it serves American food as well."

Frank nods and heads in the direction and parks on the curb. He glances across the street and sees a white strange-looking van with the word _Courts_ written on it. He snorts as he gets out. He's not sure why it's funny but it is.

He watches Jack go into the building first as he stays with his husband, "How do you feel today?" He asks as his hand catches Brock's. He opens the door for Brock and lets him go in first.

"Not too bad. Slept okay. Already took my meds." Brock waits for Frank before grabbing his hand again.

"Good! I was worried I hurt you last night." Frank grins up at him, "You took _all_ of your meds?" 

They catch up to Jack and are led to a table. "Yes. All except the muscle relaxer, cause that's at night mostly."

"Good!" Frank pulls the chair out for Brock and makes sure he's comfortable before sitting. After a few minutes, a waitress approaches and smiles at the table but smiles wider at Frank. Her eyes light up as she opens her mouth to greet them, "Hi there! I'm your server Colette! What can we get started for you?!"

"Coffee." Frank gives her a half-smile. He's been recognized. A countdown starts in his head before she says something or someone else notices him.

"Same; milk and sugar," Jack says.

"Espresso, if you have it. Or cream and sugar," Brock adds.

"Awesome! I'll be back shortly." She grins before moving from the table to the back room.

Frank turns to his boys, "Place your bets, how long until she says something to me about the band?" 

Jack watches her leave and makes his educated guess. "I say after she takes our orders."

"After the meal. She'll use the card to verify it's actually him and not someone who looks like him," Brock says, smiling. "No one wants to be wrong and most people are polite enough to not be a bother."

"When she brings the drinks back before the order," Frank smirks. He loves how optimistic Brock is. He adores him for this.

"So, Brock and I are driving home. Can you fly with the boys, maybe possibly as a bodyguard?" Frank asks with a little smile and hopeful eyes.

"Sure," says Jack, nodding

"Awesome thank you!" Frank grins at him. His hand rests on Brock's leg and squeezes. The hand slides between his legs and rests there casually… on purpose.

"Yeah, no problem. I assume that's why you have the BMW?"

"Yeah. We got lucky on the flight in, I don't wanna risk it going home." Frank says softly. His fingers trace the seam of his pants.

"Sorry," Brock winces with a slight pull off his lips to the side. He's thankful he's driving back, to be honest, but he hates the idea that they have to accommodate him.

"Don't be." Frank smiles up at Brock, "I like driving, plus I can torture you with my music."

"I'll drive too. It's a long trip. Besides, I'd need to walk and stretch anyway. We can switch every few hours. And switch music," Brock grins impishly.

"I'm happy to fly and let you two fight over music choices. Keep me out of it," Jack chuckles.

"It's only 8 hours." Frank says with a nod, "And besides, we know the rules of the road… right?"

Jack raises an eyebrow, "Why do I not think it's actually driving rules?"

"Cause you're a smart man." 

"Then what do you mean, Frankie?" Brock asks with a slight head tilt.

"Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole." Frank gives his husband a smug smile. 

Brock blows a raspberry at Frank and grins. "Just you wait. You wanna be a jerk and blare death metal music loudly, fine. I'll find other ways to torture you, babe."

"You can't torture me." Frank says playfully puffing his chest up, "I'm bulletproof." 

"Bullshit," laughs Brock.

"Try me, Rumlow." Frank winks.

"You guys are like old married dudes. I love it. It's like primetime television," says Jack, looking over the menu.

"He likes to act tough. But he knows I'm right." Frank grins, "But I'm glad we're entertaining."

"Alright, we have a black coffee, tan and sweet coffee, and an espresso. Are we ready to order?" The waitress asks after placing each drink with each man.

"Uh, veggie omelet with wheat toast," Frank says with a nod.

Jack points at the menus, "The s'mores French toast. Add a side of strawberries."

Brock takes one last look while the waitress scribbles down his brother's order and makes a quick change in his food choice. "The all-time classics. I'll do the Belgian waffles. Extra syrup, please."

"Eggsellent… sorry… egg-based humor." She giggles before nodding and heading to the kitchen.

"Welp. Jack's out. And so are you, Frankie. I win. She's gonna ask after the meal," Brock grins smugly.

"She's gonna hug me," Frank says softly.

"Everybody hugs you. It's standard and because you are squishy cute," Brock says, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm not squishy," Frank says squeezing his husband's inner thigh.

"Just a little but I love it so it's okay. Makes for a soft pillow during cuddle time." He ignores the hand that has been dwelling on and near his dick. For now. He actually is rather enjoying it.

"She'll also ask about Gerard." Frank chooses to not fight about being squishy. 

"As the lead singer and the face of the band, that's a given." Brock leans over and kisses him lightly. "You're my favorite though." 

The waitress returns and crouches down by Frank, "It's entirely unprofessional but it's been killing me, is your name Frank Iero?"

"Yes." Frank smiles at her. Her eyes sparkle a little.

"I am a huge fan! It's a shame you guys lost last night." She grins wide, "Can I ask you something?" 

"Of course!" 

"Is Ray nice? He is my favorite and he just looks so happy." She beams up at Frank.

Frank looks to Brock. His favorite is Ray.

"He is. He's one of the most easy-going guys you'll ever meet. Total sweetheart. Wife and baby are pretty great too," Brock gushes.

"Really! That makes me so happy! Uh, Frank. Could I… could I get an autograph?" She grins at Frank.

"Of course! I don't have–" he's interrupted when she hands over her booklet and a pen, "Thanks!" 

_'To Collette, sweetest girl in Toronto. xO Frnk'_ , Frank scribbles on the paper and hands it back. She gives him a hug and thanks him and happily trots off.

Brock watches them too with a smile. It's so cute to see his hubby with fans. His brow furrows a little and he snickers softly. " _Tesoro_. You signed your name wrong. You missed a letter." 

"Babe, that's how I do my signature." Frank grins at him. 

"Why? What's wrong with the letter A?" 

"Nothing. I just… I don’t usually add it." Frank shrugs. His hand returns to Brock's lap.

"You're so weird. I love you," Brock smiles at him.

"I love you more, husband." Frank leans up and kisses him.

"I love you most, _tesoro_."

"You guys are sweeter than cream," Jack says, making a face.

"I love you mostest, _polpetto."_ Frank replies to Brock then turns to Jack, "I love you too, Jack-o-lantern." 

Jack sips his coffee, looking at Frank over the cup. "Love you, Frankincense." 

The food comes. Frank eyes Jack's plate then Brock's too. He looks over his food and frowns a little. It's boring compared to theirs. "How is that s’mores toast?" He asks. 

"Want some?" Jack offers. He wasn't expecting as much food as he received. He swipes a strawberry through some of the chocolate sauce and eats it. "Feel free to eat as much as you'd like, bärchen. Because I'm not going to finish this."

"Okay. Same policy here. Though, mines not as fun." Frank nods and smiles.

He hums and pushes his plate a little closer to his brother. "At least yours doesn't look like it will give someone instant diabetes."

Brock on the other hand is currently shoving a large chunk of fluffy waffle in his mouth, sporting bulging chipmunk cheeks. Syrup drips down his chin and he searches for a napkin, wiping it away. This is the best maple waffle he's ever had in his life. He can die happy now. He doesn’t give a shit he’ll be puking it up later. It was totally worth it.

Frank cuts a small piece off and nods at Jack before taking a bite. He moans quietly, "That's amazing." 

The meal is delicious and goes down quickly with light conversation mixed in. With empty plates and wide smiles, it leaves the men full, if not a little sugar high. Frank pulls his card out and pays for everything, tipping her a hundred dollars. He tucks his card into his wallet as quietly as possible without drawing attention.

"I need a nap," Brock bemoans.

"Well, we have a long drive ahead of us, lover," Frank says with a smile. 

"Good because I think I'm going into a sugar coma. It's totally worth it though. Never going to look at maple syrup the same again."

"You both ate enough of it, I think there's a dentist visit in your future." Frank laughs as he rises to his feet. He offers his hand to Brock.

Standing, he uses Frank's hand and the table for leverage before smooching him. "Thank you, baby. I'm giving you my sugar cooties." 

Frank grins up at him, "Ready, gents? Jackson has a flight to catch." 

"And Frankfort needs to deal with sugar baby Brock," Jack snickers. 

"I'm not a small furry animal," he protests.

"Oh, no, I wasn't referring to the animal." Jack grins wide, teeth barred like a shark. "A sugar-induced baby you. You'll go into a coma and fuss like a little baby. It's rather cute."

"Fuck you," Brock says without heat. He feels sleep pulling over his head. Sliding into the car, he yawns and buckles. 

"No thanks," Jack quips lightly, also getting in the car.

"You two. Play nice." Frank laughs as he pulls away from the curb.

\--

After saying their goodbyes, Frank gets behind the wheel and starts the car, he looks to his hubby, "Ready?" 

He heads down the parkway towards the border. He turns on a mix that has a little of everything, "I've never been to Niagara Falls." Frank comments as he sees the sign telling the mileage to it.

"We should go. That'd be fun. What do you think?" Brock turns to him, turning the mix down lower but not turning it off.

"Yeah! I think so too!" Frank grins at his husband, he offers his hand to Brock, "Wanna hold my hand?" 

"Do you even have to ask, darling?" Brock smiles as he takes Frank's hand and intertwines their fingers.

"You didn't mean it when you said the torture thing right?" Frank raises an eyebrow as he glances quickly at Brock.

"Guess you'll have to find out. Just remember that actions have consequences," he smirks.

"Like ' _teasing_ you in the restaurant' actions?" Frank asks, trying to not show emotions but failing.

"Little bit of that. Any form of torture. Plus whatever I feel like adding."

"Like… this," Frank says changing the song to a louder, heavier sound that is obvious nothing Brock would ever like.

Wincing, he throws his hands over his ears. "Yes! Shut it off!" 

"Louder? I know this is your favorite." Frank grins evilly as he turns the radio up.

Frank's evil grin is enough to make Brock reach a handout and slap at Frank, the dash, and the radio. Anything to shut out the loud noise.

Frank sings along and drums the steering wheel, "Don't be shy, lover!" He shouts to Brock.

"I hate you," he shouts only half-joking. He smacks Frank again on the chest and legs. "Turn it off." 

Frank laughs as the song ends, "Play it again?"

"Don't you dare or I will forcibly rip the keys out of the ignition," Brock warns.

"Marilyn Manson?" Frank replies before biting his tongue.

"Frank." He glares and plots his revenge the moment he takes the wheel.

"Okay… alright. Fine." He lets the next song play, something softer and very 70's. He knows the next song and he grins wide again.

"Why do you do this to me?" Brock asks, exasperated. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Cause I'm a bad little kitten." Frank replies, "And you love me for it."

"I do. And when we stop, I'm switching to drive and I'll make sure you pay." He grins. This road trip was going to test both their resolve and patience. And creativity.

"Bulletproof," Frank says following the road towards horseshoe falls, he turns up the music and sings along to the classic rock.

An hour later, they arrive at Niagara Falls. Frank gets out and helps Brock out, he hands the keys to his husband and takes his hand, "Get your gloves. It's chilly." 

"Cold and very wet," he replies as he shivers. 

"Thank god for heated seats." Frank nods as they make their way towards the natural wonder. The closer they get the cooler the air around them feels. Frank grips Brock's hand.

"Shit it's cold," Brock mutters, pressing close to Frank, seeking body heat. Walking towards the pier where an attendant was issuing orders in both French and English. Another passes out large raincoats to each passenger boarding a boat.

Once they find their spot, Frank turns to Brock and wraps his arms around his plastic-covered husband. "I'm glad you're cold," Frank says loud enough for Brock to hear.

"What? Jerk! Why?" Brock shivers and pulls Frank closer.

"Cause I get to cuddle you, more." Frank beams up at him. He rests his chin on Brock's chest.

"Okay good answer," he replies, kissing him. "How are you not freezing?" 

"Dunno. Maybe my heart is so full of love that I'm warm?" Frank says shrugging.

He snickers, "Weirdo. I love you." 

"I'm actually a little cold," Frank says softly. The boat moves them towards the falls, "We should go inside."

"And miss seeing the water up close? We can just cuddle closer. I don't want to lose my spot," says Brock, looking around at the crowded boat. Sure he's freezing but this was also a memory-making moment of importance. They can get a photo of them under the falls. It would be cute. It's worth it.

Frank nods and tightens his hold on Brock. The boat moves along getting its inhabitants wetter and wetter the closer they get to the falls. Frank pulls his phone out and hands it to Brock. His phone was less important than Brock, just in case it gets ruined, "It's ready to go." 

Taking the phone, Brock nudges Frank closer to the rails, leaning against it so they can snap a few selfies. He leans over and kisses Frank's cheek during the photo before pulling away and grinning wide. The boat slowly coats its way under the falls, water roaring loud in the cavernous tunnel. Brock presses harder up against Frank. He wonders if he could reach the water. He feels the spray seemingly soaking him through his coat and he shivers.

Frank shivers slightly and buries his nose in Brock's plastic-covered chest, "Shoulda done this in the summer." 

"It's Canada, baby. I don't think it gets much warmer up here but yes," Brock shivers. "We're almost done now. I think. Wanna go inside?" 

"When you are ready?" Frank says with a nod that was followed with chattering teeth.

"Yeah okay," Brock nods, moving them towards the inside of the boat.

The rest of the boat ride Frank clings to Brock. "I'm gonna have to change when we get back to the car," Frank says looking up at his husband. 

"Wet or cold?" 

"Both." Frank pauses, "You must be an icicle."

He nods, moving them to the back of the hutch and hunkering down in a corner. He wraps his arms around Frank, burying his nose into his neck. "Better?" 

"Mmhmm" Frank slips his hands under Brock's layers, his hands touching his back, "Thank you, _polpetto._ You take good care of me."

He squeaks at the ice at his back but deals, "You're welcome my love." 

As the boat ride concludes, Frank holds Brock's hand as they walk back to the car, quietly chatting about the waterfall. 

"Wonder if there are waterfalls near turtle island?" Frank asks. 

Brock grins, "That would be cool. We could go swimming. Cliff jumping into the water. Skinny dipping." 

"Fool around behind the waterfall…" Frank raises an eyebrow as a slow smile stretches his lips.

"Fuck in the water. We'd need water safe lube. And lots of it. We should practice first. To get the, uh, buoyancy right."

"Oh? Do you have an idea on where this practice is taking place?" Frank asks.

"Not at all. I'm just gonna wing it. I'll come up with something on the spot and you're just not gonna know until I do it." Brock grins cheekily. He unlocks the car.

"Oh, I like that idea." Frank pulls on his husband's shirt and kisses him, "Still gotta get those lube necklaces." 

"I'm not sure they make those but yeah. Come on, I get to pick the music now." Brock swats Frank on his ass.

Frank sits in the passenger seat. He buckles up and waits for whatever Brock has planned. "Gimme your worst lover." 

"Oh, I didn't say the music was the torture." Brock reaches over and plugs in his phone, pulling up a mix of classical and opera. The first song is an instrumental version of "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin.

Frank's head turns to his husband. He squints, "What are you gonna do?" He might actually be in trouble.

Brock grins, "Not telling. That ruins the surprise." He puts the car into drive and gets them back on the road.

"You're not gonna do anything." Frank snorts, "It's a mindfuck." He waits a bit before unbuckling, he turns on his knees and grabs his backpack. He pulls out clean and dry pants and socks from inside. He turns and sits on his butt. He unbuttons his jeans and wiggles the jeans off then slides legs into each pant leg. He lifts his hips to pull the jeans over his butt. He plops down and buckles again. 

"Comfy?" Brock asks, watching Frank change his clothing.

"Dry and better. Yes." Frank shifts his weight to one hip and leans in closer to Brock.

"Good. Let me know when you get too hot," he replies before turning on the heat. 

"Did you wanna pull over and change?" Frank asks.

"The heat will keep me warm while it dries. I'll be good, thank you. So. What did you think about seeing the Falls? Fun?"

"It was fun! We should do more spontaneous things like this!"

"I agree. Did we bring anything to drink? We're going to need it and snacks for the road."

"We should stop for some. I didn't think about it." Frank answers, putting his socked feet on the dash.

"Good idea. Anywhere else you wanna go on our trip?" 

"I dunno. Maybe if there are little touristy traps we could stop?" Frank suggests, "I've only traveled on a bus from Canada. So, this is new for me."

"I've never been to Canada because I despise the cold so we are in the same boat." Brock grins as he pulls into a gas station. "I'll top off and you grab drinks and snacks?" 

"Requests?"

"Maybe a Coke and plenty of water. We can share snacks. You know what I like, so get a variety." Brock parks and shuts off the vehicle, unbuckling.

"Chocolate, no granola." Frank chuckles. He leans over and kisses his cheek. Frank slips his shoes on and pads into the gas station. He picks up water, sodas, and a couple bags of chips, trail mix with m&ms, and cookies. He comes out and sits back down in the passenger seat.

Brock's already there, warm and toasty. He waits until Frank's seated before pulling away, letting him buckle as he drives. "Welcome back. Whatcha get?" 

"Coke, diet coke. Couple bottles of water. Trail mix, chips, and some cookies." Frank looks up at his husband with a huge grin, "What would you like first?" 

"Coke and… wanna split the chips?"

"Sure!" Frank pulls the coke out and loosens the cap and places it in the cupholder. He pulls water for himself, then splits open the chip back, upside down. He places it between them, "I can look up places to stop by if you want?" 

"Sure," Brock grins, snagging a chip and munching on it. He's having fun now that the car thermometer display reads a toasty 80°.

"Scenic route 20 is apparently really pretty. There are several small towns along the way. No real attractions." Frank looks up at Brock, "Mostly natural things. There is a castle." 

"That could be cool. Always wanted a castle. You wanna live in one? Could be our summer retreat."

"I mean, there are several castles for sale in Scotland… I'm cool with that." Frank grins wide. He takes a sip of water and pulls a chip out and crunches it quietly.

"Wait, really? You'd really be okay with having a castle in Scotland?"

"Yeah, absolutely!"

"Fuck yeah. Alright. We'll look into castles."

"Maybe we could make it a summer project and like renovate it?" Frank grins, "I think it could be fun!" 

"That sounds like fun. I'm on board with that." He takes another chip and pops it into his mouth.

"You'll actually be a prince… in a castle," Frank smirks.

"My villa is pretty big to be a castle? My kingdom is great," Brock grins wide.

"Everything the light touches is our kingdom..." Frank says, doing his best Mufasa impression, "I suppose I'll be the judge of that when I get to go there." He puts his feet on the dash again and munches on chips before taking a drink of water.

"You know, I can't believe I've never shown you pictures. You could Google it, of course. But I can show you pictures. Didja wanna see?"

"Yeah. I would love that. The only thing I know is your mom has a blue and white room and a _yellow_ room?" Frank says shifting in his seat.

"We have two floors, a basement, a cellar, twelve rooms, and seven baths. As well as a very healthy staff who live on the lower level including security, maids, and a chef." Brock hands him his phone, after opening up the photo album labeled "Home." 

Frank takes the phone and scrolls through the photos, occasionally pinching to zoom in. "You lived in a fairy tale," Frank says looking over at his husband.

"Being wealthy has plenty of perks. You'll get used to it. I took those mostly because Mom wanted to renovate a little. It failed. Miserably, I might add."

"Why did it fail?" Frank asks with a curious smile, "Please don't take this the wrong way but I don't know if I will ever get used to the money…"

Frank flips over and comes across an older man with dark hair with silver blended in sitting beside Brock. Frank glances at Brock then the photo then back to Brock. This man was handsome. Just looking at him, Frank knew he smelled like warm wood and leather or bourbon. He opens his mouth to say something but his real thought came out, "Hello daddy..." His hand covers his mouth.

"Yes?" Brock looks over at him and grins, choosing to play along for now. He's curious about what it is that's so interesting to Frank. He wants to help him explore this kink. Who knows. Maybe he'll find something he likes too.

"Is uh, this your dad?" Frank turns the phone to face Brock. His face is beet red.

"Oh. Yeah." He frowns. Does Frank have a crush on his dad?

"I see where you get your looks." Frank says softly, "You're much hotter though." 

He gets an idea before smiling. "Are you sure? He's more of a _daddy_ Daddy if you get my drift."

Frank takes another big swig of water. He realizes he's damn near finished the water bottle, "No. I'm sure you are hotter than him. He's like the first pancake."

"Then why are you beet red and all hot and bothered over calling him daddy? You seemed to like him right away. Is it the hair? The build?"

"Cause I'm trying not to think or say that…"

"That what? You think my dad is hot?"

"I didn't say he wasn't. I was talking about the word, ' _daddy'._ Again, he's the first pancake, turned out good but the second one is ALWAYS better." Frank reminds himself to keep cool, "Being called daddy isn't comfortable for you. So I'm not saying it." He playfully sticks his tongue out at his husband.

"I'm trying to work out what makes this kink, a kink for you. This is how we explore, _tesoro_."

"I mean, I don't even know. It was just a slip. But it's been in my head since day one." Frank says softly.

"That's not just a slip, baby. Not if it's been in your head this long."

"It doesn't come out." 

"Say it," he whispers, keeping his eyes on the road. He passes a sign signaling they were approaching the American border soon. 

"What? You want me to call you it?" Frank wrinkles his nose.

"Yes. And with every part of you that finds it hot. I want you to enjoy it. Say it."

"...Brock." 

"Trust me. I'm not going to be angry or upset in any way. Do what you have to do to get there but come on. Say it."

Frank stares at Brock's face. He sits upright and turns to face him, "Daddy." Frank's voice is softer than he planned.

"Okay. And how do you feel? Did you like that? What went through your head?"

"I shouldn't have said it in the first place. Don't bite your tongue off. You should bite your tongue off." Frank starts, "It felt like I was breaking a rule. But I did _kinda_ like it. Makes me think about last night."

He hums and chuckles, "I was thinking about last night too. Though, what I meant was more along the lines of what turns you on about saying it."

"I mean, it's a couple of things, I think. You're bigger than me. You're older than me. Those are things I find hot. I don't know, why do you call me baby?"

"Simply because it's a general term of endearment. It doesn't hold any sexual connotations for me. Much like darling or sweetheart."

"But here's the thing, I don't think of you as daddy outside of the bedroom." 

"I gathered that. That's what makes it a sexual kink. But that's good to know as well because I'm definitely not comfortable with that. This might be nothing or might be something. I'm willing to explore." Brock halts speaking for a moment, rolling the window down as he approaches the border. Passports and the car are checked and confirmed quickly before they are continued on their way.

"It comes out during the rougher or kink related sex. Like regular and romantic sex, it's not there." Frank has been thinking back as far as he could, "Which probably means nothing. I don't know. Maybe it's just the bratty part of me cause at one point you said you didn't really like it and I wanna get a rise out of you… I should just…" 

"Yeah, you do like to get a rise out of me. You like it rough and kinky. Like a good boy."

"Wish you'd get rougher sometimes," Frank mumbles. He pulls another chip from the bag. 

"How much more? Got ideas?" 

"Do you want a pen and paper?" Frank asks with a shit-eating grin, "You can be more forceful… well when you're back to the original form Brock. Don't be nice when you fuck me, every time. I want aggressive Brock. You have a secretish box, bust that out." 

"Put my ass in a collar if I sass you. Edge me then invite Jack over for drinks and card games…" Frank trails off as his head fills with ideas.

"Collar, huh? And you said you weren't into pet play," Brock teases. "And we tried orgasm delay. I can't do that. It hurts me to leave you like that. Your natural response isn't something I can live with. You withdraw too much."

"It's just ideas, but that's fair and I'm sorry." Frank unbuckles and pulls his hoodie off. He is too warm. 

"Don't apologize. We tried. I discovered a boundary for me. That isn't a bad thing. _I'm_ sorry that it's not something I can give you. The point I want to make is that we were both open to it and we tried. Most of the things we tried were successful. You discovered you like spanking. I discovered I don't like seeing you miserable. It's okay, no matter the outcome. We discover, we accept and we move on. Not a big deal."

Frank nods. He reaches down and pulls his diet coke. He cracks the window a little, "I just want to try anything with you." Frank speaks low. 

"And what about your needs? Your desires? You wanna try things with me? Fine. I wanna try the things you want." Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he glares at the window crack that was ruining his sauna happiness.

"What was that?!" Frank laughs, catching the little glare. He rolls the window up, "I got warm. My needs and desires? Well… I don't know. I am the happiest I have ever been." Frank shrugs.

"Well that makes me glad, baby. More than you know. I wanna do right by you."

"You do! I don't even know how to reciprocate it to you. I wanna worship you." Frank smiles as he shifts slightly. He rests his hand in Brock's lap. He's warm. Really warm. He takes a drink from his soda, "Do you need to stop and get out?" 

"No. I should be good for another hour or so. The Falls was a good stretch for me. Did you have someplace you wanted to see? Other than castles, I mean. Or are we going straight home?"

"I didn't see anything other than that. But it's on an island, I don't know if that changes things." Frank shrugs, "I am just enjoying the drive with you." 

"Good. So am I. This is fun. This was a good idea. Thank you, baby."

The car hits a pothole and rocks the car and forces Frank into the realization that he's finished a bottle of water and half his soda, he's gotta pee. He looks at Brock and bites his lip. His husband's coke was only half gone. He makes a little sound as he shifts. There's nothing for miles and the sun is setting. He's small, bears and wolves will take him away if he tries to pee in the woods on either side of the car.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brock notices a tiny shift in Frank's body and he inwardly cheers that his plan was working. He feels a thrill run through him when he hears Frank shift again in the seat. He realizes that he might actually have a new kink. 

Frank exhales and stares forward, "I was thinking that uh, I could have you help me uh, design my next tattoo." He needs something to keep him occupied. He's gotta pee.

"Really? Sure. That could be cool. As long as it's not a bear and nothing is near my Scorpio," Brock laughs. His fingers drum lightly at the next song. Reaching over, he takes a sip from his coke. "What did you have in mind?" 

"Is this… is this Ac/DC?" Frank blurts out. His head turns slowly to Brock.

Brock grabs his phone and double checks the artist from his playlist as a guitar strums out a steady beat. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's called Highway to Hell. Kinda fitting, considering we're on an open road. Not to hell though."

"Brock, have you not heard the song before?"

"No. In fact, I haven't heard most of the instrumentals on my playlist. I just picked a bunch that sounded like you would them and then found the instrumental versions and downloaded that. I figured it was a good compromise."

"Oh, my innocent newborn deer." Frank pauses, "Can I look?"

"Sure." He nods at his phone where it's resting next to his Coke. 

Frank picks up the phone, "Do you know who Aerosmith is?" 

"I mean, I've heard of the band name. Quite a few of them on that list, actually. These are top hits of the rock genre and I remember how popular these guys were back then, " he replies, looking at Frankie for several moments before darting his eyes back to the road. 

"Rage against the machine… lover, you would hide worse than Rob Zombie." Frank smirks, "I love you so much for this." 

He leans up and kisses his cheek and feels the return of his need to pee. He whimpers slightly.

' _Think about sex. Think about sex…'_ he tells himself.

"You alright, baby?" Brock asks, even though he already knows the answer. 

"I kinda have to pee." He says softly.

"Oh. Well, we're nearly to the next pit stop, I think. You should be alright to hold it? Right?"

"Yeah, I should be fine until we get there." Frank says softly, "Are you gonna be okay to drive at night?"

"I got shot. I'm not blind," Brock laughs. "I'll be good until my leg starts to hurt, then we'll switch. You can't have my seat just yet!"

"Ok." Frank nods, "Watch out for deer." 

Frank stares out the window and listens to the instrumentals for Crazy train. He tries to breathe and focus on anything other than his need. Absentmindedly, he picks up his soda and takes a drink before groaning at the realization of what he's done. Frank shifts again, he tries to roll the window down but it won't budge. He shoots a look at Brock.

As they round a curve, the road runs from the smooth, black tar of recently paved look to the faded and rocky one of old wear and tear. The tire manages to find a small hole in the concrete and Brock gets a wicked idea. He speeds up, hitting the largest holes and the deepest bumps hard.

"Fuck." Frank whimpers. He shifts on the seat and pushes his knees together. He hums the song and tries to think about anything else, "How much longer?" 

Before his husband can answer, Frank watches the rest stop pass them by with no lights on. He groans out as he shifts in the seat. 

Frank gets lost in his head. He thinks about what he would want in bed from Brock. Tied down. Gagged. Maybe have his senses taken away. No sight or sound and Brock does what he wants to him. His mind wanders away from sex to Italy. What is it going to be like going there? Is he going to be respected or are people going to mock him for being a stupid American? What if the influence in Italy makes Brock second guess his relationship with him? A pothole forces him back to reality.

He shifts on his hips, his knees hurt from being forced together. He's gotta pee. He's desperate, somehow time is moving slower, "Brock… will you please pull over and let me pee. Like, come out with your gun just in case a bear or something tries to eat me you can shoot it?"

"No."

"Well, can you just pull over and let me pee while you stay in the car, please?" Frank begs as he shifts his hips again. 

"No." Brock wants to palm his raging hard cock so much but he refrains. The tight fabric of his pants kept him from hardening fully but it didn't matter to him, even though it was starting to hurt from the restriction. What matters is that Frankie was desperate and squirming oh so deliciously. It made his mouth dry and his palms sweat. His original plan was slowly changing with all of the different ways this could play out. Fantasy after fantasy plays in his head and with each passing mile, he's finding it harder to focus on the road.

"Why?" Frank asks, a little desperate. He stares at Brock as he shifts again.

Brock contemplates his answer. His original plan involved pushing Frankie's body to its limit before pulling over and letting him go, then fucking him against the car. But now. Now thoughts of not stopping and maybe dragging him into his lap and fucking him in the car entered his head. Stopping meant Frankie could bolt out and relieve himself before Brock could even turn off the ignition and he's not entirely sure he wants that anymore. The desire to make Frankie _lose_ against his need makes him hot and his cock harder. He can imagine it, time would be Frank's enemy and he would wiggle and squirm while Brock wishes he could feel that in his lap until eventually his love would turn the darkest, sexiest shade of red from embarrassment and humiliation and fuck if that doesn't turn him on too. He'd watch and enjoy the moment Frank's body wins against his will and then fuck him hard after. He might order him to stay in the car and then use his body to trap him against the car, finally feeling his boy's natural fight or flight response that tickle sex could only imitate. Frank would panic, desperate to not wet himself. He might do that. He might take mercy and do the same scenario in which Brock's hand reaches down and presses on Frank's bladder just to make him panic again before letting him run to a tree. Or he might not. Maybe Frank will be soaking his pants instead. Snapping back to reality at the feeling he was drifting off-road, he turns and focuses back on Frankie. 

"Because I don't want to yet," comes a very husky reply out of Brock's mouth.

Frank blinks at Brock, "Can you at least speed home?" A little glare of irritation warms the back of his neck. His eyes naturally scan over Brock before stopping at his waist. Something clicks with him, the hard-on and the voice mixed with his own natural need. His eyes pop back to Brock's. "Shit." He whispers as he squirms a little, lifting his hips and resting them back in the seat.

A barely audible, "Fuck," escapes Brock's mouth as he watches Frank buck and squirm. He knows his boy is miserable and yet he can't help himself. He can't bring himself to pull over and stop. It would end things too soon. He shifts in his own seat, fighting the urge to touch himself. Frank's voice echoes in his head about trying this at home and in the shower, not in a rental car in the middle of nowhere and a pang of guilt hits him. "I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," Frank whines slightly. The pressure of his bladder is slowly winning over everything else.

"If I pull over, promise you won't get out right away? That you'll sit there until I get you out. Don't go. Not yet," Brock says, low and gravely.

Frank reluctantly nods.

"Fuck." Brock pulls over quickly and a little rough, shutting everything off. He reaches for his duffle and grabs the lube before getting out without his cane, using the vehicle for support, and hurriedly going around to Frank's side. He yanks open the car and pulls Frank out and into a hard kiss.

Frank whimpers a little but kisses Brock back. His fingers curl into his husband's shirt.

Breaking the kiss, Brock shuts the passenger side door and moves them to the rear doors, turning Frank around and pressing his body up against the unforgiving metal. His hands frantically roam over Frank's body and slip under his shirt to toy with a nipple. He rolls his hips against Frank's ass, moaning hot in his ear. "I need you." 

"Take what you need."

Brock slips a hand down the front of Frank's pants and slowly presses down on his overly full bladder. His other hand unbuttons his own jeans, freeing his cock from its confines. The weight swells in his hand and another moan escapes. Pressing his hips flush against Frank's ass, Brock presses down harder on Frank's bladder. Needing him to fight, to panic, to go.

Frank pushes back and whines, "Brock, please!" He tries to escape from his husband and the hardness of the metal. He tries to twist away but he can't. His knees buckle slightly as he tries to hold on.

"Oh fuck baby," Brock moans, "Yes." He's leaving precum streaks all over the back of Frank's jeans and he doesn't fucking care. All of his control is gone, he doesn't care that his hand is inches from Frank's cock and he's about to get soaked. He doesn't care about anything other than this makes Frank move and buck and it's so fucking hot. He's gonna blow soon from the movement and sounds. He should be ashamed he's getting off on this but right now he doesn't even care about that. Doesn't care that they are on the side of the road. Doesn't care that his leg is protesting the angle in which he's standing. He needs to come. He needs to fuck Frank. Everything else is washed away to be dealt with later. He pushes harder on Frank's bladder, gripping his hip hard enough to leave bruises and shoving his ass into Brock's groin harder. He's not going to let him go. Brock's either going to come across his back or Frank's going to soak his pants, and then get fucked. He'll apologize later.

"Brock. I'm sorry." Frank cries out as he lets go. He can't help it. The new growing warmth made him feel disgusting. He can't do this. It's not supposed to be like this. Not here. 

"Oh fuck. Do it. Soak yourself. Fuck," Brock moans, bucking hard into his husband's ass. He feels the warm water wash over his hand and another moan rips through him. He withdrawals his hand from inside Frank's pants and wipes it on his jeans. He'll sanitize later. Knowing Frank was probably dying from embarrassment and humiliation only added to Brock's arousal. It was just like the first time Frank came in his underwear. Except Brock would not be bending down to suck him off.

Frank drops his head and fights off the urge to cry. He's a damn near thirty-year-old man who just _messed_ himself. He tries to squirm away from Brock. He wants to take the fucking pants off and hide. He pushes his ass against Brock as his fingers press into the metal of the car to get him away from him. 

"Fuck!" Brock pants out hotly in his ear, "So fucking hot. Good boy. Thank you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so fucking much. Need you. Please. _Please_ , baby."

"Ok," Frank replies with a shaky voice. His eyes filled with tears. This is bad. Brock is going to be so pissed but this isn't what he wanted. He never wanted this.

"God, you are so fucking amazing. So good for me. That was perfect," Brock rambles, unbuttoning Frank's pants and yanking down the wet fabric and underwear. He presses two lubed fingers up against Frank's hole. "Good boy. Loved it. Love you." 

Frank doesn't want to disappoint Brock but he opens his mouth and the tears spill over and down his face, "Pineapple." He says it softly. His chest immediately tightens and he feels like he's the worst partner in the world. A sob breaks from his chest and causes his whole body to shake.

Brock freezes for a solid moment before pulling away and turning Frankie around. Wiping his fingers on his pants, he wraps his arms around his husband and holds him tight. Frank's tears make a wave of guilt wash over him. He did this on purpose. And for his own sick, twisted, pleasure. He didn't ask if this was okay. In fact, he blatantly ignored Frank's desire to not engage in this. He _forced_ him. A sickening thought occurs to him. He almost raped his husband. "I'm so sorry." 

Frank buries his face in Brock's chest as he sobs. His hips pull away from Brock, the idea of touching him with his filth is repulsive to him. His chest tightens and he struggles to get air into his lungs. "Sor-sorry," is all he can get out.

"It's okay. Just breathe baby. What can I do to make this better? What do you need?" Brock forces his voice to remain calm and neutral, keeping his guilt at bay. He'll deal with himself later. He needs to take care of his love.

Frank tries to regulate his breathing but he is struggling to do so. "Cold," is what comes out but a chorus of other things is ringing in his head. He's trying to stop the tears but they keep coming down his face.

"Okay baby. I'm sorry. Stay still for a moment," Brock says softly before grabbing the bag from the gas station and easing off Frank's wet clothing. His love's underwear, pants, socks, and shoes all go into the bag to be washed when they get home. He tosses it into the trunk of the car for odor control and grabs Frank new clothes and baby wipes that he had taken to keeping in his duffle for sex emergencies. After a quick wipe down to keep his baby from developing a rash, he helps him into his underwear and ushers him back to the car to warm and get dressed all of the way. He shuts the passenger door and leans against the vehicle in the freezing cold and tries hard not to punch a tree or something rash for his sheer stupidity. He makes the decision then and there that he's never doing this again. He can't now. 

"Please don't be mad. I'm really sorry. I didn't...I don't…" Frank manages out the second Brock is seated. His eyes stay fixed on the dashboard. His stomach is twisted in a knot. He hates that he's this much of a coward. 

"Why would I be mad?" Brock whispers as he starts the car, "I _forced you_. And I'm sorry."

"You wanted this to be a _thing_ and I couldn't get out of my head and I tried. I'm sorry." Frank babbles quietly. He forces his mouth shut. The word forced echoes in his head. He didn't want to try this outside of their home. He told Brock that he'd try it. Now he's ruined it. But if he'd tried to hold out a little longer they could have. A mix of guilt and anger fills him. 

Brock stops the car. He can't do this. He can't drive and stay focused. He fights to lose control. He needs to stay strong for Frank. Make amends. This is his fault.

"What?" A flicker of fear runs through him, "Brock. What?" Frank's body tightens. Bracing for whatever happens next, be it violence or rage. Maybe he should get out. Fuck it's cold as hell out there and he's got no shoes to wear. He's inventorying what he's got. He could wear his suit to walk home in. 

"Switch with me. Drive." He can feel the guilt hammering in his head. 

Nodding Frank unbuckles and walks around the car. His eyes stay down, making sure he doesn't step on anything but also to avoid Brock's eyes as he passes him. He sits down and adjusts the seat and mirrors, _damn giant_ he thinks as he buckles in again, "I'm sorry to ask but can you reach my backpack? I need my glasses." Frank asks Brock softly.

"Sure baby," whispers Brock, reaching back and handing him his glasses. He curls up a little in the seat. His leg is killing him. He wants his meds. He wants to take back everything that happened in the last 24hrs. He presses his head against the window, utterly disgusted with himself. He whispers again, "I'm sorry. For everything, I'm sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" Frank asks after a painful silence. Frank's hand reaches out and touches Brock's arm. He wants his husband to not shut down and talk to him. He wants to hold his hand, "Baby." 

"I'm sorry for purposely making you wet yourself. I'm sorry for making you safeword, for crossing boundaries. I'm sorry that I wasn't ever going to stop. I wanted it and I made you suffer because of it. I didn't listen to your signals, I ignored them for my own sick fucked up pleasure. I'm never doing it again. I abused your trust and body. I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry but please don't think this is your fault. It's mine. It's all mine." Brock's voice wavers as he fixes his eyes on the road through the passenger window. His leg is on fire and for once, he welcomes it. The physical pain serving as his punishment Frank would never dish out himself.

Frank checks behind them and slowly pulls into a long dirt driveway, "You did cross a boundary. I didn't want to do this outside of the house but I could have stopped this when I realized it. Look at me, love."

Brock slowly tears his eyes away from the fixed point that was keeping himself in some semblance of control. He needs to just accept whatever Frank needs to say or do and then work towards forgiveness and re-earning his trust. He looks but finds it hard to meet his eyes for very long. Shame fills him more.

"I love you. And it's ok. Please hold my hand. I don't want you to eat yourself up with guilt. We are both at fault here." Frank's voice softens towards the end of his speech, "Just because this failed doesn't mean it has to be redlined, hard no. Okay?" 

"You never wanted to do this in the first place. I pressured you to. I won't again."

"Brock." He looks at his husband. He doesn't know how to snap him out of this. "I'm fine. I'm okay, now. I'm so sorry." Frank frowns. He should have just went along with it. 

"Why are _you_ apologizing? You should be furious with me. I nearly raped you." His voice cracks at the last two words and he has to clench his hands to keep himself under control.

Frank blinks at him. The words don't register at first as he speaks, "No. You stopped when I said stop." His head tilts to the side, "I was on board up until… you know. You… didn’t. I don't want you upset. Maybe, we should find a motel and crash there tonight?"

"If you hadn't said pineapple, I wouldn't have. Don't you see? I _wanted_ you to piss yourself. And I wanted to fuck you after. I was going to even if you didn't say okay." There's an edge to Brock's voice. Maybe if he shows Frank the ugly, he'll get angry. Scream and yell and be as angry as any normal person would be in this situation. Maybe, just maybe, if Brock hid the remorse a little and put on a mask of indifference, Frank will stand up for himself instead of apologizing for something that was well beyond his control. "I tricked you. I locked the windows. I suggested salty snacks and drinks and kept the heater up so you'd drink more. I never had any intention of making it home. I was going to slow down until I got what I wanted. I almost _almost_ made you sit in the seat and do it. Just never stopped until home. Or dragged you into my lap, just to get off on your pain and humiliation. I was close to coming too. I nearly did the moment you let go. But I thought you'd feel what it did to me and realize that this isn't a bad thing. But I was wrong. I wanted you to associate– you know what no. I can rationalize it all I want. Doesn't change what I did."

"You _wanted_ to humiliate me?" Frank says with a raised eyebrow. He stares at Brock for a long moment. The pieces slowly click into place. A swirling feeling in his stomach begins to turn violent. He opens his mouth to say more but it's venom, "Why..." 

"It wasn't in my original plan. But yes. The more I thought about it and watched you _move_ the more I wanted to see it." Brock's voice is empty and dejected. He got the anger he wanted. No, he's getting what he deserves. Angry Frank is better than one who apologizes for being abused. "I wanted to combine my two favorite fetishes of movement and wet underwear. Three, actually. You'd be red-faced from embarrassment, just like the first time I bent you over my car and spanked you until you soaked your panties with cum. I just wasn't going to suck you off this time. And instead of listening to you, I made you do it anyway."

"Jamia used to do things to humiliate me, on purpose. Do you remember her Brock? The ex who is _gone_ cause of me." Frank says softly but there's still fire in his words, "I'd like to go home. Do you need your pills for your leg?" 

"No," he lies. "Home is fine."

Frank turns the car on and speeds back to the highway. The ride is quiet. Only the music fills the cabin of the car. He's forming his next words and actions carefully. He cruises along the highway until they reach the city. He parks the car outside of the apartment then looks at Brock, "I'm going to drop the car off at the rental lot in the morning. I'll have Jack follow me, so you can sleep in." 

He pulls his phone from the dash and sends a text to Jack.

_Frank: You home?_

_Jack: Yeah. What's up? You guys finally made it back?_

_Frank: Yes. Do you have a spare room I can crash on? Or can I crash on your couch?_

Brock gets out of the car without a word and begins grabbing as much as he can carry, ignoring the fire in his leg with each step. He leaves his cane in favor of grabbing more things. He'll stick it out.

_Jack: Sure_

_Frank: thank you. I'll be over shortly._

"Why aren't you using your cane, Brock?" 

Frank calls after him.

"I've got most of the stuff," he replies emptily. He's carrying both of their bags and the trash and Frank's wet clothing.

Frank sighs. He's just gonna pad into the lobby in his undies and socks then. He gets out, grabs Brock's cane and whatever is left, and follows after him. He watches the elevator doors close on him as he approaches, "Cool." He presses the button and waits. He feels awkward. Once the car returns, he heads to the apartment. Why is he getting the silent treatment? It doesn't matter. He enters the apartment and places Brock's cane by the door. He pulls out Brock’s meds and puts them on the counter with a shake. After this, he goes into their bedroom and showers quickly. Mainly just rinsing off, he dries them dresses in sleep pants and a random shirt.

Brock is in the laundry unloading the duffles and the bag of soaked clothing into the wash. He feels like shit and he deserves it. It takes him longer than normal but he eventually makes his way, limping heavily to the kitchen for a drink. He doesn't care about depression or his meds. He wants wine. Anything to drown out the rage he feels at himself.

"Take your pain meds, please," Frank calls from the bedroom.

He might. Or not. The physical pain makes the emotional shit easier to bear. He doesn't know how to fix this. And what's worse is he made it worse on purpose. He calls back, "Okay." 

Frank steps out with a phone charger and a pair of jeans. "I'm leaving. Eat food before taking your pill. Or at least the shake."

He feels all of the blood drain from his body as he turns to face Frank. Was this God's way of punishing him for leaving Frank? He nods slowly. He feels sick. He deserves this. 

"Nothing, no words? I'm going to Jack's. For the night, if you care…" Frank wrinkles his forehead as he frowns, "I'll see you tomorrow if you want." 

"Why wouldn't I?" he whispers, barely audible and shakily. His head begs Frank to not leave. He was going to take the couch...

"I don't know. Cause you need space? Or don't want me around?" Frank sighs.

He shakes his head no, "Neither. It's what _you_ wanted. Need." He points at the phone charger in hand. "Proof."

"You don't need space… you are fine sleeping in a bed next to me? You still love me and respect me?" Frank asks, "Your gimpy ass can't sleep on the couch."

Brock breaks then, tears streaming freely down his face. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'll never do it again, I swear. Please don't leave. Tell me how to fix this. Please."

"Do you love me?" Frank asks, "Like deep down, all this aside, do you love me?"

"Yes!" He nearly shouts the word, face wet and messy. He doesn't want Frank to leave. But it's selfish too. He doesn't know what to do. "Why would you think that? I love you more than anything in the world. I made a selfish, stupid, sick choice. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I have a lot of things I can say that are mean. Heinous things. But I'm choosing to not, I love you too much. I just want to know why? What are you going to do the next time something like this happens? Will you stop? Are you going to do it in public?" Frank pauses to keep himself level, "Do you want to humiliate me outside of this situation? Also, do you know why I even pineapple'd?"

Brock takes a moment to wipe his face and figure out which question to answer first. "I won't do it at all. Ever. I've made my decision to never do this again. I never wanted this to hurt you and now that it has, I will do whatever it is you need me to do to earn back your trust. I never wanted to do it in public, because I never wanted to make it go too far until I got out of the car. Doesn't matter. I don't need it. I need you. I have never wanted to humiliate you intentionally before tonight and I have no desire to do it again. Uh..." He pauses to think what else Frank had asked. "You pineapple'd because it wasn't fun for you. You have every right to hate me or leave and I won't stop you because I know I fucked up royally tonight. I deserve anything and everything you give to me."

"I pineapple'd because I couldn't stop feeling like I was doing something wrong. Like a kid who was going to get in trouble." Frank corrects him, "Do you want me _here_?"

Brock whispers, "I always want and need you. I don't deserve it. But I do." 

"I don't want to leave. If I stay, are you gonna mope and not talk to me?"

"Do you still hate me?" Brock retorts soft and quick.

"Brock. I never did." Frank takes quiet steps towards Brock, "Why would you think that?" He stands in front of him, tucking the charger in his pocket, he puts a hand on Brock's stomach.

"Because I do," he whispers. Tears fall again and he ignores them. He hates the choices he made.

"I don't hate you. I have never and will never hate you. I love you so much." Frank feels his heart break at the tears. He wipes the tears away, "Why wouldn't you touch me?" 

"I didn't think you wanted me to touch you after what I did." 

"I never said that now did I?" Frank gives him a soft smile as he continues as his hand touches Brock's cheek, "I wanted you to hold my hand in the car but you were upset. I didn't wanna… push. You can always touch and hold me." 

He wraps his arms around Frank. He takes a shuddering breath as more tears flow. "I just wanted to not make things worse than I already did. I wanted to respect what little boundaries I didn't destroy. I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry. "

"Oh baby, you don't have to cry but it's okay if you do." Frank wipes away the tears. "You didn't destroy anything, you silly man. I promise everything is gonna be okay."

Brock nods, slumping and burying his face in Frankie's neck. "I love you," he says miserably.

"I love you more." Frank runs fingers through his husband's hair, "Why do I feel like I haven't eased your mind, love?" 

"I'm supposed to be reassuring you and trying to make amends. Not the other way around," he replies with a sniffle

Frank's hands touch Brock's arms, "That's what these are doing to reassure me. Just because you are the dominant one, doesn't mean you don't need reassuring and love. Even if it goes horribly wrong, you need to know that I still love you and that I'm still your baby. Yes?"

"Yes," he whispers with a nod. He needed to never lose control like that again. He can't risk hurting Frank like that. He can never listen to the whispers in his head. Still not sure what is and isn't alright, he presses a soft kiss to Scorpio. He didn't deserve forgiveness. But Frank was perfect and gave it anyway. He vowed to be better for him. 

"I love you, Brock. My silly sweet meatball." Frank says softly as he tilts his head to the side allowing for Brock to have more room on his neck, "What can I do to make you feel better? I know we both need to eat something other than trash."

"I love you _tesoro_." He kisses softly again, testing the waters. At this point, Frank is mostly holding him up. His leg is an inferno and he's not sure he has the strength to stand or walk at this point. He's paying for his stupid-ass decisions.

"What do you wanna eat? You need real things in your stomach not chips." Frank takes two fingers and tilts Brock's head up a little before kissing him softly.

"Not hungry," he murmurs. He wasn't. His head pounded and his leg, hip, back, and eyes burned. Food was the last thing on his mind. He just wanted to erase the stain of his mistake. 

"How about this then? I'm gonna make a sandwich. Then we should go lay on the couch, watch tv and I can squish you a little before we go to bed?" Frank offers.

"Yeah, okay." He doesn't move though, instead, he holds onto Frank tighter, putting more weight on him. He's crashing emotionally and it's sapping him dry of what little energy isn't spent on fighting through the pain of staying upright.

"You gonna walk with me?" Frank smiles, he can see the little rain clouds in his husband's pretty brown eyes. He tries to take a step to the kitchen but Brock is like an anchor, "You're in too much pain to move, huh?" 

He whimpers in response, "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Okay, so… let's think. I could try to carry you to a chair." Frank offers, "We could collapse on the floor and you could be my husband blanket."

"I could take my shirt off, make it into a belt, and tow you to the couch?" Frank says with a soft smile.

"Gimme a minute," he sighs. True to his word, after sixty seconds, he stands upright and forces himself to walk to his cane. 

"I was low-key interested in the husband blanket," Frank says walking behind him, just in case. He waits until Brock has the cane in hand before he steps back then goes to the kitchen. He makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He grabs the shake and Brock’s pill. "I've got the pill, a drink, and something for me. Anything else you want?"

He shakes his head. He's in too much pain, for the couch to even be comfortable. He just wants everything to go away; go back to normal. He opens his hand for Frank or the pill. He doesn't care which. He needs them both. Suddenly Frank's phone rings and Brock frowns. Who would be calling this late at night?

"Will you get that?" He offers his hip to Brock.

Brock slips his hand into Frank's sleep pants and pulls out his phone. "It's Jack. Should I answer?" 

"Yes, please." 

Brock clicks the green accept button and presses it on speaker. "Hi, Jack."

"Brock?! Where's Frank? Is everything okay?! He texted me to come over and that was nearly half an hour ago!" Jack's voice was slightly panicky and higher pitched.

"Jack, hey, everything is ok! I'm fine. I'm sorry." Frank says softly. He looks up at his husband. Does he explain what's going on?

"Hey! Okay!" Jack exhales hard into the phone. When he speaks again, his voice is normal. "You still coming over? Everything okay?" 

Brock glances at Frank before speaking quietly, "Frank and I had a fight." It's not totally accurate but it's the closest explanation he can come up with without actually going into detail.

The phone is silent for a long moment. "Okay." 

"I was trying to take myself out of the situation instead of talking it out. I'm sorry for bothering you, Jack."

"You're not! Not at all, bärchen. I was just concerned, that's all. Did you still need a place to crash? Or are you guys okay for the night?"

"Do I, Brock?" Frank looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

"No," he whispers. The gremlins in his head sink their claws into him and scream that he's being selfish and doing damage by keeping Frank here. 

"No, I think I'm welcome in his bed." Frank says into the phone, "Are we still on for the gym tomorrow?" 

"Yeah if you are feeling up to it," says Jack.

"Hell yeah, would you wanna follow me to drop the BMW off?" Frank asks. He hands Brock his pill and carefully sits beside him on the couch.

"Sure, I can do that. What time do you need to drop it?" 

"Before 10 am."

"Cool. Just text or call when you're ready."

"Awesome! Thank you, Jack. I love you, brother!

"You're welcome, bärchen. Love you too. And Brock?" Jack asks.

Brock answers quietly, "Yeah?"

There's a string of rough German before the line cuts dead. Brock sighs and places the device on the table before trying his best to curl up as small as he feels. He pops the pill dry.

Frank takes a bite and pushes it to the side of his cheek, "Wut he say to you?" He balances the sandwich on his knee and cracks Brock's shake, "Drink." 

Taking the shake, he opens it but doesn't drink just yet. "Basically I needed to fix this or he was going to kick my ass."

"I guess, your ass is safe. Nothing to fix." Frank leans up and kisses him, "right?"

"I guess, yeah." Brock kisses him back.

"Alright Rumlow, you guess…" Frank says. He pokes at Brock's side playfully, "What. Do. I. Have. To. Do. To. Make. This. Right?"

Brock jumps and whines in pain, nails digging into the couch. His body on fire protests the movement. The gremlins in his head laugh and remind him that this is his punishment for his failures.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Frank pulls back, "I'm sorry baby!" He sits back and finishes his sandwich. 

"It's okay," he sighs out, feeling the flare-up slowly fade away. He downs the shake in a few gulps. He sets it on the table and leans back into the cushions. Everything hurts. His body. His heart. His soul. 

Frank waits a few moments before taking Brock's hand and massages the palm of his hand with soft fingertips.

"Frankie," Brock whispers, breaking the silence between them. The TV is on but he's completely tuned it out.

"Yes?" 

"Can we go to bed? You can watch TV in the bedroom. Please?"

"Yeah," Frank looks up at him, he rises to his feet and offers his hand to Brock. "Can you promise me something?" 

He replies as he takes Frank's hand and pushes himself up to standing. He groans out in pain. "I can try?" 

"Tomorrow is a new day. We start fresh. And let go of what negative happened today?" Frank asks him.

"I want to. I do. But I don't know if I can. I'll try." He wants to hold him; to hug him tightly. Not for the first time does it inwardly curse his wound. Gripping his hand tightly, Brock turns and limps heavily towards the bedroom, leaning all of his weight on the cane.

Frank cleans up after them then follows Brock to bed. He crawls in next to Brock. He waits for him to get comfortable. Frank curls himself around Brock. 

"I miss spooning you," Brock says softly. He hates being stuck sleeping on his back. He's tired of it.

"I miss it too," Frank says quietly as he snuggles closer to Brock.

"Be my blanket? Please?" 

"You want me to lay on you?" Frank lifts his head and looks at his husband.

"I wanna hold you. If you'll let me." 

"I want that." Frank shifts and lies carefully on Brock. He wonders if Brock is going to want to touch him, sexually any time soon. Probably not, "How's this?" 

Brock grabs Frank under his arms and pulls him up so they are nose to nose. He wraps his arms around him and holds him tight as can be. He kisses him, soft at first but gradually getting harder. He breaks it only to whisper, "I'm sorry. I want to make it up to you." 

"Okay. When you are ready, I'm not going anywhere." Frank pecks his lips and runs his thumb over Brock's cheek.

He mentally hits himself for his lack of proper communication tonight. Didn't matter. This worked. He kisses him lightly. "I'll do whatever you want, baby. Anything. Whatever it takes."

Frank kisses him deeper, "I'll keep that in mind." 

He buries his face in Frank's neck and wraps his arms, even more, tighter around him. He can feel the pain killers kicking in. It was surprisingly even touching his steadily pounding headache. 

"Love you, Brock." Frank says softly, "I'm sorry."

"Is my fault," Brock mumbles before he allows his exhaustion and the painkillers to sweep him away into the darkness of sleep.

The next morning Frank wakes on his side, like a rag doll that's been discarded. He wakes up before his alarm and crawls out of bed. He dresses for the gym and grabs one of Brock's shakes and texts Jack. He leaves a note for Brock and heads out.

_Frank: I'm headed your way._

A few minutes later, Jack responds. _Okay! See you soon!_

Frank knocks on Jack's door before taking a sip of the shake. He's not a fan of this. He scratches his nose and checks his phone.

Jack opens the door with a smile. "Morning, bärchen. You ready to go or did you wanna come in while you drink Brock's food?"

"I've never seen your apartment." Frank says with a relaxed smile, "He's been actually been eating food." 

"Yeah but most things he still can't stomach. Work in progress, like most things. Come on in," Jack says, stepping off to the side to let Frank enter his apartment. It's not as large as Brock's but it's enough for him.

"Jack! Your apartment is rad!" Frank says stepping in and immediately falling in love with the industrial look, "Like this is what I wanted my dream place to be." 

He approaches the desk with the minimalist shelving made from stained wood and poles. He sees the neat and contained gaming console and the gaming chair that seemed to fit in the apartment, oddly. Looking at the books on the shelves and the simplistic art that was intermixed. He scans over Jack's neatly organized desk. He steps into the small kitchen, then the small bedroom, peering into the bathroom. He really digs Jack's apartment. 

"Yeah. I like your place!" Frank turns to face him.

"Thanks. Not many come in. You might actually be the first guy other than Brock to ever step foot in here. Like ever," grins Jack.

"Well, that's an honor then." Frank grins up at Jack, "Where's your trash?" He holds the bottle up.

"In the kitchen. Next to the sink." He nods. He follows after. 

Frank disposes the bottle and turns to Jack, "I'm ready when you are." He grins at Jack who nods. The two men head for the car rental place. Frank keeps the radio off as he drives. This car has bad memories for him. He watches Jack's Tesla behind him as he rolls into the rental lot. He drops the keys at the desk and heads back to Jack. He slides in the passenger seat, "I'm ready to be sweaty? That sounds disgusting and oddly sexual." Frank chuckles.

"Only because you made it sound like that," chuckles Jack, pulling out of the rental parking lot and merging onto the main road. "So how long of a session did you wanna do? 1 hour? 2 hours? We can do cardio, lightweights, and maybe some resistance training. What do you think?"

"That sounds good to me!" Frank grins at Jack, "I am up for anything. I have energy to burn for sure." 

"Oh, so I should throw you onto the circuit then? Work you so hard your muscles are jello. Is that what I'm hearing you need?" Jack laughs, teasing.

"I dunno what the circuit is but I'm game. The more tired I am, the better." Frank shrugs.

Jack frowns as he turns down a street, choosing to take the back roads today due to an accident on the major highway. "Why? Something wrong? Is this about last night?" 

"I just need to add to my workout. I don't do anything besides cardio." Frank replies.

"Ah, yeah, okay. The circuit is a series of weight machines that you do for five minutes on each. There's, I think, twenty or so machines. Some target your arms, legs, abs. Others target muscle groups you probably have never heard of. We can start with light weights to them and get you feeling the burn."

"You have a deal!" Frank nods, "Do you know where you are going?" 

"Yeah. While you were in the rental place, I pulled up the traffic and alternate directions. There's a huge wreck so I'm avoiding it. A few more side streets down, I'll turn back into more familiar territory. Sorry," he laughs a little. "Did you want the radio on? Heat? A/C?"

"No heat. Unless you're cold, then I'm fine, I can crack the window." Frank blurts as memories of the night before try to rush back. He keeps them at bay, "How's your gunshot? You all cleared?" 

"Yep!" Jack grins happily. He amends, "It's as healed as it's gonna be. The hole is gone and it's starting to scar. The muscle damage will have to be repaired through physical therapy also known as working out. But as far as the doctors are concerned, I'm good to go. I got lucky compared to Brock. My bullet didn't shatter apart like his. Otherwise, I'd be down the same road of recovery and he is."

"Then I would have two limpy boys." Frank snorts.

He chuckles in reply before sobering up a little. "I wouldn't have been able to go with Brock or Bob to save Christa. I don't want to think about how that would have turned out."

"I try not to think about it. Or the fact that someone is out for either of my boys." Frank says somberly as he stares out the window as they roll up on the gym. 

\--

After a long and sweaty two hours, Frank’s legs shaking slightly as he follows Jack to the car. The cold wind slamming into them the second the gym door opens. Frank shivers, "How are you _not_ mush?" He looks over the hood of Jack's car.

"Training. It's been a long time since I was in your shoes. Eventually, like all muscle groups and skills, you get better at it." Jack unlocks the car and slides into the driver's seat.

Frank sits beside him and shoves his hands between his legs the second he's buckled, "Thank you for doing this with me. I just need to get out of the house." He is trying to hide how cold he is. 

Jack reaches over and flips the heat on the lowest setting just to warm them up before pulling away and heading back home. "Yeah, totally. If I recall right, I still owe you fight training…"

"Yes, you do. I have the IOU in my pocket." Frank says with a nervous chuckle. He eyes the heater. His finger cracks the window slightly and the fear slowly evaporates.

"It would be hilarious if you pulled out an actual piece of paper that has the letters IOU on it," laughs Jack. 

"I'm absolutely going to get that for you for Christmas." Frank chuckles, "I'll add it to the others."

Jack laughs harder, stopping at a red light. "What? Just like a little notepad with a bunch of IOUs on it? They make something like that?"

"I dunno. But if they do. You're absolutely getting it."

Chuckling, Jack shakes his head. "It would be the weirdest gift ever. That I actually wouldn't want to use. Getting into favor debt is never a good thing; depending on the person. Of course, that's exactly what the mob relies on. Idiots who want us to take care of a problem get in favor debt. Then we wait until we need a DIP– disposable invested person– to do a job. Something dirty, usually, that might alert the authorities. They usually comply out of fear for themselves or their family. If not, well they'll be on ice." He looks at Frank, "That's the one thing that the movies got right." 

"Huh, interesting." Frank says thoughtfully, "Sorry about last night by the way." 

"Hey, it's no problem. You know I'm always here for you. Anytime," Jack says softly, reaching over and patting Frank's knee lightly. "It's what brothers are for, bärchen." 

"That's why you were my first call."

"Now that just warms my heart," Jack grins, "and it's making me all mushy inside."

"I didn't know if I could be around him last night," Frank says softly.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispers, "for whatever happened. Are things… better?" 

"I hope so. He just crossed a line."

Jack grimaces as he nears their building. He's not going to push or pry. It's none of his business what happens between a married couple. They were newlyweds and things like this happened. It would take some time before they found a new balance. He keeps his voice soothing, trying to offer comfort, "If you need anything, just let me know. Whatever you need, I'm here. I know I already said it but it's true."

"Can I tell you what happened and let me know if I'm being sensitive or not sensitive enough?"

"Only if you are ready and willing, bärchen. I'm happy to be a listening ear if you need me to."

"You're gonna learn things about Brock..." 

Jack snorts. "I know everything about my brother. Nothing is going to phase me. What did that asshat do?"

"Brock has a fetish. He likes when I, uh, come in my underwear." Frank starts looking at Jack's face.

"I know. I know all of his kinks. Who do you think he came to the first time he figured them out? Just like this talk, we did the same."

"He got an idea about me...wetting my undies. Like peeing them. It wasn't the pee itself but more the moving and the final product." Frank continues, "I told him that I wasn't truly comfortable with it but I would be willing to try it but like at home."

Frank gathers his thoughts, "So last night, Brock and I are driving home after stopping at Niagara Falls. We get snacks and drinks. He cranks the heat up and gets pissy when I cracked the window. So, I finish drinking my water and soda and realize, fuck I have to piss. I beg Brock to pull over and let me go but he says no. And it dawns on me that this is what is happening." 

Frank's worried about the next part but takes a breath, it's Jack and he's a safe place, "Finally he stops but doesn't let me go. Instead, he pins me against the car and forces me to… pee myself. I'm trying to get away from the car cause it hurts a bit. And this isn't what I wanted but I'm making it worse cause he likes the fight and movement of it. I'm crying cause I'm a grown-ass man who just peed his fucking pants. This is on the side of the highway, in the middle of nowhere. I don't really want this. He rips my jeans off and is about to… well, fuck me like about to penetrate but this isn't what I wanted. I use our safe word. He breaks away from me, then gets upset with me cause I apologized." 

Jack pulls into his parking space and shuts the car off, sitting in silence and taking in the gravity of Frank's story. He is in no way defending the asshole that is Brock. He unbuckles and leans over, pulling Frank into a hug, "I'm so sorry, little brother. It's not your fault and you aren't being _sensitive_."

"I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I wanted to try just not like that. He got mad because I was trying to make it ok." Frank says hugging Jack.

"Well at least the fucker feels guilty about it," Jack bites out.

"I was going to stay with you last night but he begged me not to go and I hate seeing him hurt."

"This isn't about him. It's about you and _your_ safety. You can't take care of him at the risk of hurting yourself. It's unhealthy and dangerous."

Frank nods, "Sorry."

"For what?" Jack pulls away a little and looks at Frank incredulously.

"I'm trying to not push myself down for others. And I'm trying not to apologize as much."

"Good. I'm proud of you."

"I didn't want him to be upset with me… I love him but it was a line he crossed." Frank says softly.

"He has no right to be mad at you. This is all his fault." Jack has to stop himself from saying more. "So what now?" 

"I don't know. Earn the trust back. I don't even know. He probably won't touch me again. I just shouldn't…" Frank trails off, "Anyway, thank you for going with me. I had fun. Wanna go again not tomorrow but the next day?"

"Yeah. I'd love to. Anytime, bärchen." Jack pats him again before motioning him to get out. "Come on. Let's go inside before we freeze to death."

Frank nods and follows Jack inside. His legs feel like Jell-O but in the best way, "Are you coming up with me?" He notices only their floor pressed on the elevator.

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs. "I'll say hi." 

"Oh okay. Brock would like that." Frank nods. He watches the numbers grow and takes a breath as it stops on his floor. The doors open and he follows Jack to their door. He's never been more thankful for a shower. 

Jack stops him just before Frank places his hand on the lock. "Are you sure you are okay to stay with him? I've got room in the apartment…"

"Yeah. It will be fine. I don't want to hurt him and leaving would do that." Frank says with a smile.

"He'd deserve it. For what he did. And you need to be able to trust him again. Maybe time away can help. Whatever you decide, my apartment is always open for you."

Frank hugs Jack, "Thank you."

Jack hugs him back, tightly, "Anything for you, Frank." He kisses him on the forehead before opening the door for him, letting Frank enter first. Brock doesn't appear to be in the kitchen, living room, or dining room.

"Brock?" Frank calls as he steps into the apartment, "Jack's here." 

Brock steps out of the bedroom, dressed and using his cane heavily again. He looks weary, eyes red and face pale. Spotting Frank, he gives him a weak smile. He turns to see Jack striding over to him and his smile fades.

"Jack….?" 

Jack doesn't answer, instead, he marches right up to Brock and punches him hard enough his brother falls to the ground. He spits venom, "You're disgusting! You fucking asshole!"

Brock doesn't reply, he knows his brother speaks the truth. There's a scuffle and for a solid moment, he's sure Jack will kick him. His body instinctively flinches, curling up to protect vital organs. The punch to his cheek is the equivalent of a paper cut compared to the fire in his leg and body. It and the emotional pain of his actions brings tears to his eyes again.

"You don't deserve Frank. You _fix_ this, or I swear a punch is nothing compared to what I will do. _Brother_ ," Jack spits the last word.

"Jack! No! Don't hurt him!" Frank puts himself in front of Brock. He doesn't want Brock to get hurt further.

He looks at Frank with cold eyes and a voice to match. "If he pulls some shit like this again, you divorce this piece of shit. You leave him and I'll take you in. I'll see you later, Frank." With one final glare at Brock, Jack turns on his heels and storms out, the door slamming hard.

"I'm sorry," Brock sobs.

Frank wraps his arms around Brock, "I'm sorry too honey. I didn't know he'd react like that. Are you okay?" Frank pulls back and wiped his cheeks before kissing him on the forehead.

"He's right," he sobs harder. "About everything." 

"No." Frank brushes his husband’s hair back, "Let's get some ice on your face. I didn't know he was going to do that. I'm sorry I said anything to him." Frank gets up on his feet and offers his hands to Brock.

He takes his hands and cries out at the pain of forcing his leg to bend in a way he wasn't ready for yet. He manages to get into a kneeling position before pushing himself up and standing. Tears flow harder and his face is forgotten. He wishes he could take another pill but he can't– not for another 3 hours. A choked sob escapes and he pulls Frank into a hard hug. The gremlins in his head scream at him for daring to take solace in the person he had hurt so much.

"Breathe babe." Frank says calmly as he strokes Brock's back, "We got this." 

"I'm sorry for everything. I didn't want for you to get hurt." Frank says softly.

"Not your fault. Deserved it 'n worse," Brock says through his tears.

"No one deserves sucker punched."

"Eye fer'n eye."

"Have you eaten? Don't tell me you aren't hungry." Frank says with a little smile, he dismisses Brock's comment.

Brock shakes his head. Doesn't tell Frankie that his morning was rough. Waking up and discovering that Frank was gone had terrified him. He had believed that he had left him; that their marriage was over before it had barely begun. He had begged and cried and screamed into the empty apartment until he finally dragged himself out of bed and into clothing. Frank and Jack returned shortly after he'd cleaned his face up and taken his pills.

"Baby. Why were you all red eyes when we came in?" Frank kisses his forehead. 

He takes a moment to be able to speak. His voice is a hoarse whisper, "I thought you'd left…me. Forever." 

"Baby, I left you a note." Frank gives him a soft smile before kissing him, "I told you, I'm not leaving until you force me out."

"With last night, I thought I did. And I wouldn't have stopped you this time. Jack's right. I don't deserve you."

"Sweetheart, hell or high water, I'm by your side." Frank tilts his chin up, "Ok? Jack's not right. You were made for me."

"I'm disgusting. I hurt you. How can you say that? And still, love me?"

"Because you made a mistake. You are my husband and the love of my life. I love you so much and I wish you could see that. I'm over it." Frank runs his thumb over Brock's cheek.

Reluctantly, he nods. He whispers, "I love you. And I'll spend however long and whatever it takes to make it up to you. I swear it. I'll earn back your trust. I promise."

"Oh, baby. It won't take much. I swear this is a little bump." Frank says kissing his cheek. He helps his husband into a chair.

"Okay," Brock sniffles. A hand comes down to absently rub at his leg. The other rubs his face.

Frank kisses his forehead before going to the freezer and picking out ice for his hubby's face, "Do you mind if I hop in the shower really quick? I'm sweaty still."

He takes the ice and places it over his face, wincing at the coldness. He didn't shower last night or this morning and he sweated hard during his private pity party. He stinks on top of feeling _disgusting_. "I… could… with you." His voice drops into a mumble, "I'll be good. Promise." 

Frank pulls his shirt off with a warm smile, "Yeah! I like when you shower with me.”

“You gonna touch me? Cause I'm not afraid of you, love and you can touch me." Frank clarifies.

"I'm afraid of me," he whispers.

"I'm not." Frank lifts his husband's hand to his side, "Come on baby, let's go get wet." 

Groaning, Brock rises, discarding the ice pack in favor of grabbing his cane. He limps after Frank, carefully and slowly. He needs a drink. And maybe an extra dose of his anxiety pills. They enter the bedroom and Brock heads for the bed to reset and ease off his clothing. He hesitates the most when Frank is in the shower and turning on the water. Instead of stepping in, he leans against the glass. Trying not to panic, he watches his husband.

"Baby." Frank turns to face his husband, "You've done this a hundred times before." He curses himself for stopping him. He should have just let Brock do it and deal with it. This is going to ruin everything. 

"Yeah. Maybe I'm just making sure the glass is still working," Brock scoffs, trying for a joke. The corners of his lips curve up a little.

"Alright glass inspector, get in here." Frank grabs his hand and pulls him into the shower. He puts Brock's hands on his hips, "I want this." 

"I wasn't– I–" he stutters, thrown off by Frank saying those words. He freezes, unsure how to respond. Chocolate brown eyes search hazel ones for direction and reassurance. He doesn't understand. After what he did, how can Frank be okay with this? How can he want him? What if he loses control again? He doesn't want to be a monster.

"I want this." He nods. Frank walks back into the shower with the water hitting his back as he leads Brock in, "I want you. I trust you." 

Brock hesitates before leaning down and kissing him. He's not sure he can do this or anything that Frank is expecting but he's going to try to behave. To only do the things that Frank wants and asks for. 

Frank lifts up to his tiptoes and kisses Brock a little deeper, "You trust me, right?" He's not looking for sex. He just wants his husband to touch him. He wants kisses and to not feel like he broke him. 

He nods. "I do. Whatever you want is yours. I'm yours." 

"I want you to not be afraid of me."

"Not afraid _of_ you. I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid of fucking up again. Of losing control and going too far. Of pushing you away. Of making a mistake that isn't repairable. I can't lose you, Frankie. I _need_ you."

"You can't push me away. You'd never hurt me. I don't know how clear I can make it, I love you and I'm not leaving or afraid. So stop acting like I am shattered glass." Frank says, "You're not a monster. You adore me just as much as I adore you."

"I never thought I would do what I did and _enjoy_ the moment. It scares me." Brock pulls Frank closer, hugging him. He wishes he could hold him but he's barely standing as it is. Drugs or no drugs; his balance is shit since the gunshot. He turns his head into Frankie's neck and kisses Scorpio. "I treasure you." 

"You are my everything, Brock." 

"I don't want to be like _Her_. And I'm sorry I made a decision that made me no better than she."

Frank turns his head and kisses him, "Even on your worst day, you are still better than her. I'm sorry…" he takes a moment to figure out how to word this, "I never wanted to make you feel like this. I don't know how to make it better. I'm dealing with what happened but I'm scared I pushed you into a _dark_ place."

Brock shakes his head. "I just want to prove to you that I am sorry. And earn back what I ruined. To not be like Her. To be _better_. To balance the scales."

"What do you think would make this better?" Frank asks with a head tilt.

"I don't know. But I'll do whatever you want." 

"If I ask you to forget about last night, would that happen?"

He shakes his head. "I can't." He pushes down the rising feelings and hugs Frankie tighter. His love is right about one thing. He needed to get ahold of himself or he was going to spiral down into darkness. He pulls away to grab the shampoo for Frank.

Frank frowns for a moment but pushes his feelings away. He doesn't know how to make this better. He washes his hair and sighs, "When is your therapist coming today?" 

"I don't remember. I'll check my phone after our shower."

"When they come, I'll go pick up groceries for dinner." 

"Okay."

"Sam is coming by tonight too. Don't forget." Frank says softly as he rinses his hair.

"He is? Oh. Okay," he replies absently. He watches Frank rinse his hair and memories of last night enter his head. He stares into space, eyes transfixed. 

Frank turns and reaches past Brock for the conditioner, "I was thinking about shaving my head." He runs it through his hair, waiting for a beat then rinsing. He picks up the body wash and starts lathering his husband's chest. 

Brock visibly snaps out of his head the moment Frank speaks. He didn't catch what was said. "Huh?" 

"Nothing. I knew you checked out on me." Frank’s hand falls over Brock's hip. 

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to," he mumbles. His eyes divert to Frank's hands, watching their path carefully.

He runs a careful hand along Brock's skin until he is just above the shaft of his dick. He keeps his movement careful and precise. He runs the soapy hand over his dick with a little twist at the end, "What if, _I_ chose to move on from last night. It never happened. Would you follow or wallow?" 

Brock takes a soft, sharp inhale at the feeling. His mouth has gone dry at the mixed feelings from his body and head. He licks his lips, "I'll follow you anywhere. Try, at least." 

"Good cause if not, I'm gonna have to punch you," Frank says with a half-smile. He gives Brock another stroke, just to make sure he's clean. He leans in and kisses his husband's chest where the water had washed away the bubbles. Maybe he could convince Brock to let this go, with encouragement from his mouth.

"Okay." Brock turns his face and offers his cheek to Frank. 

"You want me to hit you?" Frank asks as he blinks, he can feel the water on his lashes. He can't be serious.

"You're angry at me. Said it yourself. All the things you _could_ have said to me but didn't. That can't just go away. You didn't even yell at me. Just locked it up. Bottled like you always do. I _hurt_ you and you _apologized_ for not giving me what I wanted. That's your trauma showing through. Something I've been trying to heal by showing you that just because I fuck up it's not your fault and even if you mess up, it doesn't mean I'm going to leave you. That's why I told you everything; the specifics. You _should_ be angry at me like Jack. Not afraid of failing me. Not afraid that I'm going to be angry simply because you told me no." Brock takes several breaths, realizing he was rambling. "Hit me. Be angry. Punish me." 

"I just… I'm scared that if I say everything. It's gonna make it worse. I don't want to hit you cause I'm not like that. I wish I'd never said a thing and moved past it." Frank sighs, "But I hate you being like this. Seeing you torturing yourself. I'll do whatever will make this better."

"Stop bottling. Stop hurting yourself for _me_. Let it out," Brock whispers. "You can't forgive me until you do. And I know it." 

Frank sighs. He presses his head to Brock’s chest. "I love you." 

"I love you. I'm gonna sit first, okay?" 

Frank nods. Brock kisses him lightly before moving to the shower chair. He's thankful for it. The hard plastic under his ass is uncomfortable but it's better than not being able to stay long in the shower or get up from the tile. His hand grips the handle tightly. Something to anchor himself to the world. He's both ready for this and not. But it has to be done. He can't and won't let any anger fester in Frank. It's toxic. Not to mention that this was also his way of paying his penance. He takes a breath and nods at his husband. 

"Fuck." Frank starts. He doesn't want to do this but if it will make it better, he'll get over feeling uncomfortable and let it out. "Last night was awful. I've seen you lose control before but this was different." 

He's trying to gather his thoughts, "I didn't want what happened… to happen that way. I wanted a chance to try it in a safe place not the side of the fucking highway in the dark."

"I know," Brock whispers. He nods.

"You kept pushing. I asked you to do that at home. I already wasn't totally into it. I was willing to try. But you didn't listen. For someone who wants me to not bottle up and talk, you sure as fuck didn't listen. Instead, you make me, a damn near 30-year-old man, piss himself in Amish country." Frank says with a hint of anger in his voice, "You want me to trust you but you go and do what you wanted. For what, to get your dick wet?

"Then when I just want to make it go away, move on. You get mad at me, so I get upset. I make the choice to step away for a moment and breathe but you beg me to stay. But instead of letting it go, you are clinging to it. I got whiplash, Brock. I want this to go away. I don't want to keep living the fact that my husband, the love of my life almost broke everything by… raping me?" His voice lowers and whispers the last two words.

"I love you so fucking much. I would do anything for you. But now being in a fucking car makes me anxious. I nearly panicked when Jack turned the heat up. We are gonna have to deal with that…"

Brock closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing. He's got a death grip on the chair and his stomach churns at the words. He should have just let Frank go. Instead of being the selfish ass he is, he should have just let Frank go. The knowledge that he traumatized his husband makes him sick. He broke more than just a boundary. He grits his teeth and bites hard to keep from crying. He needed to stop acting like some child and grow the fuck up. He doesn't understand how he made things worse but he did and that's all that matters. This is his punishment. He swallows thickly and nods, fighting not to break down again. What the FUCK is wrong with his emotions lately?

Frank kneels in front of Brock, "You know what..." 

"What?" The word is barely a whisper and it's wet as he loses the fight with his eyes.

"Look at me. I need you to hear me when I say this." 

Sniffing, Brock wipes his face with the back of his hand and looks down at the one person he swore he would never hurt. Now he's done it twice in the last 4 months. He vows to do exactly what Frank wants from then on. 

"Are you listening?" Frank asks with a harsh voice.

He sniffs, "Yes, Frankie."

"If you ever do that to me again, I will leave you for good. I'll leave everything I have with you, here. The band all of it and disappear. Not even Jack will find me."

He does break then, sobbing hard as he nods his understanding. He buries his head in his hands and rests his arms on his knees. The ultimatum terrifies him. The sobs wrack his body hard and a tremor runs through him. 

Frank feels his chest hurt at the sound of Brock breaking. He takes a breath, "I'm not done, Brock." He feels like an asshole. He's a monster. 

The coward part of him once again wishes this had never happened. Intrusive thought after intrusive thought bombards his head. It brings more pain and with it, panic over a thought that _wasn't_ _his_. Because there's no way in hell he would ever think about suicide. Would he? Except he did and it's there and he's spiraling down faster. There's a voice in his head. It might be his. It's chanting "I'm sorry" over and over. 

"Brock Enzo." 

"I'm sorry!" He blurts amidst the rising panic. 

Frank rises on his knees and cups his husband's cheeks, " Are you listening to me?" 

He nods but stops and shakes his head. He nods again. He can't focus on Frank's words. Not with his mind imploding. He forces himself to anyway. He promised he would be good and behave. When did he start thinking like that?

"I forgive you. I forgive you for everything. I want to get past this. I don't want to be afraid that I'm going to lose you to your own darkness." Frank says softly. His voice purposely quiet to make Brock listen, "I love you more than anything and I forgive you." 

Thank God they are in the shower with the amount of tears and snot he has running down his face. Frank's going to have to bathe again because Brock grabs him and pulls him into a clinging hug, burying his face and sobbing hard. He's still apologizing but it's less now, instead, there's several "I love yous" thrown in. 

"Can we get past this?" Frank whispers.

Brock nods, clinging to Frank for dear life. Because it's what it felt like. Perhaps not in a physical sense, after all, he wasn't at risk for drowning under a shower spray, but he'd felt a shift in his world. Thoughts that didn't feel like his own and out of control emotions raged a war inside of his soul. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to hurt Frankie. He didn't want to hurt _himself_. And yet it was there. All of it was there. He doesn't understand why he's spiraling out of control. Or why he's doing the things he's doing. Something is wrong and he doesn't know how to fix it.

"You are my world. I don't want to lose you." Frank says softly.

"I don't want to lose you either," he cries into the hug. He also didn't want to lose himself.

"I love you, Brock." Frank runs fingers over his husband's wet scalp, "I wish you could carry me cause I'd like some koala time." 

"Me too," he groans. He hates his stupid leg. Stupid injury. Should've just cut it off. Then he wouldn't have been able to hurt Frank. The thoughts cause another sob to tear through him. They terrify him. Because with it is the desire and he's never felt this way before. Not even during the break. 

"Baby. What is going on in your head?" Frank tilts his head up, "I said I forgive you. I'm not leaving. I love you." 

"I don't want to die." 

"You're not going to." Frank leans back and kisses him, "I won't let you." 

Brock looks at him with wide eyes and a pale expression. "No. My head. They're there. Telling me. Horrible things. I don't wanna–"

"Baby, do you want to hurt yourself?"

"It's not my thought! I swear!" He nods even though he's denying it. It just popped into his head and it scared him.

"Did you take your meds today?" 

"Yes. All of them. I swear. It just… happened. I don't want to, Frankie. I swear."

"I believe you, baby. I do. We are gonna not take them again and call Choi." Frank says with a nod. All those medication commercials are paying off, "I think we need to try a new medication." 

Brock presses his face into Frank's chest and nods. He's drained of all energy. He doesn't think he can even cry anymore. The gremlins in his head laugh at him.

"Let me wash your hair and we can take it easy today, okay?" Frank kisses the top of Brock's head, "We'll call Choi and get a new medication set up for you."

"You need to bathe again too." Brock's voice is small; drained of energy, "I got snot on you. I'm sorry baby."

"That's okay. Nothing a little soap can't clean up. Let me wash your hair." Frank grabs the shampoo and begins massaging Brock's scalp. He pulls the shower head down and rinses the suds away. He tilts his husband's head up and kisses him. He runs a little conditioner in Brock's hair then rinses again. He washes his chest off before turning the water off. He takes Brock's hands and helps him to his feet. He notices Brock's wrinkles wet fingers, "You're a cute little prune." 

"So are you," he says softly. He nudges Frankie's nose with his own in a little boop.

Frank leans up and pecks him on the lips. "Whatcha wanna wear today?" 

"You." The corners of his mouth raise briefly.

"Me?" Frank raises an eyebrow, "Go on…" 

"Naked cuddles with you as a blanket?"

"I can do that. Maybe a little kissing thrown in?" Frank asks as he stands in front of his husband. He takes a step towards the bed which makes Brock move too.

"Yes please." 

"Maybe… we can order food in and just stay in bed all day?" 

"Yes, please. Maybe therapy tomorrow?"

"Check and see what time it's scheduled for. Even if it's not moveable, I'll rub out your muscles after." Frank offers.

"Okay," Brock nods, sitting down on the bed. He curls in on himself, cold.

Frank crawls on top of his husband. He kisses Brock's neck. He pulls the blankets over them. He leans over and hands Brock his phone, "Call Choi. Tell him about the symptoms." 


	33. The First Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving provides some much-needed healing between the boys. Brock's mishap in Canada takes a hard toll on him and Frank searches for a way to fix it. Together, they work things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Check out the updated tags for new warnings but I promise you things will get HOT and steamy in such a good way. Things are inching closer to the grand finale. Wedding bells are just around the corner. Stick around and you might be surprised.

"Where is your brother?" Frank asks, pulling the food from the refrigerator, "We are going to be late." 

"Don't know. Running late. It's not like him," Brock frowns, adjusting his jacket collar before moving to help Frank. 

"Damn, Jack." Frank huffs then shrugs it off as his love approaches. He scans his body and can't help but grin, "You look delicious today."

"Just today?" Brock asks lightly. He grabs the wine and kisses Frank's cheek.

"Usually, you're a regular 5, but you cleaned up nice today. I'd say you're a solid 9.5." Frank teases. His baby is always a 15.

"It's the cane, right?"

"Very Bond villain of you." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, "Who knows maybe you can find a wife tonight?" 

He whispers into the space between them, "Why would I need that when I've already found my soulmate?" 

"Oh, you mean...me?" Frank raises his eyebrows as he bites his tongue.

"Forever and for always, you are my world, _tesoro_ ," he whispers.

Frank looks up at him with a huge grin. He pulls the front of Brock's shirt down and kisses him. That word made his heart lighten, "I love you so fuckin’ much, Brock!" 

It has been over a week since Brock had called him his _tesoro._ It broke his heart to hear Frank in its place. He hates it. Brock's spoiled him.

Fuck being late. It's fashionable. He kisses back, arms wrapping around Frank's waist, pulling him close and deepening the kiss. 

Frank leans against the counter and lets himself melt in his husband's arms. He pulls back slightly, "You smell heavenly." 

"Do you like it? Sam recommended it to me last week. Picked up a bottle yesterday." 

"I could jump you right now." Frank leans up and kisses him again.

"If you do that, we'll be late. I'll do almost anything to avoid Carolyn." He winks.

"I mean, we could always fool around in my childhood bedroom…" Frank grins wide, "That's something I've never done." 

"Seriously? Not even as a kid?" he asks, grabbing the wine bag again and heading towards the door.

"Not even as a teen." He grabs the food and follows. 

"But you mean with another person, right? After you hit puberty, I'm sure you had a hand down your pants every night."

"Would you believe me if I said I was an angel and _neve_ r did that?"

"When have I ever believed you were an angel in something?" Brock chuckles, shutting off the apartment's lights and grabbing the door for Frank.

"Never." Frank chuckles as he exits the apartment, "I've never brought a boy or a girl into my childhood room. We had an open-door policy."

"Ouch. Yeah, I feel that. I always felt weird as a teen bringing boys home."

"The only guy who was interested in me that I brought home was you." Frank turns and walks backward.

"Wait, really? Well damn, I feel extra special now. Careful not to trip though, okay? I don't want you falling and bonking your head. You might get amnesia and forget about me." 

"No matter what I would still find you." Frank smiles at him, "I can't forget about the love of my life."

The gremlins in his head tell him that it's probably a good thing that he's forgotten. At least this way the damage he's done won't have existed. He jerks slightly. It's barely there under the surface, a too-long blink, a slight grimace, and a tightening of his arms. He licks his lips and tries to focus on what he should say. He was going to say something.

"What did they say?" Frank asks. He knows by now what is happening. He looks at Brock with compassion. He slowly turns and takes Brock's arm.

He swallows hard. He hates this. His voice is small yet somehow it echoes in the elevator. "It would be better if I were forgotten because then you wouldn't remember the damage I did."

"Well, I will never forget you. You're the love of my life. And there's no damage done, so. Lies." Frank nods.

"They disagree. Very much and very loud." He sighs, "I hate this."

"What those little gremlins don't know… I have a secret weapon." Frank smirks. 

"What?" Brock tilts his head and he frowns slightly.

"I have all kinds of tricks," He sets the bag of food down and pulls Brock down, and kisses him passionately as the door opens.

Jack stands there and grins at the two of them locking lips. He gives them a moment before clearing his throat. "Am I interrupting something?" 

Frank pulls away from Brock and grins. He speaks softly, "Just chasing a gremlin away." 

Smiling, Jack nods. He's dressed sharply in pressed dress pants, shiny shoes, a button-down, and a cardigan over it. A wool trench coat covers the look. His curls are gelled into tight ringlets. In his hand is a brown paper bag with a bowl of soup in it.

"Now that I have you two captive, I have one thing to say." Frank turns around and backs into his husband. He put Brock's hand on his stomach.

"Yes, Frank?" 

"Do not let Carolyn get to you. Be nice." Frank says with a nod.

"I will if she will," Jack and Brock say in sync.

Brock continues, "I'll try. Promise."

"That's all I ask. She is going to push buttons like she always does." Frank says with a small nod. The elevator doors open and let them out into the garage.

"You sure you don't want to drive?" Frank asks Brock holding the keys up. Brock shakes his head. He unlocks Stella and lets his boys in. He pulls out of the garage and heads to Jersey. The snow had fallen the night before and iced the trees and landmarks around them nicely. The drive seems to go by fast as they pull into the driveway. Frank touches Brock’s arm, once his husband turns his head, he kisses him. "I love you, _polpetto."_

"I love you too, _tesoro_." Brock squeezes Frank's hand tightly. Pausing, he reaches into his coat and takes one of his anxiety pills. He's going to need it soon. Retaking his hand tightly, he grips both his cane and his husband as they walk up the snow-covered walkway. He's fairly certain he's going to bust his ass.

Frank sees the front door open with Christine stepping out, "Hi boys! Come in, come in and get warm!" 

Frank helps Brock up the steps and lets him in first. Christine hugs him and kisses his cheek. She kisses Frank then hugs Jack. "You boys clean up nicely. Mom's in the kitchen, dad's in the garage with Leo and James. Carolyn is in the kitchen…"

A little voice calls from the kitchen, "My 'rocks here?" 

"Nice to see you, Christine," Brock says, entering further into the house. He's thankful the house is warm and toasty. He can smell the wood burning from the fireplace in the den. He waits for Emma and his husband.

"Christine," nods Jack, slipping past Frank to take the soup into the kitchen. 

Little feet pattering against the tile rush towards Brock, brown curls bouncing along with the brown and gold bow that matches a longer tulle skirt. She rushes up to Brock and wraps her arms around his leg. "My 'rock!" 

Frank takes Brock's coat and kisses his cheek. He pats Emma's head as he hangs their coats up. He takes the wine from his husband's hand and heads to the kitchen.

Smiling at Frank, Brock directs his attention down to the little girl hugging his leg. She's just tall enough that he can pat her head without bending or moving too much. "Hi, baby Emmy." 

"We got a kitty!" She grins up at him. She lets go of his leg and raises her arms to be picked up. She starts babbling on about the kitty and other nonsensical things.

Frank peers around the corner and smiles before turning back to his mom, he opens his mouth to speak but Carolyn cuts him off.

"Did you bring _him_ with you?" Her voice is critical.

"Well, he is my husband. So yes." Frank snips.

Jack pauses from where he is taking the soup out of his bag and transferring it into a dish to be reheated. He hasn't seen the woman since he threatened her and it appears she hasn't changed. He listens but ignores her, for now.

Carolyn steps into the kitchen fully. "Oh and Jack came too. How lovely." 

"Yes, I invited him. Cause he's one of my boys now," Linda says with a warning in her voice.

"Hmm… I'm sure there's room at the kids’ table for all these wayward children." Carolyn replies, her attempt to make it a joke is thin and makes Frank roll his eyes.

"I'm sure we can find some nice hay for you to eat in the garage." Frank hisses.

"Franklin," Linda warns.

"Told you, Linda. He's gonna come in with an attitude. The angels told me." She says waving her hand in the air.

Christine looks at Frank and mouths with an eye roll, 'the angels'

"Brock, are you gonna lurk in the hall or come see your mother?" Linda calls to him before she kisses Jack's cheek again, "You look so handsome Jack."

"Clean up nice there Jacky." Carolyn says, raising an eyebrow, "Took a _bath_ and everything."

"Don't call me that," he growls quietly to Carolyn. He turns to Linda, "Thank you, ma'am. 

"And yet you're still dousing yourself in Love's baby soft… hmmm." Frank glares.

"Chris, go tell your brother guests are here." Linda swats her butt which makes her grumble. "Your soup smells great Jack." 

"Thank you, ma'am," Jack grins at her.

"Frank, get the little plates out for appetizers," Linda orders him. Frank pulls the plates out and sets them on the island.

James enters into the kitchen with a smile, "There's my favorite little sister." He pulls Frank into a headlock as he drags knuckles over his head, "How's it going shrimp?" 

"It's fine. James, this is Jack. He's Brock's brother." Frank pulls away cherry red. He makes a move for Brock. He hates his fucking brother some times.

James extends a hand to Jack, "Nice to meet you, Jack!"

"Nice to meet you as well." 

"So welcome to the family, would you like something to drink? The ladies have wine and there's beer in the garage." James offers.

"I appreciate it, thanks. We also brought wine," chuckles Jack. "I'm good for now."

"Alright cool, let me know if you need anything." James pats his back. He turns and moves to Brock, "How's it going, Brock?" 

"Better. Things are improving every day," he answers with a small smile. He absently plays with Emma's hair as she tells him about the kitty.

"Great to hear, Brock. Is my brother taking care of you?" 

"Splendidly as always," he nods.

"Go away, uncle James. Rock is mine." Emma grumbles in her little voice.

"Alright. Alright. Why don't you take your boyfriend and go sit in the living room?" James chuckles, "Sit him by the fireplace."

"Okay. Come 'rock! We go by fireplace." Emma puts a hand up for him to hold.

James gives Brock a little nod, "The rest of ‘em will follow." 

"Thank you," he replies to him. He wasn't referring to the others. Taking the tiny hand, he follows after her.

Frank follows after Brock once his brother is gone, "Always being led around by a tiny person, huh babe?"

He glances at Frank and gives him a small smile, "I do have a soft spot for smalls." 

"I small," Emma says with a wide grin.

"I know baby girl," Brock coos at her. "And you are so pretty in your dress. A very pretty princess." 

"Tanks! It's big and fluffy!" She runs a small hand down the skirt. 

"What are you gonna do when she is an 8 year old?" Frank asks as he sits on the couch.

"Still call her baby girl and princess," he smirks. He carefully sits next to Frankie.

"A potato!" Emma adds with a giggle.

"Who's a potato? Are you calling _me_ a potato? Huh?" Brock asks as he tickles her. 

She lets out a loud giggle and wiggles away from him, "I’m a potato!" 

"I think you or Jack called her like _patatina_ or something," Frank suggests.

"I'm a potato!" 

Brock laughs, recollection filling his brain. He's holding Emma with one arm around her middle to keep her in his lap and to control where she wiggles. "Yes baby girl, you are. But not a potato. _Patatina_."

"Patty tuna!" She repeats.

Brock asks gently, "Can you say, Tina?"

"Tina!" 

"Good job!" Brock says in a child-approved little voice. "What about pat?" 

"Pat!" 

"And ta?" 

"Ta!" 

"Good job baby girl. Now we're gonna put it all together." Brock speaks each syllable slow and carefully, " _Patatina_."

"Pat a Tina!" She beams up at him. 

"Perfect!" Brock kisses her chubby cheek lightly. "You did so good, baby girl." 

"Tanks!" She says before resting her head on Brock's shoulder. 

Frank scoots closer to Brock and kisses his cheek. Linda enters the living room with Chris and Carolyn in tow. Shortly after, Jack trails behind them.

"Hello!" Linda says with a smile.

"Hi Momma Linda," Brock calls over his shoulder.

"I see the baby is holding you hostage."

He chuckles and asks, "Is it hostage if it's willing, though?" 

Carolyn speaks softly to Christine who makes a face and shoos her away. Frank glares at her. 

"Arthritis bothering you today Brock?" Carolyn asks with a hint of sarcasm.

"I don't have arthritis," Brock says with a questioning tone in his voice. Why would she think that? He's not _that_ old. 

"I just assumed since you are just sitting that you must." Carolyn replies, "And the cane."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming, right?" Jack snickers. "Makes an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_."

"Maybe just ask what you want to know, Carol," Frank grumbles.

"Jackson. What is it you do for a living?" 

"One, that's not my name. Jack isn't short for anything. I hate nicknames. Don't give me one. Two, I assist with the family business. I manage the accounts, records, and make sure things are running smoothly. I make sure the rules are being enforced."

"Oh like an account specialist but with teeth," Carolyn asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Anyway, boys how is the wedding planning?" Linda asks.

"Great! I think we are all set." Frank looks to his mom then Brock.

"Yeah, I think all we need to do now is finalize some of the finishing touches and send the invites. I still have the last fitting to do. I think so does Frank."

"I do have a fitting left. I also have been waiting to hear back from the music." Frank smiles wide.

"So almost ready then," Brock smiles.

"Yeah. I'd say so. Are you guys ready?" Frank grins at his mom.

"It's a little late on that, bärchen," Jack snickers.

"They do!" Frank says with a little smile.

"It's interesting that there are only a limited amount of cabins," Carolyn says with a frown.

"Yeah. What a shame." Frank rolls his eyes.

"It's a private island designed to provide intimacy and quietness to the couples. It's a retreat. We're lucky to be able to take immediate family and friends who are _in_ the wedding itself. It's crazy but it's worth it. A perfect paradise," says Brock.

"Our perfect paradise," Frank says squeezing Brock's hand.

"They are gross but cute." Christine chuckles.

"Ain't that the truth," mutters Jack fondly.

"Thanks!" 

Brock's hand tightens around Frank as another intrusive thought hits him. He closes his eyes and prays it's not true and that it will go away. He's fooling himself. They never go away. They just lie in dormancy and wait. He can't wait for the new pills to kick in and the evil pills to leave his system.

"It's a lie." Frank leans up and whispers in his ear, "Believe me. I wouldn't ever lie to you." 

"I know," he whispers back with a hint of a whine in his voice. That thought was very hurtful.

"I love you, Brock." Frank presses his lips to Brock's cheek.

Carolyn watches Brock and parts her lips. "Got some demons there Brock?" 

"Who doesn't?" He whispers.

"Maybe the angels will help...you seem _unwell."_ Her voice laced with venom.

"Leave him alone, Carolyn." Frank's voice is a warning. He doesn't care if she is family. Brock is his husband.

Whispered words of venom and poison run rampant in his head. She's right. He's not okay. His brain is trying to drag him down further into the darkness. It's trying to kill him. His free hand comes up to grasp at his head, covering his ear as if by doing that will drown out the insidious thoughts. He whispers hoarsely, "Stop. Please." 

Emma lifts her head and kisses his cheek, "All better. No more owie." Her little hand touches his cheek. 

"Thank you, baby girl," he whispers to her. He wishes it were that simple.

"Emmy. Maybe go see if poppa wants company." Frank whispers in her ear.

"Poppa Frank?"

"Yup. I think the doggy is in there too." Frank says with a smile.

"Ok!" Emma kisses Brock's cheek, "I be back." 

"Ok." Brock gives her a barely-there smile as she slides off his lap and patters away.

"Come on. Up." Frank says softly to Brock, "We are going for a walk."

Brock nods, using the cane and the couch to push him up into standing. Frank takes his hand and he squeezes it tightly. He needs his anchor.

Once they clear the living room, he turns to him, "Outside or upstairs?"

"Upstairs? Warm at least." 

"Okay. Come on." Frank leads him up the stairs. He pulls him into his old room. He closes the door behind him. He sits on the end of his bed and pats the spot beside him.

Brock carefully eases himself down onto the mattress with a little oof. He sighs hard and puts his head in his hands. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. You need a break." Frank lies beside him. He turns on his side and kisses Brock’s cheek.

"I love you," he sighs in reply. "I hate this. So fucking much." 

"It's nothing you did." 

"It's like my brain _feeds_ on all the dark and negative around me and spews it back on me. Hell, even the nice words are twisted."

"Well, it's only gonna be like this a little longer. I'll be here, every step telling you the truth." Frank takes two fingers and tilts Brock's head to face him, he kisses his lips softly, "I won't let you drown. And I'll fight that old cunt." 

"Just don't drown yourself saving me, okay? I'm not worth it," he mutters. He winces at his words.

"That's not true. You are worth it. You are my everything." Frank smiles softly, "Don't listen to those nasty little gremlins." 

"I hope I didn't ruin Thanksgiving. God knows what she's saying about me now. And what if someone believes her? What if they change their mind about me?"

"No one believes her. She's a kook." Frank holds his chin, "Mom wouldn't let them say anything bad and you know Jack won't either. You need a breather and that's what we are doing. Plus! I get to make out with my hot husband in my old room which is something I wanted to do for a while."

Brock smiles softly. "Oh, yeah? Guess you better get started on that if you want it."

Frank leans in a little closer as he licks his own lips. He's inches away from Brock. He can feel the soft push of Brock's breath against his skin. His husband looks amazing and smells fantastic. He watches Brock's lips as he speaks softly, "How far can I take this?"

"As far as you feel comfortable," he whispers, pressing his lips to Frank's.

Frank leans in and kisses him softly, "What if I'm comfortable with it all?" His hand runs down Brock's chest. He kisses him deeply.

"Okay," he mutters breathlessly. His words echo back in his head. _Whatever you want to do, I'll do it._ Try as he might, he couldn't get over the fear of repeating his mistake from the previous week. It haunted him daily; the gremlins loved to remind him of it and use it as fuel. As a result, he was afraid to do anything to upset or hurt his husband, afraid to drive with Frank in the car, even afraid to get aroused. He's afraid to want.

Frank slides his hand under Brock's shirt and rakes his nails lightly down his chest and across his stomach, "I want you to touch me." 

"Where?" He whispers, carefully reaching out and placing his hand on Frank's hip. He slides it up under his shirt and waits.

"Like that," Frank kisses Brock's neck as his hand slides back up and carefully pulls Brock's nipple. He grinds his hips into his husband. He has a mind in a place he probably shouldn't be.

Pulling away from Frank, Brock leans back on the bed, leaving his legs draped over the edge of the bed. He pulls Frankie back to him, kissing him, slipping his tongue inside, and mapping out his mouth. Kissing was safe and they both enjoyed that. He couldn't mess up kissing. His hands return to Frankie's waist, slipping back under his shirt, and slowly running his fingers up and over his chest and stomach.

Frank kisses him back and he pulls back for a moment to pull his sweater and shirt off. He leans back down and kisses his lips then neck and shoulder, "I want all of you." 

Squeezing his eyes shut to block out the noise in his head, Brock forces himself to pull off his shirt and toss it to the side. He's edging slowly into the uncomfortable territory but he knows he's gotta fight the rising anxiety. He pulls Frank to him, kissing him before nosing at his neck. His safe spot on his husband. "I love you." 

"I love you too," Frank whispers in his ear. He can see his husband's discomfort and leans back, "Do you not want to do this?" 

"Yes. No. I'm afraid. And I'm trying; I want to. I want _you_ ," he rambles in a hushed voice.

"Do you want to wait until we get home?" Frank asks softly. He leans down and kisses him. His hips roll into Brock. 

"I– I– um," he pauses. He's not sure he's going to have the energy later to do this. "No. No." 

Frank pulls back, "Babe, we don't have to..." He slides off Brock’s hips.

"N-no. I mean. You asked if I wanted to wait. No. Now is fine." Brock grabs for him.

Frank gives him a look. He's not sure if he's pressuring Brock into doing this. "You'd be willing to have sex?" Frank leans forward and kisses Brock's chest.

Wrapping his arms around Frank into a hug, Brock buries his face in his love's neck, pressing a soft kiss there. He holds him tight and whispers in his ear, telling his secret, "Willing, yes. But I'm afraid. Afraid of it going wrong. Afraid of wanting bad things. Hurting you. Failing. It's why I haven't– I didn't listen before. I will now. I'll do whatever you want. Whatever you say. I _do_ want you."

"Let's see if you're up for this when we get home. Or maybe tomorrow." Frank sighs into Brock’s skin, "I love you." Frank lies on top of him.

There's a knock at the door. Frank turns his head to the side and towards the sound, "Yes?" 

Jack's muffled voice filters through the wood, "Linda wanted me to check and see if everything was alright. Dinner's almost ready."

Frank hands Brock his shirt, "You can come in Jack." 

Jack opens the door and raises his eyebrows at the sight of them in a state of half-nakedness. He smirks as he shuts the door behind him. "Sorry to interrupt." 

"You're not interrupting. What's up Jack?" 

"Just seeing if you guys were okay. And to ask if you were rejoining the family anytime soon. Please save me from Carolyn."

"Okay. Brock was having a hard time, the little voices were agreeing with Carolyn." Frank slides off Brock's lap. He picks his shirt up and slips it on. He stands and straightens himself out of the mirror. He waits for Brock to sit up.

"Anything I can help with?" Jack asks with a frown.

Brock sits up and slides his shirt back on feeling like a failure and incompetent. He shakes his head. "Not unless you've got magic powers to fix me or silence the world. Or Carolyn."

"Just because I've got glasses and dark hair doesn't make me Harry Potter," Jack chuckles. "Sorry."

"Can I talk to mom?" Frank asks.

"Yeah…?" Brock raises an eyebrow, wondering why Frank would need to ask that silly of a question. He tilts his head as he stands, adjusting his clothing.

"She can maybe control her sister. I just don't want it to be a fight cause I will hit her again. Or let Chris do it." Frank says sliding his arm around Brock. 

"You've hit Carol?" 

"Yes," Frank says with a hint of ice in his voice.

"Oh. Ok." Brock turns his head and kisses Frank's temple.

"I was a teenager. She basically called me a worthless homo. She blamed my mom for not being home." Frank glances up at Brock, "Then I met Mike like four months later."

"I'm not judging, baby. I've killed people for the same thing," he shrugs and grabs his cane. He needed it to be wherever he was magically. He was always leaving it somewhere.

"Same…. And for less. I wouldn't mind knocking her senseless," snorts Jack.

"I'm a soft boy so yeah. " Frank shrugs, "My dad bought me a new guitar a day later … so I mean. I did something right."

Brock nuzzles Frank not unlike an overly affectionate cat before whispering to him in his ear. "My soft boy." 

"Is that going to be a new thing?" Frank smiles as he rubs his back.

"Maybe. We'll see." Brock sighs, resigned to going back downstairs to mingle and socialize. He squeezes Frank's hip and begins to walk towards the door and back into hell. Jack gets the door for them both and lingers a little, checking out Frank's room. Nodding in appreciation, he, too, heads back downstairs. 

"Oh, you're back. Good!" Christine greets the three of them with a smile.

"Yeah. We needed a timeout." Frank smiles at his sister.

Jack quickly disappears, finding that he can suffer watching sports and drinking beer in the garage with Frank Sr., Leo, and James. Anything to avoid the overly chatty ladies, the kids, and the devil's twin. He needs his own break.

Frank walks into the kitchen and leans into his mom's ear, "Control your sister, or I will. Brock's not doing well." 

"Can I help?"

"You can ask," Frank says with a nod.

Brock sticks close to Frank, choosing to hang in the hallway to give his husband and mother-in-law some privacy. He wants to… do nothing but be clingy to Frank. He frowns. That's not normal for him. 

"Stir the gravy." Linda kisses her son before turning to Brock and curling his finger at him to come.

Stepping into the kitchen he tries to offer her a smile, but it's weak. Already the gremlins were whispering in his ear, spreading anxiety and fear over what Linda could want from him. He stops next to Frankie, his free hand reaching for him. Emma called him Rock because she couldn't pronounce his name but the reality was that the only rock here is Frank.

Linda pulls him into a hug, "What's going on, baby! Can I help?" 

"My head is trying to kill me," he whispers, "and I can't make it stop."

"Do you want to do it?" She asks him as she cups his cheek.

"No, but," he hesitates. He doesn't want this taken the wrong way. "It's getting harder and harder to ignore it. It never stops. They never go away. I just want it to go away."

"What made this happen, sweetheart?" Linda says softly.

"Before I left the hospital, they put me on new meds to help _cope_ with my injury. They gave me meds mainly used to treat schizophrenia. And I–"

"Oh so, you're schizophrenic? I knew it." Carolyn hisses.

Brock snaps his head to her. She heard! No! It can't be! "No, I'm–" 

"But you hear voices," Carolyn says raising her voice slightly, "Linda, I told you something happened." 

"It's not like that," he whispers weakly. He did. But did it count if it was his own voice? 

Frank glances at the block of knives. He can hear the pain in his husband's voice. 

"So you are dangerous then? Are you having hallucinations?" Carolyn asks.

"No. I'm not schizophrenic."

"The angels–" 

"It was an accident. The meds they gave me were to treat _depression_. It's not my thoughts. I don't want them. I don't want it. It's a side effect," he rambles, pleading his case to Linda. Begging her to not think less of him. He's not crazy. Right?

Frank looks at his husband then pulls the first knife his hand can touch, he turns to face her and shouts, "You'll meet the motherfucking angels if you don't back off!" He points it at her.

"Put the knife down Frank." Linda says calmly, "Sometimes the medication can have negative effects like that. You're not dangerous. You're hurting." Linda pulls him into a hug, "Don't listen to Carolyn. She is about to be uninvited to dinner." 

"Linda!" Carolyn squawks and points to Frank, still wielding the knife at her, "They have made your son a menace just like them!" 

Jack enters the kitchen, his Brock senses on fire. His brother was in distress. He stops at the sight of Frank brandishing the knife. "What's going on?" 

"We're gonna have Miss Piggy for dinner if she doesn't shut her fucking mouth." Frank hisses.

"Frank. Out. Now!" Linda raises her voice. She is still hugging Brock tight.

She takes the knife from him and points out of the kitchen.

"Apologize now, Carol." 

"I did nothing wrong!" Carolyn hisses.

"Apologize."

"What did you do to my brother, _tratschtante?_ " hisses Jack

"She called him dangerous!" Frank shouts from the other room.

"I'm only stating the truth. He's a schizophrenic!" Carolyn shouts. 

"I'm not schizophrenic," Brock protests. "I don't hear voices!"

Frank moves back towards the kitchen. He's going to strangle her. "Fuck it..." He might catch a charge for this but he's done with this bullshit from her.

Jack moves and blocks Frank from entering the kitchen. His expression is blank. His voice is cold, "Don't. Let me." 

"Jack," Frank growls and pushes slightly. 

"Wait, bärchen."

"Frank, go!" Linda hisses.

"Bye Franklin. Disrespectful little qu-" Carolyn stops herself.

"Get out of my house." Linda snaps her fingers and points for Carolyn to leave, "Take Leo with you."

"You aren't invited to my wedding because of this, you hateful hag!" Frank tries to shout over Jack.

Jack moves to Carolyn. He speaks to her icily, "You are nothing more than a spiteful old bitch. You spread hate and discord because your fucked up brain is too stupid to comprehend anything else. Tell me how does it feel to know that _nobody_ in this world loves you? Everyone hates you. You are going to die alone and empty without friends or family because you push them away. Nobody will give a fuck when you die. I'm going to destroy your life. Your business. I'm going to find out everything you've ever done. I'm going to take you apart slowly bit by bit until you are on your wrinkly old hag knees _begging_ me and my family for forgiveness. So you and your schizophrenic angels can go to hell."

Frank moves to hug Brock from behind.

"I'm sorry, baby." 

"You really are the goddamned pitbull aren't you!" Carolyn says flustered. She rises from her seat.

"I prefer German Shepard," he says coldly.

"Out!" Linda hisses again, "I won't tell you again. Mom would be so disappointed in you!"

"Apologize first," Jack says. 

"I'm sorry you're a monster in the making. And that your brother is broken. And my confused nephew is being dragged down with you two." Carolyn snaps.

Jack leans closer and whispers in her ear, "Take it back, say something actually nice for once or I swear to God, you will find Death in your bed tonight. "

"Sorry I hurt your feelings," Carolyn says flatly as she stares Jack down.

He pulls back and nods his approval. Seems she is afraid of something. "If you can maintain basic decent politeness the rest of the evening, I _might_ convince Linda to let you stay."

Carolyn scans Jack's face and nods.

Without breaking eye contact with Carolyn, Jack speaks to Linda, "Verdict, Linda? Carolyn has agreed to play nice." 

"No. Out," Linda says coldly. She knows Frank won't drop it. She knows he's so protective of Brock.

"Welp I tried," Jack says sarcastically.

"Don't expect an invite to Christmas either you fucking snake," Frank says squeezing Brock.

"Wouldn't want to come, not in this house of sin. Not on Jesus' birthday." Carolyn says pushing past Jack

"Jesus was born in the Spring," Brock corrects her. "The pagans decided that December 25th was one of their holy days and the early Christians merged the events as a way of finding a way to convert them. It's never been changed. Also, it's a retail holiday nowadays anyway."

"Of course you believe that," Carolyn replies as she walks past him and into the garage. 

"It's in the Bible!" Brock calls after her.

The garage door slams and muffled voices then quiet. The garage door squeaks, "What the hell happened?" Frank Sr asks.

"Carolyn's bullshit," Frank grumbles.

"Oh, who am I buying a guitar for now?" He asks.

"Jack and mom."

"Brock," says Jack.

"You boys did well. Glad that gnat is gone." Frank Sr says casually.

"Jack," Brock says quietly, still squished between Linda and Frank. "What did you say to her to make her actually apologize?"

"To kill her." Frank Sr snorts, "She exaggerates so much… crazy hag. How's my turkey?" 

"Actually, sir, I implied I was the horseman of death. Kinda plays into her whole psychosis. If it takes her afraid of me to get her to act like a decent human being, then so be it. She threatens my brother again, and I might put weight behind my words. Ketchup in the bed looks like blood, right?"

"I know a butcher…" Frank Sr. offers.

Jack grins, "Oh I like you."

"I like you too. You got rid of the Spectre at the feast." Frank Sr chuckles as he pats Jack's shoulder, "Paco, your brother in law is a pretty awesome kid." 

"I know. It's why I love him." Frank smiles at him.

"Cheech, check your bird," Linda says softly. Her voice is back to being motherly. Her lips press to Brock's temple.

Jack moves and goes to Brock, pulling him into a tight hug. He whispers to him in Italian, " _Nobody messes with my big brother. We protect our own."_

" _We protect our own_ ," Brock says back, returning the hug just as tight. He switches back to English. "Thank you, Jack." 

"Always, brother. Frank, you okay?" Jack wraps one arm around him.

"I'm okay." Frank says softly, "I wanted to hit her." 

"Hmmm, not the only one, bärchen." He winks at Frank before sighing and getting himself a beer.

"Brock, sweetheart." Linda says quietly in his ear, "Let's go sit and talk for a moment. Alone." 

"Yes momma," he replies.

Linda takes his hand and leads him to a bedroom. The large bed is covered in a navy blue comforter with accents of dusty rose and cream pillows. She sits on the bed, her feet hover over it several inches as she shifts to get comfortable. She pats the spot beside her.

He sits next to her, also shifting back to get comfortable. He looks around the room, taking in the personal touches and even more personal items. He asks softly, "Is this your room?" 

"It is." Linda grins, "Paco convinced me to redecorate and Cheech was fine with it."

"It's beautiful," he murmurs, focusing on the navy blue comforter.

"Now, Brock. What's going on honey? I'm worried about you." Linda says with a gentle voice.

"I'm not schizophrenic. The only voice in my head is my own. It's just persistent intrusive thoughts I prefer to call gremlins. And they've been so much worse since I left the hospital. And I've done things. Terrible things. Things I can't let go of. And," he swallows thickly, "since doing those things, it's only fed the gremlins. And more often than not I'm wondering if it's better to just give in. It terrifies me. It's not my thoughts. But I can't shut it off."

"Before you left the hospital, did you want to give in? Before you got shot?" Linda asks.

Brock shakes his head. "No. I've never thought about suicide or self-harm before taking these pills. I practically panicked the first time it happened."

"So, it's definitely a side effect. Are you switching medicine?" Linda takes his hand, "I know it seems scary Brock. You know that you are not in this alone. Frankie and Jack are your biggest rocks and they will make sure you are ok."

He nods, "Frankie called Dr. Choi right away. I'm supposed to wean off before switching meds. I've got a few more days left before I can start the new pills. And another two weeks before _those_ even start working. And it's just…. I'm just… tired. It never stops. I can't keep fighting."

"You're not alone. Frank seems to be pretty in tune with you. He loves you and won't let you fight alone. You just have to remember that those intrusive thoughts are not real. It's just the chemicals in your brain misfiring. You aren't a bad guy and I know this." 

"I hurt him," he confesses in the barest of whispers.

"What do you mean?" 

"I… the thoughts aren't the only things wrong."

"What else?"

"We discovered, far too late, that I've been having mood swings. And urges. Dangerous ones. And I didn't mean to. But I did. And I hurt him. And I've apologized. He says he's forgiven me. Moved on. It's over. But, I can't let it go."

Linda's forehead wrinkles, "Dangerous urges? But he forgave you… what does your head say?" 

He swallows thickly and looks at her. "I'm a disgusting monster and I should just kill myself to save him the trouble of living with the trauma of what I did."

"Did he say that? That you should do that and spare him?" Linda asks.

"No."

"Why do you listen to them, if there is nothing true about it?" 

"But it is true."

"No, sweetheart. It's not." 

He shakes his head. She's wrong. She wouldn't say such things if she knew what he did to her precious little boy. 

"So, lets me put this in a different way." Linda pauses, "Whatever you did, imagine Frankie did it to you. He started having the same feelings and thoughts. But you don't feel like he does. So, he acts on it and hurts himself. How would you feel?"

"Guilty for not being able to help him, for failing him," Brock says.

"Now, we both know that Frankie forgave you for whatever thing you did. But your head is shaming you for it. You need to find a way to forgive yourself. That is constructive." 

"I can't," he chokes out. "I _can't_."

"What did you do?"

Brock shakes his head rapidly. He can't tell her. Frankie would never forgive him. What if he actually left him?! He can't live without Frankie. He wouldn't survive without his soulmate.

"Hey. Come back to Earth, Brock." Linda touches his hand.

He doesn't know when he started crying again but he looks at her with terror in his blurry eyes. "I can't! He'll be mad at me. I promised not to tell anyone. We'd keep it secret."

"Frankie. Come here." Linda calls for her son. She hears his distinct footsteps approach.

"Yeah, momma… Brock?" Frank says looking at his mom then his husband.

"Frankie, I'm sorry. I tried to censor it. I did. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

Frank closes the door, he stands by Brock and strokes his husband's face, "Honey, it's okay. Maybe it will help." 

Brock wraps his arms around Frank's middle and buries his face in his tummy, crying into the fabric. "Please don't leave me. I didn't tell her." 

"Brock, I won't leave you. I promise." Frank says softly, "Mom, one of our sex games went wrong and he's terrified that he's hurt me. I'm fine. I'm over it. We talked about it and I'm ok. I don't know how to make this stop. I feel like I make it worse." 

"Do you hear him, Brock?" Linda asks.

"I'm sorry." He clutches Frank's shirt. 

"It's the meds. It's what's making him feel everything." Linda says softly, "Has he eaten today?"

"No. We have Friendsgiving after this."

"That's not helping either." Linda strokes Brock's hair, "Brock. Frank's not leaving you. You didn't do anything wrong. It's gonna be okay, no matter what your intrusive thoughts tell you."

"I don't want to do it again. I don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be a monster. I don't want to die," Brock sobs out.

"Brock. I'm not leaving. You're not a monster. I won't let you die." Frank hugs him tighter.

"You said you would," Brock looks up at him, voice bordering on empty, tears pouring steadily. "And you should. I deserve it." 

"I didn't mean it. I'm not going to leave you. You are the love of my life." Frank says softly.

"You're mine too," Brock says wetly, sniffling. He gives a disgusted expression before taking a huge breath and slowly calming down. It's only times like these when he's cried himself empty do the gremlins finally quiet.

"I love you, Brock," Frank whispers to him. Linda crawls off the bed and disappears into her bathroom. She returns with a wet rag. She hands it to Frank. She gives him a nod then leaves the room.

Frank wipes his husband's face, "You're gonna pass out hard in the car later." 

Brock huffs weakly, "At least my head will be quiet. Three more days." 

"Three more days." Frank nods. He kisses Brock's forehead, "You need another minute then go out and eat?" 

"Okay." He hugs Frank like he's his Tiger. He misses Koala Time and says as much.

"I miss it too. I feel like it will help. Maybe when we get home, I'll cling to you." Frank hugs him tight.

"Yes, please. Lots of cuddles."

"I love you." 

"I love you more."

"I love you the most." Frank tilts his husband's chin up and kisses him, "You're my forever and for always." 

"Love you the mostest to the stars and back," Brock offers a smile. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. His head is quiet for now but it's not for long and he knows it. It's like he has to exhaust his mind for the thoughts to go away. It's not a state he can exist in forever. 

"Nope. I love you the morest of the most. Brock, I'd do anything to make this right." Frank kisses his forehead again, "I don't know what to do Brock. Please… please tell me." 

"I don't know either. I just want my head to be normal. And quiet. And to erase Canada from my memory." He closes his eyes and moves his head so he's listening to the sound of his husband's heartbeat.

"I don't. Canada was fun. Niagara was fun, I love being with you. I wanna do it again. Pick a place and go." Frank smiles.

"I think of Canada and I see that night. It never leaves my head," he whispers.

"I know. We'll make it better." Frank kisses him again. 

The sound of Frank's heartbeat begins to lull Brock into calmness. He can go to sleep like this. Holding Frank and being held was his favorite thing about their relationship. Touch was his number one love language and a necessity for him, even without his touch starvation. It had gotten ten times better in the last six months but no matter, because he was still a needy thing. It was one of the reasons he loved Frank. His boy was just as needy as he was. He sighs, quiet and content and at peace for the first time all day. Looking up at him, he smiles, "I like this. Very much. You are a good pillow, baby. Even better anti-anxiety."

"Really?" Frank says hopeful with a small smile, "I wanna help you as much as I can." 

"Head's quiet," Brock comments.

"Good. We like quiet. You need peace." Frank strokes his hair, "We should join the family." 

He sighs before nuzzling Frank and trying to scoot closer to him, "You're comfy. Don't wanna move." 

Frank lets himself be moved by Brock, he massages Brock's scalp with his fingertips, "I like this." 

"I wanna do this at home. But laying down in bed. Or on the couch. The bed’s better cause I'm tired."

"Do you want to lay on me?" Frank asks, curious as to how it would work.

"We could try," he sighs, sleepily. This was _really_ nice. "At home. Food for now." 

"Yes. Food. Then more food. Then bed and a movie." Frank says with a nod. He helps Brock to his feet, he wipes his husband's face before kissing him, "Just as handsome as the day I met you." 

"Probably won't be awake for a movie. Turkey is gonna put us into food comas. Which I'm fine with." He adjusts his clothing and makes sure he didn't wrinkle the bedding.

After a delicious meal and quiet conversation, each boy hugs Linda and Christine. Emma makes Brock promise to come to her house to see her new baby kitty and hugs him tight. Frank Sr. quietly hugs Brock then Jack. The family watches as Frank pulls his car from the driveway. The snow is coming down and beginning to cover everything, again. 

Frank turns the heat up as he hears Brock's teeth chattering. He cracks his window and glances at Jack, "You good Brother?" 

"Yeah," comes a rocky reply. Jack's cold too but he didn't want to say anything, choosing instead to button up his coat all the way. 

"Guys. If you're cold, tell me." Frank says glancing at Brock who's a turtle in his shell, "I'm not going to have a flashback and Thelma and Louise us."

"I think the better question is, Frank," Jack says rather, muffled, to avoid having his brother speak about this, "is how are you _not_ freezing, in general?" 

"My feet are cold." Frank comments, "I'm fine, guys." He turns the heat up and plays the mantra in his head, 'I'm fine. This is normal,' over and over again to keep from getting spooked. The feeling dissipates after a few minutes and he rolls the window up, he looks at Brock and presses the fan up to push more heat out. He hits the heated seat button and turns the music up a little.

"Stop," Brock says warningly. This isn't okay. His head screams at him with all sorts of filth while sirens and alarms wail. He's not allowed to have heat. Frankie can't. 

"The car? Are you gonna be sick?" Frank asks, confused and concerned.

Was this a new punishment? To make him relive and experience what he put Frank through? If he complied… would that silence the demons? Would it make everything better? He shakes his head in both answering Frankie's question and to clear his mind of the gremlins. Frankie wouldn't make him do that. He's a pure soul. It's Brock that is the monster.

"Fuck sake," Frank whispers and turns the heat down. He turns the song to a different one and pushes the accelerator a little harder. He turns the corner and cuts into Ray's neighborhood from the back way.

"Brock, do we need to go over some ground rules about you and the baby?" teases Jack. He's starting to get comfy toasty and sits forward between the two front seats while unbuttoning his coat a little.

"No?" He's thrown by the question. Did his brother think that he would hurt the baby? Did Frank? He hasn't seen Baby Floof or Christa since his release from the hospital and that was before his brain got jumbled worse than scrambled eggs.

"We can't keep him. He's not ours." Frank glances at Jack. He's thankful for the distraction.

"He's mine," Brock protests softly from under his many layers of clothing. He didn't mean it on a blood level but on something he couldn't even explain. He sighs and gives in. It's not like he was ever really going to kidnap him. "Not stealing Baby." 

Frank parks the car outside the Toros home, "We aren't going to borrow him either."

"Okay," he mutters, drawing out the syllables. He's aware that he sounds like a petulant child but doesn't care. "Not leaving with Baby." 

"Good. Jack, will you grab the salads from behind me?"

"Got 'em."

Frank gets out and moves around to help Brock to the door. He can hear holiday music already. This makes his heart swell a little as he knocks on the door.

Ray pulls the door open with a smile, "Welcome! Come in! Shoes off. Gang is in the kitchen. Chris is bringing Zach down now." 

The house is decorated in fall colors. Silk fall leaves drape over the entryway. Pumpkins and twinkling lights fill the home. In the corner stands a tree, decorated in pumpkins and other autumn-themed items. It was perfect and Frank was in love.

"Brock. Wanna hold him?" Christa asks as she descends the stairs.

He fights to keep his voice level and under control. He needs to hide that he's broken. His mind twists memories, bringing thoughts he's never had before to the surface. He hates it.

"He needs to take a seat before he can. He's been feeling a little unstable." Frank answers for him.

"One-handed is not safe," Brock says, keeping his eyes on the floor. He makes his way to the couch. Another memory gets twisted into something darker and a vision of his own death enters his head. He's thankful the boys are behind him. He's not sure he can look at Sunshine right now. He's not sure he can look at him the same anymore. He's losing everything normal and safe to his head. He should just eat his gun.

" _Frankie_ ," his voice has a hint of panic to it.

"Baby?" 

"Help me," he murmurs, "uh, sit?" It's a weak lie but it's the best he could come up with.

"Of course, babe. Is it bad?" He asks reading between the lines.

He lowers his voice still as Frankie joins him. "Extremely."

Frank sits on his knees and pulls Brock into him, "Whatever the demon said...it's not true. I love you and need you." He kisses Brock's temple.

He whispers, keenly aware of where Ray and Christa are. He doesn't want them to know. He pleads, "Please don't let me hurt them. Don't let me hurt Ray." 

"Baby you would never. But ok, I won't." Frank runs fingers in his hair, "I'm sorry you're going through this, baby."

The band is quietly talking and laughing in the kitchen. He can hear the girlfriends conversing about the baby. He even picks up on Jack's voice. Everyone around this is doing ok. Happy and celebrating this time together. "Do you wanna go home?" 

A large part of him wants to very much. The fewer people around him means the less ammo his brain gremlins have. But he's supposed to be fighting this; fighting himself. He loves these people. They're his friends and family. He wants to believe he wouldn't hurt them. But he once believed he would never hurt Frankie either. And now he's done it twice.

Baby Floof calls to him though. Perhaps if he just sits here very still and very carefully and just holds the baby, he can't act on the morbid evil things in his head. He can't hurt the baby by just holding him, right? Not even his gremlins can twist that.

"I wanna stay," he whispers. 

"Okay, we'll stay."

"Love you, baby," Brock says into Frankie's shirt.

"I love you too! We got this love." 

"Only cause you are the best, most perfect, most… Graceful man I know."

"And you're the strongest man, I have ever met." 

"No," he breathes the word, "you are."

"Give yourself credit. You have been emotionally broken. Then physically. This is just a bump in the road. We got this." Frank lifts his chin and kisses him, "Christa? Where is my nephew?" 

"Yes. Baby." 

"He's right here. Ready to see his uncles." Christa enters the living room and carefully deposits the baby in Brock's arms.

The weight in his arms is a comforting feeling. Other than whispers of how he might drop the baby, the gremlins are relatively quiet. He sighs in relief. He's trapped under Frankie and by the couch. He can't hurt anyone. He can't drop the baby. He's safe for them. He looks down at Baby Floof and smiles at him. "Hi, Baby." 

"He's been changed and fed. He's a happy camper." Christa grins and kisses Brock's forehead.

"Sleepy too," he comments as Zach gives a little yawn.

"He's gonna love his uncle Brock." 

"Good. Because I love him too."

"I'm gonna go help Ray in the kitchen, let me know if you need anything," Christa says before disappearing.

Frank sits quietly and watches Brock coo at the baby. He looks perfect with Zach.

"You look good like this." 

"Head's quieter. Other than dropping him or making him cry. I don't want to let him go."

"You won't drop him, he's safe. I think he's looking at you. With a smile." Frank coos.

"Or he farted," he offers with a slight grin.

"You are a good fart spot." Frank teases. He leans down and kisses Zach's head.

"Yeah, you would know, Mr. Dutch oven." 

"Excuse me, Sir Brussel Sprouts." Frank laughs quietly. 

"Beans," he grins.

"I don't eat meat, beans are gonna be my source of protein!" 

Brock snickers softly, quietly dissolving into giggles. He doesn't know why this is so funny but it is. Probably because for the second time in a week, his head was quieter and this is almost normal. 

"You married a vegetarian, your fault. You're gonna deal with the green farts." Frank snickers.

"You could probably make music with your farts," Brock giggles harder.

"Oh, you're hilarious." Frank snorts, "You sure you don't want to be a dad because you've got those dad jokes unlocked."

"I already have a boy," he says with a smile.

"You do. He's pretty cute too." Frank traces Zach’s eyebrow.

"He is. Love him so much, too. He's my world. My reason to live."

"I don't mind sharing you with him." Frank rests his head on Brock's shoulder and strokes his arm with his fingertips. All the worry he'd had was gone. Brock was gonna be ok for now. 

"Thanks, _tesoro_. But I wasn't meaning the baby. Meant you."

"Oh. I didn't realize. Babe, you're too sweet." Frank leans up and places a soft pair of lips on Brock's jaw.

"Mean it though. You're the reason I didn't jump off a cliff during the break. When I went to Rome, I learned that the war in my soul couldn't find the balance between what I needed to do and my nature. And I paid for it. It's why I clung to Tiger– he was the anchor to you. The compass to keep me from getting lost. You're my soulmate. We are one. To hurt you is to hurt me." Brock places a soft kiss on one of Baby Floof's hands just because before turning back to Frankie.

"I just love you so much and I hate that you are hurting. It kills me that I can't make it better." Frank whispers, "I'm glad he helped you. I hate that you ever wanted to throw yourself off a cliff."

"I didn't. It was an example because I don't know how else to explain what I felt. Didn't even think of it. It just felt like a part of me was dying inside. The Father I spoke to in Rome said it was a spiritual battle. The fever I had was something I was going to win or lose. My will alone kept me from burning up from inside. Christa wanted to send me to the hospital. Instead, she iced me. Point to all of this is that you are my everything and I love you."

"I can tell when you don't feel good." Frank whispers as he strokes his hair, "You get long-winded when you're not feeling good." 

Brock blinks for a moment before turning to Frank with a wry smile. "Was that your way of telling me my story sucked and to hush?" 

"No, dork. You just tend to tell longer detailed stories. You know I'll never tell you to shut up." Frank laughs before cupping Brock's cheek and kissing him.

"I love you," he replies, kissing him back. He turns to Baby Floof and presses a tiny kiss on the baby's cheek. "And I love you too." 

Lindsey plops down beside Brock. "Hey, boys! How's it going?"

"Good. Brock's getting his fill." Frank smiles. 

"It's never enough," he says softly. His finger toys with the baby's hand and is grasped tightly. He swears he feels his heart explode into baby-shaped glitter.

"I bet Christa would let you watch him while they go shopping for Christmas stuff tomorrow," Lindsey suggests.

Frank rests his chin on Brock's shoulder. He watches Jack and Bob return to the living room with a drink in hand. Ray pokes his head out, "boys what are we drinking?" 

"Diet coke. I'm the driver." Frank smiles.

"Boogie Oogie? Whatcha drinking?" Ray asks. His cheeks are a rosy color from his own consumption.

"Water, thanks. Can I keep him tomorrow?" 

"You wanna watch him while we go shopping in the morning?" Christa asks.

Ray disappears but returns shortly. He's got a mug with steam pouring over the lip and a glass of soda. He places them on a coaster on the coffee table. "There ya go. I'll be back in a few. Me and Mike are just checking on things. Gee's on the phone with someone."

"What's this?" Brock asks.

"Hot Cocoa." Ray smiles.

Brock blinks at it. Surprised at the gesture. He looks up at Sunshine and gives him an appreciative smile before looking away. His head lying to him. "Thank you. Chocolate water is much better."

"You're so welcome! It's special from my mom." Ray grins he disappears again.

"Brock! How've you been?! Sorry, I went home and visited my mom. She says you are quite handsome." Bob leans down and hugs him.

"I'm doing much better, thanks. How are you?" Brock hugs him with his free arm, careful not to squish Baby Floof.

"I'm doing alright. You ready to have a baby yet?" Bob asks with a little smile, "You look like you are getting back to your fighting weight." 

"It's a work in progress. There are still some things I have trouble with. If I'm not careful I'm going to get too fat from not being able to work out properly," he chuckles lightly.

"Eh, I don't think that you would ever get fat." Bob chuckles.

"I'll be the one who gets fat." Frank snorts.

"I'm excited to get big, fat, and pregnant." Lindsey grins.

"I'm excited for you to get fat too," Brock teases lightly. 

"Imma make you rub lotion on the bump." Lindsey jokes.

"He will too." Frank grins. 

Zach makes a small noise and flails his little arms. He blinks up at Brock and stares at him.

"Oh, goodness! Whatsamatter, baby?" Brock coos at Baby Floof in a baby voice, "Are you getting too hot?"

Zach makes another small coobefore yawning. Brock shifts him so he's laying in his other arm. He rocks him a little, "There you go. How's that? You want me to tell you a story?"

Zach stares up at him and opens his mouth. His little fists pull into his chest. 

Brock with Zach made Frank's heart flutter. He can't imagine what it would be like to have a life like this. Is this gonna be the start of baby fever? 

Brock gasps a little at the tiny fists and he kisses them both. He grins wide. "Mwah! I got you! Yeah! You're a good boy, yes you are." His free hand comes up and gently caresses the baby's head and arms. He gently rocks him, knowing Baby Floof was getting close to falling asleep. He begins to softly hum the same lullaby he once sang to Emma back in July.

The room goes quiet and listens to Brock humming. Christa takes a seat and Ray joins her. Gerard sits on the arm of the chair next to Lindsey. Frank strokes the hair on the back of Brock's head. Mike slips in quietly and sits on the floor. Everyone is enamored with the softness of Brock's voice as he rocks the little one to sleep. Frankie grinning ear to ear.

Brock slips into singing the words, soft Italian filling the small space. For once his focus is one hundred percent on the baby in his arms and singing the song. As a result, his head is void of all gremlins. He's trying to remember the lyrics but it didn't matter to the infant. 

Zach's eyes stay shut and his little mouth falls softly open. Christa rises to her feet and crouches in front of Brock. She gives him a soft small smile as she scoops the baby from his arms and places him in a bassinet at the end of the couch. "Let's go get some food." She says with a smile.

Brock makes a small noise of protest at Baby Floof being taken from him but he shoves it away. Not his kid. He can't keep him forever. Even if he is magic. Brock's not sure how Baby Floof managed to silence his crazy but it worked. Christa's words filter through the small sadness in his head. He's not hungry. He ate a little at Linda's. He frowns and accepts it. "Okay." 

"You can hold him after we are done," Frank reassures him. He glances at the small baby in the cradle thing. "even just a little food in you." 

Brock nods, eager to get his hands back on the magic baby. "Okay." Frank helps him to the kitchen and sits beside him at the table. Christa brings dishes to the table, she puts a soft hand on Jack's shoulder. "Help yourself. Frankie. I made you something in place of the ham. It's just about done. Enjoy!"

The table is decorated with little pumpkins of all colors intermixed with foliage and candles. As each dish is passed around the table, Mike looks up at Jack then Brock, "Did you guys even celebrate Thanksgiving like before?" 

"No. It's not a world holiday, only American. However, due to American tourists coming into Europe and Italy, a lot of places started to offer turkey and some food variations that would appeal to them," replies Jack.

"You guys have been here for a while. Did you celebrate before Brock met Frank?"

"Yeah once we moved here, we kinda did it a few times. Most of the time it was only because whoever Brock was dating wanted to do something," Jack shrugs.

"Which usually involved going to a 5-star restaurant and getting someone else to make the traditional food. I hate pumpkin pie. And cranberry is not my favorite," Brock says, a little low.

"Well, to spare my own feelings here, you've just never had good pumpkin pie or cranberry sauce because it's not been made with love," Christa says with a trace of an attitude.

"I might taste test the pie. Just for you. But I'm not eating the cranberry sauce. I'm doing good to eat turkey," Brock replies, passing on the mashed potatoes after taking a single spoonful.

"I think you will be pleased. I promise it's not the mush everyone else passes for pie." Christa comments before sitting down. The baby monitor sits between her and Ray. 

"What do you guys do for Christmas in Italy?" Mike asks, "Do you have pasta?"

"Mike, maybe let them enjoy their food." Gerard comments.

"Where's your girl?" Frank asks.

"She had to work at the bar tonight. I told her to quit and I would take care of her but she called me an ass and left for work." Mike sighs.

"Christmas for us starts December 8th, when we put up the decorations in honor of Immacolata, the immaculate conception of Mary. We put up the traditional _presepe_ , the Nativity scene and tree go up," Brock says, taking a drink. "Advent is important, though not everyone gives daily gifts. Some families only do a weekly gift exchange, but it's not actual presents. It's usually food or desserts. Just something small. I'm not sure how it is on the mainland. But the biggest days are Christmas Eve and day. Christmas Eve is a fasting day, and we're not allowed to eat anything until after midnight mass. After mass, there's a feast. We don't eat regular meat on that day, just fish is acceptable. Oh, Panettone bread is for dessert. I've seen that here in stores. Have you guys had that?"

"Oh, my nanna used to make that for us!" Gerard grins wide. 

"The weird raisin bread?" Mike asks with a wrinkled nose.

"Oh I've had that. I bought a mini one last year! It's good!" Frank says excitedly. 

"Why the 8th?" Christa asks.

"We celebrate the day that Mary conceived Jesus. And even though Father Christmas delivers the presents to the kids on Christmas Eve, they aren't exchanged and opened until the last day of the Christmas season, January 6th, which is Epiphany. In the meantime, there are courtyard bonfires up in the northern mountains which are pretty cool to watch and our parents took us to see the bagpipers play songs in the towns they travel to. On Epiphany, the kids hang their stockings for _la befana_ , she's an old lady who comes to the houses in search of the Christ baby and delivers small presents in the stockings. Good kids get presents in them and the bad kids get black sugar, kinda like licorice.”

"Wow," Frank says softly. His mind is blown. He's got a hundred questions in his head. 

"So wait, you don't open presents until January? And you spend time with your family until then?" Bob asks.

"Yeah," Brock nods.

"Why bagpipers?" Gerard asks.

"They represent the shepherds who were in search of the newborn baby Jesus," Jack says, taking a bite of turkey.

"Please don't take offense but the shepherds are gooses being squeezed?" Frank asks.

"What?" Jack asks with a very confused expression.

"Bagpipes sound like someone is squeezing a goose out of anger." Frank shrugs and takes a bite of the tofurkey.

"They play flutes too," Brock chuckles softly. "Oh, and we don't eat ham on Christmas day as most Americans do. Sorry, Frankie. But it's usually braised beef, baked chicken, or roasted veal. Sometimes sausages. It's a lot of meat. There are other things too but, yeah."

"Baby cow!!" Frank places his fork on his plate, "Am I going to have to smuggle salad in?" 

"You can eat the baked chicken with the lasagna bolognese? And manicotti, right?"

"Yeah. I can." Frank replies. His stomach is going to be seven ways fucked up but it will be fine. Maybe he can just sleep it off each day.

"I can't imagine how complicated Easter is." Frank comments.

"I thought Hanukkah was a lot." Christa smiles.

" _Natale_ lunch lasts for hours. We basically eat all day long. Eat, and socialize and drink. The day after isn't a holiday here but it's Santo Stefano's lunch where we eat the leftovers."

"Babe, can I get a binder with all this information in it with like, do's and don'ts. I know I'm gonna offend some family members just cause I'm an American mutt." Frank looks at Brock.

"You aren't, baby. It's really not that complicated. You'll be fine." 

"Until aunt Marcella comes in and picks at Frank." Lindsey comments.

"Oh speaking of aunts. Carolyn was thrown out of the house tonight." Frank perks up.

"Oh? Did she reveal her true self, a 10-pound squid monster?" Ray asks.

"Did she call Linda fat again?" Mike asks.

"Did she touch Brock?" Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"Just her nasty words inspired some _emotions_ ," Frank replies with a smile

"She called me crazy," Brock says softly.

"And you're not. Is she trying to say you are dangerous?" Lindsey asks, "She did that when Frank joined the band."

"She said I'm schizophrenic because of my gremlins. Crazy and dangerous," he replies softly, staring emptily at his plate. He's barely eaten and he's done. His head is alive again. Shame fills him and it makes his skin crawl.

Frank takes his hand and squeezes, "And you're not." 

"I hope she gets hit by a bus," Ray comments coldly.

"Jack threatened her." 

"Got her to apologize," snorts Jack.

The baby monitor fills with noise from Zach. Christa slowly rises to her feet, "he probably realizes the room is empty or quiet. He's used to noise cause dad is loud." 

Ray shrugs.

Brock looks up and watches Christa and his nephew. "Everything ok?" 

Jack snickers, "You can make Bob bang on some pots and pans. He's used to that, right?" 

"He just doesn't like quiet. He's ok," Christa says as she quickly retrieves the little human from the other room. She frowns at her plate then sits down. 

"Jack, you're not wrong. How else am I going to practice at home?" Bob chuckles.

Frank leans over, "if you're done eating, offer to take him so she can eat." He pecks Brock's cheek before leaning back. 

"Gimme baby?" Brock offers. He shakes his head at his stupid choice of words. And to clear out the thoughts that won't shut up. "I can take him for you." 

"You wanna hold him? Are you sure?" Christa asks. 

"Yes."

"Okay." She rises to her feet and hands him to Brock. She gives him a relieved smile.

"This is what you get to look forward to, Linds." Ray comments.

"Brock being absolutely adorable? Can't wait!" She smiles wide before taking another bite of food.

"Now just imagine little Brock holding little teeny tiny Jack like this." Frank says softly to the table, "His own little Jack baby."

Brock shifts Baby Floof so that he's laying on his chest, the baby's head over his heart, and Brock's arm under his baby tush. He rubs the baby's back and slightly bounces him. "It's alright, Baby Floof. I've got you. Sleep, baby love." 

"This is our first real Thanksgiving as a band. Together." Ray comments. 

"Didn't Frank walk over to your place because _someone_ left him at a gas station last year?" Gerard comments.

"Fuck I almost forgot that," Frank says shaking his head.

"Cause you called her homemade pie gross right?" Christa asks.

"Usually it's Ray at gas stations," chuckles Jack.

"Grocery stores too," Ray adds.

"So this is literally the first Thanksgiving with everyone here?" Jack asks the table.

"Yeah! It is!" Mike grins.

"We really are a little family now!" Gerard playfully coos.

"And we all like each other too!" Frank adds.

"I'm thankful that Brock and Jack are in your life, Frankie." Ray smiles.

"Me too. I found my perfect half." Frank smiles at Brock.

He's far from perfect. His head whispers his failures like a game show host. He's anything but good. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to react, choosing instead to plant a soft kiss on the baby's head. Again, he's worried he's going to hurt him but he tells himself he's safe because the others are around him. Frank squeezes his knee and he forces himself to smile at his husband; to contribute to the conversation and be normal, "Found my happy ever after." 

Zach's little hand flexes on Brock's shirt. 

"Who is ready for pie?" Christa asks, "I made homemade whipped cream too! I have apple and pumpkin." 

"I'm good with either or both," Jack says. "I'm not picky."

"I'm good. If anything I'll take a bite of whatever Frankie picks," shrugs Brock.

"Chris makes a delicious pie." Ray comments.

"Maybe a small piece of pumpkin and apple? We can share?" Frank looks up at Brock with a wide grin.

Ray gets up and begins cutting pie pieces up and passing them to each person. Frank pushes the plate to Brock to have the first bite once the whipped cream is dolloped on the plate, "Beauty before the beast." 

"Then you should take the first bite," he smirks softly.

"It might be a tie then…" Frank smiles wide and kisses his husband. Frank stabs his fork into the pumpkin, taking a small bite for Brock to try. He offers the fork to him since he's got a hand full of baby.

Brock wrinkles his nose. He really doesn't like pumpkin but he takes a small nibble anyway. For Christa's sake. Nope. Still he hates it. 

"From the nose wrinkle, I’m guessing it's a no from you." Christa chuckles.

"My husband is silly because this is delicious. It's got a touch of spice. I like it." Frank smiles.

Brock swallows the bite and quickly takes a drink to wash away the gross. "As far as your pie goes versus others, it's the best tasting crap I've ever tasted and that's the best you are going to get from me."

"Well thank you. Try the apple. You might like it." 

"There are people who put a piece of cheese on their apple pie…" Mike comments with a yuck face.

Jack takes a forkful of his apple slice, "I've never had it on pie, but I've eaten cheese on apple slices and it's really good." Eating his bite, he nods his approval.

"Is that a German thing?" Frank turns and playfully asks Brock.

"Excuse you, that's an American thing," Jack says, waggling his fork at Frank.

"Lies." Frank laughs softly, "Sounds like a German thing."

"Or English." Gerard comments.

"Have you guys heard about peanut butter and jelly sandwich but with lays chips in the middle?" Bob asks, "My niece says it's a thing. I think she is lying."

"No, but I would try it." Frank comments.

"So, I have a question for Jack and Brock." Ray's voice changes tone to something serious.

"Sure." 

"If you are going to be gone the whole month, how are we going to celebrate Christmas with you?"

Jack looks at his brother, uncertainty written on his face. He's got no clue. As far as he knew, it was just Frank coming home with them. 

"You could come with us?" Brock offers weakly. He regrets offering it immediately. There's no way in hell these people are going to leave their families just to spend one day, much less one month in Italy. It's not plausible. He's not worth that. He's useless. 

"Would Maria be okay with that?" Ray asks.

"Italian Christmas," Lindsey whispers to Gerard with sparkling eyes.

"We don't celebrate Christmas really in my family so I'm always up for an adventure." Bob says with a little raised hand, "We aren't really _holiday_ people." 

"Clear it with your mom and dad, even if it's for like Christmas Eve and day, it would be fun!" Christa smiles wide.

Jack grins, "After the wedding, we can pack bags and fly there to be home by the 8th. Wedding's on the 3rd and it's booked for the week. We leave Fiji and fly to Capri."

"We don't want to intrude," Christa says with a big grin.

"You wouldn't. I'll ask. Our Villa has plenty of room," Brock says quietly, lost in thought. Idly he traces random patterns on Baby Floof's back.

"I think it's a resounding yes." Mike grins.

"Our wedding's a week away…" Frank puts a hand over his mouth. He's been so consumed with Brock, he's lost track of time. 

"Yup. Wedding bells soon!" Christa says with a big smile. 

The conversation hits a lull and slowly the table is cleared of plates. Brock reluctantly gives up baby Floof so he can go home. He's promised Zach would be coming over tomorrow in the morning. 

After all the hugs and kisses are done, Frank helps Brock to the car and makes sure he's in before jumping into the driver's seat. He turns the heat on and the music up, he's making sure he's comfortable even if it makes him a little bit … well not. 

The three men ride quietly back to the city, Frank hugs Jack and confirms their gym date before they part ways. He knows it meds time and soon bedtime, especially if they are having a little visitor in the morning. 

After a hot shower and Frank rubbing Brock's shoulders, even after he protested a little, they both crash out to a movie on television.

~~~~

Frank wakes to the sound of Brock's phone ringing, he barely lifts his torso to see. He shakes his husband, "Phone. Get it." 

"I am," he grumbles sleepily, one arm reaching out for the device. Without looking at the screen, he answers, "Hello?" 

"Hey… you told me to call before we head your way with the baby." Christa's voice is gentle on the other end.

Hearing her voice, Frank turns his back to Brock and pushes his butt against him. He misses being the little spoon. He snuggles down a little deeper and drifts off.

"Okay, yeah," Brock yawns out. "Sorry. Not awake yet." 

"It's okay. It is early. But we are headed your way, see you in a half-hour." Christa replies. 

"Okay. See you," he replies again with a yawn. He hangs up the phone and makes himself get up. He's trying not to wake Frankie.

"When she gonna be here?" Frank asks with a whine in his voice from under the covers, "Do I have to get up?" 

"Thirty minutes. And no." Brock pushes himself up, grabbing his cane and heading into the bathroom. He should take a shower.

"I'm up," Frank says after a battle with his conscience. His love was struggling mentally and he didn't want him to be alone. Part of Frank worries he might _do_ something to himself. He needs to talk to Jack about maybe getting the weapons out of the house or changing the code. 

Brock grabs a towel, unsure if Frank was going to join him or not. He sets it on the rack and opens the shower door, making his way over to the shower chair. His leg is killing him already so he sits for a bit. He should have turned the water on at least.

Frank pokes his head in, "I started the coffee maker. Do you want me to shower with you?"

"If you want, sure. Can you bring me my pain pill? I should have taken it before walking into here," Brock winces, rubbing his knee where the pain was shooting down.

"Yeah, baby. I can do that." Frank nods, turning and retrieves it quickly. He places it in Brock’s hand before kneeling, "How are we feeling as a whole system today?" 

"Tired." He's just overall drained.

Frank nods. He knows Brock is exhausted. He wants to make it better but doesn't know how to, "I'm sorry baby. What do you want for breakfast, I'll cook so you can relax?" 

"Don't really have the time before they get here. I'll eat after." 

"That's what I was meaning. I'll cook after they drop the kid off." Frank replies. He turns the water on and kisses Brock's forehead, "come on, babe." 

Brock frowns tiredly and murmurs, "Are you not showering?" 

"Yes but first, I want you to invade my space," Frank speaks softly as the shower feels with steam.

Brock frowns harder. Maybe he's too tired or dense and stupid. He doesn't get it. "Huh?" 

"Come here." Frank says with a small smile, "I need you." 

Brock pushes himself up and takes the few steps to Frank. He's not sure what his love needs but he's more than willing to give wherever it is. The gremlins in his head laugh and cry out for blood. To make amends.

Frank grabs his wrist and pulls Brock up against him and leans into the shower wall. He takes the same hand and puts it about where his bladder is, "I love you. And I'm ok. I want this." 

"What?" Brock doesn't understand. He's tired and the pain pills haven't kicked in yet. He doesn't understand why Frankie is standing in the shower, still wearing cute underwear. Then it clicks. And panic floods him. His eyes widen and he tries to pull away but Frank has a grip on his wrist. "No. No, no you can't. No. It's wrong! It _hurts_ you!" 

"It doesn't hurt me. I want this. I am asking for another chance to try. I trust you with my life. Please, baby." Frank says with pleading eyes.

" _Why_? After what happened," Brock stammers out, his body instantly soaked with sweat from fear. His heart races and his words tumble out, "y– you– you panic when the heat is on. You leave the window down. It hurt you. _I_ hurt you. I broke your trust."

"I wanna make this right. Do you trust me?" Frank asks before touching Brock's side. He pulls him flush to his body.

Brock's head screams alarms at him. This was _Dirty_. _Bad. Wrong._ What was once something he wanted was poisoned. He's afraid to want it again. Afraid to be a monster. Afraid he would rape his husband. The thought makes him sick. He is hurting Frank! He can't breathe. He buries his face in Frank's neck, seeking comfort. His head won't let him trust Frank because deep down this is Too Despicable to be forgiven. Unforgivable. A noise of panic escapes.

"It's okay. Breathe and touch me." Frank whispers in his ear, "I want this." 

He shakes his head. "You can't." The gremlins call Frankie a liar. It's a trick. It's a trap. He's going to use it to leave him. The thoughts spiral darker and he flinches hard. He has to fight it.

"Kiss me. I'm okay. I don't want this to be bad." Frank says 

In a desperate move to find solace in his husband, Brock clings to him, kissing him hard and frantic. His arms wrap tight around Frankie, a mirror of their koala hug.

"See. I'm okay. You're ok." Frank whispers as he pulls back, "If we had more time I wanted to do more. But this is good."

"I can't get them to shut up," Brock whines softly. He holds Frankie tight. 

"That's ok. I'm going to be here. I want you. I want this." Frank says with a soft nod before kissing Brock.

"Please don't leave me," he utters softly, exhaling shakily.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." Frank replies, "Swear on my mom's life." 

"Okay," he stammers. He can try. Closing his eyes tight, he presses up harder against Frankie, kissing him again

"Do you just want to shower, babe?" 

"Trust you,'' he whispers in a small voice.

"Will you help me take my underwear off then?" Frank asks with a little smile.

"Yes Frankie," he replies. He's still a little hesitant and unsure what Frankie wants. Still, he slides his hands inside the waistband of Frankie's undies. He carefully slides them down.

Frank let out a soft sigh at the touch of Brock's hands. He presses lips to Brock's chest. He kicks the underwear to the side, "I love you, Brock. I wanna make you comfortable. I wanna make it so you aren't scared of me."

He shakes his head, "Not scared of _you_. Me." 

"Well, those gremlins of yours must enjoy playing in ponds." Frank drapes his arm over Brock's shoulders.

"They latch onto anything and twist it," he murmurs absently. One hand rests on Frankie's hip while the other rests on Frank's low stomach. He's not sure what he's supposed to do now. Hesitantly, his hand slides lower, eyes locked on Frank, searching for the minute sign of discomfort.

"Well, they are silly gooses." Frank leans up and kisses him, "We should probably hurry before the baby gets here but god I don't wanna stop."

Brock pulls away slowly, "Okay… sorry. I love you." He touches their foreheads together and kisses him.

"I love you more." Frank frowns, "Why are you apologizing?"

He hesitates. He's not sure why exactly he's apologizing. Habit, maybe? Because he couldn't do what Frank wanted. He'd failed in some way. He's not sure in what way but it was in something. "Because I didn't… do what you wanted? And for forgetting time."

"Every time that you apologize or blame yourself for something out of your control or not your fault. It hurts me. I don't blame you for anything. Okay, lighten up on yourself?" Frank hopes this works. Or even just lands right.

Brock blinks at hearing his words from so long ago parroted back at him. It felt weird. The gremlins in his head hissed at him that he was just another failure. He tries to ignore it and instead just nods, "I'll try. Sorry." He makes a face and sighs. Going for the soap, he moves to the chair, well beyond his length of time standing. His hand grasps tightly around Frankie's and pulls him with him. He's not ready to give up his koala.

"Ok. I love you and want you to see you how I see you." Frank hugs him close and kisses him.

"Familiar refrain…," he says softly with a matching smile. Sitting down, he begins to wash.

Frank washes his hair quickly and his body too, "I'm sorry you're struggling babe. I love you and am here to listen."

"It's not pretty. And it's stuck. On a loop."

"We'll get through it. I promise."

"I know. 2 more days."

"Two more days. I am proud of you for being so strong." Frank kisses his forehead. He washes Brock's hair for him.

Frank hurries Brock along, he rinses out the shampoo. He helps Brock out and to his cane. He helps him get dressed and into the kitchen. Frank pours him a cup of coffee, he starts making scrambled eggs and toast for himself and pancakes with a little protein powder mixed in. He curls his nose at the strips of bacon. As he starts to plate the eggs, there's a knock on the door. He rushes over and opens the door, "Come on in."

"Hi! Sorry, we're late! We had some momma and baby issues." Ray chuckles.

"Shut up Ray. I'm just nervous. This is the first time leaving him." 

"He's in capable hands. Brock is an expert and Frank is good with kids too." Ray says with a sigh.

"I know." Christa steps to the table and places the baby carrier beside Brock. 

Brock slowly pulls the carrier over to him so he can look at his nephew. He asks, "Did you pump for him? Did he feed yet? I'm assuming you'll be gone more than two hours."

"I did. There's also formula in the bag. They look like little bottles. You know all our numbers. Are you guys gonna be ok? I feel bad saddling you with him... " Christa rambles.

Brock just hugs the carrier. "Mine." 

"Alright. I'm taking her away before she gets feral." Ray chuckles, "We'll be back in a couple of hours. Call if you need anything."

"Okay. Love you. See you soon," Brock says, shifting in the chair. He rests his chin on the bottom of the carrier, nose right in front of tiny feet. 

Frank closes the door and turns to Brock. "You need to eat. Zach will be fine." 

Brock tears his eyes from the sleeping baby and picks up his fork, taking a bite of his pancakes. As he eats, he contemplates.

"Good?" Frank asks. He's watching Brock eat. He's curious if Brock can tell that he put extras in his food.

He nods, "Tastes thicker. Like you didn't add enough water to the batter. But good. A little dry. Too bad we don't have any syrup. Real syrup. Canada ruined maple syrup."

Frank points to the syrup on the table and makes a face at Brock. He quickly drops it. He already knows Brock will mentally murder himself.

"That's Aunt Jemima. After that Eggsensation, or whatever it is called, place and it's great maple syrup, this sucks."

"It's all the same, love." Frank shakes his head and takes a bite of eggs.

"It's fake compared to the real stuff. You liked it too." He pours the syrup over his pancakes anyway and mentally laments over the other kind.

"You crack me up." Frank takes a sip from his coffee, "How's the bacon?"

"For someone who doesn't eat it, you made it pretty good." He pauses, "Is it turkey again?"

"Nope, it's Babe." Frank replies with a smile, "You liked the turkey bacon… don't lie." 

"Ehhh… it was alright. Something passable and edible if needed," he smiles a little at him.

"I'll turn you into a plant lover yet." Frank chuckles, "These are fake eggs… wanna try?"

Brock looks at the yellow and fluffy scrambled eggs and feels his stomach clench and nausea rise. He shakes his head.

"It's fine. I can see that nose wrinkle." Frank replies.

"They're too close to the real thing. And I just can't." 

"It's ok. Eat. Then you can play with Zach." Frank nods. 

After breakfast, Frank cleans the dishes then heads into the guest room. He's got to work on stuff for the band. He knows Brock is going to be busy with the baby. 

A little while later he steps into the living room and sees Brock lying on the couch with the baby on his chest.

"If you had your own, you could do that all the time." Frank comments before getting a glass of water, "Just hope he doesn't go stinky baby on you." 

"Babies pee roughly four or five times per hour. He'll probably poop within the next hour depending on when Christa fed him," he replies, clicking on the television. "And all the time but only for the first six months, by the way. Then there's crawling and teething. Walking. Running. Talking. Screaming."

Frank sits at Brock's feet, "Stinky, ugly baby." Frank's voice is soft as he leans over and looks at them.

"He's cute. Don't call him ugly," Brock purses his lips.

"Little potato boy." Frank tries to hide his smile, "Little stinky potato boy." 

Brock chuckles, "He's not a stinky potato!"

Frank leans over and kisses Zach's head then Brock on the lips, "I could call him a yuckie potato boy." 

"Are you two spuds just going to lie on the couch?" Frank asks.

"Not potatoes," Brock protests, laughing softly.

"You're tan and he's squishy. It tracks." 

"I love you. Go do your homework," Brock snickers.

"You gonna spank me with a ruler if I don't?" Frank winks at him, "I think you might like this song that I'm working on."

"Oh? What is it?"

"It's called I don't love you." Frank smiles. 

"You're an ass. Go play your death metal music with headphones so you don't upset the baby."

"No! It's called I don't love you and it's slower!" Frank smirks. He fucking loves Brock, "We're gonna have to talk about recording this album too."

Frank gets up from the couch and disappears back into the second bedroom. He's excited to get in and record again. Even if it's not in New York.

"Your uncle Frankie is just being a meanie. Don't mind him. He loves you. You aren't a stinky potato," Brock says to Baby Floof. He adjusts himself so he's sitting up better with a better view of the TV. 

"Smelly little spud," Frank comments before disappearing into the bedroom. He works for a little longer and gives it a break. It's not the same when he's working alone. It sucks. He steps back into the living room. 

"French fry and tater tot." Frank snorts as he puts his guitar in its case. Crying reaches his ears and he wrinkles his nose, "Make it stop. We sound like child abusers." 

Brock makes his way over to the diaper bag, holding the very much squally Baby Floof in his right arm and his cane in the other. Setting the cane down against the table, he gently sets Baby Floof into his carrier as a holding spot while he digs out all the things he'll need to change him. He speaks softly to him, "I know, I know. You aren't happy being dirty. I get it, baby. I do. I'm hurrying. Whew, you've got a set of lungs on you. Gonna be a metal screamer just like your Daddy."

"Or a banshee." Frank comments. He's not interested in any part of this process. This will be what makes any baby fever disappear, "Or a possum." 

"He's fine. Just got a dirty diaper," Brock says casually. He lays down the changing mat across the table before placing the baby on top.

"He's a spicy tater tot." 

"Will you stop with the potato things," Brock snickers. His head's been quiet ever since he got the baby and his mood has increased. He unravels a new diaper and sets it aside before undoing Baby Floof's onesie. 

"Nah. I call ‘em like I see'em." Frank smirks. "I don't think I wanna be a part of this. Stinky spud." Frank pulls the garbage and places it beside Brock on the floor, "How are you not gagging?" 

"Jack's ass was worse. No, it's just a fact of life. What goes in, comes out," Brock says, opening up the dirty diaper and then holding it closed while the baby peed one more time. Cold air always did that to Jack.

"Makes sense but still. Gross." Frank coughs.

"You don't have to stay but I appreciate the help." Brock pulls the dirty diaper from under Baby Floof and quickly rolls it up and puts it into the trash. Holding the still crying baby's bottom up by his legs, Brock quickly grabs wipes and begins to clean him up. After the baby bum is clean, Brock inspects him for signs of diaper rash before adding cream and putting on a new diaper. Baby Floof is still crying and he tries to hurry, packing up the changing mat and pulling out a blanket and a bottle.

"I know, you're just so miserable," Brock says, swaddling the baby. He turns to Frank, offering him the bottle. "Can you run this under some hot water for no more than ten seconds?" 

"Ok." Frank cringes taking the bottle. It was so noisy. He loves his husband but he's got more patience than he. Doing what he was asked, he stands at the sink and watches Brock. He hands the bottle back.

Brock picks up Baby Floof before taking the bottle, testing the warmth of the milk against his wrist, and giving it to him. He smiles as the infant latches on the nipple and begins to feed. Turning to Frankie, he smiles at his husband too. "Not so bad. He's a happy camper now. After this, he'll probably sleep. Are you going to go back to work?"

"I'm done for now. We just have to get together and work on music. It's hard when you're alone." Frank comments, "You trying to get rid of me?"

"Not at all. Just means I'm gonna have to rethink cuddles on the couch with my boys."

"I was gonna say… you can't replace me yet." Frank chuckles.

"Never. I'm never going to replace you." Brock looks down at the infant, who's nearly finished guzzling the milk. Slowly he pulls the bottle away, air bubbles rising and popping in the bottle. A fussy whine escapes from the baby. "I need to burp him. He's going to cry. Just a heads up."

"Lots of crying." Frank raises an eyebrow and disappears into the spare bedroom. He puts his equipment away and picks up his notebook and headphones.

Brock burps Baby Floof, who indeed squalled unhappily about not getting to finish his lunch. Once he gets a decent burp out, Brock feeds him the rest of the way and burps him again, rocking him gently. Grabbing his cane, they move to the couch to settle in for TV and a nap.

Frank sits on the couch and relaxes back. "You make it look so easy Brock. Like that sound doesn't make you panic?" 

He chuckles, "Nope. He can't talk and this is how he tells me something needs to be taken care of. Like a dirty diaper and hungry. Or when he's tired or gassy. This is just a signal. Nothing harmful about it. His cries don't register like plane turbulence or fireworks."

"You have a motherly instinct. Or fatherly… it's very cute."

"It's been forty-plus years but taking care of an infant doesn't change. I learned a lot with Jack. And from Mom."

"I have very little interest in children. I thought maybe for a moment but… nope. I am strictly an uncle."

"Oh I agree. I couldn't do this all day. It's very tiring. Plus, you are kinda stuck on a proverbial leash. The baby demands and you must obey. Don't even get me started on colic."

"I mean isn't marriage being stuck on a leash?" Frank chuckles, "Isn't colic when they scream a lot because of gas or something?"

Brock nods, "Non-stop for hours or days. Unless they are sleeping. It's why burping is so important."

"Ah. By the time these kids all pop out, I might just be baby smart." Frank replies with a soft smile. 

"And then they turn on you, by being toddlers," Brock chuckles. "Do you want him?"

"I'll take 'em when they are influence-able. Impressionable so I can sugar 'em up. Give 'em a puppy and send them home." Frank says softly, "Man, he's a big potato."

"Healthy baby. Not a potato," he chuckles.

"That's debatable."

"You're just jealous," Brock winks. "And I'm just thankful he makes my head quiet."

"Me too. You deserve the peace. Which is why I'm willing to share you." Frank rises to his feet and kisses Brock softly.

"Just for a little bit. Where are you going?"

"To get some more water. Need anything?"

"Mind getting me some too? Please?"

"Not at all, baby." 

"Thanks." Brock shifts a little more, getting his leg in a better position. He feels the baby shift in response and fusses at him for it. After a bit of adjusting, they both settle down. One of Brock's hands absently rubs Baby Floof's back.

As Frank gets to the kitchen, his phone rings. Loud. He cringes as he pulls it out and answers it. He slips into the office. 

"Hey, Lauren!" Frank speaks softly.

"Hey, Frank! So I got off the phone with Gerard and Mike. The plan for recording the new album is pretty much set. We rented out the Paramour for you guys. Two whole months in sunny California." Lauren sounds pleased and Frank can't help but frown. 

"Oh that's _great,_ " Frank answers as he pinches his brow.

"I assume Brock is coming with. So I made sure and set up the accommodation for you guys. Get together with him and let me know if there is anything you need. We are gonna start recording that in early February." Lauren replies, he can hear shuffling of papers on her end, "I also would like a list of equipment you need. Email those off to me."

"We should just be getting back from our honeymoon." Frank comments.

"Oh that's amazing! Congratulations!" Lauren’s voice turns warmer. 

"I don't know how well Brock will like California but he can always come back to New York if he hates it." Frank sighs. Brock's gonna bitch about this, "It was Gerard's idea for this huh?"

"Yup." 

He's totally blaming Gee for this, "Awesome sounds good. Anything else, my dear?" 

"You and Ray have a magazine shoot for a guitar magazine next month," Lauren says casually.

"Okay… Anything else?" 

"Nope. That's all I got. Get those emails off to me ASAP. And call if you need anything." Lauren replies.

"Sounds good. We'll talk soon. Bye." Frank says hanging up. He steps out of the office and looks to the couch. Both baby and Brock are passed out, "Well, he's gonna hate this." Frank says softly to himself. Frank sits on the couch and waits for Brock to wake up. They have to have a conversation. He's going to frame it in a positive light. This will be fun, they get to stay in a fucking mansion. In sunny California while everyone in New York is miserable in the cold. But he knows that Brock will point out that they have to have a honeymoon. Or something like that. He's got a feeling that the music life is not going to be for Brock, for _very long_. Maybe that will be how he gets a puppy… Brock can be the stay at home dad… he'll never go for that. As Frank begins to stew, a knock at the door forces his body to flinch. He rises to his feet and answers the door.

"Hi! How was he? Is everything ok?" Christa asks pushing past Frank.

"Come in."

"Was he good?" Ray asks with a chuckle.

"No. Little stinky spud pulled up the potted plants. Ate a stick of butter and peed on the couch…" Frank snorts.

Christa kneels after taking a picture of the two of them, next to Brock and lights pushes his shoulder, "Brock." 

He wakes in an instant, hand tightening on the baby and making sure his head was turned and still breathing. Then he notes Christa's face next to him. "Hi." 

"Hi, was he good?" She asks as he picks him up.

"Very. He's been changed and fed." 

"Thank you. Love you, Brock." Christa leans down and kisses Brock's forehead, " He's not a potato!" Her eyes glare at Frank.

"No, he's a spud." Frank shrugs. 

"I think it's the swaddled look," Brock yawns out.

"He's squishy like a potato." 

"If you wanted to babysit him again I would be okay with that. Would you?" Christa asks.

Brock nods and sits up, his back and leg protesting the position on the couch. "Okay." 

"Thanks, guys," Ray says softly as he lifts the carrier once Christa puts the baby in it. He hugs Frank then approaches Brock and side hugs him.

"I'll call you later," Ray says with a smile.

The Toros depart quietly. 

Frank waits for a moment, "Hey babe? What are your thoughts on California?" 

"We hates it?"

"Well… I think we need to have a talk about February." Frank winces, "Cause you're not gonna be happy." 

Brock sighs hard. "The recording thing Gerard was talking about?" 

"Yeah." Frank scratches his neck, "So we have a place where we can go. Record and stay… in California."

"For how long?" Brock rubs his face. He's not thrilled about this at all.

"Well, two months or so."

"What the fuck?! Why?!" He groans. They just got off a long ass fucking tour. They've barely been home all now they have to get dragged all the way across the freaking country.

"You. You don't have to go. I want you to but I'm not going to force you." Frank speaks softly, "At least it will be warm."

"Of course I'm going." He sighs again, "Warm and beaches. Without the ex."

"Apparently it's really luxurious accommodation. They have a website." Frank offers, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, _amore mio_? This is normal, yes?" He reaches out for him, wanting cuddles.

Frank moves closer and lies with Brock, "It is. The last record took about 2 months with rewrites and re-recording. But we get fancy new equipment. Lauren mentioned in an email about an actual label wanting to sign us. Means more money."

Brock wraps his arms and legs around Frank, holding him tight. "That's good for business. Why can't you record here? At home?"

"Maybe I can buy my husband that Barbie dream house he's always wanted…" Frank chuckles before getting serious, "I think it's who wants to work with us and I have a big feeling it's largely related to Gerard wanting to create some aesthetic or something…"

"That kid," Brock snorts and shakes his head.

"He _is_ an artist before a musician." Frank comments while running a hand over Brock's chest, "Visuals count just as much as the music." 

"True. What are you going to do while I'm doing physical therapy?"

"Oh, today? Jack and I have a gym date. He's got me on a program." Frank grins at him, "He's also trying to push me eating more protein… but like I'm married to a true Italian. Carbs are what your bones are made out of, right..."

"Just remember that protein is what reinforces your muscles. So when you are working out and stretching them, they need to be fed with protein and amino acids. I think. You might want to ask Steve. He told me what it all does and why it’s important awhile back and I've mostly forgotten it all."

"I was told that eating salads isn't going to cut it. Especially since I kinda told him to do his worst." Frank pauses, "Have you talked to Steve? We shoulda invited him to the wedding! And some of your VA friends."

"Maybe this trip will make you _like_ California!" Frank adds with a smile.

"Maybe. We'll see."

"I know that is code for probably not." Frank snickers, "If you hate it, you can always go home too. I wouldn't blame you. I don't think Jack can be away from work that long."

"Jack probably won't be coming, love. For exactly that." 

"That's what I mean," Frank replies. But the sass that was meant to be kept at bay creeps into his voice, "We have a little time before then. Maybe a Rumlow can change his stripes."

"Rollins is the tiger," Brock grins 

"Mmmm… would that make you a lion then? You do have a pretty mane." Frank smiles up at him.

"How about…. Panther?"

"Cougar?" Frank giggles, "I mean it fits."

"That's for women!" Brock exclaims, playfully tickling Frankie.

"I can't tell the difference..." Frank giggles and squirms slightly, "You are dating a much younger man..." 

" _Married_ , tesoro," Brock corrects playfully.

"Yes, you're married to a…cub, if you will," Frank bites his lip, "who is madly in love with you." 

"Suppose you gotta be mad to be in love with me," he teases gently with a small smile. 

"You are very lovable. And warm. And did I mention that you are handsome? Pretty smart too… I scored, what the kids call, a perfect 10 to my 6." Frank leans up and kisses him on the cheek.

"In that case you are a twelve," Brock says softly, kissing him lightly on the lips 

Frank snuggles closer and opens his lips to speak but pauses for a minute, "What if the new music is awful? And no one buys our album." 

"Your music is already awful and people still buy your albums. I think you'll be alright," he snickers.

"You're supposed to tell me that my music is _good._ " Frank lifts his head, "You're supposed to reassure me, not confirm, meanie." He playfully pokes Brock's side.

Brock grins like a shithead and ghosts his fingers up Frankie's sides. "I _did_. I reassured you that no matter what music you make, it'll sell. I'm just being a jerk. It'll be okay though. Promise."

"Even if we made like… dad rock? Or turned into a boy band? We'd still sell records?" Frank stretches his body longer but trying to avoid the tickling. "What time is your PT?" Frank asks with a little idea popping into his head.

"Yes. And 4, I think. Or 4:30." 

"Oh. So I have you all day… to myself." Frank grins. 

"Yeah, pretty much. You gonna torture me with music or nap with me?"

"Oh are we napping?" Frank asks with a grin, "I was thinking I could maybe flirt with my husband and get in his pants."

"You're welcome to try," Brock whispers in reply, grin fading slightly as the darkness returns behind his eyes. He leans forward and kisses him softly.

"I said the wrong things and messed up huh?" Frank whispers. 

Brock sighs. "Not your fault. It was bound to happen anyway. Just a bump, right?"

"Yeah. Just a bump in the road." Frank nods. A thought crosses his mind that he tries to push away but it stays in the back of his head like an echo. He's gotta be the tough one right now. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment then comes back to reality. 

Brock bumps his nose with Frank's. He whispers into the space, "I'm sorry." 

"You didn't do anything wrong baby." Frank closes the gap between them and kisses Brock, "I love you, we should take a nap." 

"I love you too. But I didn't say no…"

"I know," Frank says softly.

"Then kiss me."

Frank stretches long and presses his lips to Brock's. His hand runs down Brock's stomach and under his shirt. He runs fingers over Brock's skin, "Like this?" He kisses him deeper. _Is this really gremlins or is Brock no longer attracted to him?_ _Maybe it's because he's not what Brock wants? Is Brock having second thoughts?_

Brock makes an appreciative hum, kissing him deeply. One hand comes up to cup at Frank's cheek while the other runs over his body, stopping at Frank's ass, cupping him, and squeezing.

His fingers press into Brock's skin. He pulls back slightly, "Are you reading my mind, Mr. Rumlow?" 

"Depends. What were you thinking?" 

"That I like it when you touch me. Especially when you grab my ass." Frank only partially fibs.

"Just your ass?" Brock grins before kissing him quickly, both hands now grabbing ass cheeks.

"I mean, you can touch me all over. Please do!" Frank replies eagerly.

"Maybe you should be more _specific_ about what you want and where," he replies low.

"I don't think I would get what I want if I did ask." Frank kisses him again.

Brock pulls back a little with a head tilt and a concerned expression, "Oh? What's that?"

"Make love to me?" 

Inwardly, Brock sighs with relief. This was far less daunting of a task and probably something he could do. Maybe. He's still iffy on the positioning but he could at least try. He's working hard on at least ignoring the whispers in his head. He's refusing to call them voices. The gremlins whisper and shout but he instead focuses on Frankie. He nods, "I think I can do that." 

"Ok. Even if we can't. This is good too." Frank whispers.

"I'm willing to try, _tesoro._ I'm sorry I can't offer more." He shifts and hugs Frank tightly.

"More?" Frank asks curiously, he kisses him.

"The rough stuff. Because of my leg." 

"Oh. I don't want that… not right now. I need my tender Brock." Frank moves his lips to Brock's neck before pulling back, "How do you want me?" 

"Let's go to bed," he replies, voice low.

Frank nods. He leans back and rises from Brock's chest. He offers his hand to Brock once he is on his feet. Taking his hand, Brock pulls himself to standing and grabs his cane. He allows himself to be led by the hand into their bedroom.

"I should take my immediate release pill. Just to assist with… working the muscles."

"Okay. If you think so." 

"Unless you want to ride me?" Brock turns to face Frankie, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Do you want to try and if not, then I could go for a ride?" 

He thinks about this for a moment before nodding. "I'll know the moment I try to get onto my knees."

Frank makes a detour to the kitchen and passes Brock his pill with a glass of water, "What about standing? Like I'll bend over the bed?" 

"Oh we're negotiating now," Brock smirks before sniggering. "My standing limit _is_ longer nowadays. I just need to find a way to take the pressure off my leg. I wonder if I could lay on my side; on my good leg. Spooning."

"We can try spooning. Like lying on your not hurt leg…" 

"Lemme try." Brock sets the water and pill on the bedside table before turning back to Frankie. "Let's get nekked." 

"Naked helps," Frank tries not to grin too wide. He pulls his shirt over his head and drops to the floor. He pushes his pants from his hips and to the floor. He helps to undress Brock between soft kisses.

"You look so pretty naked," Brock murmurs against Frank's lips. His hands roam over pale inked skin, fingers toying with dusky rose nipples.

Frank bites his lip for a moment, "You are a fucking masterpiece." He runs a hand over Brock's side and up his chest. He leans up and kisses him while his arm wraps around his husband's neck. 

Brock holds Frankie against him tightly before sitting down, pulling his husband with him and into his lap. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he whispers, "Remember the first time we made love? I sat just like this with your legs wrapped around me. Nice and slow until we couldn't take it anymore."

"I do. That is something I don't think I'll ever forget." Frank's voice is soft before he kisses Brock again, "Do you… wanna try that?" 

"Yeah… yeah, I think I do. We can just sit and be with each other. Intimate." He kisses Frank, closing his eyes and holding him close. He's praying that the gremlins in his head don't mess this up. They are already making waves. He's hoping that by doing it like this, he'll be able to keep things at bay. With plenty of reassurances.

"I like that. And I want you, don't get lost in there." Frank tilts his head back and looks at Brock. He pushes the hair from Brock's face.

He offers a sad smile. "Guess you'll have to be my compass." 

"That's my plan." Frank kisses him softly, "We need lube." He leans across the bed and into the nightstand. He pulls the lube out, generously squirting some in his hand, he strokes Brock. He leans in and kisses him, soft to start but growing a little more urgently. When he feels like Brock is hard enough, he reaches back and lubes himself. A heavy moan that could give any porn star a run for their money comes from his lips. He grins as he grips Brock's cock and eases himself down. The feeling of being full and the stretch around Brock’s cock was a delicious blend, "Oh fuck baby! Feels so good!" 

Brock can't help the moan that escapes nor the wave of panic right behind it. His fingers dig in tight around Frank's hip and thigh. He has to remind himself like a broken record that Frankie wants this. He gave consent; he wasn't breaking boundaries. He's not hurting him. He has to take a moment to remember to breathe and focus for a bit on getting his fear under control. He buries his face in Frankie's neck, for both comfort and to kiss him there. He whispers, "I love you." 

"I love you too," Frank whispers back. He kisses the side of Brock's head. As he opens his mouth to speak the apartment fills with a high pitch screech. His whole body tightens in fear, "What the fuck is that?" 

"Go to the bathroom. Lock yourself in. Don't answer it for anyone other than family," Brock says carefully but quickly dislodging Frank from his lap. Grabbing his cane, he quickly pulls on his shirt and pants, ignoring the fire flare-up in his leg from the movement. Kissing Frank hard, he grabs his gun before nodding at his husband to hide.

"What?" Frank blinks and picks his clothing up. He pulls his phone off the nightstand and heads into the bathroom. He locks the door and sits on the edge of the bathtub. "What if this is just a fire alarm? Not an intruder?" He asks the room softly. 

Brock grips his gun tight and slowly moves through the apartment, checking and clearing each room. He makes his way to the living room and kitchen to shut off the alarm, only to discover that the sound isn't from his system. Cursing softly under his breath, he continues to clear the apartment _just in case_ before returning to get Frankie.

"It's clear. You can come out. System is still secured." 

Frank pulls the door open, "Which means fire, Brock and we should probably leave the apartment." 

"Yeah. Grab whatever you need, quickly. Wallet, keys, phone. Shoes. Meds." Brock grabs his items as he speaks. "There's a firebox in the wall safe with my important papers. We need to add yours, later.…"

"Okay. Come on baby, let's go. Grab a jacket too. You're gonna get cold." Frank says glancing around the apartment. He follows Brock out the door and to the stairs.

"Oh fuck me," Brock groans. He didn't know why it surprised him. Fires are nothing to take lightly and elevators and fires don't mix. But for whatever stupid reason, he realizes too late that the stairs are going to murder his leg. It's a damn good thing he has pills.

"I was trying to." Frank mumbles, "I could probably carry you?"

"Your Twinkie body would crush under the weight after one flight of stairs," Brock teases, starting his descent. 

"Down is better than up, though." Frank comments.

"You should run down. See how far it is before we smell smoke. Maybe flag a firefighter. Because this had better be a real fire and not a drill," he grits out, forcing his body to pick up the pace. He probably could run but it would cost him. Then again, not running would cost him more. He needs to assess the danger first.

"You want me to leave you? Is this… are you sure?" Frank asks with a slight frown. Are Brock's suicidal thoughts getting the best of him?

"I can barely walk down one flight of stairs. We're a hundred stories up. I can't run down. I'm going to need help."

"Fine. Alright, I'll call you if it's a drill."

"If it's a drill, someone is getting screamed at. Everybody in the office knows to fucking call me before running drills," he growls without any real heat. He makes it to the landing and refrains from the urge to punch a wall for his inadequacy. 

Frank stops and kisses him, "Love you. Keep moving. Just in case it is real." He waits for the nod.

Brock nods, "I love you. Stay low to the ground when you smell smoke. Don't stay in one place for too long. If you are near the fire, be careful opening doors. Don't touch anything with your bare hand. Run."

Frank nods and heads down the stairs. With each floor he passes, the level of anxiety ratchets up. He can't help but automatically think the worst but his husband was floors above him and if it was a fire. He could… no. He'll be fine. 

He hits the 6th floor and a wave of smoke hits him. He keeps moving but sends a text to Brock.

_Frank: smoke on the 6th floor. But it's not strong. I'm finding a fireman for you._

He carefully opens the door and steps into the hall. A fireman steps out of carved space where the doors are set back from the wall, "Excuse me! Hi! My husband is a _wounded vet_ and he needs help getting down."

"Where is he?" The fireman asks.

"We live on the top floor." Frank replies, "Maybe a flight down."

The fireman nods and radios to the others he's going to get a stranded tenant, "You keep moving to the ground floor. Do not stop." 

Frank nods, "His name is Brock." He steps out and begins his descent.

_Frank: fireman en route, babe._

_Brock: Okay. Get out. Find Jack. I love you._

Frank starts his reply but stumbles over his own feet, instead he drops the phone and jams his wrist hard. He cries out a little then cusses and hisses at himself as he keeps moving. He probably shouldn't tell Brock.

_Frank: I love you so much._

Once he reaches the main floor, he heads out the door and finds Jack by the curb. The look on his face was sour. "Jack!" Frank calls out as he moves towards his brother. He holds his wrist to his stomach as it starts to throb.

Jack whips his head around at the familiar sound of his name and a relieved expression washes over him. He rushes over and pulls Frank into a hug. "Frank! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where's Brock?!"

"I'm ok. Brock is being helped by a fireman down, I didn't want to leave him but he kinda made me. Are you ok?" Frank says softly, he dodges the hurt question.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Our side of the building didn't even know it was real until me and a few of my neighbors stepped outside to see the fire trucks." Jack looks around at the crowd before turning back to Frank.

"We were having sex." Frank frowns.

He winces, wrinkling his nose. "I'm sorry. But, uh, you… okay?" 

"For the most part, yes. I'm worried about Brock." Frank says softly. He supports his wrist by crossing his other arm under it.

"Why? I'm sure he'll be fine..." 

"Consider it my part-time job to worry about him." Frank snickers. He already can hear Brock bitching about the cold as he shivers slightly.

"Right, because it's Brock's full-time as Master Worrier," Jack snorts playfully. "So this sucks. How long do you think they'll need before they'll let us back inside? An hour? Two, if the flames get out of control…."

Smoke billowed out of the sides of the fourth and fifth floor. All around them people were either crying or chatting. Paramedics fussed over one woman who had serious smoke inhalation. Another was being treated for burns; they rushed her to the hospital, sirens blasting loud to warn others of their injured cargo. 

"Two probably. They'll have to go floor by floor and check. Wait for any hot spots to pop up." Frank replies, "This is why we need to get houses built and get out of the apartments." He pushes himself up to look over other people to see if Brock has been liberated yet.

"I agree. Hey, didn't you say that you made a friend on the lower floors?"

"Shit. Yeah! Where is she? She might not be home." Frank looks around to see a familiar face. He pulls his phone out and shoots her a text asking if she got out.

"I don't know what she looks like. I can't help you," Jack sasses playfully.

Brock coughs hard from the smoke as he and the firefighter exit the building. He searches the crowd for his husband but is pulled away by the firefighter, whose jacket read _Storm_ , to get his lungs checked out and a blanket.

Jack nudges Frank and points out his brother being led to the ambulances. "There. Let's go." 

Frank holds his arm in and hurries to the ambulance. "Brock!" He calls out as a police officer tries to hold him back, "That's my husband and his brother! Move!" 

"Frankie?!" Brock turns and sees his family and tries to go to them but it's stopped by the paramedic. He speaks to him and gets a nod. The paramedic waves them over, signaling to the cop it was okay.

"Baby, are you ok?!" Frank asks as they approach. He glances to the side and sees a familiar face sitting on the bumper of the other ambulance. Recognition clicks. Lisa. He gives her a small wave then turns back to Brock, "I'm so happy to see your face." 

"Me too," he replies, opening his arm up for a hug. "I'm okay. Just took in some smoke. Shit filled the stairwell fast. Freezing my ass off. Are you okay?"

"It got worse on the second floor but I'm ok. I was worried about you. Aren't you glad we grabbed jackets?" Frank says quietly as he steps into the hug, using one arm to hold his husband, "Jack's side is unaffected, lucky him." 

"Good. And yes. Thank you, baby." Brock kisses his temple before turning to cough hard.

"You ready to buy a house now?" Frank asks, playful but is genuinely interested.

"Yes. Wanna drive around and go shopping?" Brock offers with a smile. The paramedic working on the woman stands and approaches him, motioning him to sit. He pulls away from Frankie and eases himself down on the bumper.

"I mean we will have a couple of hours before we can go back in…" Frank smirks. 

"Maybe longer depending on the fire." The paramedic says casually. “My name’s Clint Barton. I need to listen to your lungs. Take several slow and deep breathes for me.”

Jack asks Frank, "Do you really want to drive around all afternoon creeping on for sale houses, in the middle of the cold?" 

"I mean, what else are we gonna do?" Frank asks.

"See family? Friends? Go to a movie? Eat lunch?" Jack offers with a shrug. "I dunno."

"I still have physical therapy today," comments Brock. It gets him a stern look from the paramedic who is trying to listen to his lungs.

"Yeah. you do." Frank says softly, "I do have a couple of places I saved for us to look at… well it's property. But that's only if you guys want to."

"Is he gonna be ok?" Frank asks the paramedic. 

He nods, "We're gonna give him a little oxygen but he'll be fine. Might have a cough but it will go away." 

"Good!" Frank says softly, "Food is a good idea. Maybe stop and get Brock some shorts for therapy."

The paramedic releases him after a few minutes on oxygen. Barton says gruffly, "You’ll need to get cough drops or suppressant."

"It's gonna be that bad? Or just last a bit," asks Brock. His voice is a little more scratchy than normal.

"It will just be a little cough for a couple of weeks while you heal." The medic says with a nod, "Not bad."

"Alright. Thanks. Am I free to go?"

Barton nods, "You're free. Take it easy today, any changes go to the hospital."

The second Brock is standing Frank hugs him. "It's alright, baby. I'm ok." 

Barton turns to Frank and Jack. "Do either of you need to be checked over?" 

Frank shakes his head. He looks at Jack, who also shakes his head. "I think we're good." 

"Do you think we can get a car from the garage?" He looks from Jack to Brock.

"Probably?" Jack shrugs, "I can try." 

Brock nods, "Go. Be quick."

Jack nods and makes his way through the crowd before running to the garage. He disappears quickly in the chaos.

Barton gives Brock a blanket and sends them on their way. They wander through the crowd to the sidewalk away from the building and the wind.

"I tripped in the stairwell on my way down," Frank says softly as he grips Brock's hand. He glances to the back and sees the smoke getting blacker from the building.

"Frankie," Brock sighs. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Why didn't you say something, baby?"

"I just jammed my wrist. I'm okay though." Frank shrugs, "You are more important considering you know I left you in a burning building."

"Well. When you put it like _that_ , it sounds much worse," Brock chuckles.

"I mean… I'm not wrong." Frank says with a little voice. 

"Eh, technically no. But to be fair, we thought it was a drill and I'm dead weight anyway. You did the right thing, getting help. You do realize that, right?" Brock hugs Frank, wrapping the blanket around them both. "Consider this, if you had stayed with me. We'd still be up there right now, trapped. There's probably _still_ people up there right now. Imagine how scared they are. That could be _us._ You saved us, _tesoro_. Don't look at it any other way."

"Okay. But… you are not dead weight." 

"In this situation, I was. There's no way I would have been able to move fast enough to get to safety without having help. It would have put you in danger as well."

"I know, I just did what I was told." Frank nods, "I didn't like it but I know that it was the right thing to do." He lifts his wrist and checks that he can flex his hand, "Also how are you doing… you know since we got interrupted." 

"Oddly enough the fire is a louder distraction than my head. And also a very effective boner killer. How are you?"

"I'm ok. A little spooked. Annoyed at the universe."

"Oh, you were thinking it, too?" He chuckles. 

"A lot lately."

There's a horn beep and they turn their heads to see Jack sitting in the Lamborghini. He rolls down one window to yell at them, "Come on." 

Frank crawls into the back and buckles up. "Hi! Looking for a good time big boy.." Frank teases.

"You wish, shorty," chuckles Jack.

Brock slides in after Frank, not willing to sit up front and be away from his hubby. So he's clingy. Who cares? 

"Hi. I figured you'd sit up front." Frank says, taking Brock's hand.

"Nope." Brock buckles up and squeezes his hand, offering a smile.

"So where to, gents?" 

"Um, I don't know. I'm just along for the ride." Frank says softly. He winces a little when he jerks his wrist wrong.

"We should get ice and a brace for your wrist. Let it heal right before you go playing your guitars, okay," says Brock.

"Okay." 

"Wal-Mart, then?" Jack asks as he glances back at the two of them in the mirror.

"Or Rite Aid. CVS." Frank says softly.

"If Brock needs shorts though?"

"Let's stop at the pharmacy first. I'm not buying shorts at Wal-Mart," Brock says.

"Alright," nods Jack.

"Nothing wrong with shorts from Walmart, Brock," Frank says with a half-smile. 

"Besides being cheap and poor quality?"

"I didn't know you were partaking in a fashion show at PT..." Frank says with a smile.

"No, but if I'm going to be keeping it, I want it to be decent at least."

"Target?" Frank offers. He glances at Jack.

"Sure." 

"They'll have medical stuff there."

Jack glances back at Frank, "So what did you do to your wrist? Was this a sexcapade?" 

Brock puts his hand over his face. Trust that Frank told Jack they were attempting to have sex. They'd barely begun so he really didn't count it as a successful venture.

"I fell down the stairs." 

"On Brock's cock," Jack sniggers.

"Jack," Brock snaps, mildly affronted. He shakes his head. His brother…. Idiot.

"Relax, Brock."

"Yeah. I'm just messing with you. But seriously, Frank, you ok?" 

"I'm ok. If anything, it would be an anal tear or cock break." Frank tries not to smirk but he can't keep it in.

Jack cracks up, not expecting that sort of response. "I meant your wrist! Though, I'm glad your ass is fine." 

"Frank's not going to break my cock. I'm careful," Brock snorts.

"Yeah, you haven't been doing much of the work lately." Frank snickers, "And my ass is always _fine_. Ask your brother." 

Laughing harder, Jack shakes his head, "I'm glad we have the sort of relationship that allows this conversation to not be weird or uncomfortable. How is your wrist?"

"Hurts. I think I jammed it when I caught myself." Frank replies, "It's how you can tell I'm comfortable with you. I don't say this kinda stuff to everyone…"

"True. We'll have the pharmacist take a look at it. Or you can call your mom? If you can move it, it's probably not broken," Jack comments, stopping for a red light.

"It's just a sprain. I'll just get some wrap stuff and have you or Brock do it. Since it's my dominant hand, it won't be very good." Frank snorts, "No hand jobs for a while."

He watches as Jack rolls in the parking lot. He notes the other cars around them. At least there were a couple of other high-end cars. He watches a couple teens pass by and gawk at their car before they get out. 

"I haven't been to Target since the day we met, B." Frank looks up at him. His brain flutters for a moment, thinking back to that day.

"Want me to push you down in the jeans section?" Brock offers with a laugh.

"Wanna _actually_ fuck me in the dressing room?" Frank whispers.

Brock leans over and whispers in Frank's ear, "I might have to shove underwear in your mouth to keep you from screaming."

"You think that will stop me?" Frank giggles a little. His voice gets soft, just above a whisper so others can't hear, "You did turn me into a screamer." 

"Took me a while but it was worth it," he smirks.

"Let's get you shorts and me ace wrap and find your brother…" Frank snickers looking around and not seeing Jack.

"And you some more underwear. Ones we can ruin. Jack probably ran off for the electronics. He's always checking out the games."

"True. He's been wanting a new one. Especially since the band has been online gaming with him almost every night." Frank says with a nod, "What kind of underwear?" 

"Excuse me, sir." A young woman in khakis and a red polo approaches them with a warm smile, "Would your dad like an electric cart, we have one available."

Frank's eyes widen as he bites his cheek. _Oh, fuck._ He composes himself enough to get words out, "Do you, daddy?" 

Brock gives him a narrowed eye look before turning to the employee. He wants to say something about it but he remembers that this kid is just doing her job and is meaning well. Frank, on the other hand, is just an ass. Albeit a lovable one. "Sure. I'd appreciate it. Thanks." 

"I'll be right back!" She says with a grin. 

"That's nice," Frank smirks.

"Shut up," he hisses softly. 

"You gonna make me? Pops." Frank raises an eyebrow. 

"Stoppit," Brock says, shoving Frankie in the shoulder. "Jerk." 

"You're pretty when you blush." 

"So are you. Keep that in mind," Brock warns. His face blanks at his poor choice of words cause his gremlins to attack him. Getting off on Frank's humiliation made him a despicable human being.

"Stop it. We are playing." Frank's tone changes as he watches Brock physically change, "Don't let them ruin it." 

He's saved by the employee returning with the ECV and he plasters a fake smile on. "Thank you, ma'am." 

"You're welcome. Have fun." She says chipper as she nods and disappears into the women's clothing.

Frank walks beside Brock and sighs. They had been having fun but those damn gremlins have to ruin it, "What kind of shorts do you want, like basketball ones?" 

"I guess. I would just use it for PT and nothing else. It's not something I can see myself ever wearing again."

"I mean, if they let me see your dick better I won't complain." Frank comments casually, "Sweats or shorts do that." 

A woman about his age passes by and gives him a little nod in agreement. Frank gives her a small smile and a wink.

"So gym shorts, then. Alright." Brock wheels the electric cart to the men's section. He pauses at the underwear. "What do you normally buy?" 

Frank picks up a three-pack of boxer briefs in a small. They are colorful and will work nicely for their intended purpose, "These work?" 

"I've never seen you wear boxer briefs. That's more my style. Are those going to be comfy for you?"

"Do you want me to get tighty whities?" 

"Depends on what we are using them for. White isn't as nice on you like color is."

"It highlights how translucent I really am." Frank snorts. "I usually get underwear from online stores but if I'm going with a regular store. This should be fine but you can pick."

"There's also the women's and kids' sections," Brock teases before putting the multi-pack of underwear into the cart. Moving forward, he grabs a pack of briefs as well and adds those to the cart.

"You want me to wear a pink thong?" Frank points across the way to the pastel pink thong in the women's section.

"Certainly would be easier if we are adding it in the bedroom…." Brock trails off and heads over there.

"Oh you..." Frank follows. He is curious about what Brock was up to. 

"How do you feel about lace?" Brock asks as he rolls over to a table with single underwear in a bin on it. He finds the ones with thongs in it and pulls out one that looked like a dark pink. The label read _Red Berries_ as the color choice. It was lace with a geometric pattern. He shows Frankie.

"Those are pretty." Frank nods.

Brock tosses them into the cart to try. The other colors were dark or boring. He moves on, looking at the racks for more ideas.

"Are we making a collection?" Frank asks with a little smile. Frank picks up a pair of 

Light blue undies with hearts on them, "Eh?" 

"Those are cute. And yes, a collection of ones we can kinda ruin and one that is for maybe nicer times."

"Oh. Ok." Frank nods. His hand runs over Brock's back, "You smell like smoke. It's not a bad thing… before you start." 

"We gotta get those cough drops while we are here."

"Do you think you could wrap my wrist?" Frank asks softly. He's kept it in his pocket. He can feel it aching but he's choosing to ignore it. 

"Sure baby. Come on. Let's do that first and we can come back for my shorts." Brock backs up his cart, the beeping noise loud to his ears.

"No, let’s get your shorts. We are already here. I'm not gonna crumble," Frank says softly.

"Are you sure? I know you're in pain, baby." 

"I'm ok. I can wait a couple more minutes." Frank leans over and kisses his forehead.

Brock maneuvers the cart out of the women's section and back into the men's, going over to look at the athletic section. "See any?" 

"How about these?" Frank pulls out a pair of shorts in Brock's size. 

"Sure. I'm not picky. Add them to the cart and let's go. Unless you want me to try them on?"

"Do you want to try them on?" Frank asks with a little smile, "They will fit you. I think." 

"Don't you want to see if it's too loose?" 

"Let's try them on then." Frank's smile gets wider, "Would hate for them to be too large." 

"Lead the way then, "Brock smirks.

Frank heads towards the dressing room and waits for Brock to go in. Brock heads for the first available stall in the back by the corner. He peeks his head around the door, he motions for Frank to join him.

Frank slips into the stall and moves to the back of it. He bites his lip before smiling at his husband. 

"This is either going to go really good or really bad…." Brock whispers, sliding off his pants.

"How quickly can we do this?" Frank keeps his voice soft as he drapes his arms over Brock's shoulder, "Should I pretend I don't know you?" 

"Tinder date at Target?" Brock snickers. "Not sure I can do anything _fast_." 

"It's worth a shot." Frank says before kissing him, "How do you want me? Against the wall?" 

He nods then maneuvers Frank so that he's leaning on the bench seat, hands plastered to the wall. Brock gets the angle right, holding his hips before freezing. There's no lube. Damn, they need to invest in lube necklaces… welp. Guess he's going to eat a snack before they go to lunch. He kisses Frank's neck and ear lobe before going to Frank's pants and undoing them. He stills. 

"What?" Frank asks softly. He turns his head to look at Brock.

His fingers tighten on Frank and he takes a hard breath. The last time they were like this was in Canada. Suddenly he's not sure he can open Frank's pants. He takes another deep breath. Trying to calm himself.

"Brock. I want you. Please fuck me." Frank whispers, he can hear the desperation in his voice. He uses a hand and opens his pants. He pushes them down a little.

"Okay. Sorry." Brock's voice shakes a little but he still manages to get Frank's pants down the rest of the way, just below the curve of his ass. He's still a little frazzled when he pulls down his underwear. "There's no lube." 

"Spit. Spit on your cock." Frank’s hips rock back slightly.

Brock spits into his hand, stroking himself hard and fast. Visions of Canada overwhelm him. It's terrifying, not just because of all the negative associations that stemmed from it but also because he still found it hot. And he hates it. Hates that he feels disgusting. Hates that he's still hard even with the fallout. Hates that he likes it.

Spitting again, he aligns himself up and puts his head down in the center of Frank's back. Pushing his hips forward he slides in, as soft tears roll down his cheeks. He bottoms out and a moan softly escapes.

"Oh fuck! That's amazing!" Frank pants out. His fingers press into the wall. He tightens around Brock.

"Shhh," Brock whispers, slowly pulling back until just his tip remains inside. Adjusting so his weight is primarily on his good leg, he rocks his hips forward, testing his strength and elasticity in his muscles. He whispers in Frank's ear, "You're gonna get us caught. And arrested."

Frank cups his hand over his mouth and keeps himself from making a moan louder than in his throat. He nods and pushes back against Brock.

Starting an easy pace, Brock fights to keep his moans under control in addition to keeping his head and mouth quiet. He's surprised nobody else has heard their soft moans and the slapping of skin. He's not going to last. It's both a blessing and a curse.

Frank whimpers as he tries to keep himself as quiet as possible. He is trying not to think about the wall rubbing against his skin. His hand drops from his mouth to his cock. He strokes himself fast. He whispers Brock's name. 

"Gonna cum," Brock pants out in a whisper.

"Do it. Fill me up." Frank replies in the same volume as Brock. He's not far behind. He strokes fast, gripping himself harder. 

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Brock chants, suppressing a moan. He slams in once, hard, before stilling and coming. He groans out, "Frankie." 

"Fuck, that's amazing." Frank moans quietly. He strokes until he comes. He wants to kiss Brock. "I love when you cum in me." 

"Me too. I love you," Brock's voice is soft and quiet. 

"I love you so much." Frank leans into Brock as he turns his head to kiss Brock. *Why are you crying, baby?"

Pulling out and away, he wipes his face before pulling up his pants and zipping up. "Gremlins." 

"That was perfect. They are lying to you." Frank pulls his jeans up.

"What about flashbacks? Are they lying too?" Brock whispers.

"Yes. These kinds. They are warped, baby. Situation is different."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Brock pulls Frankie tight to him in a hug. His eyes burn with suppressed tears. "It's in my head. The memory." 

"I'm okay. You're ok." Frank squeezes him hard. He whispers, "I want this. I want you. We had a bad night. Doesn't change how I feel about you. Doesn't change how much I want you. or how much I love you. You are my forever. So we're gonna have bad days."

"I know. It's just–"

"We got this, love." Frank says firmly, "Right?"

Brock hesitates but nods. He wants a shower. And a drink. Anything to purge the disgusting feeling from his mind and body. 

"We're gonna do _it_ when we get home," Frank says with a nod.

"What?" Brock shakes his head to snap himself back to reality and pay attention to Frank. He should try on the shorts. He sits down and grabs them off the floor where they fell.

"We are gonna do it when we go home." Frank nods with a smile, "In the shower."

"I dunno if I can have sex twice, love. Physical therapy is a bitch to me." He stops and looks up, lips pressed tight together. "Though, I suppose that's if we still have a home to return to. Because fire." He starts to laugh, bewildered by the fact that their building was on fire and they just left it. Without a thought or care, they just left all of their belongings to risk burning. 

"Then tomorrow."

"Okay. We'll see, love." 

"I'm sure we are gonna have a home. It might be a little smoky. But I think it will be there. If not, then I guess we're crashing as my mom's?" 

"What you don't want to go to a hotel," he grins playfully. As if they haven't been in and out of hotels for _months_

"If it's strictly a first-floor hotel..." Frank sticks his tongue out, "We could crash with Jack. I'm sure he'd love to snuggle with us."

"Sure. We could ask." Brock stands. He's not going to try on the shorts. There's no need for him to. A part of him wonders if he can get _out_ of doing physical therapy. "Would evacuating the apartment via stairs constitute enough physical therapy today?"

"I think so." Frank grins as he pats Brock's butt, "but… there's more to PT than that."

"Damn."

There's a loud sharp banging on the dressing room door. Brock jumps slightly before Jack's voice calls out, albeit hushed, "You perverts done in there?" 

"Why you wanna watch?" Frank says opening the door.

"No, you dork. But I got you a wrist brace and an ice pack that wraps around. Come see." Jack leaves and goes to a shopping cart. 

Frank takes Brock's hand and follows Jack. Jack pulls out a box that says it's a hot and cold gel bead sports wrap with a strap. He passes it to Frank. "This is the only thing I found that will keep ice on your wrist." He also offers an adjustable stabilizing wrist brace that will fit either hand.

"Thank you, Jack." Frank looks up at him with a little bit of adoration in his eyes.

"You're welcome, bärchen. Brock, I also got you cough drops." 

Frank hugs Jack. "Love you, brother!"

"I love you too, brother." Jack hugs him back, tight. "What else do you guys need?" 

"I don't know. Baby, anything else?" Frank reaches for Brock.

Clearing his throat, Brock shakes his head. "Not really. We can check out food while we are here? Did you get a new game, Jack?"

"Yeah, got the new Call of Duty."

"The boys are gonna lose their mind." Frank snorts. Does he want to join in? Kinda. Will he? Maybe. "Let's go look at the food." 

After cruising through the aisles, joking and talking. Frank signs an autograph to a nice teenage boy before they check out. Brock is tired and drained of all energy by the time he rolls up to the checkout line. He doesn't care enough to get up or help unload the groceries and items. He just wants to go home. Frank bags the groceries while Jack rings. Two hundred and seventy dollars later and they were out the door.

Frank sits in the backseat and watches little snowflakes start to fall. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." He comments. The car rolls up to the apartment building. It was still standing. As they unload, he worries they'll have to take the stairs. He checks the elevator and takes a sigh of relief, "Elevator is open." 

"Good," Brock says before coughing a little and adjusting his grip on the bags.

"I'll help you with the bags into the kitchen, but then you guys are on your own. I've got a game to play," grins Jack.

"Thanks for coming with us." Frank says with a smile that fades the second the door closes to the elevator.

"Totally. Got me something out of it. And it was a good way to pass the time while our building was either being saved or not."

"Smells like it we are entering hell." Frank wrinkles his nose.

"Nope," both Brock and Jack say in unison.

"I was thinking barbeque," quips Jack.

"I was thinking of a matchbox filled with leaf tobacco," nods Brock. He coughs a little.

"Too bad we don't have windows that open," Frank shakes his head. He loves those two dorks, "Leaf tobacco?" 

Brock nods, "Kind of has a woodsy smell. Spice too, depending on what it is. Now, clove tobacco reeks. Can't stand the smell of that."

"Yeah, cigars are more your speed." Frank comments. He didn't realize that he had been holding his breath.

"I don't like any of it. But one of my boys on the team smoked like a chimney stack. I got used to it, sort of." The doors open and they enter the apartment. Jack heads in to the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. He pulls out his prize, kisses both Brock and Frank on the cheek before happily skipping out and heading to his home.

Frank unloads the groceries quietly. He looks at Brock. "I'm gonna make you a sandwich. Before you go to therapy." 

Brock wraps his arms around Frank, burying his face in his neck. "I don't wanna go. I wanna stay with you." 

"I can go with you. Jack is busy with his new picture game..." Frank says softly.

"What's wrong?" Brock whispers.

"Nothing." Frank wrinkles his forehead slightly, "I just sounded a little needier than I should." 

"I'm the one who's been clingy. Even though my head hates me for it, I still find solace by being with you. I need you," he replies low.

"I need you, too. I like being with you." Frank hugs Brock, "If I don't go, I'll start making dinner when you get home. Maybe figure out how to get the smokey out of here." 

"Spoken like a housewife," Brock chuckles. "You can come with if you want." 

"Should I wear an apron?" Frank grins up at him. 

"Only if it reads _kiss the cook_ or something," Brock chuckles 

"Squeeze my buns." Frank snickers, "With like actual buns on it."

"Toast my buns? With actual toast?" 

"Yes!" Frank leans up and kisses him, "What kinda sandwich do you want?" 

"PBJ. Maybe with extra strawberry jelly. Please?"

"Toasted?" 

"Nah. You can toast my buns later," Brock kisses his cheek. "Milk, please." He makes his way to the bag of clothing and heads towards the bedroom.

Frank nods and quickly starts making the sandwich for him just the way he likes it. He cuts it in half then puts it on a small plate. He pours the glass of ice-cold milk and sets it next to a plate at the table, and sits beside it quietly on his phone.

Brock joins him wearing a tank and the new, very short, shorts. He kisses Frank before sitting down to eat. 

"Hello, daddy." 

"Thank you for the sandwich, baby," Brock snorts playfully. He gives him a wry smile. 

"If you wear these all the time, I might lose my mind." Frank smiles as his finger runs over Brock's thigh, "Look at those sexy legs."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "You're a goof." 

"When you get back to the gym, will you please wear these? I'm not kidding, I really like them on you." 

Brock eats his food and they rush out the door to his appointment. Frank sits in the waiting area as Brock gets 'abused'. Once he's free, Frank makes one stop for the last piece for his dinner. After a nice dinner, the two of them shower then crawl into bed. Both are exhausted, Frank finds a crime show where the cops have to solve the case in two days before all their leads dry up. 

"You should try sleeping on your side. Put a pillow between your knees." Frank suggests as he strokes Brock's chest. 

"I… yeah, okay. I really want to lay on my side. And cuddle you, properly. I dunno if we have a firm pillow to keep my leg from hurting."

"Couch pillow?"

"....Worth a shot."

Frank leans up and kisses him. He slips out of bed and grabs the firmest pillow he can find. He returns, crawling up the bed, "Try this!" 

Frank watches while Brock tries but shakes his head no. He pushes the pillow to the floor. He makes a decision that he will be buying a pillow for Brock tomorrow. He rests his head down on Brock's chest and feels himself begin to drift off. As he makes his plans for the day tomorrow, tuxes are ready for pick up, he's gotta do the email for recording and pick out equipment, pillow, pick up Brock's new meds and his own, and... something else. His thoughts fade to dreams.

~~

With a heavy sigh, Brock stretches all the way down to his toes. A hand comes up to rub at his face as a yawn escapes. It turns into a scratchy cough. Apparently, last night had not been kind to his throat. Swallowing a few times to get the feeling away, he turns to Frankie and rubs his back, murmuring into his hair, "Morning beautiful." 

Frank mumbles as he rubs his nose on Brock, "Is too early. Tore knee dorm room..." 

Chuckling low, Brock pulls the covers up over them both, tucking in the fabric. Frankie was extra cute when he was sleepy _and_ attempting Italian. He presses a soft kiss on his hubby's forehead. "It's not that early, _tesoro_. But I'm happy to cuddle you. Just don't forget our plans today…"

"Tuxes. Decorating. Babies." Frank yawns and stretches his legs, "But I'm warm and comfortable and safe." 

"Mmhmm. And if we didn't have an early appointment with the tailors, I'd let us snuggle in bed all day. But we gotta get up, love."

"Nooo." Frank whines. He snuggles closer, "I hate the tailor." Frank flops on his back and kicks the blanket off, "Imma be extra needy today. Lots of kisses. Attention. Like more than normal."

"Demanding too, huh?" He laughs in reply, "I'm okay with this."

"Very demanding." Frank whines.

"That's okay." Brock sits up and yawns deep, a little shiver escaping at the chill. He needs to up the heat a little. Leaning back, he kisses Frankie before patting him and rising to his feet. "Come on, love. Get up."

"Fine." Frank groans and follows him, "I need coffee..." 

"And I need an extra hot shower. And a heating pad for my legs," Brock groans out. 

"We showered last night. You're gonna get dry skin." Frank sighs. He pulls out clothes, slipping into jeans and a band shirt. He pulls a cardigan on after socks. He slips into sneakers before heading out to the living room but stopping in the doorway, "We should get you thermal pants. I'll make us coffee while you shower, okay? Want a shake and some toast?" 

"I take it you _weren't_ still planning on joining me for shower sex then," Brock chuckles as he watches Frank get dressed. He kinda wanted shower sex today. He's in a good mood. He doesn't have to take the evil pills anymore. Not today, not ever. He's gonna get new pills. No more gremlins. Oh well. "That's okay." 

"Oh. Yes. I am." Frank blinks as the brain fog slowly lifts. He begins peeling off the clothing he's put on, "It was my idea huh? I'm sorry. My head's in the clouds." 

"It's okay. We don't have to. I know you're sleepy," Brock smiles at him as he approaches his husband. 

"No, I want to." Frank looks up at him. 

"Okay," he replies. He leans down and kisses him.

Frank kisses him back, "Let's go get wet… what color?" 

"Huh?" Now he's confused. He tilts his head and frowns.

"Nevermind." Frank shakes his head. Frank pulls out a pair of underwear that are a light grey color. He slides them on and nods at Brock, "Ready?" 

"Those are cute on you," Brock says. He's still trying to figure out what's going on. He swallows and holds back a cough as realization slowly creeps into his brain. Yeah, no, he can't. He coughs hard into his hand. It's a good distraction from what he doesn't want to believe is happening.

"Thanks!" He takes Brock's hand and leads him to the bathroom, "How did it go. You want me to squirm?" 

He can feel the heat burn in his face from guilt and shame, chasing behind that is fear. This is not what he thought Frankie meant. He stops.

"Babe?" 

"What are you doing?" His voice is barely above a whisper. He's afraid to find out the answer.

"I thought… this is why we... You don't want to?" 

Brock closes his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It's that he _did_ and he both hates and feels disgusted at himself for it. He hates himself for what he did. He swallows hard. He didn't buy the underwear for _this_. He was never going to do _this_ again. He can't hurt Frankie. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't. I thought we agreed to try. And I thought that ." 

"Yeah, we did," Brock whispers, Frank's words bringing back the memory of yesterday morning. The trial run. He'd forgotten about that. Forgotten that his husband had to keep him from panicking and to reassure him just to be able to do it. He goes to Frank, wrapping his arms around him. He admits quietly, "I'm scared." 

"It's me. Why are you scared? I would never do anything to put you in harm's way." Frank leans back and looks up at him, "I wanna try this." 

"Of me. Of hurting you. Of going too far and–" He can't have a repeat of Canada. He can't.

"Do you remember how I used the safe word and you stopped?" 

"You shouldn't have needed to," he replies with an edge of anger in his voice at himself.

"I was willing until I got into my own head. It's never been about you hurting me."

"I forced you to do something you never wanted. That's hurtful."

"No. I am willing to try." Frank says curtly, "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

Brock kisses Frank, needy and desperate for reassurance. He hates feeling like this. Despises it but can't seem to stop. It's a circle of emotional turmoil and self-loathing. Everything feeds the demons in his head. He clings tight to his one safe place.

Frank kisses him back. Deeper as his fingers rake across Brock's scalps. He pulls away and nods at Brock before speaking, "I want you. And I want this." 

"Okay. Okay," he says it like he's trying to convince himself. Which he is. He kisses Frank again, slowly walking them into the shower until Frank's back is against the wall. He's not sure what to do now.

"Are you gonna kiss me?" 

Brock kisses him again, moaning softly at the feeling. He will never tire of kissing his husband. One of his hands comes up to toy with a nipple.

Frank lets out a small moan and pushes into Brock. Frank moves Brock's hand over his hip. "Please tickle me." 

Tickle? Frank didn't have to pee? He can do that. His fingers ghost over Frankie's sides, going for the Magic Spot.

Frank shifts on his hips a little. He pushes against Brock. He can feel the movement in his bladder. He grins up at Brock, he pulls him down to kiss him again before a little moan escapes from his lips. 

Biting his lower lip, Brock tickles his more; harder, and faster. He's glad the fiasco at Canada didn't ruin tickle sex for him. He can feel his cock stirring to life in interest. He wants this. Frank wants this. He needs to keep reminding himself that what he's doing is safe and consensual. He may or may not be sane with his gremlins but it's a work in progress. No more bad pills. He moans into the kiss, pushing up against Frank.

Frank keeps moving, he knows Brock loves this, he loves turning him on. His hips buck into Brock as a moan comes from inside of his throat. The need to pee intensifies as Brock pushes into him. He pulls back, slightly, "Fuck you're sexy." 

Brock's brain fully switches into desire and arousal; the gremlins quiet as his need for Frank grows. He tickles him more, loving the way his boy squirms and writhes against him. Like a trapped bird fluttering against its cage. It makes his cock hard and his breath hitch. "Fucking sexy twink," he pants out, pressing his body harder against his husband. His hand slides down the front of Frankie's underwear to cup him. Maybe he can get him to cum in the undies before he fucks him.

He moans against Brock's lips, "I wanna make you so happy." Frank pushes his chest against Brock as he whines a little. 

His mouth pressed kisses into Brock's skin before nipping slightly. His eyes look up to see if that was ok. 

"You do. So much." Brock looks at him with eyes blown wide with lust. He kisses him hard, shoving his tongue inside and mapping his mouth. His hand grips Frank's cock firmly, stroking him. 

Frank uses his hurt wrist to pull Brock's hand from his cock, he's willing to do this but he's not willing to _go_ on Brock. He moves the hand to his low stomach and pushes down. He lets out a moan then whine as he feels himself go. The warmth feels wrong for a moment until he snaps himself back into the moment. His eyes meet Brock's so catch his reaction.

"Oh holy _fuck_ ," Brock whispers with a shudder, watching the darkening fabric grow with wetness. It should _not_ be this hot. It should _not_ make his cock harder if that was even possible. He gives a pained groan. Shoving aside his instinct to hate it, he gives in to his desire. Surging forward, he kisses Frank hard, going back to tickling him. He can feel the wetness on his cock and it only spurs him on. He presses their bodies closer together, rubbing up against Frank. He's choosing to not nitpick at the surprising idea that he's technically being peed on and it's not bothering him, but instead making him want Frankie more.

"Oh god, _oh fuck!_ Soak yourself. Fuck fuck fuck." 

He whines as he writhes underneath Brock. He kisses Brock harder. He wants to be fucked, "Fuck me." He pants out, "like a whore." 

"Think there's enough of my cum in you still?" Brock asks, husky and rough. He quickly pulls off Frank's underwear, kicking them to the side. He's going to start leaving a bottle of lube in the shower. For now, he grabs the conditioner and rubs some on his cock. His leg is going to scream at him for this but he doesn't care at the moment. Urgency and need are in control right now, spurring him to lift Frank, pinning him to the wall, and slamming his cock home. He cries out Frankie's name before starting a brutal pace.

Frank cries out at the push. He grips the wall at the hurried pace. "Oh fuck! Oh god! Baby!" He tries to match Brock but he can't, he chooses to clamp down and do his best to keep up. 

"I love you," Brock chants amidst the string of curse words. "So fucking hot. Fuckin' perfect. This what you want? What you needed?" He shifts his weight to his good leg so he can get a hand around Frank's cock and pump him. His hips slow only a little as he tries to keep them stable.

"Yes! Oh fuck! Brock please, fuck!" 

Brock fucks hard into Frank, wrist a rapid blur as he jerks his husband's cock until he's certain his leg is going to give out. He's close though. He just needs a little more. He moans out, "Gonna cum… oh fuck… 'm close baby." 

"Me… me fuck. Me too!" Frank whines. His hips buck harder into Brock's hand. 

"Come for me. Come on my cock. Need you. Shit!" Brock pants. He can feel his leg shaking from the exertion. He can't take it. Too soon than what he wanted, he comes forcefully with a cry of Frank's name.

Frank feels his body fold over as he comes. He never expected that he would like this. The unexpected passion inside of Brock made it hotter. He moans softly as he turns his head. "Kiss me, please." His legs feel as though they might give out on him. "You’re fucking amazing." 

Brock kisses him, starting out hard but moving to tender.

"I love you," Frank says between kisses.

"I love you," Brock pants, gently setting Frank down. His legs collapse beneath him. "I'm sorry…." 

"Brock? Baby are you ok?" His concern overtaking the warm lustful feelings.

"My leg..." Brock grabs at the bad leg, muscle spasms attacking hard. He didn't take his pill and now he's not only on fire but each spasm brings more pain.

"Breathe, baby, I know it hurts. I'll go grab your pill. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" Frank says as he gets himself together, he rushes to the bedside table and pulls Brock's pills. He carries the bottle with him, drying his hand he shakes a pill into his hand then hands it to Brock. He sits behind his husband and holds him. 

"Knew it would hurt. Didn't care. Didn't know it would be this bad," Brock grits out. He swallows the pill dry.

"I'm sorry baby. Take my hand. It's okay." Frank extends his hand out for Brock to squeeze, "Breathe. You're holding your breath." 

"I love you," Brock manages to get out, inhaling sharp and trying to breathe through the pain. "So much. I love you." 

"I am sorry." Frank kisses his cheek. 

"Don't be," he murmurs, feeling the drugs kick in. "It was worth it. It was… amazing. Thank you. So much." 

"It was pretty fantastic, huh?" Frank whispers in his ear, "I like it when you lose control like that. I'm gonna feel you all day." 

After a moment of silence in which Brock is just relaxing slowly under the painkillers, he speaks softly with mild shock and awe in his voice, "So I gotta piss kink…. Huh. Damn." 

Frank snorts, "I fucking love you but yeah I think you do…" He kisses Brock's cheek, "Other than your leg, how are we feeling?" 

"A little weirded out I've got a piss kink. Worried a little about how you feel about that...What we did. Should probably discuss it. Negotiate. Drained a little; tired and ready to cuddle and nap. Hungry but it's the least of my need hierarchy."

"We have an appointment, so a nap is gonna have to wait." Frank teases, "We can talk about what happened." 

"We should actually shower. And eat." Brock sighs. Stupid appointment.

"Yes, we should." Frank turns Brock's head to face him and kisses him, "Have I told you lately how sexy you are?" 

"Mmm, you did. Though it's nice to hear it." He kisses him, a low moan escaping.

"I'll give you all the compliments and praise you need." Frank kisses him again, "You deserve it."

"So do you. Thank you. For this; for everything you've ever done for me. I don't say it enough how much I love and appreciate you."

"I think you're gonna bruise," Frank says softly, his hand reaches out and pokes a small spot on Brock's chest.

"Yeah… I can't believe you bit me as hard as you did. It was hot." Brock reaches up and buries his hand in Frank's hair, pulling him in for another kiss.

Frank moans into the kiss. "I was testing the waters.. glad to know you like it, we should get up and shower."

Brock turns his body and climbs on top of Frankie, gently pushing his hubby to the tile. He kisses him slow and deep, rolling his hips against Frank's.

Frank grins and pushes back against him. His hand cups Brock's cheek as he kisses him back. He moans softly. _If this is how we spend the day, I am a-okay with it._

Pulling back with a grin, Brock lets his teeth drag on Frankie's bottom lip. "Still wanna shower and go to our fitting?" 

"No." Frank says breathless, "I want you."

"After our fitting…. We come back here. I'll do some online shopping for Baby Floof, later," he grins suggestively.

"Ugh, I guess… I can wait." Frank leans up and pecks his lips.

"Sure, but will I?" He chuckles and kisses him again before rolling off and letting him up.

"I won't stop you." Frank sighs as he gets to his feet. He offers his hand to Brock.

"I know. I'm counting on it," he replies, taking his hand and pulling himself to his feet.

Frank makes it a point to continue kissing and touching Brock during their shower. He soaps his hand up and strokes Brock with a smile. After a purposely tortuous shower, they dress and make a simple breakfast. He has Brock help put the brace on that Jack bought for him.

Frank watches his Brock flutter around the house before they head out for their errands. He holds his keys and phone in his hand with a half-smile. Once Brock is done, he follows him to the car and drives them to the tailor. As he tries the jacket, it hits him. This is real. In a matter of days, he would be marrying Brock. The Rumlows would meet his family. 

"You look very dapper." The tailor says softly to Frank. His wife peers in with a wide smile

"I don't feel like an imposter." Frank smiles. 

"Good! You look like a prince." The wife nods her head, "You should see the other tux."

"He always looks like Bond," Frank replies. Frank pokes his head out of the dressing room, "Brock! Are we allowed to see each other?" 

"I don't see why not," Brock replies with a raised voice.

Frank steps out of the room and moves quietly to Brock. He pushes the door open and steps into the room. He leans against the door and stares at Brock, "Hi gorgeous." 

"Hello sexy," Brock grins, clearly checking Frank out from top to bottom and back.

"You look like a damn model," Frank says biting his lip. 

"Funny. Was just going to say the same about you. You look good in white." Brock closes the distance between them, putting his hands on Frank's middle.

"I don't look too _pale?_ I can go tan?" Frank asks looking up at him with a wide smile. 

"You look fantastic, so hush, little emo Twinkie." 

"Aren't Twinkies yellow?" Frank asks, "Are you happy with it?*

"Twinkies are only yellow on the outside and you know how much I love the white cream center… But yes. I am very happy with it. And you." He leans forward and kisses his husband.

"I think this is perfect." Frank says with a nod, "I’ll go change and we should pay and go!" 

"Okay," Brock nods, kissing him again lightly before stepping back and closing his dressing room door after Frankie. He begins changing back into his clothes.

Frank changes quickly and rehangs everything then meets Brock at the front of the store. He picks up Brock's bags and drapes them over his arm. He uses his hurt wrist to touch Brock's back.

Brock turns and wraps an arm around Frank, mindful of the injured wrist. He kisses him lightly. "Hi baby. Are you ready to go? I'm starving." 

"Yes! I'm so hungry!" Frank looks up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile.

"Good. What are you in the mood for?" Brock opens the door for Frank as they step out into the bright winter day and tugs his coat and scarf around him tighter. They head to Stella.

"Soup?" Frank asks. 

"Sounds good. Something light and hot. Panera?" He could go for soup in a bread bowl right about how. Brock climbs into the passenger side.

"Panera is perfect." Frank grins. He leans over and kisses him.

"Soup and hot bread sound amazing right now. Perfect for the cold. Don't they have hot coffee and hot chocolate, too? We could get that," he says with a little shiver and a cough from a gust of wind that manages to sneak in as he shuts the car door. 

"Yes! That sounds amazing! You have the best ideas!" Frank grins. He steers into the parking lot. 

Getting out, Brock hurries inside the restaurant, choosing warmth over being a gentleman this time. A large Christmas tree greets him with little paper angels tied on the limbs. He looks at several while waiting for Frankie.

Frank joins Brock and shivers as he invades his space, "It's fucking cold.

What are you looking at, love?"

"Have you ever paid attention to the angel tree?"

"The angel tree? Like a breed of tree?"

Brock snorts and shows Frank the one in his hand. It's for a 3-month-old girl. There's another that is for a 7-year-old boy. He wants a space toy. There's a third one that's for a teenager, a girl. He takes those too. 

"Oh a tree of sharing!" Frank smiles, "Mom and I have been doing these since I was a teenager."

"Is that what they're called? Hmm…." Brock takes a fourth one for a toddler boy. 

"That's what they are called in Jersey." Frank smirks, "How many do you have?"

"Three, plus the one I gave you. Two boys and two girls."

"Big ole teddy bear. Let's feed you!" Frank smiles softly. 

As they join the line, Brock pockets the angels. It's a good thing they were going shopping soon. "Have you ever done Toys for Tots or Nathaniel's Hope?" 

"No, but I have heard of them. I know you don't like her but Carolyn helps pass out gifts with toys for tots." Franks says softly.

"Hmm. Good. What do you think about helping me do something big, later? Since we are going shopping later anyway?"

"Okay! Yeah! I would love that. How big?" 

"We might need some backup help from the boys if they have an hour free or so. That's how big."

"Brock." Frank says softly, "Are you Santa?" 

"Hey I might be a meatball but I'm not fat," Brock grins and pokes Frank gently in the side. "Or _that_ old." 

"That's debatable." Frank snickers, "I mean you did use an abacus in school..." 

Before Brock can reply, it's their turn to order. Frank orders the broccoli and cheese soup and a small iced green tea. Brock gets the same soup in a bread bowl with a fountain drink and a hot chocolate for later. Once they've paid, they collect their cold drinks and pager before sitting at a table. 

Brock sips on his coke. "Wanna go back to Target? They have a pretty great section for Christmas."

"Yeah, we can! I know you saw Baby Floof items too…" Frank gives him a soft smile.

"Have you been looking at my saved items in my Amazon account?" he chuckles quietly. 

"You mean the hundreds of dollars in baby items?" 

"Okay, I'm not seriously getting all of that. I just add it to the cart or the list to look at later. Or compare with other things…." 

"I was concerned that I might be pregnant when I looked the other day. I was just looking up guitar strings and boom Babies R US attacked." Frank snickers.

"Ohhh we should go there," Brock says with a wide grin.

"Wal-Mart’s prices are better." 

"So? Quality over price any day." 

"It's an infant. It's just gonna drool, puke, or poo on it. They aren't worried about the quality." Frank raises an eyebrow.

"Some of the things on there needs to last more than a month or so. Especially since it can be passed on to Baby Emo or Baby Sprinkle. Plus safety is important. I do the research. Still. Sometimes it's nice to just have nice things. I like giving nice things."

"Alright. Settle down, Rocky." Frank chuckles, "I will drive you anywhere you want to go. I wanna make a joke but it's inappropriate."

"Oh? Now you have to say it." Brock grins. The pager in his hand goes off and he rises. He'll get the food after he hears the joke.

"Something along the lines of why don't you just buy him a children's store, little rich boy…" Frank looks up at him with warm eyes.

"Because his daddy might kill me. And I'm not spoiling just him." Brock leans over and kisses Frankie lightly before going to fetch their food.

Frank watches Brock with a little smile. His big-hearted dorky husband made his heart flutter. Brock returns shortly with a tray holding their soups. He lets Frankie grab his bowl off the tray so it's easier to set down with one hand. He sits and begins to eat. Its deliciousness makes a soft moan of appreciation escape. This was perfect and exactly what he wanted.

Dipping a piece of the bread into the soup, Brock asks Frank, "Will you text the group and see which guys are available today? We can coordinate time."

_Frank: anyone wanna do something cool and Brick extra in a couple hours?_

_Jack: I'm not doing my brother. No. That's your job._

_Frank: and I take my job seriously. No Brick wants to do something cool for other people. You'll get your wings Jacky._

_Bob: tell when and where, I'll be there._

_Gerard: I'm currently banished from my house cause I might have made the little woman mad. I'm in._

_Jack: What did you do now, G?_ 🤣

_Gerard: over watered her plant and killed it. She cried and I may have kinda snickered about it… it was an accident._

_Jack:_ 😂😂

_Ray: I'd like too but the little babe has a doctor's appointment. But also welcome to Pregnancy land, Mr. Way. The rules don't make sense and change constantly._

_Jack: #Bob and Jack: singles for life_

_Frank: I can fix that… I'll get you two married in six months… js #frankies dating service_

_Jack: No. Moving on, when and where we doing this thing?_

"When is this happening?" Frank looks up at Brock with a smile.

"I'm all for it right after lunch. But I'm also good with whenever they are available. Maybe an hour or two from now?" Brock shrugs and returns to eating his soup.

"Okay." Frank nods then goes back to his phone.

_Frank: in an hour?_

_Jack: Works for me. Brock say where or is he being mum about it and we're just gonna show up at the apartment?_

"Where are we meeting?" 

"Toys R Us? Or Target. Wal-Mart toys suck and it's always crowded there and I hate it anyway."

_Frank: Toys R Us._

_Jack: Ok cool_

_Gerard: see you in an hour._

_Bob: yup._

_Mike: sorry. Late to the party. Kris and I will be there._

"Gee, Mike, Bob, and Jack are in." Frank looks up at Brock, "So Santa Brock has his little helpers." He takes a bite of his soup. 

"Great," Brock grins.

Frank picks up his tea and takes a sip. He puts the glass on the table but misses slightly and dumps a little in his lap, "Fuck me." 

"Well, that's the plan," Brock says absently as he scoops up soup.

"I'll be back. God damn it." Frank slides out of his seat and nearly knocks it over again. 

"Woah!" Brock reaches out and grabs the cup before it falls again. He breaks out in snickers. "Gotta little wet there..." 

"Yeah. You think." Frank snorts, "Looks like I peed myself." 

"Nah. It's only a little bit… " Brock trails off, chuckling. 

Frank frowns and heads to the bathroom. He stands at the sink and hisses at it when the automatic spouts turn on and splashes him. "Sure let's just make it look like I pissed myself." He grumbles, "At least my husband… Will appreciate… this. Huh?" 

A man named Wade in one of the stalls looks up from his phone at the sound of a stranger at the sink. _He's talking to himself…_ _Weirdo_. _What the hell is this guy into? That's gross dude_. _Divorce him._

He looks up at his face in the mirror, "I mean, it looks like it..." 

_Congrats. Dry yourself off and leave me to shit in peace_. Wade shakes his head.

"Your life is weird, Iero… Rumlow." Frank sighs.

 _Don't know your own name, bud?_ Wade tilts his head and gives the man beyond the door a look. _There's help for that… and yes, your life is clearly weird in that you are having a full conversation in a bathroom but hey, who am I to judge? I'm just stuck here on a toilet… listening and finding this funny._

"You just got married. Lighten up. Fuck, is this ever going to dry?!" Frank sighs.

_Yeah dude, lighten up. It's just water. Not like it's actually piss. It'll dry. Are you using paper towels?_

Frank sighs. Once he gets it semi-dry and nods in the mirror, "Let's not take a tea bath, okay?" 

_Yeah, let's not._ Wade nods and returns to his phone. _Pussy._

"Probably sound like a crazy person." Frank snorts as he makes his way to the exit, "Talking to myself…. Consulting an expert." 

Wade finishes up and flushes. Shaking his head, he makes his way to the sink and washes his hand. "What a weirdo..." He adjusts his employee uniform and looks at the camera. "Welp, time to go make the moola. Just like you and the rest of America, we are all stuck in a rat race for money under corporate pervs. Eat more chimichangas. Bye now."

Frank returns to Brock and sits down. He looks up at Brock with ideas swirling in his head, "How's your soup?" 

"I ate it all. Even some of the bread mush inside. My stomach is happy."

"Do you want mine?" 

"Oh god no. I'm a well-fed meatball," he chuckles. He finishes his soda. "Are you done?" 

"Yeah. I am." Frank says quietly. He realizes he's eaten half of it but he'll pretend he doesn't see it. He'll snack later. 

"Do you still want coffee? I gotta pick up my hot chocolate. Then we can go if you want."

"Yeah! Let's get coffee and cocoa. Then you can go be Sinter Kluse…" Frank snickers to himself as he gets to his feet again.

"I'm not, dork. Besides we have an hour to kill, remember? We were gonna head back to the house or did you want to start getting decor stuff now."

"Like decor as in…" Frank points to the tree. As he picks up their dishes and placing them in the bin.

"Yes."

"Yes!" Frank grins wide but his voice turns to the cutesy 'I want something' voice, "Baby..." 

"What?" Brock chuckles, as they head to the counter to get their drinks.

"What kinda decorations?" Frank asks, "Like shiny fancy or like manly and rustic?" 

"I dunno. I've never had a tree at the apartment."

"Real tree or fake?" 

"What would you prefer? We can start our own tradition. Though, fake might be a good idea this year because we aren't staying home very long."

"Let's do a fake one… OOoohh! We should maybe do a cute stupid couple things where we make an ornament together!" Frank grins. He offers his hand to Brock, "It could be themed or something." 

"Yeah sure," he grins. "That's a cute idea, love." Brock steps up to the counter and turns in his receipt to get his hot chocolate and for Frank to order his coffee. He sips his liquid bliss and gives a little moan of happiness. "What do you usually have on your tree?" 

"Don't judge." Frank prefaces his next words, "We had a beer bottle cap tree last year. Ray stole a little tree from a motel we stayed at… and yeah." 

Brock snickers hard into his drink. "Oh my god. That's terrible. Yeah, let's not do that."

"So yeah, you didn't have one last year huh?" 

"Yeah, because we fly home for Christmas. Not much of a point, before. This is gonna be fun."

"I'm so excited to spend the holidays with you. This is the first time I get to be someone’s husband."

"Hey, me too," Brock says, wrapping his arm around Frank's shoulder, mindful of the hot drink in hand. "We can be each other's first husband!" 

" _Only_ husband." Frank comments, "You can be my first kiss at midnight on New Years!"

"First and last kiss," he says, smooching Frank's cheek.

"Let's go look for Christmas stuff." Frank cuddles into Brock's chest before unlocking the Cayenne.

~~

"Brock! Look!!" Frank says excitedly as he points to the pretty ornaments, "What color are we thinking?" 

"Baby, you know I'm terrible at decorating. Those are nice but you're asking the guy who had staging furniture in his apartment for the last two decades."

"Ok. Is there a color you don't want?" Frank looks at him, "Two decades, babe… dramatic much?" 

"No. I've been in the apartment ever since I moved here. Twenty years ago. You know I own it, right?"

"Yes. I do. I just assumed when you joined the service… nevermind. Sorry." Frank says softly. Now he just looks inattentive. He frowns and picks up bulbs.

"Ah. See, I needed an address to list on my applications for both the service and citizenship. The owner at the time was strapped for income and he overlooked my lack of citizenship in favor of me renting from him."

"I have a car only question..." Frank pauses, "Fir or Pine?"

"Pine?"

"Ok. Gold? Or silver?" 

"Silver is pretty," Brock runs his hand over Frank's wedding ring.

"Silver it is. Garland or ribbon? Ribbon is a pain." Frank comments.

An older woman in her sixties slowly moves up the aisle towards them. She's listening as they talk softly.

"I think garland would be easier to clean up." Frank nods, "Or none at all… look at the deers! They are cute!"

"Garland is fine. Did you want a deer? All the woodland animals?" Brock snickers softly.

"Maybe one for each of the kids?

"Okay, now you sold me."

"I know how much you love your kids." Frank pulls four deer down 

The woman stands next to Brock looking at the ornaments, "Is this your first Christmas without her? It's nice your son is helping you shop."

Frank snickers to himself. _What a good son indeed… daddy will you fuck me under the Christmas… okay that got weird._

Brock turns to Frank and mutters under his breath in Italian, " _This is our life. This is our marriage. Everyone assumes I'm your dad."_

Frank replies in the little Italian he can speak fairly well, " _Be nice."_

"He's actually my husband, ma'am." Frank corrects her.

"Oh. Oh I'm sorry! I have a gay nephew. Good kid..." She trails off before grabbing a package.

"It's okay. We get that a lot. I was just joking about how this is going to be our life now. We just got married. This is our first Christmas together," Brock says with a smile. 

"Well, congratulations on the marriage." She says with a soft smile, "Have… a good day." 

Frank watches her walk away and smiles at Brock, "Can we decorate the mantel?" 

Brock watches her leave and blinks. He was trying to be nice. He was joking earlier. He frowns.

" _What a nice old horse."_ Frank tries to reply in Italian but it feels wrong. He shrugs.

Brock cracks up, laughing hard and loud. He kisses Frank hard on the cheek. "I love you. And I love that you are learning Italian." 

"What did I say…" Frank's face turns bright red.

"You called her an old horse," he murmurs, still giggling.

"Damn. I knew it felt wrong, god that's unintentionally rude." Frank pokes his side, "Your brother would be disappointed. He had been trying to get my Italian better."

"I find it great. And hilarious. I love you."

"I love you too. I'm not talking to any of your relatives without a damn translator." Frank leans up and kisses him.

"I'll call uncle Antony a stupid vasectomy on accident and get in trouble…" Frank sighs.

"Anthony. But close enough," Brock snickers.

Frank gives him a look, "Look Brock married the stupid American." Frank mutters to himself.

"They are not going to say such things about you, _tesoro_. And I'll punch those who do."

"Everyone has a Carolyn." 

"Not my family. We're a pretty close-knit group. We wouldn't tolerate that shit."

"That's good. I guess." Frank says softly as he loops his arm around Brock, "Ten bucks I'm called a gold digger." 

"Yeah probably. But you know I won't tolerate talk like that. Neither would Jack."

"We need lights. Maybe soft white ones."

"LED ones. Stationary or twinkle?"

"What do you think? Maybe twinkle?" Frank rubs Brock's back.

"Yeah. Maybe programmable if they have it? Or something with a slow twinkle. Did you want to put lights on a wreath for the door?" Brock shifts his weight a little, leg bothering him slightly from standing and walking.

"Can we!" Frank grins at him.

"You can have whatever you want, love. I'm giving you free rein to decorate the apartment as much as you'd like, however you like. I trust you," Brock says softly before kissing him. "God knows I suck at it. We can even put lights on the windows." 

"Really?!" Frank turns and hugs him tight. 

Frank picks out different items after Brock agrees. He worries it's going to be too expensive. 

Brock kisses Frank's temple. "I can see your gremlins working, love. Relax, baby." 

Frank frowns, "Maybe I can find some of this on clearance. Maybe the tree." 

"Re _lax_ ," he repeats. "Stop worrying about the cost. We can afford it. Say it."

"It." Frank snickers.

Brock swats him on the ass. "Not what I meant."

Frank laughs, "It's what you said..." 

"Frank." 

"Yes, baby." Frank looks up at him. He rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"We can afford it. Okay?" 

"Okay." Frank sighs, "What do you want for Christmas?" 

"You." 

"Silly goose, you got me already!" Frank smiles, "What else do you want for Christmas? Also how is it going to work in Italy, am I allowed to sleep in bed with you?" 

"Why wouldn't we be?" Brock asks as they wander the store.

"Cause you know, we are men. In Catholic country. Who have gay sex." Frank says softly.

"Yeah but my family knows me and doesn't care. So yeah."

"So we could have sex and they'd be fine with that? I know my mom wouldn't care."

"I mean, they probably wouldn't be too thrilled if we were having sex in public but other than that, yeah I don't think they'd care. Remember, my mom and your mom are buddies."

"Did you know that they actually talk? She let it slip the other day and I am shocked." he looks up at Brock.

"I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not," he snickers.

"I hope it's good. Though, knowing my mom she is trying to convince Maria to go on a vacation without the husband and kids." Frank snorts. He does an impression of his mom, "Come on Maria… we deserve it. We raised our kids and husbands. Let's go to Vegas, girls weekend."

"Mom would do it too," Brock laughs.

"Ooh, Halloween!" Frank makes a turn for it.

"Goofball," Brock laughs, following.

He picks up a little fake pumpkin then sees the blood pump. A light turns on, he picks up a seasonal towel and covers the pump then places it in the shopping cart.

"Want a spooky welcome mat," Brock asks, pointing at a black mat on the bottom shelf.

"Can we?!"

"Grab it. I can't tell what it says. If anything."

" _Fly on in_ and it has bats on it." Frank picks it up.

"Is it the only one? If you want it, put it in the cart. We can put it in one of the closets for next year. Unless you want it year 'round."

"Come sit a spell or two. And one that is all goth and pretty saying welcome." Frank pulls the last one out and shows Brock.

"That one is good for all year," he says, pointing at the gothic style. 

"I think this one is good." Frank grins before picking it up and putting it in the cart. 

"Anything else you like?" Brock checks his phone. "We need to get going soon. We can drop this off at the house and head over to Toys R Us."

"Okay. Sounds good, my love." Frank says with a nod. 

~~

After they wait in line, Frank lets Brock unload and he stands at the card reader watching the amount keep increasing. He watches Brock move and makes note that Brock needs a pill. He pulls out his bank card and slides it. 

"You are using the joint card, yes?" 

"Oh nooo… I used the wrong one." Frank says softly. 

"Cancel it and switch cards. Home stuff is for _us_." 

_Damn him._ "Oh it's fine…"

Shaking his head, Brock continues unloading the stuff until the cart is empty. He moves to the end of the line and begins loading up the bags from the cashier.

"My treat, this time." 

"Okay," he replies. He waits for the transaction to clear and they head out the door. As they walk to the car, he sticks close to Frankie, laughing. "Come back, my personal heater. I can't walk that fast."

"Am I your little lap dog heater?" Frank laughs. He wraps his arms around Brock and walks backwards.

"More like a fuzzy cute kitten..." 

"Oh like a munchkin kitten?" Frank slows him down and leans up on his tiptoes, "Kiss me." 

"But it's freezing," he protests as he leans down and kisses him.

"What if we take a trip to… Sweden?" Frank asks unlocking the car, "Ooooh Norway and see the northern lights for our honeymoon."

"Sure. If our honeymoon was in March or June." 

"Oh no. January." Frank smirks as he loads the trunk up and closes the gate, "We could take ski lessons." 

"Do you want me to look like a walking Eskimo? Because I don't think that's very sexy, love," Brock gives him a look before moving to the passenger side and getting in.

"You're sexy in anything." Frank sits down and kisses Brock's cheek.

"But best in nothing, right? Just like you," he grins.

"Yup. A naked Brock is my favorite Brock." 

"Just like a naked Frankie is my favorite."

"Can we have a naked day tomorrow?"

"Starting tonight, after we run all of our errands…"

"Please?" 

"Do you really have to ask…. I love it when you pounce on me." 

"Good cause it's happening." Frank smiles as he turns the heat up, "I need you to warm me up." 

"Funny. I was going to say the same thing. I love you."

"I love you too."

Frank runs the things inside and returns to the car. He takes them to the meeting point, Gee and Bob waiting outside their cars, smoking. 

"Trouble is waiting for us," Frank smirks.

"And the boys are too," Brock adds, laughing at his joke. He thinks he's funny.

"You're cute, mister. Get out of my car." Frank says as he puts it into park before unbuckling.

"If it isn't the lovebirds." Bob chuckles.

"Hey, guys!" Gerard waves, "Where's Jack?" 

Frank waves as he gets out. 

"Probably taking his sweet ass time. Much like Mike-n-Ike is it seems," Brock says as he joins them. He hugs them both.

"Actually. The little woman wanted to go into the craft store." Mike announces from behind them

"Hi guys!" Kristen grins.

"Hi momma." Frank waves, he pulls his phone out.

"What is it with you Ways calling your girls little women? Is that a Jersey thing or just you," Brock asks, smiling and hugging both Mikey and Kristen.

_Frank: did you fall asleep or are you pooping?_

"It might be a Jersey thing..." Mike shrugs.

_Jack: Neither. I'm on my way. Got caught up in something and lost track of time._

_Frank: okay. Sorry._

A silvery blue Camaro with a convertible top pulls up and parks next to Frank's Porsche. Jack gets out and strolls over in a trench coat covering a sweater and jeans. "Sorry I'm late. I was making a trade." 

"You're a little young for a midlife crisis." Frank opens his arms to hug Jack.

"What? I like sports cars, too. This has a very nice engine. And far bigger than Brock's Lambo."

"What's her name?" Bob asks.

"I mean Brock picked up a young husband for his midlife." Mike snickers.

"Oh I don't name cars. I'm not that attached to them. I almost got an SUV but I like the way this one sounds. Maybe I'll switch it out later," Jack shrugs. He hugs Brock and kisses his cheeks. 

"I meant your new lady..." Bob teases.

"Who says I have one," Jack retorts with a smirk.

"The new jeans and coat," Bob says with a smile.

"Only the coat is new. And her name is Wanda." 

"Wanda!" Frank grins wide. 

"Eloise. Ellie." Bob nods to Jack.

"Cute."

"Can we go inside now," Brock shivers. Fuck it. He's leaving them.

"Baby!" Frank trots after him. 

"I'm cold," he grumbles. He didn't mind chatting, it was that they were standing outside. He heads to the electric cart sitting outside and sits in it. It's like sitting on an ice cube.

Frank opens the door for his husband. "Sorry baby." 

"It's okay. Thanks love. I just wanna move the chat inside and get off my leg for a bit." Brock zooms the cart indoors and feels so much better at the chance in temperature.

"So what are we doing Brock?" Kristen asks.

"Each of you grab a shopping cart. And we'll need at least one employee."

"Why?" Mike asks.

"You'll see. Grab your carts," Brock says with a wide grin. He zooms away to find an employee to rope into his scheme.

Each of them get a cart and wait for Brock.

"What's your husband up to?" Gerard asks.

"I do not have a clue."

Jack does but chooses to not say a word. He follows along, keeping focus on his phone for a bit. 

"All I know is he got a twinkle in his eye." Frank shrugs. He turns to Jack, "What's she look like?"

"Brunette. High cheekbones. Long legs. A slight accent that just gives me tingles. Young and gorgeous; around your age."

"Picture?" Frank raises an eyebrow.

Jack grins and scrolls past the half-naked selfies she's sent him to find one that was a little more PG. Wanda is wearing a red corset top with tight red leather pants in her mirror. She's blowing the camera a kiss.

"Fuck. She's hot, Jack." Frank grins, “Pretty eyes too."

"Adventurous too. _Fun_ in bed."

"Oh? How long is she sticking around?" Frank asks skeptically, "Cause you tend to fuck and run." 

"Gee! Can we get this for Bandit?" Mike asks picking up a lightsaber.

"You mean for you?" Gerard snorts.

"I might keep her for a few days. Or a week. She's offered things _I_ didn't even know about. I'm not stopping with her anytime soon," says Jack, keeping his voice low around the children running around.

"There is a wedding on a tropical island coming up…" Frank suggests.

"We'll see."

Brock returns to the group with a very excited employee and a manager. Brock grins wide, "You guys ready?" 

"Yeah?" The band and Kristen reply nervously.

"Great. I want you to each fill up your carts with toys. All of the toys. As many as you can shove in. Don't look at prices. Wipe out shelves. Get a variety of ages, from babies to older kids. The employees here will help you," Brock says happily. He loves doing this. He looks at the employee named Erica. She's going to be getting him a shopping cart and filling it for him.

"Brock are you sure?" Kristen asks.

"I always mean what I say, generally speaking. Yes. Go shopping."

Frank sighs. He wanders around the store. He picks up a few dolls and action figures. Toy cars and other small toys before moving on to other medium-sized items. Lego sets and a barbie dream house. He picks up baby items and looks around. His cart is not even half full. Guilt makes him feel a little panicked, he cruises the clearance toys and pulls items for every age he can. His eyes land on a little pink guitar. He looks around and picks it up. He feels like he's got enough. He makes his way to find Brock. Or Jack. 

He exhales and approaches his husband and the employee he's held hostage.

"This is so cool what you guys are doing," Erica says as she loads up several toys into the cart. She brushes back a lock of blonde hair.

"We do it every year," Jack says, coming up from behind them, cart already overloaded with toys. Some occasionally falling out.

Frank looks at his cart compared to Jack's. He quietly backs away. He apparently isn't done. What else does he grab? He wanders down more aisles and grabs more things. He doesn't even know what he is grabbing. He eyes Jack across the way, trying to eyeball his cart to Jack's.

Brock leaves Erica to check in with his hubby, once he finds him that is. He locates him down an aisle and zooms the cart over. "Hi baby!" 

"Oh uh, hi!" Frank says rubbing his scalp. He tries to hide his cart with his body but fails.

"How's it going, _tesoro_?" 

"Good. Fine. Good." He says clearing his throat.

"You hate it." Brock sighs.

"No, I actually don't. I just feel _overwhelmed_. There's a lot." 

"Choice paralysis?" Brock stands and gives Frank a side hug.

"Yeah. Like what do I get? What do kids like? What is the difference between this and that?" 

"I love you. And I'm sorry you are struggling, baby. Want me to help you?" He kisses Frank's temple.

"Please."

Brock kisses him before reaching out an arm and wiping all the toys he can reach into the cart. He does this with two more shelves within reach. Turning to Frankie, he kisses him again. "There. It doesn't matter what toys we get. You're overthinking it. Get everything. Don't think about it."

"But."

Brock kisses him quiet before pulling back and smiling at him. "Relax, _amore mio_." 

"Okay." 

"Good. Let's go get more toys," Brock says, patting Frankie on the butt. "For kids. Not us." 

Frank picks up a doll that cries, eats, and wets her diaper and coughs at Brock, "This too?" 

"Sure. Why not?" 

Frank sighs and drops it in; thick as a board. He follows his husband who helps him pick items out by cleaning shelves out. "You're gonna get the tax write off right?" Frank asks softly.

"Of course. I use it to put into my investments and stock."

"Okay just checking." Frank smiles. 

"I'm glad you've caught onto what we're doing at least. Let's go check and see if the others are done yet. Then we can go home, okay?"

"I would love that. I wanna crawl back into bed." Frank sighs. 

Kristen's cart is full of toys for girls of all ages. She's leery about this but going along with it. Maybe Brock has a connection and it will all be covered. 

Mike had loaded up on any musical instrument that he can find aside from the drum set. His brother is loaded with toy cars, action figures, and art supplies. Anything a nerdy kid would ever want including books. 

Frank feels like an idiot. He struggled with this while everyone around him was totally fine with this. He wants to go home. His nods turn salted as he stands beside Brock. 

"Are we all set?" The manager asks the group. 

"Yes," Brock grins at the others. "We're ready." 

"Great. I've got the last two lanes set up for you. Will you be paying cash or card?"

"What are we going to do with all this?" Kristen asks.

"Debit card," Brock says to the manager, who nods and waves them over to the register. Jack goes first, unloading the toys and letting the cashier ring it up. Another employee takes the toys and loads them into a box. Brock watches for a moment, pleased, before turning to the others. "All of the toys you've filled the carts with… is going to Toys for Tots."

"Oh. Oh my god. Brock that’s awesome." Kristen says softly

Frank watches the total go up. And up. And up. And up. He takes a breath and looks to Jack. Gerard and Bob went for a smoke, he can tell they are plotting. He won't say a word because he will support it. Once the total reaches a thousand he can feel his face getting flushed. The final amount is almost $1400. He feels sick as he watches Brock hand a card over. A little voice hisses that the card will decline. Brooke's gonna cut them off. Poppa Rumlow. Fuck. The charge for the wedding was too much. 

"Here you go, sir. Thank you. Thank you so much for shopping here." The cashier says with a huge smile. 

"My pleasure. Thank you for helping us," Brock says as he takes the receipt. He takes the electric cart to the door before getting out. He notices Frankie hasn't moved, so he hobbles back and grabs his hand, kissing him softly. "Come on, love." 

"Okay. Do you think you can drive?" Frank asks. He follows Brock, his head is a little in the clouds. 

Brock hesitates a little before nodding. He hasn't driven since Canada and he still feels a little apprehensive about it now. But Frankie seems to not be feeling well so he figures he can play things safe. He smirks as a thought enters his head. "Am I allowed to drive Stella?" 

"Yes. You are a great driver." Frank blinks up at him, "Just don't speed in her. Or run over curbs. Ding the door. Or have the volume up at odd numbers…" Frank gives him a little smile.

"That's a whole lot of rules…. So I'm going to drive with all of the buttons on, okay?"

"All the buttons?" Frank grins. Brock always seems to pull him out of his head.

Brock unlocks the car and gets into the driver's seat. An irrational part of him wants to get all weird about driving with Frank in the car again but he shoots it in his head and kicks it to the curb. He grins at Frank after his boy is buckled. "All the buttons. At the same time. That means radio, windshield wipers, headlights, A/C, the little button that controls… what's that symbol for?" He laughs.

"The hazards!? You're a monster!" Frank laughs. 

"Oh yeah…" he says sassily. He loves it when his husband laughs. He pulls out of the parking lot and heads home, taking Frankie's hand in his.

"No aiming for the birds in the street either!" Frank adds as he lifts Brock's hand and kisses his fingers, "Home?" 

"Yeah. I know I'm beat. I bet you are too. We can start decorating if you want. Or just have a relaxing night. Up to you, sweetheart."

"Relax. Then decorating. Then more relaxing?" Frank suggests, "Maybe a little making out. Cuddles..." 

"I'm always okay with that."

"Then we have a deal."

Brock grins and fiddles with the radio station, just to mess with Frankie. He even flips the wipers on once, grinning wide. He checks to see if Frankie noticed.

"Brock! You're a monsta!!" Frank playfully protests.

"Just making sure you're awake," Brock grins.

"Next you're gonna turn the radio to fifteen!" Frank laughs. He leans over and kisses his cheek.

"Maybe I should…." 

"Brrrroock!" Frank playfully cries out.

~~

"Brock! Where do we put the tree?" Frank shouts to him from the living room.

"In the corner by the TV? Maybe?!" 

"Okay! I need your legs, in a minute." Frank calls out as he struggles to put the top piece of the tree up. He gets it to click into place. He really should put a shirt on to put this together. If the building was smaller, the neighbors would get a show of watching him struggle with a tree that's taller than he is. He unboxes the lights first and tries to hook them on the top of the tree.

Brock exits the bedroom in a loose tee and sleep shorts. He grins wide when he sees Frankie playing with the lights. "Hi handsome." 

Frank turns and grins as the tree comes down on him, "Hi!" 

Brock steps forward, laughing, as he helps get the tree off his hubby and more into a standing upright position. "Are you okay, _gattino_? Or are you a squished kitten?"

"I look like a kitten trying to murder the tree." Frank laughs, "Thank you, baby. Wanna help me put the lights on the tree? I need a step stool." 

"Sure. Want me to pick you up like a baby?" He smirks.

"No. Piggyback."

Moving so that he's behind Frankie, Brock wraps his arms around his husband's waist before pressing a kiss to his neck. "Maybe you should ask _daddy_ nicely, hmm?" 

Frank's cheeks get hot at the words. He stumbles over his words, " _Daddy_ , has a hurt leg. But maybe he can lift me to put the star on later?" 

"Yes baby," Brock says low. He's enjoying the blush that's spreading across Frank's cheeks. If he responds like that every time, Brock might learn to be okay with using the word. It's worth it to see him red and embarrassed. 

"Do you wanna help me string the lights?" Frank turns his head slightly and kisses Brock's cheek.

"I'm more than willing to help you decorate, love. You don't have to ask." Brock pecks him on the lips before picking up a strand of lights and moving to start threading it through the branches.

Frank carefully puts the bulbs up and holds two blue ones up, "Blue balls for you?" 

~~

After the bulbs and other ornaments were up, Frank strung garland and two stockings under the television and their fake fireplace. He added little touches of Christmas around the living room including Christmas pillows to the chairs. 

Brock is curled up on the couch, sipping on another mug of hot cocoa, watching Frank flutter about the apartment. He'd given up decorating after the tree was done and was content to watch his husband make a wonderful impression of a housewife.

"What do you think? The lights on the windows ok? Too much?" Frank asks.

"Hmm. I like them the way they are." 

Frank sits beside Brock. He scoots back and curls up into him. his hand rests on Brock's belly, "Is it Christmas? I think it sure looks like it." 

"It does. Not too overbearing either. You did a great job, baby. You should be proud of it." He kisses the top of Frank's head and offers him his mug.

He takes a sip, "Thank you. Thank you for helping with the tree. It looks perfect." 

"Mmm. What now? Do I get to crawl on your lap and make out with you? Or is it movie time?"

"Well you already are in my lap…"

"That is true. I mean, your lips are calling to me…" Frank leans up and stops himself from moving closer. His lips inches from his husband's, "Do you still need me to warm you up?" 

"You know I like and need it hot," Brock whispers before closing the gap and kissing him.

"You should put that cocoa down..." Frank says softly before kissing him again, "I think I need both of your hands." 

"Okay," he replies, taking a final drink and setting it on the coffee table. "I'm all yours." 

Frank rises to his knees and straddles Brock's lap before sitting softly down. He puts his hands on his hips before Frank slips his arms around Brock's neck. He kisses him gently, "You taste good." 

"So do you," Brock murmurs, already on board with whatever Frankie has in mind. His grip tightens on Frank's hips and he shifts a little, arching up a little.

Frank moans softly, "I like when you hold on to me like that." He kisses Brock deep as he runs his nails in Brock's hair. He rolls his hips into his husband. He continues kissing Brock. He's made a plan and has been waiting to execute it. He just needs to get a little more worked up.

Brock moans into the kiss. One hand leaves Frank's hip to pull and tug at Frank's hair, pushing their lips harder together. His tongue slips in, mapping out his love's mouth. Another moan escapes when Frank runs his nails over his sensitive scalp. He switches from playing with short locks to pinching on a perky nipple.

Frank moans and grinds against Brock. He moves his mouth from Brock's mouth and to his neck. He kisses his neck and stops at the spot where the shoulder and neck connect, he kisses then bites softly. He sucks on the skin before pulling back. He arches his back and squeezes the bulb in his underwear and lets it go. His body has kept it warm to sell the experience.

"Oh fuck, Frankie," Brock moans at the bite. Then he feels something wet down below and his eyes widen in shock and sudden arousal. Frank was wetting himself?! On the couch and him?! His eyes zero in on the very quickly darkening fabric, liquid spilling onto his skin and running down his hips and onto the couch. His cock goes from mildly interested to rock hard in seconds. He curses under his breath and bucks up under Frank. He can't stop watching. It's soaking his own shorts and he finds he likes that too. His hips arch again and again, a moan rolling out of him. His breath hitches, "Fuck baby. Oh god." 

Frank grinds into him with a wicked smile. He leans forward slightly, "You like?" He pecks his lips before rutting into Brock. The feeling forces a loud moan from his lips.

"Fuck yes!" Brock gasps, suddenly stilling as the waves of unexpected orgasm hit him. He pants out little moans as he comes down from his high. Desire burns through him though and he's nowhere near finished. He just needs a moment.

"Oh. That good?" Frank moans as he grinds into Brock again. He kisses him again before nipping along Brock's neck. 

"God, you are so good to me," Brock murmurs in his post-sex sleepy haze, uncaring that he came in his shorts. "Thank you, baby. I love you." 

"I love you too." Frank grins, "Wish you woulda came in me."

"Let's get you cleaned up and I can. I still want you. Dick's not cooperating very well at the moment." 

"Okay." Frank kisses him again before crawling off Brock's lap. He's never been more thankful that it is water. Clean up will be easy and the knowledge that Brock likes the act, not the pee part per se makes him happy. He offers his hand to his hubby.

Brock rises with Frank's help then turns to inspect the couch. Cleaning it is kind of a hassle. Running a hand over the fabric, he's satisfied it's only a little damp, as his sleep shorts caught the majority of the pee. Speaking of which, he turns to Frank with his very soaked undies and grins appreciatively. "I fuckin' love you so much. I can't believe you just pissed on us. God, it was so fucking hot. Wanted to fuck you but you riding me and us being on the _couch_. Damn."

"I just like making you happy." Frank leans up and kisses him. He took the chance when Brock wasn't looking to hide the pump on the chair beside him, using the new pillow as a mask. He grins wide before he speaks with a rasp, "Come. Let's go to bed… do you think… you can go again?" 

"Fuck yes," Brock breathes out. He might need some time and petting but hell yes he's going again. This time, he'll be balls deep in his husband's tight ass.

Frank pulls Brock into their bedroom. They peel off the wet underwear and Brock cleans them up before Frank follows his husband to bed. Once Brock is settled on the mattress, Frank crawls up to meet his husband in a kiss. He seats himself on Brock's lap to get a better angle.

Groaning into the kiss, Brock's hands roam over Frank's body, focusing on his erogenous zones. He loves to hear the noises his husband makes. He deepens the kiss.

Frank moans in response to the touch. Brock knows exactly what he needs to get himself turned on even more. The feeling of his own bare skin touching Brock would always get him going. Frank kisses down Brock's neck nipping and sucking as he moves. He makes his way back to Brock's lips and rolls his hips to try and hurry him along.

Moaning softly, Brock moves to Frank's neck. He's missed his Scorpio. He likes his tattoo looking extra pretty with a hint of color by his claws, and so he focuses on doing that. Nipping hard and sucking the skin has them both groaning out. His hands squeeze Frank's ass hard before one hand slaps the flesh.

"Oh fuck!" Frank moans softly, "Miss when you marked me up like that." 

"Me too," he growls out. Forcing Frank to scoot up his chest so he's closer to his chest, Brock sucks on his nipples before biting them. He moves wherever his mouth can reach, leaving a trail of hickeys behind.

Frank moans and arches his back, he can't get enough of this man. His fingers brush through Brock's hair, raking the scalp as he rolls and grinds into him. He knows his hubby has to be getting closer to hard. He'll pull out porn moans if he has to. 

"Fuck, baby," Brock moans out as Frank works him over. It all goes straight to his cock and finally, he feels it start to respond. He's a little pissed at himself for going from zero to sixty in _seconds_ earlier. He hasn't blown his load that fast since he was a teenager and discovered he not only was gay but that he had a thing for twinks coming in their underwear. He had a lot of spank sessions as a kid, courtesy of the internet and incognito mode. He pushes the thoughts away in favor of focusing on his real-life porn star. He wants to fuck his husband. Frank's being so good and patient. He just needs to give himself a little boost. Moving his right hand from Frank's ass to his cock, he begins to stroke himself hard. He's tired of waiting. 

"Stroke that perfect cock for me." Frank moans softly before he moves to Brock's neck. He kisses and sucks there before moving back to his ear and whispering, "You're so good to me. Love you so much." 

Little soft moans escape as Brock works himself. He disagreed here. Frank was so much better to him than he was. Who else would willingly engage in his kink even though he didn't find it remotely attractive? He's nearly semi-erect now and still growing. "I love you. So perfect." 

"Can't wait for you to bury your cock inside of me." Frank moans as he leans into Brock's ear. He scoots down and runs his tongue over the slit.

"Oh fuck," he groans out. His hand leaves his dick in favor of grabbing the back of Frank's head. "Suck it. Get me wet." 

Frank swallows him down. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock. He pulls up and runs his tongue along the underside of the head. He looks up at Brock with what he hopes comes across as lustful, "Tastes so good." 

Brock groans deep in his throat at the feeling. His hands tighten in Frank's hair, pushing him down again. "Yeah? You like this? Little cocksucker. Take it. Suck me hard."

Frank gags on Brock's cock before coming back to get himself together. He sucks harder as his hand slides between Brock's legs and massages his balls. He moans around Brock's cock. A voice in the back of his head says Brock's gonna blow in the wrong whole. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes Brock deeper. His throat flutters around the intrusion. 

"Fuck!" Brock cries out and throws his head back. His hands grip Frank's hair hard at the scalp and pull, trying hard not to buck up into the hot, wet, heat of Frankie's mouth. He gasps, "Off. Need you. So fucking close." 

Frank pulls off him, “Throat fuck me. Destroy my throat with your perfect cock." 

Fuck. He can't hold back. Frank was just so fucking hot. It drove him wild. Brock shoves Frankie's face further down, holding him in a vice grip. He bucks his hips hard, thrusting up into his husband. He bucks hard a few times, holding Frank's face to his stomach, before coming hard with a shout, "Fuck! Fuck! Yes!" 

Frank swallows everything down as he breathes through his nose. He pulls off and gasps for air. He sits back on his knees and wipes his chin off. He falls back on his butt and smile at his husband. "Fuck." 

"Ride my face."

"What?" Frank rests back on his elbows.

"I wanna suck you off. I want you to cum. Not fair I've come twice. I still wanna fuck you. I just need… time," Brock winces at the last word. He hates that he doesn't have the refractory period he used to. Damn pills. He tries for a joke, "Too bad you don't have to pee again. Cause that was a snap. But seriously. Ride my face."

"Come here." Frank motions for him. He lies back on the bed with his legs open, "Cover me." 

Brock looks at him with a confused head tilt and a raised eyebrow. "You want me to lay on top of you, baby? I can do that." 

"Yes. Come here." Frank says with an edge of impatience in his voice.

Brock moves, careful of his leg, and covers Frank's body with his own. He rolls his hips up against Frank's, enjoying the sensation. He kisses him, hands teasing over Frank's hips and ghosting his nails over the soft skin.

Frank moans into the kiss. A hand rubs along Brock's side as he smiles, "I like your weight on top of me." He pushes his hips into Brock, making himself moan at the feel of their cocks rubbing together.

"Yeah, me too," Brock rasps out. He rolls his hips again. Fingers searching.

Frank moans as he squirms a little under Brock. "Wanted you to full me up with your big cock, like a good little slut," Frank whines out as Brock hits the spot and makes his body move. His hips stutter and drag his cock higher up Brock's skin. 

"Keep fluttering like a good _passerotto_ and I will," Brock moans out. Already his cock was stirring, fully interested in a third go.

Frank grins wide before kissing Brock again. He shifts and squirms under him as he moves down slightly, kissing down Brock's chest and running his tongue over Brock's nipple before taking his teeth over it. "Can I cum on your cock, _daddy?"_ The last word comes out soft as if he's embarrassed to say it.

"Oh yeah, baby," Brock sighs softly.

"Please?" Frank asks as he looks up at his husband. As fingers graze over that spot, he wiggles and twists slightly. His eyes meeting Brock's as he grins wide. 

Brock moves off Frank to grab the lube that now stays in the bedside drawer. Returning back to him, Brock slicks up two fingers and inserts them to stretch Frankie. He watches his husband's face, loving the look of pleasure in his eyes.

"Oh my god!" Frank's shoulders rise slightly from the mattress. His mouth falls open as he moans. His hips push down on his fingers. The sensation causes his need to come get stronger. He clenches around Brock's fingers. 

Withdrawing his fingers, Brock strokes himself twice before lining up and pushing in. Bottoming out in one smooth stroke, he moans at the feeling, cursing softly. He waits for Frank to give him the go ahead.

"Fuck." Frank moans. He leans up and kisses Brock. This is what he had been wanting. What he had been needing from Brock was this connection. He clenches around him, "I love you. I love you so much." 

"I love you too, Frankie," he whispers into their shared space before kissing him deeply. Slowly he rolls his hips, rocking into his husband. One hand seeks Frank's and intertwines their fingers.

Frank meets the rhythm that Brock has set up. He squeezes Brock's hand as he moans out. He tightens around his husband's cock. His hand moves between them and wraps around his own cock. He starts stroking himself to the same pace that Brock thrusts into him. He moans out praise for his husband. 

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Brock says with each thrust. He kisses him languid and deep. 

Frank’s body pushes faster to the edge. He can feel the build up in his body getting heavier. "Fuck oh god Brock!" Frank whines out, "Gonna come. Please don't stop!" 

"Not gonna stop baby. Come for me, baby. Let me see you paint your perfect body white," Brock urges softly, kissing Frank's neck.

Frank whimpers and stretches his neck to give Brock more space. Feeling himself unravel under Brock with each push, he finds himself holding his breath. He doesn't want to come just yet but he can't stop it. Another push from Brock snaps the last remaining shreds he had and gives way to him crying out Brock's name as he cums on his stomach. The relief is immediate and washes over him like warm water.

"Good boy. So beautiful. So perfect," Brock huffs out, still keeping the same pace. He kisses Frank once more before finding his own release shortly after. He moans softly at the feeling, slowly stopping his movements.

Frank cups Brock's cheek and kisses him. "I love you, so...fucking much," his voice is soft, "You're so good to me."

"No; it's nothing compared to you. You are perfect; an angel. What you do for me… it's immeasurable. I love you, Frank."

"I am so happy you're my husband." He runs his fingers in Brock's hair. He leans up and kisses him again, "I still can't get enough of you." 

"Hmm… same." He kisses him before rolling to the side, an old habit and not something he thought about. That is until his leg protests the weight. With a noise of alarm and pain, he quickly shifts to his back. 

"Babe?" Frank sits up and touches his tummy. He wrinkles his forehead. He's ready to get Brock meds if it will help.

"Just leg protesting. I'm ok. Wanna take a bath with me?" 

"Yes. You know I do." Frank grins at him with sleepy eyes, "Warm water and my hot fucking husband is my idea of a good time." Frank sits up slightly, "Can you bathe?"

"Uh. Sure," he smiles. He had no idea but he really didn't care. He wants a soak with his baby.

"Let's go!" Frank says with a nod. He slips off the bed and offers his hand to the beautiful man in their bed, "Come baby." He pulls Brock into the bathroom. Running the hot water and dropping a bath bomb into the water. He lets Brock get in then sits between his legs. 

Wrapping his arms around Frankie, Brock sighs with content and peace. He nuzzles him, pressing soft butterfly kisses everywhere he can reach. "Comfy, love?" 

"Very much so." He snuggles into him, "Are you?"

"Mmhmm." Brock sighs, "I love you. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you? Cherish you?"

"You have. I never get sick of hearing it." Frank looks up at Brock, "I love you too. I genuinely adore you. I am the luckiest man."

Frank runs wet fingers over Brock's arm. 

"I can't thank you enough for what you did for me today," Brock whispers, "or yesterday. I mean it. It means the world to me." 

"What did I do?" Frank looks at his husband.

"Forgave me. You didn't kink shame me. Helped me heal. Allowed me to explore this new area. I can't stop thinking about it but in a good way this time. And instead of shunning me, you've shown me nothing but love and kindness." Brock takes a deep breath before continuing, "The last time I was vulnerable like this was at the start of my touch starvation and it wasn't met with anything positive. You helped break the cycle in my head."

"Brock. I don't know how to explain to you that nothing you can say will make me not love you." Frank shifts a little in the tub. He pulls his knees up and looks up at Brock, "Baby, you don't ever have to worry about being vulnerable with me. I want you to always be comfortable. I feel awful for what happened...before. I didn't handle it well and I feel bad about it."

"Neither one of us did. I had a half-assed idea that really didn't take into account your feelings or desires. It was incredibly selfish. I don't think you handled it wrong. Especially since you were an initial unwitting participant. I made it worse on myself."

"It doesn't matter. We got past it." Frank leans up and kisses him, "I am always willing to play. And try new things. Especially when it results in this."

"Oh? Does this mean I can keep it? It might be my new favorite. Combining my three favorites into one Super Kink. We can still do them individually though."

"As long as it doesn't become an every time thing, sometimes boring vanilla sex is good too…" Frank says with a smile.

Brock grins and wrinkles his nose. "Boring vanilla? I have to do boring vanilla??"

"Oh yeah. Not even vanilla bean, regular plain vanilla."

"Not even French vanilla?!"

"No. It's too spicy. Lights off, under the blankets missionary vanilla." Frank giggles.

"Well damn. I'm not sure I know how to do that. You'll have to show me…." Brock snickers softly, wrapping his arms tighter around Frank, "Especially since tickle sex is my basic." 

"Yeah. Tickle sex is at least like mint sex… maybe chocolate?"

"I do love chocolate. Not so much mint chocolate though." 

"Mint chocolate is good. You're a chocolate elitist." Frank smirks up at him.

"Everything is better with chocolate. Wouldn't mind licking chocolate sauce off your body, or cock."

"I would absolutely let you. And I say the same for you, I wouldn't mind cleaning you off…" Frank grins, he leans up and kisses him.

"We should try it one night." 

"Yes! I wouldn't mind licking whipped cream off your cock..." 

"Now I dunno about that." He chuckles, "I prefer to suck from the source."

"Oh yeah? You are quite good at sucking too." Frank says softly, "I like both creams."

"Mmhmm. You know how much it affects me."

"I like that I made you cream your shorts," Frank says with a satisfied smile.

"It's how I feel every time I watch you do it. I _really_ like it when you wet your underwear. And not just from cum it seems, though I could you suck clean and get off from that alone too." Brock thinks for a beat before continuing, "I'm really surprised how fast I went watching you on the couch. Soft to hard to coming in seconds. Fairly certain that's a record for me. Just further proof of the effect you have on me."

Frank feels his cheeks flush a little. He's thankful for the warm water, "I have a confession." 

"What, love," Brock asks with a small frown. He notes his pink cheeks and his frown turns upside down. Frankie is just so damn cute with any shade of red in his face.

"I faked it." 

It takes a moment for Brock to process the words and their meaning. He's more confused than anything. "What? How?" 

"It wasn't pee." Frank whispers, "It was water. I'm sorry."

Brock blinks. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish as he tries to speak and can't. His mind races. He's not sure how he feels about being tricked. But on the other hand, it was a damn good trick and it got him off the fastest he's ever done and now he's very thankful the couch doesn't actually need cleaning. "I– I– I'm very conflicted." 

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." Frank frowns, "I just wanted to see… I didn't want to ruin the couch. I didn't want to tell you but I don't like keeping secrets from you. I'm sorry."

"I agree on the couch," Brock nods. Though he wouldn't have had a problem steam cleaning it. The rest of Frank's words filter through. "I'm not… Mad. I think I'm more confused and maybe a little disappointed than anything else. _How_? Why?"

"I saw a thing at the store and thought it might help. It's a Halloween blood pump." Frank says softly, he can feel himself shrink down, "I was just experimenting." 

"Huh." Brock thinks back to the couch and tries to not get hot and bothered by the mental image. So it was just a fake blood trick but with water. And water dries faster and better than pee. No smell. Frankie probably feels less gross that way. The memory of them in the shower comes to mind. He squirms a little, cock stirring.

"I'm sorry." 

"It's okay. I, uh, I don't think my body can tell the difference. And it doesn't seem to care."

"Ok. I won't use it again. I just was…" Frank trails off, "I love you and want to help you explore this new facet to our sex life."

"Sweetheart, did you not hear what I said?" Brock asks gently, hugging him.

"No, I did."

"Then why wouldn't you use it again?" 

"It feels inauthentic. Or you didn't like it but you said you did…" Frank looks up at him with a little smile, "You're cool with it?" 

"Yeah. Like I said, my body can't tell the difference. I'm positive if you got up right now and did it again, I'd be ready to go in an instant. And I wanna make you comfortable, too. Less gross factor, right. And it'll dry and not need washing and going through extra clothing…."

"That was my thinking! I don't mind doing either. It was more or less the cleanup." Frank grins, "I figure I have to really sell it." 

"I have no problem at all with cleanup. I'll always take care of you with that. But, yes, you'll need to take work on doing the potty dance for me," he chuckles. "How do you feel about combining our kinks together?"

"What do you mean?" Frank asks with a little head tilt.

Brock leans in to suck and nip lightly on Frank's neck. "You play pretend… or make it the real deal… say, while we're shopping or out to eat. We go to the bathroom just in time for you to lose it and I fuck you hard up against the bathroom wall, gagging you to keep you quiet. Anyone can walk in. Anyone can hear you."

"Oh. You dirty man. .." he grins as he tilts his head to the side, "Ok I'm in." 

"Bonus points if you aren't faking the bladder desperation. I'll clean you up and you can hide in the stall while I bring you clean clothes. Nobody has to know that. Don't tell me if you are using water or not, though, okay? At least not until after sex."

"Okay. Yes! This will be fun!" Frank turns his head and kisses him, "I do like making you crazy with need." 

He turns his body to face Brock. He puts arms around his neck, "How did I marry such a hot and wonderful man?" 

"It was easy. We went to the courthouse….." Brock grins, cheekily.

"Mmm. I get to do it again very. Very soon."

"Mmhmm. Few more days. I can't wait to fuck you on the beach."

"In the blue waters too." Frank leans in and kisses him.

"Oh that reminds me to order water safe lube when I order the baby supplies," Brock says.

"Silicone." Frank gives him a little smile then wrinkles his forehead in confusion, "Baby supplies?"

"For when Baby Floof and his cousins come over. I want them to be comfy."

"Ohhhh! I was so confused for a moment." Frank replies with a nod.

"I'm thinking of something for them to sleep and play in. Nothing to major. It kind of gives us the freedom to move around the place if the babies are in a portable crib instead of using me as a pillow. Not that I would mind, of course."

"I know you don't mind but it doesn't hurt to have a backup. I was thinking that we could maybe put some baby stuff in the second bedroom, like a little table for diapers other things they need." Frank suggests.

Brock makes a happy squeak noise and hugs Frankie. "I love you." 

"Keep things tidy and accessible." Frank says with a grin.

He nods, "Yep. We can donate what we don't need, depending on the condition, once all the babies are born. Thank you for supporting my baby addiction."

"Exactly!" Frank says happily, "Maybe eventually we can get a kid’s bed or something when they get older." 

"Bunk beds for the house. Since they are going to be close in age. Also when we build the house, they can share a room until their teenage years. We should probably get started on that, huh?" Brock chuckles.

"Yeah. We should. Maybe we can have a new place by spring."

"Hmm… I'd say sooner. Depending on the contractors, you can do a whole build in eight weeks or so. That's running construction every day and with a large team but it's possible. So yes, spring but early spring if I have my way. Hopefully it won't clash with California. I could put Jack in charge," he grins at the idea.

"Yeah because he doesn't already have enough to do." 

"If I didn't think he couldn't handle it, I wouldn't give it to him. He's my second in command. It's his job."

"I know. I know." Frank says softly. He snuggles into Brock's chest. 

They stay until the water turns cool and Brock is uncomfortable. They get out and dry off, stealing kisses in between towels. Once dry, they snuggle down in bed. Brock sits up with his laptop in his lap and works on shopping.

Frank snuggles close to Brock and pulls his phone out looking at properties they could build a home on. "Baby here is one. It's kinda out of the city quite a ways but it's large and cheaper than most I've seen…"

"Large is good. Price isn't an issue but location is important. We want to be able to access the city but the drive to not be _too_ far. Less than 45 minutes. Brock looks away from a page on baby cribs to see the property Frank was talking about.

"I know, price isn't an issue. But it looks like it's large and kinda isolated." Frank says looking up at Brock, "How much land do you think we should buy?" 

"I was thinking at least 2 acres. It's flexible depending on the location, though."

"Ok. It looks like it's 7acres…" Frank wrinkles his nose.

"That's a huge amount. Does the land look good? Any photos we can see? How far out from the city?" Brock rapid-fire questions.

"Four hours…" Frank winces. Brock shakes his head no.

"Here's one. An hour and ten outside of the city. 2.8 acres. Near a lake. Used to be the Hasley estate." Frank says softly.

"If there's nothing closer, that might be an option. It's worth a look. Are you only checking New York?" Brock asks without looking away from where he was scrolling through the details of a bedside crib.

"Yeah. How far did you want me to look?" 

"I'm okay with Jersey. See if you can do a search for available land near us instead of statewide."

"What about this? It's got a house on property. Six bedrooms, six bathrooms. Built last year. Looks like there is a space next door we can maybe put a place for Jack…"

Brock leans over a little to look at the property. It was just under 2 acres. The photos were good. Very clean, modern, and spacious. Opening up a new tab in his browser on the laptop, he checks the distance between Livingston and Manhattan. "Holy crap. It's forty minutes away. Twenty minutes to your parents' house. Frankie, we gotta get this."

"You like it?" He asks with a big smile, "Should I send an email? Maybe go up tomorrow?" 

"Yes. Absolutely."

Frank quickly types an email and sends it. He leans up and kisses Brock. 

"That's perfect. We can modify the house instead of building from scrap. Add-on a house for your parents, if they still want."

"Yeah! I can ask. Are… are you sure you want to have them so close?" Frank asks.

"If we get this place, they'll be twenty minutes away, so technically we don't necessarily have to have them on property. It's the same distance from where we are now to them. If they don't want to move, that's okay. Now if we were four hours away, yes, I'd have them move to our land. Honestly, it's up to them. I'm fine if they want to be a five or ten-minute walk from the house. Are you?"

"I'll ask. It would be nice to have them so close." Frank pauses, "I do like having our own privacy." 

"Well yeah, there is that. My reasoning is if they move their current house to our land, they aren't paying property taxes. I'm assuming the house is paid off. It would probably be enough for your mom to retire," Brock says.

"I see where you're going with this. I think is a conversation you should have with Linda." Frank looks up. 

Brock nods, "Yeah." He pauses before snickering, "But also, it's good to have a nurse on call."

"Yeah, that is true." Frank says with a nod, "Have I told you lately… how fucking sexy you are in glasses?"

"Every time, I think, I wear them," he chuckles. Leaning over, he kisses Frankie.

"I think I have a thing for glasses on you, sir." 

"Well then just think how much you'll love me when I'm older and need them all the time," Brock snickers.

"Mmm. With salt and pepper hair and a little bit of a dad bod. Fuck, you'll have to fight me off with a stick." Frank says with a smile.

"Oh, I highly doubt I'll fight you off. Not when I'm trying to encourage _more_ ," Brock grins.

Frank smirks, "You want more? Cause I do believe you called it my _teenaged libido_ once time."

"I did. But these new developments… well let's just say that things have increased my interest."

"Because you had _lost_ interest?" Frank teases.

"No. Not at all. But," Brock pauses to think of the best way to describe it, "it's like a child with a new toy, like a car for example. All the boy wants to do is spend every waking moment playing with the car."

"Oh, so I'm like a new toy car now?" Frank turns his body towards his husband.

Brock winces, "No. I mean. Kind of. That's not… I'm sorry, I don't think I've explained myself very well."

"Wanna take me for a test drive?" Frank smirks. He kisses Brock, "I now know how to start _your_ engine." 

Oh. Frankie _did_ understand. He smiles which turns into a wide grin. "I'd like that. I'm always up for that." 

Frank grins even wider, he leans up and kisses Brock, "You sure?" 

"Yes," Brock breathes before he kisses him again, needy.

Frank pushes the laptop from Brock and places it on his side of the bed before crawling on top of his lap. "Now, I could..." Frank intentionally shifts a little on Brock's lap. His lips are close to his ear, "unless… you don't need that?" 

"Maybe I don't… but what if I really, really want it? What if I do need it?" Brock whispers needily. He turns his head and kisses his husband.

"If you really want it…" Frank grins wide against his lips, "I'll give you anything you want. I want to make you happy."

He wiggles in his lap just a little before he kisses him hard, "I want you to trap me." 

Brock grins wide before wrapping his arms around Frank tightly and rolling them to Frank's back. He slightly grunts at the hint of pain from the movement but recovers quickly. Even though the position and several others bothered him, he found that if he kept doing the things that hurt, it would strengthen him. He grins at Frankie, putting all of his weight on his husband and using his arms to barricade him a little.

Frank bites his lip as his eyes scan Brock's face. He wiggles under him slightly, "I like it when you squish me." 

"And I love it when you flutter under me. I love it when you… fight and move," Brock says, voice lowering.

Frank takes the words as a cue. He pushes and squirms under Brock. He kisses Brock's chest and neck between his moves, "You gonna pin me down and fuck me?" 

"Might. You gonna fight me?" 

"Every step of the way…" Frank grin devilishly.

"Good boy," Brock grins. He kisses him hard.

Frank whines a little as he squirms under Brock. His hips push up into Brock. "Is that all you got, old man?" He had a feeling he might be pushing a little too hard but it was worth a shot, "I think my granny could pin me tighter..." 

"Does your granny weigh a ton?" Brock snorts. He pushes harder against Frank, as much as he can. It's not like the bed was a solid surface. He got what Frank was doing but it wasn't going to go anywhere. 

Frank opens his mouth to reply with something smart assed but he closes his lips and pushes against Brock. "Fuck," he groans out. He grinds into Brock again. His husband is doing what he asked and is heavy as hell against him. 

Groaning softly, Brock meets Frank's grinds with one of his own. "That all you got, baby? Maybe you need to work on selling how bad you need to go…"

Frank whimpers slightly at Brock's push into him. He pushes back and shifts his hips. He thinks about what he would do. He inhales sharply, "Baby… please." He actually puts a little force behind his fight and decides Brock needs a little challenge. 

"No," Brock says with a little hint of his Commander tone in his voice. His hands press hard on Frank's, to keep his hands from gaining leverage.

The tone of Brock's reply sends a tingle down his back, he pushes back harder and squirms more. The weight on him sparks a feeling that he might actually have to _go_ just a little. He grinds against his husband, "Please..." He whines and keeps moving. 

"No." Brock's voice is hard again, even as his expression falters from the feeling of Frank squirming beneath him. He continues to match grind for grind. One of his hands reaches out for the lube and sets it within easy reach. They're gonna need it soon. He lifts Frankie's legs and sets them on his hips. 

Frank whines a little. He leans up a little and kisses Brock. He pushes against him. "Fuck me?" Frank purrs at his husband. 

"Not yet. You haven't," Brock pauses to nip at Scorpio, " _convinced_ me. Some theater boy you are."

"Mmm… some commander you are, letting a little twink get a little ground…" Frank growls back. He gets his hand to rise from the mattress a little as he squirms. He grinds against Brock and fights harder. He squirms and rolls his hips into him. He gets an idea… is it a good idea, no. He's gonna try it. He moves his legs from Brock's waist, he moves both legs to one side. He twists his hips a little. 

"You mean giving a little Twinkie ground," Brock growls out, pupils wide with interest. He grabs Frank's hips and forces him to lay flat. "Where do you think you are going, _passerotto_?" 

Frank moans a little at the forceful push, "Away." He lifts his hip again and tries to turn over, "Oh fuck baby..." He groans as he pushes against Brock. The excitement in his body was making his muscles tighten. He moves a leg between Brock's in hopes of getting traction. _Giving me ground… pshh. I'm strong._

"Can you come from this," Brock murmurs. Again he firmly moves Frankie so he's flat and back to spread legs. 

"Yes, maybe. Fuck." He whimpers a little. He pushes hard against Brock, "Can you?"

"I can think of a time on our first date where I _did_ ," Brock bucks his hips and moans quietly. 

Frank grinds back into Brock. He gives it one more try and twists. He gets himself almost sideways but his wrists are trapped.

"What are you doing," Brock mutters quietly. 

"Trying to move," Frank replies with an attitude.

"No shit Sherlock." Brock leans down and bites Frank's shoulder a little less than gentle.

Frank moans out at the sharpness, "On my belly." 

"No. Why?" 

_Cause I’m a shit and want to push buttons…_

"Why not?" He gives up his attempt and rests back on the mattress. He pushes his hips into Brock's. Fucker hasn't been to a gym in months and barely has started eating again but he could still overpower him.

"Because I said no and you like to test me. Just making sure there wasn't...a different reason," Brock grins. He rolls his hips hard into Frank.

Frank moans and breathes in sharply, "Trying to make it… easier for you to get to my ass…" Frank composes himself slowly, "I do love pushing your buttons, _Captain.._."

"Who said I wanted you on your stomach. I wanna fuck you just like this. Or maybe make you cum just from this, all over your pretty doves and chest. Let that be your punishment; an empty ass," Brock grins, now using his hips to pantomime fucking into Frank.

"You wouldn't..." Frank glares. The corners of his mouth struggling to stay in a line.

"Oh but I would, _passerotto_. Lick you clean, I would. Probably get off on that." He pretends to think, "This was doing it for me but..." 

"But… but what?!" Frank whines. 

"You're just not trying hard enough," he teases with a wicked grin. 

"Don't wanna break your old man bones..." Frank growls as he pushes back, "You better fuck me. And fuck me hard."

His grin increases at the demand from Frankie. "Oooh did I hit a nerve, little hellcat?"

"Yes…" Frank grumbles. He twists and pushes against Brock. He's gonna try to get his way if he can or until Brock gets meaner. He squirms hard.

Seizing forward, Brock captures Frank's lips into a hard kiss, one hand letting go of Frank in favor of burying in his short hair. He tugs hard and adds his tongue into the mix.

Frank moans into the kiss and softens his fight. His husband is playing dirty and he likes it. He bucks up into Brock and feels a hard weight drop in his belly. All of the dry humping was pushing him to a place he wasn't ready to be. He wanted to make Brock work for it. His hands run down Brock's side then over his back, he scratches down Brocks skin.

"Fuck me, like the disrespectful little twink I am..." Frank hisses as he tries again to push Brock away. He turns his head slightly and bites Brock hard on the chest. He knows it's gonna bruise. 

"Motherfucker!" Brock yelps. He pulls away, sitting up to check if there was broken skin. 

Frank sits up on his elbows, "I didn't break skin. You're fine… you've bitten me harder than that before." 

"Are you okay?"

Brock growls deep in his throat, grabbing Frank's hips and flipping him onto his stomach. He slaps the perfect globes of Frank's ass, hard and repeatedly. "You wanted to get on your stomach, huh? Thought that little stunt was gonna let you? Fine. Disrespectful fucking twink."

Frank can't keep the grin from his face. He's thankful that Brock can't see. He moans at the strikes to his ass and pushes back into Brock. His hips rise from the bed slightly. "Didn't know you were so soft, Rumlow." 

Instead of replying, Brock just rains heavier blows on his husband's ass. Rearing back as far as he can to slam his palm down on Frank's cheeks. His boy wanted more pain. He was going to give it.

Frank cries out at the strikes. His body naturally wants to move away from the strikes. No matter how much he fights the urge, he moves. Cursing under his breath, he realizes he hit a nerve. "Don't… hurt yourself." 

"Silence," Brock snarls. He punctuates each word with a hit. "You wanted this. Stay. The. Fuck. Still." 

"Fuck." Frank whines as he shifts slightly. He loves pushing buttons and pulling this out of Brock. He arches his back and looks at Brock's face with a smile on his lips, "No." 

Suddenly Brock stops and pulls away. He carefully gets off the bed and grabs his cane. Turning to Frank, he orders him to stay before leaving the bedroom and disappearing into his office. When he returns, he climbs back onto the bed, clicking the circular metal rings tightly around Frank's wrists. He scoots down Frank's legs, trapping them under his weight.

"Brock!" Frank says not trying to hide the shock. Did he really just cuff him? "You think that's gonna stop me?" He tries to work away but can't. _Fuck okay, maybe he won't be able to get away._

Brock doesn't answer, instead choosing to move down to Frank's calves. Holding them tightly together, Brock picks up the second item he brought with him. Silky smooth fibers twisted into a braided pattern get wrapped around Frank's legs tight, leaving only a finger's breadth of space. Brock ties a secured knot into the silk rope before moving back up to Frank. He whispers into his ear and kisses his cheek, "Try getting away from me, now, _gattino_. Remember your safeword."

"Oh ok…" Frank purrs. He squirms as much as he can. 

Brock chuckles, "Can't, can you? All tied up and rather pretty. Should I gag you too?"

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I don't think you are in a _position_ to make demands, kitten." Brock trails a finger down Frank's spine.

"Oh… but I will." Frank moves his back to meet Brock's touch. "You never gag me. Even when you say you are…"

"True. I do love the noises you make. Perhaps it's time to change that…" Brock slips off the bed again. He's got the perfect thing in mind.

"Believe it when I see it. Or feel it." Frank replies, "You're a softy. Big teddy bear Dom." 

Brock dips back into his office, opening up his "sex dungeon" box as the boys called it, and removes a ball gag. He's not sure about the fit but it's adjustable. He grabs that and a traditional silk gag before returning to Frank.

"You get a drink of water? A snack?" Frank teases. He knows he's pushing. But Brock's too fun to play with.

"Open your mouth," he orders softly. He moves back to sitting on Frank's legs.

"What?" Frank turns his head to Brock, "Why?" He leaves his mouth open slightly for his husband.

Brock wraps the red ball gag around Frank, forcing him to open his jaw wider. He buckles it behind his boy's head, checking for comfort.

Frank murmurs behind the ball. His eyes narrow at Brock. _This motherfucker is actually gagging me!_

"Since you won't be able to tell me your safe word," Brock says as he places one hand next to Frank's bound fingers, "I want you to tap my hand twice. Feel me here? I'm not going to move my hand. Test it to see if you can."

He moves his hand slightly and taps Brock's skin. He mumbles again.

"Good boy. Any discomfort?" 

He shakes his head.

"Do you want me to stop and release you? Now's your chance before I start."

He shakes his head no. He mumbles again. _This is getting interesting… stop now? Hell no._

"Okay. I love you, remember that. I won't make this too intense, I hope." Brock moves off the bed once again and grabs his belt.

_Give me hell…_

Standing directly behind Frank, Brock slaps the belt against Frank's ass once and waits two seconds before hitting again; this time on his thighs.

Frank squirms as the pain ripples across his skin. He moans behind the gag in his mouth. His eyes look to Brock as he raises an eyebrow. 

Starting a pattern, not unlike a waltz, Brock keeps time with each hit. He alternates between Frank's ass and thighs, occasionally darting down to his calves to keep his husband from guessing where he's going to strike next. About midway into the pattern, he switches to a faster tempo. Raining blows with only a second in between. He's going to paint his body a bright red that will last for hours.

Frank moans and squirms. He can feel every inch of his skin warming up. His mind is running between all the ideas of what Brock is going to do next. 

Brock watches Frank carefully as he increases the force behind his lashes. He knows what it feels like to have waves of pain roll over you. Each one is only enhanced by the one before it. He didn't necessarily need to hit harder, just longer before the brain and the body both began to feel the alarm system of too much sensory input. Soon, it would feel as if Brock was hitting Frank with what amounted to a branding iron. Frank's skin was an angry, bright, red and he knew it was almost time for the second phase of his plan.

The sweat was covering his forehead as the pain increased. His back arches pushing his butt up as his stomach pressed into the bed. He wants to moan Brock's name but the gag only comes out as a garbled sound. His backside was on fire, twitching and aching. There was that fire that Brock has kept dampened.

"Look at you, such a pain slut. You want it harder, baby?" Brock pants out. "Want me to make you bleed?"

Frank whines as he nods. His husband was in a mood and he was here for it. Brock grits his teeth and strikes harder, internally wincing at the sharp slap of flesh meeting leather. There was no way Brock was going to let Frank break skin. It didn't matter what Frank wanted in the heat of the moment; all subs ask for more than what they probably should take. Brock has to keep focused and make sure that he does only what's best for Frank. For now, though, he continues to let pain rain.

Frank whines after each strike. He can feel something in him on the edge calling uncle. His thoughts flooded his ears, he wanted this, why was his body betraying him? He didn't want to tap out, the last time ended badly. He can do this. He breathes through his nose and forces his body to relax even if his shoulders were still pinned together tightly. He jerks at the next strike and the movement sends a streak of heat across his thighs. 

Brock sees the jerk from the strike and knows it's time. He sets the belt down and climbs back onto the bed. There's an audible click before Brock grabs Frank by the hips and pulls him to his knees; face down ass up. He spreads Frank's cheeks and shoves his lubed cock home. He barely gives him any time to adjust before he fucking him as hard as he can, pulling on his hips down onto his cock.

Frank moans out loud. His body moving with the motion like a rag doll. He wants to curse and call Brock's name. The feeling snaps in his low stomach as his hips jerk. He's going to come way faster than he should. Hard pounding into him plus the burning of his skin creates a sensation that is too much to stop his cock from betraying him as he cums with a cry.

Brock feels Frank clench around him and he stills his hips. Waiting for his boy to come down from his high. He pulls out and begins to undo Frank's binds. Starting with the gag first, then his arms, and finally his legs.

His breathing regulates as he curses. His legs fall apart. "Please don't stop." 

"You have cum, _tesoro_. You are done. You need to come down and relax," Brock says soothingly. He finishes undoing the binds and sets it all aside before getting up and going into the bathroom to grab a cream.

"But you… Didn't." 

"I will. Just not right now. Aftercare takes priority." Brock returns and takes Frank's legs, gently rubbing in the cool lotion to promote healing and moisturization.

He inhales sharply at Brock's touch, "Okay. I'm sorry." His head is confused. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do. 

Brock continues his gentle massage of the lotion into Frank's legs. He asks gently, "Why are you apologizing?" 

"I don't know, it felt like I should…" Frank replies. 

"Should what, my love?"

"Apologize. Cause you didn't. And I… I'm gonna just stay quiet." Frank cuts himself short. 

"Hey, Frankie, baby it's okay. You're okay. I'm not mad. I'm not upset, disappointed, thinking less of you, or whatever else is going through your beautiful head. Talk to me, baby. It's okay."

"It’s ok. 'm fine," Frank says in a whisper. 

"Explain to me how you are feeling, love," Brock says, moving on to Frank's ass.

"Hurts. Not bad hurts. Like a bad sunburn." 

"Okay. That's not too bad. It should decrease within a few hours. But I also meant your emotional state. And not just that you are fine. Talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me how you are feeling and what's going through your head."

"My… I feel like I didn't do what I was supposed to. Like I let you down. I am supposed to get you off… and I didn't. Just my head is full of water. I'm sorry."

Brock finishes rubbing the lotion on Frank's ass then scoots up so he can massage his wrists. He pulls Frank into his lap and kisses him before continuing to rub him gently. "You didn't fail me. And you didn't get me off because I didn't let myself get off. It's not your fault nor is it your job. Sex isn't always about the grand finale. The only thing that is your job is to enjoy what I give you and cum from it. And if you don't, that's okay too. I love you, baby. You did good for me."

"I love you too." Frank looks up at Brock, "Am I gonna bruise?"

"No baby. I made sure you would have nothing but some redness and soreness," Brock leans down and kisses him.

"Ok. Are... you ok?" He knows Brock has been sensitive about causing him pain. He also remembers Dom drop is a thing.

"I am. Minus the very angry dick," he chuckles, "Mind over desire on that front." 

"Oh. Ok. I just don't want you to be _hurting._ I love you." Frank says softly. He kisses Brock again.

"I _was_ a little uncomfortable hitting you as hard as I did towards the end there," Brock admits quietly.

"You were?" Frank blinks. _Fuck._

"Just a little," he reiterates. "I was worried a little about hitting you too hard and not seeing the cues your body was telling me. I didn't want to push you too far. But my plan worked out perfectly and I'm quite happy with it."

"Ok. I didn't know if I could keep going for a moment… But I also." He bites his cheek, "Didn't want to stop."

Brock nods, finishing up his wrist massage for Frankie. "I could tell. I was looking for the moment your body reached its limit. It's crucial when I've got you bound and gagged. You couldn't tell me the safeword or tap out. I needed to be sure not to push you into something you couldn't come back from. All subs reach a point where the pain is all pleasure and they keep wanting more and more and they are incapable of discerning the danger. I have to make sure every bit of you is safe, not just body but also mentally and emotionally. If I play it safe, it's because I'm trying to make sure you will be able to handle it. That's the sane part of the SSC code of BDSM."

"Oh," Frank says softly.

"All in all, this was a very successful first attempt," Brock smiles, kissing him lightly.

"It was successful? How would you know, by my body _cues_ if I was done?" 

"Instinct, mostly. But also watching your body language extremely carefully. In this case, instead of pushing towards the belt, you jerked away. Sometimes it's nothing you physically do and just a feeling. I like to think I read you pretty well now. In time, I'll learn to read you better and you'll build a tolerance to withstand harder. If that's your goal."

"Oh. Okay." Frank nods, "Do I have to have a goal? Cause I don't think I do." 

"No, not at all," he kisses him. "How are you feeling now? Full spectrum."

"Head is _okay_. Ass hurts still, less bag of bees feeling and more like irritation." Frank replies as he runs fingers over Brock's chest.

"That's a good improvement. You missed feelings, though," he grins lightly.

"I feel less awful about… you not getting there. I liked what we did… I have opinions about ball gags though." 

"Opinions are very good. I like those. Tell me what's on your mind." 

"Other than feeling like a little pig with an apple in my mouth… it did its job. I couldn't be mouthy, which I like to be." Frank huffs. 

"I have other gags," Brock offers simply.

An intrusive thought clatters in his head but he pushes it down, "Others? Did you enjoy the quiet?" 

"I brought a silk one in case the ball gag was too much," Brock nods to the dark blue fabric in the pile with the other instruments. He turns back to Frank, "I do miss the screaming." 

"Is that something I should expect if I get… mouthy?" He grins at Brock before kissing him.

"Depends on what's your color on them?" Brock smirks. 

"My color?"

"The color system. It's used on a multitude of things. I use it for knowing if something new is something we will continue or more. It's also a good way to check-in with a sub to see if they are still good with a scene. For example, we discovered early on that orgasm denial is a Red for me. Orgasm delay is yellow. I'm mildly uncomfortable doing it and only agree during a scene; never permanent. Think of a traffic light and what the colors mean. Now apply them to the use of a gag. What do you think?"

"It's not horrible. Inconvenient but I'm not really supposed to wholly enjoy being gagged. So green…. Maybe yellow."

"What else is red?" Frank asks curiously. His eyes drop to Brock’s hard cock, "also whatcha gonna do about him?" 

"Some people enjoy being gagged. It's their kink. Yellow is good, maybe we'll try something else to figure out your boundaries on it. And as for him," Brock reaches down and grabs himself, stroking lightly. "I had some ideas; some very fluid and flexible ideas. Which is just basically me saying I didn't have anything set in stone." He laughs a little.

"Oh. What's your ideas. Maybe I can help..." Frank kisses him softly as his hand covers, well tries to cover Brock's.

"Mmm, everything from a quick jerk to porn to waiting until you have to pee to ignoring it and waiting until later. Or see if you were up to blowing me. Mostly it was just me rubbing it out. I didn't plan for me because it all depended on how you reacted to the scene."

"What _kind_ of porn does Brock Rumlow watch?" 

"You know my kinks."

"Yes. I do but sometimes things catch your eyes and surprise you." Frank asks moving Brock's hand away and stroking him without help.

Brock snorts, "Ain't that the truth… piss kink in point. Uh, I've watched pretty much the basic stuff. A lot of solo stuff. Public. Threesomes. Military. BDSM of course. Hardcore if I'm in the mood. POV a few times. Twinks because duh."

"All gay I assume." 

"Of course. I have a paid account… on my laptop." Brock tips his head in offerance. "Haven't been on since we met, for the record. But it's what got me through the dry spells."

"A paid account…"

"Premium? I pay a monthly thing to watch the movies and tip those I really like. I'm not _making_ stuff if that's what you mean. Sorry."

"I'd watch it." Frank tightens his hold on Brock, "You watched live cams… interesting." 

"You get me live and for free, remember that. And it was a long time ago that I was online." Brock pauses eyes fluttering at the tighter hold around his dick. He struggles to keep his breathing steady. "You're welcome to take a look…. Maybe we can watch together?"

"That what you wanna do?" Frank leans up and presses his lips to Brock's as he speeds his pace up just a little.

A little hitch of his breath and a small moan escapes at the faster speed. "It doesn't… I'm good… I just wanna come, baby."

"Maybe. When California happens if… you don't _come_ maybe I could put on a show for you… entice you to come get me." Frank says softly before kissing him, 

"I like making you come… faster?" 

"Oh yeah," Brock breathes out. He struggles to focus on Frank's words. "I'm coming, going, with you. Not leaving you. Fuck…"

Frank speeds up and adds a twist on each upstroke. He leans in close to Brock and whispers, "Kiss me." He keeps his pace but watches Brock move the rest of the way and kiss him. He let Brock's tongue invade his mouth, pushing against his own before Brock pulls back and moans in Frank's ear. He can feel Brock’s body getting closer to the end. He kisses Brock once then moves his body down the mattress. He hovers over his beautiful cock for a moment before his lips wrap around the pretty pink head of his cock. He sucks in just a little as his hand still strokes the shaft.

Brock groans low, breath choppy. His hand caresses Frank's head before pulling him gently back up, needing to kiss him again. He whispers to him, just before he presses their lips together, "Don't stop. I'm close. Kiss me." 

Frank kisses Brock deeply as he tightens his hold slightly. He keeps his eyes locked on to Brock's, "Come for me. Let me see you fall apart." 

Little whines escape as Brock's hips jerk up. His groin tightens and snaps. The whines turn into a low moan that rises in a crescendo from the waves of pleasure that overtake him as he paints his stomach with cum. His head falls back and his eyes close. His whole body feels boneless and mush. He lays down on the mattress and looks up at Frankie. He can't brain yet. 

Since his initial plan was interrupted, Frank runs a tongue over Brock's stomach, cleaning the cum from his skin. He likes seeing Brock like this; fucked out and starry-eyed. "Tastes good." 

"You too," Brock slurs a murmur. He wants cuddles and sleep now. He tugs at Frankie.

"I'm coming baby. I love you." 

"Love you," he replies. He scoots into his spot and waits for Frankie to join him. 

"We have to pack for our trip in the morning," Frank comments quietly as he drapes a leg over Brock's. His hand stretches up and rests over his heart, "A step closer to forever." 

"We already have forever," Brock whispers. He yawns. An idea occurs to him and he lifts Frankie over his body to plop him on his right side. Carefully, he rolls to his side and pulls Frankie in. It's not their normal, quite the opposite in the literal sense, but it was still more familiar than sleeping on his back for the last two months. 

"Are you okay with this? You're not hurting?" Frank asks softly.

"Not nearly as bad as I would be if I was on my bad leg. It's only a little. We'll see in the morning," Brock murmurs, burying his face in Frank's neck.

"I missed being your little spoon." 

"Me too," he whispers against soft skin. He presses his lips to his neck in a lazy kiss.

"Even if he's beaten little spoon?" He grins with his eyes closed. He can feel himself being tugged under by sleep.

"Yes. Even if. Sleep, _tesoro_. We will pack and go to Livingston tomorrow."

" Okay baby. Love you so much." Frank murmurs before sleep wins, "Get our little mansion." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We sincerely hope you have enjoyed this niche pairing and all of their rollercoaster of emotions.
> 
> Part Two is Coming! Check back later for a title!


	34. The Wedding Bells Are Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the bride! Frank and Brock get their wedding day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially Wedding Day for the boys! And how far they have come!

The Wedding Bells Are Ringing

The next few days flew by. They fell in love with the property and the house even if it needed a few updates. After packing their bag and leaving them by the door for their early morning flight, Frank lays next to Brock in bed and prays that nothing stupid happens. A smooth and happy ceremony is all he wants. He lifts Brock's hand and kisses the top of it, "Love you, Mister Rumlow." 

"Love you, Mister Rumlow," Brock says, kissing Frank's skin.

"Why am I nervous?" Frank asks softly, "You've already said yes." 

"Sounds like my line," he chuckles. "Just remember we're already married. This is just flair and something for the friends and family to enjoy."

"For the moms… let's be real." 

"And sisters."

"Yeah, Chris is still sour about us not telling her." Frank snorts. He's nervous to meet Brock's whole family. His father especially. He's packed all the nice clothing he's accumulated over the last few months. He wants to make the best impression on him. 

"Brooke was more than a little peeved that I didn't tell anyone that we got married. Jack told her. I wasn't going to and let the invitations we sent out do the rest. I have no idea if my parents knew before the invites or not. Surprise!" Brock snickers. He tried to keep it secret and surprise them.

"Yeah. I mean, we did do it spur of the moment. She has reminded me every time I have talked to her. Are they going to be mad that we are surprising them about this wedding?" He asks. 

"I don't think so? Mom is all for this. Dad… probably wanted to meet you first. Oh well. I'm doing things my way."

"I feel like that is how our entire relationship has been. Doing things our way and to hell with everybody else and their expectations." 

"Exactly."

"This is going to be a smooth and easy wedding."

"And pretty. And we get a day in advance to enjoy the island before the wedding."

"Yes. That is going to be nice. Maybe play in the water and sun before we stress over the wedding… fool around in the water." Frank grins back at him. 

"I was just thinking the same," Brock grins before kissing him. His voice lowers, "Mind getting wet before getting wet?" 

"Never. I can't wait. I don't know if I'm going back to sleep." Frank shrugs, "I can sleep on the plane."

"Yeah. But our bed is much more comfortable." 

"True. I mean. I could just get a head start on making love to my husband…" 

"Oh? And how would you do that?" Brock grins.

"Oh well, I would start by kissing him, like this." He turns to face Brock and kisses him. His hand runs up Brock's chest to rest on the side of his neck as he kisses him deeper, using his tongue to push against Brock's. He pulls back and grins.

"That's a very good start… what's next, hmm?" Brock says softly with a grin.

"This." Frank presses kisses down Brock's throat and chest. Sucking on Brock's nipple and raking his teeth over the skin before looking up at his face, "Maybe work my way down..." 

"Maybe you should… demonstrate," Brock whispers, voice dropping lower. He licks his lips.

He kisses down Brock's chest, nipping a little as he moves. He stops at Brock's hips and looks up with a smile, "Maybe I'll move back up." He moves back up to Brock's lips but holds his cock before making slow lazy strokes as he kisses him.

"Good choices," Brock mutters against his lips. "But that only gets him interested…" 

"Maybe I'll keep this up. But I really want to move lower…" he kisses him.

"Are we going for a Sunday drive or are you gonna rev me up like a race car engine?"

"I think I wanna warm you up and maybe leave you wanting more…" Frank looks up from his stomach before kissing just above his belly button.

"Oh, the good 'ole bait and tease trick," Brock chuckles. His hand cards through Frankie's hair. 

"Mmmhmmm… keep you wanting more." He slips lower as he tightens his hold on Brock's cock as he runs the tip of his tongue along the underside of him. He takes him into his mouth and sucks as he strokes. He lets out a moan around Brock's dick. 

Brock sighs out in pleasure. One hand drops down to bury in Frank's hair while the other travels up and plays with his nipple lightly. He didn't care about his nipples until Frank started paying attention to them. His hips arch up a little into Frank's mouth. He moans again.

Frank sucks harder before taking Brock further down his throat. He hears the gagging sound that he knows that he enjoys hearing.

He pulls back slightly as he strokes him before pulling back with a quiet pop. He looks up at Brock and bites his lower lip. He fucking loves this man and loves watching him turned on, "Maybe, I should go check the bags one more time..." 

He moves his hand away from Brock's cock.

"There's no need for that," Brock huffs. 

"You sure?" Frank smirks as he hovers over Brock, "What if you didn't pack your passport? Or tie?" He keeps eye contact with Brock as he flicks his tongue over the slit.

"It's fine. It's all fine," Brock snorts.

Frank wrinkles his forehead. Brock's response isn't what he expected; was he _not_ into this? He sits up. "We do have an early flight." 

"Yeah. Which means you should hurry the fuck up," Brock huffs.

"Should I? Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raises an eyebrow, "Or maybe you should make me if you're in a hurry." 

"You want me to choke you with my dick? Fine," Brock's hands dart down to Frank's hair, grabbing him tight, and pushing him down. "Suck it." 

_'Fuck,'_ he thinks as he pushes air from his nose. He does what he's told and sucks. A hand slides between Brock's leg and massages his balls. 

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, stop. Off," Brock pants and tugs Frankie's hair. He's got a better idea in mind.

Looking up at Brock as he wipes his chin, "Sorry." 

"Don't be. Better idea." Brock groans, "69. I want your cock, too." 

"Oh. Okay." Frank says softly, "Never _actually_ done that before." 

"Yes, we did." 

"No, Ray interrupted."

Brock blinks and tries to remember. It takes a moment but the memory surfaces of Sunshine interrupting them to help Christa have Baby Floof. His jaw drops a little as a small laugh escapes, "Well damn. We tried. Doesn't that count for something?"

"How do we do this?" Frank says with a smile.

"You'll sit on my face and put your cock down my throat. Trick is to keep your weight on your knees so I can breathe. We don't have to do it tonight, since it's new and we _do_ have an early flight. We can do it tomorrow if you wanna wait."

"We'll have a new bed we'll have to break in…" Frank adds, "Do you want me to suck you off?" 

"Your mouth is heavenly. I'm not going to say no, love. Did you have something else in mind?"

"Well, kinda. But it's a little extra." Frank wrinkles his nose. 

"Okay. Whatever you wanna do, baby." Brock suppresses a small yawn. He's all for whatever Frank has in mind but he can tell that there won't be any pillow talk after. 

"You're tired..." 

"And horny. Just means I'm gonna crash after the fat lady sings. Not a big deal."

"Ok." Frank says with a soft smile, "Fuck me with panties on?" 

Brock's eyes widen and his cock instantly further hardens. He loves it when Frank offers his kink. "Oh fuck yeah. Surprise me. Maybe the thong or that mesh one… God, you love me. Fuck I love you."

Frank grins as he slips off the bed. He moves to the dresser and pulls a pink thong from the drawer. 

Brock rambles as Frank grabs the panties, "One day, I'm gonna see about getting you into a skirt or something. A kilt. Easy access. Just lift it up in the back. No underwear. Or something like this. Go on a popular nature trail or something and fuck you while you watch people pass by our hiding spot."

"Oh fuck, please. I mean we are going to California soon." Frank says as he climbs on the bed and rests on Brock's lap.

"Deal." Brock pulls Frank into a harsh kiss, arms wrapping around him tight. He moans quietly.

Frank runs a hand over Brock's chest as he grinds his hips into his husband, "Will you prep me?" 

He can feel his impatience getting the best of him. He stretches across and grabs the lube that rested on the nightstand. "Surprise you need prep with all the cum I've stuffed up in there. Full and stuffed like a whore," Brock spats the words as he takes the lube and puts it on his cock.

"Mmmm… I do love when you fill me with cum." Frank purrs, "Wanna be leaking and sore like a good whore should be."

"Cum slut," Brock smirks, stroking himself. "I'm not stretching you. You want it, finger yourself." 

Frank's mouth falls open a little. "Do it myself?" Logical Frank's thought is Brock wants him to be tight so he's gonna make sure he gets what he wants. But emotional Frank calls him an ass and agrees if he wants tight, he'll get tight. "No." He knows he sounds like a brat but he does not care.

Brock's smirk increases. "Works for me. Spread your cheeks for me, baby," 

Frank pulls the little thin pink strip of fabric to the side before he spreads himself open. "I'm waiting..." 

Brock holds himself steady and pushes up at the same time he pushes Frank down. The impossible tightness has him groaning out a curse and throwing his head back. Frank gets tighter every time; he swears it.

Frank moans softly and drops his head to Brock's shoulder. He can usually keep himself tighter but the little curses and mutters in Italian under Brock's breath forced the butterflies in his stomach to wake and swarm. He thought it was always cute when Brock would talk to himself quietly in Italian. Like some subconscious thing but during sex, it was the sexiest thing. He tightens around Brock as he slowly rises from his cock.

" _Cristo, amore_. Fuck you feel so good," Brock pants out. His fingers dig deep in Frank's hips. 

"I love you. I love when you're inside of me...fuck, Brock." Frank kisses his neck and shoulder. He leans back slightly and slowly rises and falls on his cock. The angle is perfect and makes his knees shake a little against Brock's skin. 

He takes Brock's hesitation and quiet enjoyment as a cue that he's not working hard enough. Sitting forward, he bites his shoulder before he speeds up his rise and fall. The action makes him cry out, "Fuck… if you won't fuck me… I'll fuck me." 

"Maybe I just like watching you bounce on my cock?" 

_Or you got used to me doing the work…_ Frank keeps going but keeps his body folds forward. He presses his lips to his husband's neck and sucks on the skin. He doesn't want to leave marks yet. He slows down and rolls his hips, Frank moves his lips to Brock's, "You like to watch me fall apart… or did you, fuck, did you get lazy?" 

"I like watching your cock bounce in pretty underwear," Brock growls out, pushing his hips up hard and fast. Hands hold Frank's hips tight and force his body down onto his cock.

"Oh fuck! Baby, yes! I love it, fuck me like a whore." Frank whines out. His fingers push into Brock's hair, he scrapes his nails along Brock's scalp, "Pretty panties… pink with bows." 

"With lace. So when you cream them, it not only soaks them but it goes through it," Brock groans at his words, hips stuttering at the thought. 

Frank whimpers, "Oh fuck. I like when you clean me up with your tongue… oh god! I'm gonna… fuck I love you."

"Yeah? Love it when you come on my cock. Gonna lick you fucking clean baby. Give it to me. Come for me."

Each push inside of him forces his body to race to climax faster. Frank moans louder as he arches his back. He holds on to Brock's wrists, "Come in me. Please. Oh, fuck!" His body gives out faster than he planned and comes, the soft panties darkening as he does.

"Oh fuck oh fuck yes… soak them…. shit! Frankie!" Brock bucks harder and faster into Frank, eyes glued to the cum that is beginning to ooze through the fabric. With a harsh cry, he stills, locked into an arch and balls deep in Frank.

Frank pants quietly as his hips rocking on his husband's cock inside of him. His body is buzzing as his hand reaches out and pulls Brock in for a kiss as he clenches around him.

Brock kisses him hard before he pulls back only to flip them over. He kisses Frankie again, deep but still quick. He scoots himself down his husband's body to rest at his groin. He groans at the sight and his mouth waters. Latching onto the wet fabric, he sucks the salty-sweet cum into his mouth.

Frank quietly moans as his fingers softly brush through Brock's hair. The feeling of Brock sucking through the fabric makes his skin tingle. He loves Brock so fucking much. "Fuck, I love you..." 

Slipping his fingers into the fabric, Brock gently pulls the thong down and off of Frank. Running the flat side of his tongue over Frank's cock causes another moan to rumble through him. He's careful not to overstimulate him as he licks him clean from base to slit. He shifts his hips into the mattress, flexing the muscles in his lower abdomen. Cleaning always excited him down below.

"Oh god, Brock!" Frank cries out. His hands grab the sheets beneath him and twist. He loves the way his husband knows how to push the right buttons and drive him crazy with a simple touch.

"God you taste so fucking good," Brock groans. He rolls his hips into the mattress again. Fuck sleep. They will sleep on the plane. 

"Don't come on the mattress… I want your cum," Frank whines, "in me. On me. I want it." 

That's fine by him. He's hard again but not too close to coming yet. He pulls off of Frank. "Want me to fuck you again…?" 

"Please! Fuck me like your favorite toy. Use me." Frank moans. "Fuck me like a whore. Like you can break me…"

Brock pulls up the panties and slides off the bed. He returns with a large, thick, fluffy towel and kneels back in his spot. He gives Frank a knowing look. 

Frank wrinkles his forehead. He's not sure what is gonna happen. But he lifts his hips slightly, "You gonna stare at me and cum..." 

"No." Brock places the towel under Frank's butt and makes sure it covers a wide area. Crawling up his body, Brock kisses him, slow and sensual. One of his hands travels down and rests on his low stomach. He moves so that he's slotted between Frank's legs, dick pressed up against the cum and spit-soaked underwear. 

"Mmm, I see what you're fishing for..." Frank purrs softly, "I think I can do that… you wanna change my panties or keep these?"

"Keep them," Brock whispers huskily. "Gonna fuck you so hard after. Make you cum in them again. Fucking _ruin_ them."

"Ok. You know I want you so badly. I just wanna keep coming on your beautiful cock." Frank grins, "You gonna rough me up?"

"Mark you up. Maybe make some pretty bruises," Brock grins, his free hand lightly teasing over Frank's nipple. He pinches it, twisting it slightly.

Frank hisses then arches his back up, "Good. The harder the _better_. I wanna remember this later." 

"I can do that. Might make you bleed…"

"Good. I'm a very bad boy." Frank smirks, "Pushing buttons, thinking about other men… coming before you."

"Thinking about other men?" Brock asks, pushing his hips hard against Frank. 

"Mmmhmmm…" 

"Who are you thinking about?" The hand toying with Frank's nipple pinches and twists the nub harder.

This was fun but now he's called on it and blurts the first name that comes to mind, "Jack." _Cool. Awesome brain. Thank you._

Brock's nose wrinkles and his head tilts. "My brother? _Our_ brother? Okay weirdo." 

_Fuck. I'm not attracted to Jack, I swear, baby. At least Gerard's name didn't come out._

"And the cute coffee shop guy..." Frank is desperate to get off the subject of Jack.

"Eh, he's okay." He dismisses the subject, returning to the other things that make Frank a 'bad boy'. "I like it when you come before I do. In fact, I prefer it. For a multitude of reasons. One of which is watching you cum in your panties. Always gets me to blow my load. And your ass tightens so perfectly around my cock when you come."

"I wanna get fucked by a stranger and make you watch," Frank says softly. He grins at the words. 

"I'd kill him for touching you," Brock growls out. He presses up against Frank again, loving the way Frank's skin and the thong both rub against his cock. He leans down and nips along his hubby's collarbone, soothing each bite with a lick of his tongue.

"Let him fuck me hard and rough. Treat me like a disposable whore." Frank moans at the warmth from the bite and the coolness of Brock's saliva.

"I'd break his hands," he replies, biting harder and working his way to Scorpio.

"Let him cum inside of me… spit on me." Frank hisses.

"I'd rip out his tongue. Cut off his dick. You are mine," Brock growls before biting hard on Scorpio.

"Maybe Gerard would do it..." Frank whimpers.

"I'd kill– oh damn." Brock realizes he can't finish his sentence. He scrambles for something else. "I'd beat the shit outta Gerard and kill some other guy."

"I'm sure he could round up some men to come tie me up and fuck me like you won't…" Frank speaks softly, "Beat my ass and make me bleed." 

"You want me to fuck you?" Brock snarls.

"Please! Like a filthy slut!" Frank grinds against Brock. 

"Then _be_ a filthy fucking slut and piss yourself," Brock growls out. His hips roll against Frank. 

Frank pushes the voice screaming at him out of his head and bears down a little. It doesn't take much until the warmth spreads across the panties. 

"Oh fuck yes," Brock gasps, arching his cock towards the wetness. He looks down and watches it pour out of the thong, soaking the towel. He has to grab himself to keep from coming on the spot from the sight. He rambles praises as he pushes aside the soaked threads and shoves himself hard into Frank. Again he has to still himself to keep from coming. The tightness and the still-flowing wetness are driving him wild. He moves and begins a hard pace, loving the way Frank's cloth soaked cock spurted liquid with each thrust. He kisses him hard, spreading Frank's legs wide with his hands.

"Oh fuck! Oh god! Brock!" Frank cries out, "Pound my tight fuckin ass. Please!" He tries to keep up with Brock's rhythm but he can't. 

Brock rabbits into him harder, lifting one of Frank's legs over his shoulder so he can wrap a hand around his neck. His nails dig in a little as he squeezes firmly, just enough to give a sting but nothing more. He can't seem to stop moaning.

"Fuck please! Yes!" Frank whines as clenches around Brock. The action causes a loud heavy moan from his lungs. His eyes roll in the back of his head as he moans, "Fuck daddy yes!!" 

Brock rambles a mix of curses and praise as he slams hard into Frank. Distantly he can hear the bed hitting the wall. He's close to coming; he can feel it battering into him. With one last burst of power and speed, Brock expends everything he has into Frank before coming with a scream of his name. It's so powerful, he sees stars.

Frank praises Brock as a wave of pleasure crashes into him. He clenches tight around Brock and rolls his hips to get himself there. "Love you. I love you!" Frank moans out as he finally comes. 

With a groan, Brock pulls out and flops hard next to Frank, panting. He needs to clean up…. Once he can feel his body return to Earth. Little mini waves of pleasure still rolled through him. This is why this was Brock's favorite. Frank soaked and Brock went from zero to sixty in seconds with a strong need to fuck him. It was mind-blowing every single time. He tries to catch his breath as he turns and grins at Frank, "I fucking love you." 

"I love you too." Frank sighs. He sits up and turns to Brock, placing a kiss on his lips. He has to get out of these panties before they dry. He slips off the bed and carefully folds up the towel without making a mess on the bed. His knees are soft but he slowly pads to the bathroom, "Am I throwing these out or washing them?" He steps into the shower and drops them to the floor before he turns the shower.

"Shit," Brock didn't realize he had begun to drift off, "Baby I promised I would take care of the wet cleanup. I'm coming. Uh… I'll throw it in the wash. With the towel." 

He groans as he forces himself up and off the bed, Brock sits up and carefully makes his way into the bathroom, using objects and the wall for support. He should shower as well. A glance at the clock makes him wince. They are only going to get a handful of hours to sleep tonight. Entering the bathroom, he makes a beeline to Frank. Shower first. Laundry after.

"You're tired. I didn't want to wake you… but I didn't know." Frank says softly looking up at him, "I'm sorry." 

He shrugs, "I just… I know you are doing me a favor and… I dunno. I'm repaying it? I promised a long time ago that you wouldn't ever have to worry about messes and the cleanup."

"Okay. You just looked really cute dozing off. How are you feeling? How's your leg?" Frank leans up and wraps an arm around his neck.

"I think I'm too drained to feel anything," Brock chuckles, burying his face in Frank's neck. 

"Why don't you sit down and I'll wash your hair and body other than your ass cause… well you're on it."

"Okay." 

Frank grins and leans up and kisses him. After Brock sits he washes Brock's hair and body. "We have to be out the door in three hours." He reaches down and strokes his husband's cock with a soapy hand. 

Brock groans in response. "Ugh. I feel like such an irresponsible adult. When did sleep become more important than sex in my life? Oh, wait. I got old."

"Ummm, that's why you married me. I'm here to keep you young. We have a ten-hour flight to Fiji. We can sleep in the air." Frank says with a soft smile, "You're not old." 

"Tell that to my body."

"Where do I file my complaint?" Frank says softly, "Why don't you go lie in bed and I'll throw this stuff in the washer, ok?"

He wants to protest but Brock finds he can't. He nods instead and dries off as best as he can. Making his way back to the bed, he climbs in. He's asleep in seconds.

Frank takes time to wash himself up then does the laundry. He glances at the clock and sighs. He decides it's not worth trying to sleep. He makes some coffee and dresses in comfortable clothing. He turns the tv on and surfs the internet for a while. He can faintly hear Brock snoring in the bedroom. The alarm clock screams alive and makes him jump. Putting his coffee cup in the sink he saunters into the bedroom, "Babe, time to get up and get dressed." 

Brock groans as he stirs. Sitting up, he puts his head in his hand. It was pounding like a racehorse does the dirt. He feels like shit. 

"Come on babe..." Frank says softly, "I have coffee and Tylenol for you."

Rubbing his face, he nods and rises, moving to get dressed. His voice is rough and thick with sleep, "Thank you, baby. You didn't sleep at all…."

"No. I didn't. By the time I got done, I would have had like two hours to settle and try to sleep. I drank coffee and did some work." Frank says but each word makes him feel even more tired. 

"Definitely crashing on the plane," 

"I switched myself to half-caf." Frank yawns, "What shirt do you wanna wear?"

"I don't care. Nothing. PJs." 

"Copy that." He pulls a black shirt and loose linen pants. He hands them to Brock then presses his lips to Brock's forehead, "Sorry I kept you up." 

"Loved the reason but maybe not the timing. Also love who I shared it with," Brock gives him an exhausted smile and kisses him lightly.

"Anytime I get to be with you is worth being tired for," Frank sighs happily as he closes his eyes, "I was worried I would mess on the bed." 

"That's why the towel. It's okay if it happened though. Change of sheets and a steam cleaning would've fixed it." He steps away and dresses, though slower because he's too tired to fully function.

"I know." Frank checks his phone and sighs, "Jack is ready. Ray's at the airport and The Ways are on their way, we should get a move on poppa bear..."

"Okay. Okay yeah. Sorry. I'm going." 

"Don't be sorry, love," Frank says softly as he exits the bedroom. He picks up his bag and pulls the suitcase handle up. He picks up Brock's coffee tumbler and hands it to him, "Don't forget your phone charger, babe." 

"I shoulda not slept. I'm fairly certain I'd be at least a marginal more functional than this," Brock mutters to himself as he takes a sip of coffee and grabs his charger off the table. 

"What's nice is you have a second in command who can handle things for you." Frank offers his husband his arm.

"That's Jack. You're in between me and Jack. You're husband." 

"I have questions about this but for when you're not exhausted," Frank says quietly. "You ready, my love."

"Yeah let's sleep now. Why can't we have poof abilities? Just… poof we're in Turtle bed?"

"That would be amazing." Frank says with a smile, "Just a finger snap and we're there." He pushes the button for the elevator. They make their way to the garage and meet a smiling Jack leaning against Stella.

"Morning, _fratello_ and bärchen! Today's the big day before the big day. You guys excited?" Jack asks excitedly.

"Hi, Jack." Frank says with a sleepy smile, "I'm excited." 

"Ask me again in a few hours," Brock replies only a little gruffly. He hugs his brother. "Please drive."

"Okay, sure…?" 

"Yes, please. My eyes are too blurry." Frank yawns. He hands keys to Jack after popping the trunk. He sets his bags and Brock's into the back, "No girly friend?" 

"No, she flew to see her brother, Pietro, for the holidays. Which is fine because this is a family-only affair," says Jack, getting in and starting the car.

"That's fair. I gotta remember to take my piercings out when we get there." Frank says softly as he buckles into the backseat. He sits quietly and tries not to pass out as the car heads for the airport. It feels like a blur. 

As they unload and head for the plane, Frank can hear his friends and family before he even boards. So much for getting sleep. He can hear his mom and Lindsey talking loudly. He follows Brock into the plane and immediately flushes when the plane erupts into an acapella 'here comes the bride'. He squeezes Brock's hand. His big grumpy bear can handle it.

His mom hugs him, "Hi baby! You look exhausted… did he keep you up all night?" Linda's voice is motherly. Her arm reaches over and hugs Brock.

"Didn't sleep," Frank says softly.

"Brock, why are you boys staying up so late?" She asks.

"Sex." Frank Sr. snorts.

"They are just baby-making…" Lindsey snickers. Frank's eyes fall on her and blink, she looks bigger than he remembered. Not that it means much, she just looks like she had a big lunch and dinner. But she's already showing.

"Practice… makes… perfect," yawns Brock. 

"You are pretty fucking perfect," Frank says with a smirk.

"Who is ready to hit the skies! Get out of the winter misery and see some sand," Ray comments chipperly.

"I know Brock is. But you'll have to ask him after a nap," Jack shakes his head and ushers them to the back of the plane. "Bed, you two. I'll take care of your guests." 

Brock mumbles in Italian his thanks to Jack before making his way to the king-sized bed that was calling his name. Holding Frank's hand tightly, he pulls them onto the mattress. He's too tired to even bother undressing.

Frank turns his body to face Brock's chest as he stretches his legs out. He doesn't get much time to adjust or even get comfortable before he passes out, one hand holding Brock's shirt and the other pushed to his own chest.

When he wakes, the sound of air being pushed through vents and a soft hum greets him. His eyes focus on his husband's shirt in front of him. He yawns and rubs Brock's chest. His voice is raspy as he speaks, "Baby..." 

A low sleepy grumble escapes Brock. He shifts slightly in the bed before turning to his good side and pulling Frank in close. He's not ready to get up. 

"Shouldn't we be with the wedding party?" Frank whispers. His eyes struggle to stay open.

"Our party…. Do what we want," he mumbles. 

Frank nods and melts himself to Brock, "Not like Jack is making us get up." 

He speaks into the pillow, still more than half asleep, "Mmhmm. Benefits. Prince." 

"Am I the princess then..." Frank snickers a little delirious from not enough sleep.

"You're rat. 'm Jasmine," Brock mumbles into the small space between himself and Frank. 

"Right...I should get up and mingle." Frank sighs.

"Rat is Prince Ali," Brock says. 

"So, the prince stays in bed. With big daddy bear." 

"Mmhmm… Warm cuddles. Sleep."

"Little rat is waking up. Big bear needs to keep me in bed." Frank says with closed eyes and a smile.

Without opening his eyes, Brock sleepily reaches out and pulls Frank's body close and tight, he mumbles to him to go to sleep in Italian.

Frank grins and cuddles Brock. The warmth of Brock. A little more sleep wouldn't hurt. Before he can fall into a deep sleep there is a knock on the door. 

"What?" Frank asks sleepily.

"The plane is gonna land soon. You guys might wanna get up." Linda's voice calls through the door.

Frank shifts and groans. "Brock. We are landing. We missed the whole flight." He kisses Brock's hand, he tries to slip out of the bed. 

Groaning, Brock lets him go. He sits up and stretches, feeling his back crack nicely. He yawns, "Need meds 'n food." 

"I can do that. What do you want for food?" Frank leans up and kisses him, "Sleepy Brock is so cute." 

"You mean I'm not cute all the time?" Brock yawns again. "Something warm. Dunno." 

"Do we have warm food or do you wanna wait until the island?" 

"Should. Ask the attendant. Or I will. Meds first." He grabs his cane and uses it to help him stand up. He's not going to bother changing clothing. Or showering. He opens the bedroom door and makes his way towards the front of the plane.

Frank follows him out and smiles at everyone in the cabin. He sits beside his sister. Emma scoots from her mom's lap to Frank's and clings to him, "Hi baby. Are you sleepy?" 

She nods her head and snuggles closer. Frank makes googly eyes at Brock as he speaks to the flight attendant in Italian. He understands a few words but the rest is still a mystery. 

"Rock mad?" Emma asks in a loud whisper.

"No baby." Frank coos at her as he runs fingers into her soft hair. 

"How do you not jump him every time he speaks Italian?" Christine asks.

"It's worse when they both start." Frank nods to Jack who has gravitated to his brother.

"God, listening to the younger Rumlow talk to the flight attendant was… hot." Christa grins.

"Have you heard him speak German?"

Christine nods. 

"He's your brother in law… settle yourself, ma'am." Frank teases, "He's a Rollins, not a Rumlow."

"Whatever. It's all the same." Christine jokes.

"Jack…" Frank casually calls out.

Jack turns and smiles at Frank, "Yes, bärchen?" 

"Chris and I are talking and she says being a Rumlow is like being a Rollins, thoughts?"

"Uh, no. It's totally different," Jack says with a hand on one hip.

"See. Told you." 

"I mean fair but you're still a Rumlow." Christine wrinkles her nose.

"Yes. Of the honorary kind. I'm adopted and proud of it." He moves and takes a seat back on the couch.

"So you're a Rumrollins…" Christine smirks.

"Sure. Or just Rollins who's also a Rumlow."

"Fuck, I'm a Rumlow," Frank says softly, still a little shocked. 

"Yes, bärchen." Jack reaches over and ruffles Frank's hair affectionately.

An announcement over the loudspeaker calls out announcing their touch down. Frank holds the baby and smiles up at Jack.

The flight attendant bows to Brock before disappearing into the front. Brock turns and makes his way to the mini-fridge and pulls out water so he can take his meds. 

"Come sit." Frank pats the cushion next to him, "Your girlfriend missed you." 

"Aren't you the wife though," he teases lightly. He pats Linda on the shoulder and shakes Frank Sr.'s hand before moving to sit down. 

"Be-rock," Emma says softly with a little hand outstretched.

"We have been working on B words." Christine runs fingers in Emma's hair.

"That's great! Good job, Emma," Brock beams at the toddler.

Frank glances at Ray and Christa who are napping quietly.

"Fank you!" She grins

The plane shifts softly as the wheels touch down. Frank grips Brock's wrist and looks up at him.

"We're here," Brock says softly with a smile.

"I get to marry the love of my life." Frank leans over and kisses Brock. 

"Ew," Emma says with a wrinkled forehead.

He kisses him back. "Remarry. With all the pomp and circumstance that comes with it." 

"No. My Be-rock. Frankie… bad." Emma says softly as she shifts from Frank to Brock.

"Frankie is not bad," Brock says softly, putting her in his lap. "Be nice, _patina_." 

"Sometimes," corrects Jack with a snicker. "Frank's not bad only _sometimes_." 

"I'm an angel," Frank says, sticking his tongue out at Jack then grins. 

"Dis my Be-rock." Emma hugs him tight.

"Frank you're about as angelic as Lucifer," Linda adds.

"Ma!"

Linda shrugs, "You get it from your father." 

"Well, you are my little hellcat, _tesoro_." 

"Hellcat is about right, Paco." Frank Sr. snorts.

"You know when the elder Iero chimes in, it's true." Gerard chuckles, he kisses Lindsey's forehead. Her eyes are closed and touching her belly.

"How is Baby Emo doing?" 

"She's making me feel sick." Lindsey groans. 

"I'm surprised Zach is still sleeping," Ray comments.

"He's loving the plane," Brock chuckles.

"He's a true Toro." Ray chuckles. 

"Sprinkle is fine." Kristen smiles at Brock, "How, I don't know."

The flight attendant stands at the entryway, "We're here. Please exit. Enjoy your stay." Her Italian accent is thick as she smiles and offers her hand towards the exit door. Her words are clipped as she glares at Brock.

"Turtles, here we come." Frank Sr. says, taking Emma from Brock's lap so he can get to his feet, "Are you a little turtle, miss?" 

Emma giggles as her sides are tickled.

"Come on poppa bear," Frank says, offering his hand to his husband.

Brock stands with Frank's help. He turns to the flight attendant and tells her to fetch Marco. He smiles at Frank and lets the others disembark.

Frank smiles softly at Brock. He waits patiently with his husband. He looks to Jack then Brock, "Did you want me to wait or go check us in?" 

"Up to you, _amore mio_."

"I can go get the keys for all the bungalows so you guys can handle business…"

"You could. Or you could stay and learn if you'd like. I'm fine with either."

"I'll wait," Frank speaks softly. He is sure he won't understand what's going on but he is a good sport. He tucks his hands in his pocket and quietly waits.

Jack moves so he is standing between his brother and Frank, though slightly behind Frank. He leans forward a little, lips near his brother-in-law's ear. As Brock speaks, Jack translates their conversation.

"You are new. What is your name," Brock asks the flight attendant after she returns with Marco. Marco gives Brock a questioning look but says nothing.

"Simone." Her voice is icy as she stands up straight and crosses her arms over her chest and scowls.

"What seems to be your issue with me and my party, Simone?"

"Nothing." Her eyes roll slightly, "Just Americans." 

"I have dual citizenship and am marrying an American. These people are my friends and family. What does that say about me?"

She wrinkles her nose, "That you're slumming it with trash." Her eyes scan Frank and scowl, "I was told Rumlow is royalty..." 

"Something like that," Brock glances at Marco before returning to look at her. "Who I choose to associate with is none of your concern. You are paid to treat me and my family with the utmost respect and highest regard. It matters not where someone comes from. If they are on this plane, they have earned the trust and protection of my family. And I expected you to treat them as such."

"He's also a child." She glares at Frank again.

"Again, none of your business."

"I'm not a child. I'm damn near thirty." Frank says quietly. Jack translates his words.

"Marco, I am disappointed," Brock sighs.

"It won't happen again, Sir," Marco quickly promises. He's already got a replacement in mind. Maybe he can do a video phone call on the plane while en route to pick up the Don and the missus.

"Don't apologize for me. I stand by it. Why is a prince slumming with a garbage child from America… unless it's a sex thing? Is he a party favor? Does your wife know?" 

"I do not apologize for you, Simone. But for my own failure of bringing you on board. You dishonor me," says Marco.

Jack finishes translating for Frank. He switches to English for a second. "Repeat after me, in Italian….."

"You're fired," Frank tells Simone in Italian, copying the words he hears Jack whisper to him. He looks to Jack then Brock.

"You can't fire me, you disgusting mutt!" She snaps before she spits at Frank and looks towards Jack. She mutters under her breath about him, "Old perverts..." 

Frank wipes his face and frowns. He knows whatever she muttered about Jack is probably going to not be good for her. He steps back slightly, her hatred for him was shocking him. He was confused and hurt. 

"He is my husband and his word is _ **my**_ law. For someone aware of me and my family's station, you have very little care with how you speak to me and my own," Brock snarls.

"Should have taken the job with the Gotti family. At least they would have treated me with respect." She says with venom in her voice, "From what I hear, your station is about to be taken over…"

Brock takes a step forward, radiating pure rage. Before he can speak or do anything, there's a muffled pulse of air. Simone falls to the ground, eyes lifeless and blood pooling around her head. Marco puts away his gun.

"I'll have this cleaned and ready within the hour, Sir," Marco replies. He switches to broken English and says to Frank, "I sorry." 

Frank covers his mouth after he yelped out loud. _So much for smooth and easy…_

"Good. See to it," Brock nods, still speaking Italian. He moves for the exit. Jack nudges Frank and motions for him to follow

"It's okay, Marco. Thank you." Frank says as he follows Jack. His heart is still pounding and his hands are shaking. He turns to Jack and whispers, "Why… did that happen?" 

"She insulted the family, Brock, me, and you."

"She didn't need to see her ancestors…" Frank says softly to himself. He knows that rules are different for them but wow. "She didn't need to spit at me." 

"But she did. She knew who we are and still chose to behave the way she did. To insult one is to insult all. Father would have done worse. Marco did a good thing, ending it quickly for her. Easier for her family," says Jack, following Frank down the stairs. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

"What's worse than giving her first-class tickets to the pearly gate?" Frank asks.

"Sending her body to her family in pieces as a warning," Brock answers softly.

"We may be decent guys but we're still the mob. We still have a reputation, a law, a policy, and a code to uphold," adds Jack.

"What did she mean by someone else is taking over?" 

"Sebastiano," Brock murmurs.

"Is it true?" Frank raises an eyebrow as he takes Brock's hand.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," he replies.

"Okay. Are you ok?" Frank asks. He looks back at Jack. 

He nods, "Besides being pissed off, yeah I'm good, bärchen." 

"So much for having a calm wedding," Frank says softly.

"I'm calm. Are you calm, Brock?" 

"Perfectly."

"Mmhmm…sure," Frank replies skeptically. His hands are still a little shaky. This is a damn omen, good thing we are already hitched. He follows Brock into the island office. The group is waiting for them in the air conditioning.

Their chatter dies down when the three of them enter the room. 

"So, where do I sign to get this party started?" Brock asks with a smirk.

The woman behind the desk hands a pen over and checks his identification against his card before passing out keys. She explains the island and passes out maps. 

"Dinner will be served in an hour. Welcome. My name is Taimani, I am your hostess for your stay. Enjoy!" She says with a smile, "Mr. Rumlow. We do have some questions about the wedding. When you get a moment, I would like to discuss them."

"Of course. Jack, mind helping the group set up? Frank, did you want to go with or stay with me?"

"On it," replies Jack, grabbing the pile of keys and joining the group.

"Uh. I mean it's our wedding, I _should_ stay, right?" Frank asks. He wrinkles his nose, sometimes he'd rather Brock just tell him what to do. Giving him choices was _hard._

"Stay with your husband. Let us set up your suite…" Lindsey says with a smile as she glances at Kristen and Christa.

Frank looks at Brock, then his mom, who is quietly talking to his dad. The other emos have found their way outside and we're talking as a few of them smoked.

Christa tries to juggle the baby and her bag. She groans a little before grumbling, "Shoulda just stayed home..." 

"Frank, go get Baby Floof," Brock says.

"Chris. Lemme help you. I'll hold the baby and help you to your room." Frank says approaching and taking the baby from her. He glances at his husband but decides to be a shit and holds him to himself.

"I don't know where my husband frolicked off too. But I imagine this is what this trip is going to be; boys are here… playtime." Christa sighs. 

Brock goes over and opens the door, screaming into the outside, "Sunshine Raymond Manuel Toro!" 

"Oh, he's in trouble. He's not called me by my full name…" Frank says to Zach. 

Ray trots into the office with a smile, "Hey, what's up?" 

"Go help your wife and quit goofing around. You can play with the other boys later. Scoot." Brock points at Christa, giving Ray a Look.

"Oh… okay. Sorry." Ray nods and turns to his wife. He grabs the bags and kisses her forehead, "Sorry chipmunk." 

"He's not exactly light. Your chunky demon spawn is quite heavy." Christa touches Ray's chest.

Frank hands the baby to Christa, who nods at him. She steps up and kisses Brock's cheek, "Thank you, sweetheart." 

Everyone files out and follows Jack to their room, leaving Frank and Brock alone. Frank stands quietly a step behind Brock. 

"So the entertainment is going to be staying in my guest cabin for the night on your wedding night." The hostess says with a smile, "She–"

"It's a surprise." Frank blurts. It's the one thing he's worked on keeping a secret from Brock.

"The entertainment would like to meet with you before the wedding and discuss the music selection." Taimani says with a nod, "Your cake is uh, well, it's not been as successful as we'd hoped but we are willing to work with you or give you a refund on it." 

Brock is too focused on who the mysterious entertainment is that he failed to fully listen to the rest of Taimani's words. She's expecting a response from him. He doesn't know what to say. "I like cake." 

"What's wrong with it?" Frank takes over wrinkling his forehead at Brock.

"The weather and tiers you requested aren't compatible. It keeps slipping off. It's not a wedding cake but more like a goofy hatter cake." She says with a trace of an accent.

"Would making it shorter help?" Brock asks.

"Yes. I'm not suggesting a sheet cake unless that is fine with you… I'm so very sorry." She says wincing as if she was ready to be yelled at.

"Would a two-tier work? Sheet cake for the bottom layer and a standard 12 inch round on top. Yes it's basically a hat but I still want it decorated and we need enough cake for the groups," says Brock.

"I had an idea… the baker was less than thrilled about it. But a small cake for you two to cut and then a two or three-layer cake for the guests…" she offers.

"Keep the theme and you've got yourself a deal."

"Really?! Awesome. One more thing, who is marrying you? You never let us know…" she flips her paper, "Island traditional or methodist or other?" 

Brock looks to Frank. 

"Methodist is fine." Frank answers. 

"Excellent! That is all I needed. Enjoy your stay, see you at dinner!" She grins at them with bright, white teeth, "You're our first gay wedding..." 

Frank nods and offers his hand to Brock, "It's gonna be the best wedding." _Minus the murder to kick it off…_

"It is. Thank you for your help and clarifying this up." Brock nods, taking Frank's hand and exiting.

"So, what do you wanna do first, Mr. Rumlow?" Frank asks with a little smile as they walk along the sand. 

"Maybe we can check out the villa first? Change into island clothes?"

"Yes, dear." Frank smiles and shakes his head, "It is gorgeous. I didn't know what to expect."

"So far, I'm in heaven. I can't wait to take off my shoes and walk in the sand. It's beautiful. It's exactly what I wanted. I love you."

"I'm glad you like it. I love you too! You're happy?" Frank says taking a step ahead of Brock and turning to walk backward, "I want you to be happy." 

"I'm very happy to be here; with you. With our people. In this place."

"Good! Great!" Frank grins up at him as they approach their villa. He steps to the side and lets Brock open the door and enter first. He is curious if Brock's gonna do a security sweep before he can enter. Though he doesn't have his second cause Jack was off jacking around... He chuckles at his inner joke.

Brock enters the Villa and does a quick sweep of the rooms before turning to Frank. "This place is gorgeous." 

"Can I come in?" Frank snickers as he steps in, "Who is going to come for us here? In paradise…"

"Oh, hush. Come here, you sexy Twinkie." Brock grins and offers his hand to Frankie.

Frank takes his hand as he steps in. He set his bag down. "Is this the one with that big jacuzzi tub?" 

"Yep. Spa bath. Spacious views…"

"I think I have the best view on the whole island," Frank says looking up at Brock. He bites his lip as he grins.

"Hmmm I think I have the better view," Brock purrs.

"Too bad you can't carry me over the threshold like a bad 50s movie." Frank beams up at him, he leans up and kisses Brock, "We should change..." 

"Agreed. Lead the way?" 

"Uh sure… where's the bedroom?" Frank laughs as he glances around. He makes a decision but winds up in the bathroom.

Laughing, Brock follows Frank around, keeping their hands linked together. 

"This is the uh, the bathroom. It's got a lot of shower heads…" Frank snickers. He takes the next door and finds the bedroom, "This is where the magic happens..." 

"Wanna rub the lamp for a little extra magic?" Brock smirks. "Though if the carpet moves, I'm out of here. That's not magic, that's haunted."

Frank stops and looks at Brock before laughing. He wraps his arms around Brock's middle and squeezes, "I fucking love you." 

"And I love fucking you. I mean I fucking love you too," he snickers in reply.

"Is this bed gonna be sturdy enough?" Frank asks as he takes a step backward to it. He pulls Brock with him, "Cause we both know I love fucking you too…and getting fucked by you."

He pulls his shirt off and drops it on the bed. He grins up at Brock before stepping away and to his suitcase. He pulls a tank top and shorts out. He changes quickly and watches the water outside the window. The teal waters don't seem real like he was going to wake up back in Jersey in his shit hole apartment. He waits for Brock to change and explores the house more. He steps out on the veranda and takes a deep breath in. The natural sounds are like instant mood stabilizers, calming the anxiety in his guts. 

"Did you want to go swimming? Take a walk on the beach?" Brock asks from behind Frank. He's shirtless and only wearing his underwear, just in case.

"Oh. Well, both really..." Frank turns and a slow smile creeps over his lips, "What do _you_ wanna do?" 

"Oh! That reminds me! I have a wedding present for you!" Frank grins as he steps into the room. He pulls a small box from his suitcase and holds it in his hand.

"What's this," Brock asks, picking up the little box. He opens it.

"We always say we need a lube bracelet but that's not a thing but it is a necklace," Frank says softly as he watches Brock's face. The ornate silver surrounds a small glass vial, "And it's refillable." 

"It's not a like for real thing but I bought them months ago and they came just before we left… it's dumb. I know. I'm sorry, I thought it was cute." Frank rambles, "I can send it back." 

"Wait, so there's lube in there?" Brock holds up the necklace to the light and watches the iridescent colors swirl and glisten.

"Yeah, I put our lube in it." Frank looks at his face, "It's a dumb gift."

"I fucking love it," Brock says, breaking into a wide grin. He slips it over his head before pulling Frank into a tight hug and kissing him.

"Yeah?" Frank rubs his neck, "I wasn't sure, but we always say we need to invest in this." 

"We could start a business," grins Brock. "I'm very good at running a business. Terrible at coming up with names though." 

"That's okay. We can worry about it later. Let's go swimming. That water is too pretty." Frank wraps his arms around Brock, "Maybe after dinner go for a walk on the beach?"

"That sounds perfect. Is this lube water safe?" Brock asks with a devilish grin.

"Of course it is." Frank says with a satisfied nod, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Mmhmm. Switch into swim trunks," Brock says with a pat on Frank's ass.

"Yes sir!" Frank replies with a grin. He moves for his swim trunks in his suitcase and quickly changes into them, "Ready when you are!" 

“Oh baby, I was ready the moment we landed,” Brock smirks. He switched his underwear for swim trunks at the same time as Frank. He offers his hand to his husband. “Shall we?”

Frank takes his hand and follows him eager to get into that water. They quickly dart across the warm white sand and into the even warmer water. Brock stops them just as the water brushes their toes in the sand. He pulls Frank into his embrace, kissing him deeply.

Frank lets his body melt in Brock's arms. He's never loved another person as much as he loves Brock. "How did I get this lucky?" Frank asks as he grins up at Brock. He presses his lips to Brock's chest. 

“Oh, darling, I’ve been asking myself that same question for months.” Brock grins down at Franke before kissing him again. He runs his hands over his back and chest to rest on his hips. 

"We are finally here. Like I didn't think it would ever get here." Frank runs his hand over Brock's chest.

“Really?” Brock teases with a cocksure grin, “You doubted me that much?”

"What? No!" Frank blinks at Brock, "I meant that time was going by slow." 

“I was teasing, baby,” Brock chuckles. He kisses him briefly before pulling back with a wide grin. 

"Oh… okay!" Frank smiles softly, "So we have an entire island. An entire blue lagoon to ourselves."

“Mmhmm… Wanna get in? Get wet…” Brock leans down and kisses him, deep. “Maybe a little messy. A little loud. A little rough.”

"A little messy, huh? Like.. that kinda messy?" Frank grins wide, "And you know I am loud."

“Oh, you know I’m never gonna say no to _that_ kinda messy. Or how perfectly vocal you are.” Brock kisses him again. 

"Here.. or further out." 

“Let’s start here in the sand. Lie you down. Make out so much you start to squirm. Until you can’t take it anymore.”

"Oh. You have a plan..." Frank beams up.

“I _always_ have a plan. Because I always want you. And I’m usually thinking about how I can get you to myself.” 

Frank sits on the sand and motions for Brock to come. "It doesn't take much to get me alone." 

Brock slowly kneels and crawls so he’s covering Frank’s body with his own. He kisses him before replying. “It doesn’t take much for me to come either. I might be able to keep up with your _teenage libido_. Wanna test that out?”

"Hell yes, I do!" Frank wraps his arms around Brock's neck, "I know I can keep you _coming_ back for more." He leans up and kisses Brock deeply.

Brock moans into the kiss, hips rolling into Frank. “Oh, you could?”

"I can." 

“Best prove it then, huh?”

"Touch me..." 

“Oh but I _am_ ,” Brock purrs out, rolling his hips against Frank. His fingers curl into the sand for more leverage.

Frank kisses Brock as he grinds back against him. The pushing from his husband makes him moan softly, "I have a few tricks up my sleeve to keep you _coming_ back for more..." 

“Oh tell me more.”

"I'd much rather show you." Frank grins. The next push from Brock, he moves underneath his husband. The movement makes him moan softly. 

“Yes, please,” Brock huffs out. He kisses him deeply.

Frank rolls his hips into Brock and grinds before he squirms, "I also know you're easily persuaded by a little spice too." He scoots down slightly and bites, not too hard, Brock's pec before moving back up to kiss him. 

“You know me _so_ well…. A little spice to keep me _coming_ back? Is that all you got, hellcat?”

"I can't do what I want… you have to look pretty for our wedding." Frank says with a sly smile, "Unless you want me to leave _my_ mark?" 

"Little hellcat does like to bite, dontcha?"

"You fucking know it. I know you like it too… you want a spicy little _gattino._ " Frank leans up to kiss him. He bites Brock's lip and pulls, "I know you also like when I use my mouth… but not right now… later." He grinds into Brock before shimmying slightly under him.

"Spicy is purrfect," Brock grins. A soft exhale of a moan escapes at Frank's movement.

"I have a big trick. Fuck but I like what I'm doing… right now." Frank speaks softly as he keeps moving, "Unless you want it." 

"I want you to hold it for as long as you can until you are begging for release. Desperate and oh so needy. I want you to lose control this time. Just like before. Is that okay?"

"That's more than ok." Frank leans up and kisses him, "You know… this does things for me. We can be caught doing this." 

"I know," Brock grins wide. "Just imagine if one of your parents or siblings caught us. Not now, but when you are bucking hard against me to let you _go_ and I don't. Or when I'm fucking you after you've soaked us both." Brock's hips subconsciously buck at his words. He wouldn't ever make Frank wet in public on purpose but the _idea_ did wonders to him. The fantasy of Frank not being able to hold it in a public place; in front of people or something… makes a deep groan reverberate in his chest.

Frank moans at the idea. His hips push up into Brock as he kisses his husband deeper, "Them seeing me take your cock like a filthy whore. Begging you to make me cum."

"With my hand at your throat and my teeth marks all over your pretty pale skin," Brock whispers, kissing him hard.

"Please. Fuck I want that!" Frank moans softly into his ear, "I wanna be marked up. I love you!" He rolls into Brock harder, the idea makes him harden quickly.

It's a perfect idea to use the time it'll take to mark up Frank against his husband. The longer they wait, the more Frank will need to go. He rolls his hips and is met with a matching hard length. This poses a problem. Guess he needs to improvise or discard the first phase of his plan. That part can always happen later.

He moves to suck and bite hard on Frank's collarbone. Fingers toy with one of Frank's nipples. Pinching at the same time as his bites.

Frank whines at the sting and pressure. His hips push into Brock again, "Oh my, holy shit baby!" 

When there's a little purple mark on his collarbone, Brock feels satisfied that it'll stay. He moves to the other side and works on making its twin. He bites this one harder, for good measure. 

Frank's fingers run through Brock's hair before he scrapes the nails down his scalp, "Mark me up. I want everyone to see it… fuck, Brock." He pants out as he grinds into his husband.

Brock moves down his boy's body leaving a trail of bites, nips, and even nail marks. When he gets to the doves, Brock finds himself biting harder than ever on Frank's hip. Worrying at the flesh with his teeth. It has been a while since he had claimed his husband and Brock realizes that he missed seeing his marks. Just as much as Frank, it seemed.

"Oh shit!" Frank hisses as he arches his lower back into his husband. "I love you. I love you so much." 

"Missed this," Brock says in between lavishing kisses and slow sweeps of his tongue across the angry red mark. "Missed the doves. Missed marking them up. Making them mine. Making _you_ mine." 

"I miss it too! I miss your teeth on my skin. The way it looks. I'm yours… wanna show it." His thoughts are jumbled as he desperately pushes against Brock.

"Yeah?" He asks huskily, blowing across his mark of art. He's never been more thankful Frank brought the little swim shorts with them. He loves how little they are and how they accentuate Frank's Twinkie body and perfect ass. Slowly he works his way back up Frankie's body, adding more lovebites until he's kissing his hubby hard.

Frank moans against his lips, "Yes. Please." He begs softly before kissing harder again.

"Then show me," he whispers in reply.

"Fuck me…please" Frank begs. He wants Brock to tell him no. To keep him desperate.

"No. Not yet. Gonna mark you up more," Brock growls against Frank's neck. He hasn't made Scorpio angry in a long time...

"Yes please! Fuck please!" 

Brock hums, nipping at Scorpio's tail. "Hmm which is it? Fuck you or mark you?" 

"Shit. Uh. Fuck. Oh god...mark me. Fucking claim me… mark me up." Frank pants out as he runs his nails across Brock’s back.

Brock moans at Frank's nails on his skin. His back arched in response, sucking harder on Scorpio. Nipping his little claws. Rolling his hips into Frank.

Frank moans louder, "Bruise me. Make me cum from it… I'm a good little pain slut." 

"No."

"Why?! Brock, please!" Whining as he bucks up into him. He needs relief. He can feel the heaviness in his cock that begged to be satisfied. A little voice in his ear urges him to push buttons.

"Because I said so," Brock purrs. He goes back to making Scorpio a pretty purple color.

"I...oh. Fuck." Frank moans as his hand slips down his love's side and into Brock's swim trunks. He runs fingers over Brock's cock as he enjoys the feeling of the mouth on his neck.

Moaning deep, Brock pulls away from Scorpio to frantically kiss Frank. The fingers on his dick send waves of pleasure throughout his body. Another groan rips through him. 

Frank wraps his fingers around Brock's cock and gives him lazy strokes as he kisses him deeper. Knowing that he just needs to wind up Brock more and he can get what he wants. 

"I bet… shit. I could find an island girl to help me cum… if you can't." Frank whispers in Brock's ear.

"And I bet I could find an island twink who could beg better than you," he growls. "Who could probably squirm and fight me better. "

"Nobodys better than me…" Frank narrows his eyes as he gives Brock's cock a squeeze. He wants a fight, he will get one. He pushes his hips against Brock. The hand that had been in his shorts runs up his chest with his fingers finding a nipple and pinching. He squirms and pushes at his love, "Nobody is gonna fit your cock like I do… if you'd fuck me, you'd know that."

Shuddering, Brock moans, jerking hard against Frank. His hands scramble at Frank's hips. He needs the tiny shorts off of him _now_. Ripping the fabric off, he sets them aside before standing and pulling Frank up and off the sand. He sheds his swim trunks and tosses them with Frankie's before pulling them both into the water. He needs to be able to stand and still deep enough to lift Frankie. Once the water is chest high, he turns and kisses Frankie.

Frank enjoys the kiss from Brock. The water is going to be over his head so he treads water. He kisses Brock again and extends his arms around his neck. "I can't touch down." 

"It's okay. You're aren't going to have to. Time to be a real koala," Brock says before lifting him. The water made him near weightless. He holds Frank tight and wraps his legs around his stomach. Higher than the goal but only temporarily.

"Oh. Yeah. Clingy sex?" Frank asks with a smirk. God, he misses koala time. He needs it. He kisses Brock softly before stroking the back of his neck, "I always wanna be your koala." 

"I love you being my koala. I wanna do this as much as we can while we are here. Every time we are in the water is koala time. Hang tight." Brock lets Frank go, waiting for a moment in case he slides or falls. When Frankie stays, he grins and pulls the little vial of lube off his neck. Opening it, he squirts it on his hand and reaches down to lube his cock. Hopefully, this works… when he's as ready as he can be, he grabs Frankie and lowers him down onto his dick. A moan rumbles through him. "Fuck baby." 

"God yes!" Frank moans out, his head drops to Brock's shoulder. He turns slightly and kisses Brock's skin, "Fuck you feel so good in me." 

"Love how tight you are. Fuck, I love you," Brock moans, turning his head and capturing Frankie's lips with his own. He uses the water's motion to slowly bounce Frankie on his cock.

"Love you too!" Frank breathes into Brock's skin, "Fuck your dick is so big. Feels so good..." His hands grip Brock's skin tighter. 

Kissing him deeply, Brock holds him tighter and slowly bounces Frank faster. The water laps at his skin. The waves from their lovemaking clash with the natural motion of the ocean. It causes the spray to rise and splash them.

Frank lets out a small giggle. He wipes the water from Brock's cheek before a moan pushes out from his throat, "Fuck baby… oh fuck! I love you. I never want your cock out of me! Fuck!" 

"Fuck you're so amazing," Brock groans. It was weird for him to do this standing without anything to pin Frank to. He has to constantly adjust his muscles in his legs to keep himself stationary. Thankfully, it's only in his calves and feet. He shifts a little in the water and attacks Frank's neck, pulling him down harder on his cock.

"Oh fuck!" Frank cries out as he grips on to Brock tighter. He's not gonna last. Fuck, he's gonna come too soon. "Baby that's it! Fuck, that's it!" 

"Yeah?" Brock growls, "You gonna come for me? Gonna scream my name?" His hips meet his hands and he pulls Frankie down faster. He's chasing both of their highs now.

"Yes! Fuck, Brock yes!" Frank cries out. He moans as his head drops back as he moans again. "Fuck me, oh god deeper! Fuck, Brock!" Brock pushes inside of him and his legs begin to shake. His mouth presses to Brock's throat then chest as he groans against the damp skin. That tight building feeling in him breaks as he comes with a cry of his husband's name.

Brock watches Frank fall apart and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed in this world. He loves watching his husband's face twist and contort from the waves of pleasure. It was his favorite thing to see. Even more thrilling was the knowledge that he made his husband come and come fast. He stills his movements to avoid overstimulating him; kissing him instead.

Frank's lower half is still shaking as he clenches around Brock. He knows his husband didn't come. He also knows he can get him off. With a little moan and a wrinkled forehead, he makes little rises and falls on the dick that was impaling him. The feeling of the water hitting his skin as he rocks slowly only adds to the feeling. A hand turns Brock's face to his and he kisses him slow and passionately.

Groaning deep, Brock finds the pleasure mounting inside him. Building like blocks only to come tumbling down with one well-placed clench of Frankie's ass around his cock. The muscles in his groin clench and spasm as he cums. His eyes roll back into his head at the feeling and he clings to his husband to keep him grounded. He pants softly against his shoulder. "Fuck..." 

"Love you," Frank whispers in Brock's ear. Once he feels Brock's last mirco push into him he releases his hold on Brock's cock. He strokes the damp hair on the back of his love's neck. A thought hits him, "Baby..." 

"Hmm?" He really can't function just yet. He should let Frankie go.

"I don't have pants to wear to the room… house thing." 

"Swim trunks…?" He's confused. Why is Frank worried about pants?

"Yea… did you rip them?" Frank asks, placing soft kisses between each word on his neck and shoulder.

"No. I was good this time," he replies in a soft and lazy voice. He's sleepy now.

"We should head back and nap on the veranda..." Frank says softly into Brock's ear. He holds onto Brock tighter before he lifts himself off his husband's dick. He strokes Brock's neck and back with fingertips, "Then a sexy shower and dinner..." 

"I like the sound of that. There's a hammock…." Slowly he trudges towards shore until he can set Frankie down and not let his husband drown. After checking to make sure they were still alone, Brock strides onto the sand naked and grabs their dry swim trunks. He slides his on and watches as Frank does the same. They make their way back to their villa. The bright sun and dry heat quickly warms them and soaks up the water from their bodies.

Brock opens the door for Frankie. "I need some water. Want some?" 

"Water sounds fantastic," Frank says as he enters their living quarters. He watches Brock stride to the kitchen. Following behind him, he comments with a smile, "It's a nice view." His eyes are fixed on Brock. Somehow, he was still twitterpated

"This place is awesome," Brock agrees, bringing back a glass of water for Frank and offering it to him.

"It really is. I knew it was gonna be beautiful but this… this is amazing." Frank says taking the glass then kissing his cheek.

"You are going to love Capri. Way more people than here but still has amazing views. Similar climate. I can see myself living here."

"Seriously. It's not too hot. It's beautiful and this place brings a smile out in you that I have never seen…" Frank replies as he wraps his arms around his husband. 

"Not to mention I've got all of my favorite people here, minus a few others. This is a paradise for me." Brock leans down and kisses Frank softly.

"Minus a few others?" Frank tilts his head before pecking Brock's lips, "I am just happy everything is perfect. This is exactly what I want for this trip."

A quiet knock on the door pulls Frank's attention from his husband. He looks to Brock. 

"Tell them to go away," Brock grumbles. He wants a nap.

"Crabby." Frank pokes his side before stepping away. He opens the door to a smiling man in a clean crisp white uniform.

"Hello, I have some complimentary items for the room. Robes, slippers, and a fruit tray for the happy couple." He says with an accent, "There was a delivery for a Mr. B. Rumlow as well."

"Oh, come in." Frank looks back at Brock.

The young man wheels a cart into the room. He places the robes on the small couch and two sets of slippers on the floor below it. He retrieves the tray of fruit and places it on the table. He picks up the package and hands it to Frank. He nods then makes a quick exit. 

Frank turns to his husband and hands the box to Brock, "What didja order?" 

"I didn't order anything," Brock shakes his head.

"Oh. Maybe… who would know we're here?" Frank asks softly. The hairs rise on his neck in alarm. "Open it..." 

Brock carefully approaches the package, clearly thinking the same thing as his husband. There was no way Sebastiano knew they were here. His father wouldn't betray him like that. Picking up the box, he presses his ear to it and closes his eyes. Focusing as he tries to listen for the telltale sound of ticking. He hears nothing other than the sound of his heart beating loud. Not a bomb then. That only mildly comforted him. A list of poisons and toxins enter his mind. Making a snap decision, he grabs a towel and wraps it around his face. He motions for Frank to do the same as he grabs a knife and moves to cut the box. Once he's sure they are as protected as they can be, he slices through the tape and waits for something to exude from the flaps. He doesn't see or smell anything but that doesn't mean much. There were plenty of odorless and tasteless gasses that would kill them. Slowly he pulls back one of the flaps. Seeing a glint of metal under the lights, he opens it the rest of the way. 

"What is it?" Frank whispers as if his words might set off something.

The box was a sex gift pack. Neatly packaged in little containers was a blindfold, wrist ties, candles, lube, a box of sex chocolates, boner pills, a c-ring, massage oil, and a note. Brock laughs at himself and sets aside the towel to pick up the note to read it.

_Brock and Frank,_

_We are sure you two will have all this at home but here is a portable sex box for your honeymoon. Try not to wake the neighbors._

_Love,_

_Ray, Gee, Mike, and Bob_

Laughing, he shows the note to Frankie and digs into the box, checking out its contents. "The boys sent us a present." 

"Don't wake the neighbors! Rude!" Frank chuckles and picks up the boner pills, "Dick pills?" 

"I am not that old!" Brock laughs, "And _they_ are the neighbors!"

"Wonder if these taste good?" Frank asks as he picks up the chocolates, "There are two dick pills… it's probably for both of us to take. But this blindfold is interesting."

He bites his tongue and pretends to cover his eyes. 

"That looks pretty on you. How's it feel?" Brock purrs.

"Dark." Frank grins, "Are we gonna use these?" He flips the blindfold up and kisses his husband. 

"Maybe. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah, if you do." Frank smiles. 

"Alright," Brock says, grinning. "I like the sound of that. With the handcuffs, maybe?"

"Yes of course with handcuffs!"

"Deal." Brock reaches down and opens the box of chocolates. Taking a bite, he makes a face and puts it back. 

"Not Brock approved?" 

"Not humanity approved. This tastes terrible. So gross." He offers the box. "You should try this." 

"It's gross… try it." Frank laughs. He takes a bite and gives Brock a look, "It's not that bad." 

"Then this is all yours. I'm not eating that. Tastes like burnt hair and mud."

"Oh, hush. It's not that bad. You silly snob." Frank laughs and kisses Brock.

"To _you_ maybe it's not. But to _me_ , it tastes like burnt hair and mud. You eat it. I'll eat you," Brock says with a grin before he kisses Frank. He tugs on his hubby's hand. "Naptime. In the hammock or this gorgeous bed?" 

"Yes please, to the nap. Location doesn't matter to me. But this nice bed will allow us to sleep naked… just adding that." Frank replies, "And I will never turn down the offer of being eaten by you."

"Bed it is then," grins Brock.

Frank strips off the shorts and pulls Brock to bed. He snuggles down in the sheets and kisses his husband's cheek before turning his back to Brock and pressing his butt into him. Warm arms wrap around him and keep him feeling safe. 

It's not long before the sound of knocking stirs him from his sleep. The bungalow is pitch black. "Babe..." Frank says softly.

Waking with a sharp inhale and a groan, Brock opens his eyes and blinks blearily. He notes the room is blindingly dark and wonders just how long they slept for. Another knock at the door makes Brock yawn and slide out of the bed. He throws on his underwear and the first pair of shorts he finds in his duffle before making his way to the door.

He calls out into the night, "Who is it?" 

"Sunshine. You coming to dinner?" Ray says through the door.

"Yeah. We fell asleep..." Frank answers softly.

Brock opens the door, smiling at his Floof Brother. He steps back and lets him in.

"Hello, boys! You guys frolicked hard enough you slept through sunset." Ray chuckles. 

"Planes, sun, and the sea musta wiped us out." Frank chuckles.

"Well, sex in the ocean is taxing too." Ray snorts. Frank's face turns pink as he pulls on his t-shirt, "Your mother suggests maybe finding a more secluded spot to frolic."

"I'll keep that in mind," Brock grins. He's so happy to see Sunshine. Because he slept on the plane, he didn't get the chance to socialize with his favorite. He moves a step closer.

"Zach has been the happiest baby since we landed. No fussing, he's kinda interacting, I don't know what it is but I am loving it." Ray grins wide. He opens his arms to hug his brother.

He loves that Sunshine knows what he wants and he doesn't have to ask. He happily hugs Sunshine tight, lingering into the hug. He turns his head into Sunshine's neck. He always loves the way his brother smells. His hugs were amazing. It was even better since he was shirtless because then it meant he could feel Sunshine's hands on his back. Heaving a happy but heavy sigh, he pulls away. He grins again, "It's the weather. Makes everybody happy." 

"It does. Are you boys ready?" Ray asks, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Do I have to put a shirt on? Like… ever?" Brock asks.

"Do you want to be eaten by mosquitoes?" Ray asks. 

Brock hesitates. Back home, he rarely wore shirts. Out in public was a different thing, but if he was outside the villa, he was shirtless. Usually in the water or sunbathing. Mosquitoes never bit him. But that was probably due to his mother's garden. She used plants as a way of controlling pests. That probably wouldn't be the case here. He nods and grabs a tee, slipping out over his head. He's not wearing shoes though.

Ray notices the box, "So you got a package, huh?" 

"Yeah. Thanks for it. It's a lot better than what I thought it was," Brock nods.

"Dick pills?" Frank takes Brock's hand and they head towards the dining area.

"I mean, we want you guys to practice baby-making. So… to be fair that was Bob and Jack's contribution."

"Not our sweet Jacky." Frank pretends to be offended.

"He suggested it, probably as a joke but you know." Ray shrugs.

"Sounds like my brother," Brock sighs and shakes his head.

As they approach the eating area, there's a warm glow from string lights draped over the big tables, set up with the entire family sitting around talking and laughing. The smell of food greets them and makes Frank's stomach grumble. _Yeah, dummy. You didn't eat anything except aphrodisiac chocolate and coffee. You're hungry._

"Frankie! Brock!" Gerard calls out and stands awkwardly. Lindsey tugs his shirt and rolls her eyes.

"Hey fellas, how are you feeling?" Bob asks with a grin.

"Briney?" Mike jokes and gets slapped by Kristen.

"Starving," Brock says. "Worked up a real good appetite. Oh, thank you boys for the wedding gift. It's very nice."

Brock makes a happy noise and makes a beeline right for Baby Floof. He kisses Christa on the cheek and steals the infant. Picking him up, he grins wider and kisses the baby's cheek. "Hi, my love. How's my favorite nephew? I hear you've been a good boy today!"

The baby squirms a little and opens his mouth as he stares at Brock. The corner of his lips rises as he watches the human over him. 

"He's been a happy baby. Cooing and squawking. It's been nice." Christa says softly.

"He loves the island life. Just like his bestest Uncle. Yes he does," Brock says in a sing-song voice to Baby Floof. He gently rocks him. 

"No!" Emma shouts in her little voice. Her arms cross over her chest, "I'm baby! I love of hims life!"

Christine turns to Emma and shushes her.

"I'm the baby!" Emma whines and slides from her chair and plops onto the floor.

"Amelia Rose," Christine speaks with a distinct motherly voice. It means business. 

Frank tenses as he takes a seat next to his dad, "You ready for this… she sounds like mom."

"Scary, innit?" Frank Sr. says softly. He puts an arm around his son and hugs him, "How you feelin' Paco?" 

"Wait. Emma isn't her name?" Brock laughs. He walks around the table, still holding the baby, over to Christine and Emma.

"Full name is Amelia. But that's only when she's in trouble." Christine looks up at him.

"Ah." Brock carefully kneels at Emma's level, using the chair as leverage and balance. He's been trying to use less with the cane the last week or so. He wants to be able to walk down the aisle unassisted tomorrow. 

Emma sniffles as she wipes her eyes. 

He reaches out and taps her gently to get her attention, "Emma, look at me, love." 

She turns her head. Her little cheeks are stained a pink color from playing in the sunshine and compliments her little pink and white floral sundress. She frowns hard at Brock as a tear rolls down her cheek.

Brock speaks gently but firm, "I need you to understand something for me. Just because I pay attention to the baby, doesn't mean I don't love you. Frankie's my baby, and I always love him. You'll always be my best girl. But you are growing up. You're gonna be a big girl now. Babies don't do ballet. Big girls do. And you like ballet, yeah?"

Emma nods with a sniffle, "But I'm baby…"

"So is Frankie. And him," Brock looks at the baby in his arms. 

"He not cute." She frowns. 

"He is to me. And to his mommy and daddy. You two are family, _patatina_."

Emma frowns.

"You're getting your dress all dirty." Christine says softly, "Come here, kitten." 

"And there's mom's softness," Frank comments. 

Emma frowns at Brock as she slowly stands up. 

"Baby Zach doesn't get to be a part of the wedding tomorrow… you do." Frank reminds her, "You're very important."

"He's right. You gotta walk down the aisle and toss the flowers and give us the rings," Brock nods. "No matter what, you're still my best girl. Hug?" 

She gives him a sad pathetic face before her arms open up to him. 

He pulls her in with one arm and hugs her. "Alright, little drama mama. I love you. You'll be okay. Gimme kisses and get back into your seat so we can eat."

Emma hugs him tight and kisses his cheek. 

"Say you're sorry, baby." Linda encourages firmly.

"I sorry, Be-rock." 

"Thank you, baby girl." He carefully stands, again pulling on the chair for leverage. Ruffling her hair gently to not mess it up further, he moves back to his chair, depositing the baby into Christa's arms. He felt kind of weird keeping the infant now. He'll get his baby fix later. He didn't want to add fire to a bomb he just diffused. Christa touches Brock's hand before he leaves her side. 

Frank takes Brock's hand after he settles down. "Love you," Frank whispers in his ear.

"Love you too, baby," he whispers back.

"What are we drinking, boys? There's wine, beer… tea. Uh, water." Linda asks, "The staff is bringing the food out soon. I made sure there was Frank friendly food." 

"I'll take a glass of wine," Frank says softly. He looks up at Brock with a smile.

"You know what, I'm going to drink wine tonight and tomorrow. It's my wedding dangit," Brock says with a firm nod. How bad can a little wine be?

Linda pours a glass of white for Frank then looks to Brock, "White or red?" 

"What are we eating?" The food choice determines the wine. Though he usually drank red.

"Fish and pork. But there's a vegetarian option." 

"White. Riesling or Chardonnay if they have it. It's probably Chardonnay."

"Brock is a Chard Bard." Ray chuckles. 

Linda pours the chardonnay for Brock and hands it to him.

"The first day of being on the road, Brock rolls up with two bags full of wine." Ray says with a little smile, "This big tan Italian fucker is stocking up the bus to deal with our nonsense." 

"He didn't drink it all…" Frank defends Brock, "But he shoulda invested in whiskey to put up with us."

"I didn't drink it all _at once_ and I had help a few times," Brock chuckles. "I drink… I normally drink wine like water. Not so much this last year. Almost a whole year."

"Yeah, you did. Wine and movies!" Lindsey pipes up.

"It's so strange to remember back to the first day we met…" Ray smiles.

"Oh god! Frank’s apartment!" Gerard says softly. 

"You mean that bread box?" Linda snorts.

"How many times did you get mugged, Frankie?" Frank Sr. asks.

"Shush you two." Frank rolls his eyes.

"I've never been more thankful I didn't shoot you, Sunshine." Brock gives him a fond look. "That day changed my life. I got a best friend and a brother out of it. And so much more."

"A family," Frank says quietly as he runs his thumb over the top of Brock's hand.

"Oh, that's that first day Frankie called me from your apartment." Linda chimes in, "I remember that!"

"We knew that it was over for Frankie," Christine comments.

Frank's cheeks flush slightly. He remembers that call.

"It was over for me the moment I ran into him. Quite literally. Never thought I'd ever see him again. Juneau was a character but putting up with her was worth stealing him away." Brock kisses the back of Frank's hand in their intertwined fingers.

"The first time I saw Frank, I was more than a little skeptical," Jack says, pushing up his glasses. "But he won me over quickly." 

"I did not like Jack the first time we met." Frank laughs, "I understand his hesitation _now_. But I felt like I had to prove that I was not a little street rat."

"Oh, you're always gonna be a street rat, Franklin." Gerard chuckles.

"But once Jack and I talked, I knew he was a good dude. I'm more than lucky to have him in my life, he's my brother."

The staff brings in dishes of food. A platter of fish and pork. A large bowl of salad is placed in front of Frank with what looks like berries and croutons. A small cruet of dressing. A young woman with bright eyes double-checks the table’s needs before disappearing into the back of the building.

The table goes quiet as everyone eats. Frank wrinkles his nose at the fish and quietly eats his salad. 

"Over the last year, what's been your favorite moment?" Christine asks looking at Brock then Frank.

"As cheesy as this is, my favorite moment is the first day we met," Brock says. 

Frank grins up at Brock, "Well, I think I'm gonna turn the cheese up. It was one of the first mornings I stayed at Brock's. We woke up in the morning and got coffee then went to the park next door. It's the quiet moments, just him and I. It's when I knew I never wanted to leave him." 

"Is that our second date? At the Central Park Zoo?" Brock grins at the memory. Sure it had a hiccup but they ended it great.

"It was with our gay penguin friends." Frank smiles wide at Brock. He rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"You two are gross..." Christa teases.

"What are you talking about, gay penguins?" Frank Sr. asks.

"It was brought to my attention that there is a pair of penguins that have been documented courting each other. They are both male penguins. They are defying nature," grins Brock as he eats his fish.

"We happened to be kissing and one of the penguins kept shouting at us." Frank giggles, "Little jealous penguin."

"Rude dude to boot," snorts Brock.

"I have a favorite moment." Mike comments.

Frank looks at him and gives him a nod.

"Chocolate-covered gummy bears."

Brock cracks up. "Oh my god." 

"You know you love them." Mike laughs before taking a sip of his beer.

"Mmmm… the grocery store in Arizona I think… yeah that's my favorite moment," Bob says covering his mouth.

"The one where I got left behind?" Ray chimes in.

"Dad!" Bob laughs.

"Shut up," Brock laughs. "Ok, now you got me thinking about California…. And the beach fiasco."

"Oh my god!" Frank covered his face. He laughs hard.

"Oh fuck I forgot about that!" Mike pipes up.

"What happened?" Christine asks with a tilted head.

"Jeanette. She stalked Frank. Hit on poor Jack," Brock starts giggling.

"Jack was all in. There's no poor Jack!" Ray laughs.

"I was swindled! Damn right it's poor Jack," Jack playfully bangs his fist on the table.

"You were thinking with Little Jack. It happens to the best of us." Frank Sr. chuckles.

"Thanks, Dad," Jack says to Frank Sr.

"So she shows up and starts acting like her ugly self. So Brock had concocted a plan." Ray sets up Brock. 

Frank's hand rests on Brock's knee and strokes his skin. Brock covers his face with his free hand, face warming up.

"The plan worked but it was…. Rather unorthodox," Brock says.

"We ended up all making out with Brock..." Ray snorts, "Unorthodox is an understatement."

"I remember being so mad that day." Frank sighs, "But it ended up being a great day."

"Filming Ghost of You was fun." Gerard comments.

"Brock saved me from drowning!" Ray grins. Christa huffs and elbows Ray.

"He did," nods Jack. "Don't think I've ever seen Brock dive into the lake that fast before."

"He did!" Ray comments.

"After I got shot Brock hugged me the tightest I've ever been hugged." Mike smiles at his friend.

"Even though I knew it was fake, it was still a little too close to home for me," Brock says softly.

"Mmm, what about Ray's birthday. That was a fun night!" Lindsey says softly.

"When you became a _Godfather._ " Frank giggles. 

Linda coughs a little and glares at Frank.

"Do you still have the key chain?" Christa asks.

Brock nods, "On my keys. I take it everywhere."

"The first time we talked is always one of my favorite memories," Linda adds. She leans into Frank Sr.

"We've had a lot of interesting things happen on tour. A lot of heavy and bad times. But it only makes the good times more amazing and precious. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you guys," Brock says to the group. 

"I am thankful that you were there for almost all of it." Frank smiles softly.

"I had plans to get Brock into the snow." Ray chuckles.

"Horses." Bob comments, "We should go horseback riding."

"I'd rather not..." Brock trails off with a slight lip curl. Just because he was taught how to ride didn't mean he enjoyed it. "Snorkeling though…. Yes." 

"Yeah. That does sound fun." Bob chuckles.

"What's next for you two?" Frank Sr. asks.

"We bought a house." Frank comments, "Maybe a dog…" he tries to sneak it in with a little devilish smile.

"We bought a plot of land that's huge. Just under 2 acres. It's got a 6 bedroom 6 bath house. Only needs a few renovations. And it's only 40 minutes from where we are currently living. It's in the Livingston township in Jersey."

"It's really pretty!" Frank adds, "I'm excited when it's all done."

"Livingston isn't far from us..." Linda raises her eyebrows.

"Settle down, Linda. Give the boys space." Frank Sr. chuckles.

"Oh! Livingston...my new place is in Essex Fells! We're gonna be neighbors!" Christine says excitedly.

"When did you do this?" Ray asks, confused.

"Oh, Brock finally gets to be a true New Jersian..." Christa grins.

"Linda, did you speak with Dad Frank about what I suggested the last time we spoke about moving?" Brock asks Linda while taking a drink of his wine.

"We did. But… there are some things we need to nail down before we say yes or no." Linda says with a smile.

"Papers were signed yesterday, Sunshine." Brock turns to Linda, "What kind of things?"

"We want to help pay for the build. We also don't want to intrude on you boys." Linda says with a thoughtful pause, "We don't need anything fancy. It's just us." 

Frank Sr. nods as he takes a drink of his beer.

"You aren't intruding." Frank comments. 

"Nearly 2 acres, Linda Mom. That's plenty of space between you guys, the main house, and Jack's house. It would take you at least 30 minutes to walk over to visit," Brock laughs, "I wanted to be able to move the entire band onto my property but I got downvoted. I just want my family close, okay?"

"What you're saying is, you want to create a death metal emo punk commune?" Gerard asks. 

"Well, it _is_ my harem of emos and ladies," he laughs.

"Fuck! I forgot about that!" Frank laughs.

"Fuck!" Emma chimes in. She grins across the table at everyone. She is very pleased with her addition to the conversation.

"Amelia!" Christine says covering her mouth trying to hide her smile.

"What? Fuck!" Emma asks looking at her mom. A smile stretches her cheeks as she sees her mom's shoulders bounce slightly.

"Emma! No! That is a bad word, honey. You can't say that," Brock chastises.

"Why?" Her forehead wrinkles in true confusion.

Frank giggles. 

Linda covers her mouth with fingers, "She's been a bit of a parrot." 

"Frankie say fuck?" 

"Frankie is an adult and you are not, little miss. It is a bad word. Only adults can say that."

"But...I big girl." Emma crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.

"Yes but I'm an adult. You're a kid." Frank adds.

"Big girls and adults are not the same, Emma," Brock insists.

"No fair." Emma pouts.

"When you are old enough, you can have a poop mouth like me kid." Frank says with a nod, "For now, let's use nice words."

Emma giggles, "Poo mouth." 

Brock can't help the giggle that escapes as well. He's laughing for much the same reason as Emma is. Yeah, he's mature… sometimes. Most of the time. He has his moments.

The same young woman as before slips in, "Would we like dessert?" 

Frank looks at Brock.

"Yes please," he says through snickers.

"Same," Jack grins at her.

"Excellent. Double chocolate cake or cheesecake?" 

"Definitely chocolate." Frank nods at her.

"Cheesecake for me, because I know my brother," Jack smirks.

"Thanks, Jack," beams Brock.

As the desserts are dropped off, Frank Sr. looks at Brock, "What's something that you want to improve on yourself in the next six months?"

"Walking. Lame, I know, but healing is my current focus. I've been pushing myself to be able to use only the cane and I'm working on being able to stand for longer periods. I want to get back to my old self soon. Going back to the gym. Being able to box again would be the defining moment that I'm healed. I really don't want to take a year to get better."

"As a couple, what do you do as a couple? My father asked me that when I married your mom. So I pose this question to you." 

"Communicate even better. We go to a couples counseling session every other week and I think it's been helping. I'm learning how to actually say what's on my mind and not bottle up." Frank speaks softly, "You're doing great Brock. I promise you are light years ahead of the game."

"Communication is key, kiddo." Frank Sr. nods.

"I'm also seeing my therapist on the regular. Dealing with the trauma of my past and with my current condition. The new meds are a world of difference. They haven't technically kicked in yet but I can still feel the difference between myself now and myself during Thanksgiving. That being said, I am _extremely_ thankful Carolyn is not here," says Brock. He takes another drink of wine.

"I can cheer for that. Thank God that bitch isn't here." Frank raises his glass, "Cheers to having the ones we love dearly here."

Brock does the same. "Here's to family. For always having each other's back. For better or worse, thick and thin, we take care of our own. And it doesn't matter where you come from; Family isn't always the blood in our veins but who you choose. And I am proud of my choices. I'm proud to call you my family."

"Here here!" Ray raises his glass and grins wide.

Everyone raises their glasses and cheers Brock. 

"To new beginnings. New records and new love!" Gerard says with a huge grin.

"To Brock and Frank. Congrats and best wishes for your marriage," says Jack.

"Cheers!" Everyone clinks their glasses together and takes a drink. A companionable silence fills the table for a moment. Each of them enjoying the company and the moment.

"Oh recording!" Ray grins, "We are approved for February to start recording."

"Oh good!" Frank says with a smile.

"Hopefully the renovations will be completed by then," says Brock. "We are going to California for two months to record."

"What?" Jack's eyes widened. He's surprised Brock is willing to return.

"We are trying to make it as quick as possible because none of us wanna be away from our home too long. Cause we will already be doing that after the album is released."

"I wanted them to record _here_ ," Brock grumbles.

"Or in Italy, I'm sure," Lindsey adds.

"Oh, can you imagine an Italian vacation while the boys work?" Christa beams.

"I bet we could." Frank says looking at Brock, "Maybe we can find a place on the mainland that would fit the aesthetic Gee wants to create."

"Any supposedly haunted mansions in Italy?" Gee asks with a crooked smile.

"Dunno, but I'll see what I can find. See, I was going to build a recording studio for the boys but _someone_ wants flair," Brock playfully glares at Gerard.

"Uh, I still want the recording studio..." Frank points out, "Like in the basement with my guitars."

"I'm all about flair Brock. You know that. Showmanship and all that jazz." Gee laughs. 

"Oh, can we please record in Italy? Not stinky LA or New York!" Mike asks the group, "Please!"

"You know I'm perfectly alright with that," Brock laughs, "I've said it from the beginning to everyone here that I wanted to drag all of you to my home."

"I'll do some research tonight and see what I can find. Even if it's just a practice space, and we recorded elsewhere."

"There's always Pompeii," suggests Jack. "Not a mansion but pretty historic. It's near Naples."

"Hmmm… that could be interesting. You wanna know the theme?" Gerard asks.

"Emo death punk," grins Brock.

"Dying and what comes after. The grief and acceptance. What is waiting for someone who is on death's door, like when someone has, say, cancer. Just the letting go." Gerard says shifting in his seat, "One of the songs is called 'The Five Of Us Are Dying'." 

"House of wolves is a good one too." Frank points out, "Ray's guitar work is epic as hell."

Brock groans and puts a hand over his head. "Why do you boys do this to me? I thought you loved me." 

"No, I think you'll love it! It's very grand and theatrical. Think Queen or Elton John!"

"No Gerard, that's you." Jack laughs, "Not Brock."

"I swear it's not all doom and gloom!" Gerard says in protest.

"It's gonna be a fun album. I'm excited to see the final product." Bob says softly as he pushes his plate away from him.

"Just once, give me a happy song," Brock exclaims with a playful laugh. "Something that I'll actually enjoy and listen to."

"That's never gonna happen. You think all we do is scream." Frank snorts. 

"Then don't scream," he laughs. He looks around the table and can't help but feel so blessed that he's surrounded by friends and family. He wishes his parents and sister are here to enjoy it. But they wouldn't be here until the wedding due to scheduling conflicts. Or something. He doesn't remember. He was half asleep when Brooke called him. It occurs to him that the last time they all sat down as a large family group was Thanksgiving and before that, it was his birthday. He's thankful things are much happier now.

"We don't really _scream_. Just sing loudly with feeling..." Gerard chuckles.

"Pfft, whatever. I've resigned myself to never enjoying your music. I prefer the people anyway."

"Well, we love you so it works out in the end," Gerard says with a smile.

"The first time he heard our music, I think it sent him into a catatonic state for at least two minutes." Lindsey laughs. 

"I've never forgiven you for saying to me you were going to, and I quote, pop my cherry. Had me confused six ways to Sunday," Brock says, wagging his finger at her before taking a drink.

"I had to _try_ to expand your musical taste." Lindsey laughs.

"Mmm… when I played System of a Down for him, he went and hid in his office for forty-five minutes. Cursing in Italian and slamming shit. I think we need to uh, ease him into the harder stuff." Frank laughs.

"But he's a trained opera singer…" Ray says encouragingly.

"I'm not trained, Sunshine." Memories of the Vegas trip enter his head. Their hotel. The shopping. The boat ride. And of course the gambling incident. He still doesn't know what possessed him to join that street singer.

"While you are a fantastic singer, I mean the lead singer of the band, dork." Ray laughs, he points to Brock, "This man has the voice of an angel."

Brock laughs, face turning red from embarrassment at his assumption. Whoops. Oh well. "Sorry. Thought you meant something else." 

"God, you're adorable when you get all blushy." Frank coos at his husband.

"Yeah, no I'm a terrible singer. That's okay though." Still chuckling he bumps Frankie and gives him an adoring smile.

"No, in Italian you have a gorgeous voice baby. When you try to sing opera, it's… _rough_."

"Screeching bats?" Brock offers.

"Sounds like your gargling yogurt." Mike snickers.

"It's 'cause you try to match the soprano voices. Babe, you are a tenor for sure." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek, "No falsetto for you." 

"Did you guys know that these two fools know how to like ballroom dance?" Frank adds as he points to Brock and Jack. 

"Jesus Brock, you swore you wouldn't tell anyone about that," Jack says, pretending to be affronted.

"I was compromised with good food and tricked by a video game," Brock shrugs.

"Ballroom dancing? Really? You two?" Linda says leaning over to look at the brothers, "Probably two left feet, huh?" 

"No. Brock is graceful. Jack, I dunno..." Frank says with a shrug.

"We're both trained," grumbles Jack. He wasn't too fond of learning it at sixteen.

"Jack and I do almost everything together." Brock beams at him. "Since the day he was brought home." 

"Momma Maria has told me stories of baby Jack and Brock. It's so cute to think about." Frank grins wide.

"We've been so inseparable that we might be closer together than him and Brooke," Jack smiles fondly at Brock.

"So wait. What is your age difference?" Frank Sr. asks.

"7 years."

"Huh… different dads?" He asks with a head tilt.

"Dad." Christine barks.

"What? I realized that I don't know anything about either man." Frank Sr. defends himself.

"I was adopted as an infant," Jack says. "It's cool. Neither one of us care. Ask away."

"Oh! Nice!" Frank Sr. nods, "You aren't full-blood Italian, yes?"

"I'm not any blood Italian. I'm full-blooded German, actually." 

"Oh, nice! My dad is full German." Frank Sr. nods, "And you work at the family shipping business?" 

Jack nods, "I do work for the family business, yes. It's entirely family founded and run."

"Oh, that's great! You guys are a pretty tight crew. Family is number one. It's nice to see that people still have those values." Frank Sr. replies, "Both your folks still around?"

"My birth parents you mean," asks Jack. He shakes his head. "No. But Mom and Dad, yes."

"Oh, I see. You both served in the military, yes?" He asks as Linda leans into him.

Frank leans up and whispers into Brock's ear, "I think my dad likes Jack.

Jack nods, "Yeah! Brock and I both did. When he retired after 20 years, I left the service. I was there for 17. His final rank was Commander and I was Lt. Commander, having always served with and under him. I'm always his second."

Brock nods and puts his arm around Frank. He murmurs to him, "I think so too." 

"I hope you're not tired. I wanna play..." Frank whispers and leans back. Brock just chuckles and smiles.

"Do you speak Deutsch?" Jack asks Frank Sr.

"Ja, ich will." Frank Sr. grins wide, "I was in the Navy for 10 years. E-5 Petty officer second class but I got out when I got an offer to play for Kiss on tour. But someone decided that he was more important…" 

Jack's eyes light up brighter than the brightest star. He scoots his chair closer, visibly bubbling with excitement. Brock was the only other person he knew that spoke his native tongue. " _You don't know how exciting it is to be able to speak with someone other than Brock in my parent's language!"_

" _I don't know many people who do speak it. I also can speak Japanese. When was the last time you visited Germany? We are going for our anniversary this coming year."_ Frank Sr. grins wide at Jack. 

" _Never. But that's amazing!"_ Jack's excitement is palpable.

" _You must go! Maybe we can talk your brother and my son into taking a vacation at the same time! I can take you all the places outside of the tourist traps!"_ Frank Sr. nods eagerly. Jack's excitement makes him feel more excited.

" _I'm sure that can be arranged_ ,"Brock chuckles in German. He's loving his baby brother so much right now it hurts.

Frank looks up at Brock with a head tilt. It was always jarring to hear something other than Italian from him.

" _I know Linda would love to have her boys with her."_ Frank Sr. looks at Brock.

Frank looks to his mother and shrugs. He picks up his wine glass and finishes it. He refills his glass, the more liquid he can take in, the better. 

The others quietly chat amongst themselves as Jack and Cheech chat in German.

" _I'm perfectly happy to see where my baby brother was born. Our parents made sure he knew of his heritage. Not something to be ashamed of but to be celebrated. Frank and Jack are the best of friends and brothers. I know he'd be okay with a trip."_

" _Good! That's great that he and Paco are best friends. Our anniversary is in March. So, I'll talk with Linda. I know she will be more than okay with this. I am so excited to show you our home."_ Frank Sr. grins.

Brock switches back to English, face falling. "March? I don't think we can do March."

"What's in March?" Frank asks, looking between his dad and his husband.

"Your parent's anniversary," Brock says.

"But I can go?" Jack asks, "Right?"

Brock hesitates. "I need you at the build. How long is the trip for?" 

"A week." Frank Sr. replies.

"You could always stay at the build and let Jack go. It's only a week…" Frank suggests, "Where are we going?"

He can feel the excitement and anticipation in Jack, he knows this is important to him, "Hell, I could work remotely and be with you, _polpetto."_

"I was thinking something similar," Brock nods. "Would that be alright with the boys though? Having you work remotely?"

"Where are we going?" Gerard jokes.

"I mean if they get a dungeon in Italy. Germany is just a hop skip and a jump away…" Frank Sr. comments. 

"You know, you could use vacation time for that…" Ray points out, "We are allowed a little fun." 

"Really?" Jack says happily. "That would be awesome. Brock?"

"Alright. I'll email the label. Get the time off. I'll have someone else run the build."

"Grazi," Jack says wholeheartedly. "Thank you, brother."

"I could supervise your build. I've done that before for other clients." Christa says with a nod.

"Really? I'd appreciate that," Brock nods.

"Yeah of course! I don't have any clients lined up except you guys. So, I'm free. I'll throw my little demon spawn in a sling and boss around construction guys." Christa grins as she picks up Zach. 

"Sweet. Once we get to building, I'll bring you on board. Thanks, Christa," Brock says.

"So what’re the plans for tomorrow?" Ray asks, leaning over and kissing his baby on the top of his head. 

"Rehearsal and then we're free the rest of the day," Brock nods, checking with Frank.

"Are you guys ready?" Christine asks as she shifts Emma in her arms.

"Ready as we are ever going to be, yeah." Brock nods and hugs Frank closer.

"Yeah, I think tomorrow is going to be smooth and easy." Frank leans up and kisses Brock's neck. The wine was finally taking effect and he was feeling fantastic.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, is it okay that I..." Christa pauses to whisper, "Feed him?"

"No! Honey! He needs to eat!" Linda says waving her hand dismissive to the idea. 

"I just don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable." Christa shrinks a little.

"It's not a big deal. It's literally what breasts are for. It's just a food source for your son," says Jack. He shakes his head. "You Americans…." 

"Don't you 'you Americans'. Your very own brother nearly dropped his eyeballs out his ass at the sight of a vagina in a book…" Ray chastises Jack. It's belied by a grin at the memory of the mall trip. Brock's response was hilarious.

"Feed the babe. We all ate, it's his turn." Frank encourages, "Also would like to add that Brock loses the blood in his face when I mention having a threesome with a girl as a joke."

Brock turns a dark red at the memory and the joke. "Please don't remind me." 

"I can say that all I want, Floof bro. Brock's got special circumstances regarding this," laughs Jack.

"We are not that bad. You act like we can't have feelings or hug." Ray snorts.

"Brothers don't shake hands… brothers gotta hug!" Bob says with a wide smile. He nods at Frank who snickers at his joke.

"Well, my little sparrows and crows, me and the old man are going to retire. You kids have fun." Linda leans over and kisses her son's cheeks, then Brock's. She moves around the table and kisses the top of Jack's head then her daughter's, "Frankenweenie, your brother flies in tomorrow with his _girlfriend._ So be nice." 

Frank sighs and nods as he runs a hand over Brock's thigh. Brock watches Linda, thoughtful. Frank wasn't the only one who had to be nice.

Once Linda and Frank Sr. leave the table, Gerard grins, "I'm not tired… I heard that the water glows here at night… anyone wanna investigate this with me?"

"Oh, we have that back home. It's bioluminescence from a type of algae. There's a cave near my island I wanted to take Frankie to. I'm up for going," says Brock. 

"I'm in!" Frank grins.

"I can stay with Zach, if you wanna go, Chris." Christine offers.

"Are you sure?"

"If I move Emma won't sleep for hours. I don't mind. Just bring him close and I'll watch him. Go frolic, but not like my brother frolics…" Christine winks at Brock. 

"Did everyone see us?" Frank asks quietly.

"I'm beginning to think so, _tesoro_ ," laughs Brock.

"We have to find a better spot." Frank buries his face in Brock's arm. His head is torn between embarrassment but also not and quite turned on by it.

"Let's go see some glowing sands!" Bob rises to his feet as he finishes his beer.

Brock tips back his wine and stands, nudging Frankie to join him. "Come on, love. Let's go swimming." 

Frank stands and takes his husband's hands. He finishes his half-full glass of wine and looks at Jack, "You in?" 

The others already heading to the water, leaving them behind, Frank glances at his sister who was eyeing Jack with a half-smile that he recognized from his own face when he looks at Brock. He has a feeling that flirty Chrissy is coming out. 

"Of course I'm in," says Jack.

Frank follows Brock into the sand, he squeezes his hand and moves a little faster to keep up with him. 

Jack finishes off his last bit of cheesecake and his wine before standing. He tidies up a little before he goes to follow his brothers.

As they approach the shore the waves wash up against the sand glowing a brilliant blue against the night sky, as they get closer Frank's eyes catch the sand lighting up blue with each step, "Baby! This is amazing! Oh my god!" 

"This is way better than the Blue Cove. Much more grand." Brock grins and nudges Frankie. "Go play."

"No, come with!" Frank stops for a moment. He's confused why Brock isn't coming with him. How is he supposed to live out his little merman fantasy on a fucking magic beach without him? He frowns. 

"I will," Brock chuckles. "Just figured you would want to run off and play with the others. I'll catch up."

 _I'm not a puppy._ He nods slowly. 

A Jack shaped blur runs past them, clothing being discarded behind him. Jack whoops before running into the neon blue ocean, diving under.

"You're best man is going to get attacked by jellyfish." Frank snorts.

"That's okay. You can just pee on him," snickers Brock. He nudges him playfully.

"I… I only…" the comeback leaves him and his words get stuck in his throat. He's never been more thankful it's dark out cause he's bright red.

"I'm teasing, _tesoro_." Brock chuckles low and deep. He can practically hear his love's embarrassment. "I bet you are as red as your panties. You said you wanted to play…."

"I do." Frank replies as he tries to settle himself down, "They are cream-colored. And lacy." Frank says letting go of Brock's hand, "I have to _go_ too." 

"Ohh…" Brock's breath hitches as arousal floods his systems. A myriad of thoughts raced in his head. A little growl escapes from desire, "Think you can hold it until we are properly alone? Or did you want to play now? Not sure I can restrain myself from fucking you once you _let go_. You know that."

"I'm gonna hold it as long as I can. Be a little bit of a tease." Frank steps closer to Brock. He takes his husband's hand and wraps it around him. His fingertips close to the top of his shorts, "Wanna feel?" 

Brock whimpers and nods. Distantly he can hear the others goofing off and playing around a few yards away. He doesn't care about them. Suddenly he can't focus on anything other than his hardening cock and Frank. It takes him a few swallows before he can speak. "Yes." 

Frank pushes Brock's fingers into his shorts just a little to give him a feel of the soft lace. The touch makes him sigh softly, "I wish you could fuck me in these..." 

"Why not?" It was now Brock's sole mission to do just that.

"I wanna come in these for you," Frank whispers. He moves his body closer to the electric colored waves, "I wanna be fucked so hard my eyes roll back in my head." 

Brock clears his throat and nods. His words seem to have left him and his voice cracks, "Yeah..." 

"Unless… you don't want to." Frank whispers as he pushes his hips into Brock's hand, "Cause we don't have to." 

"I wanna," Brock whines.

"Come play with me so I can _cum_ on your cock." Frank says walking them to the water.

"Are you pervs coming?!" Ray shouts.

"We were having a discussion," Brock screams at him, voice rising and falling randomly.

"A discussion of you burying your cock in me." Frank murmurs, "Fucking me stupid. Breaking in my tight ass..." 

Brock moans and shudders softly. Frank's words were making him so hot and bothered. He swallows thickly. "He doesn't… they don't… need to know." 

"They don't need to know I want you to wrap your hand around my throat as you wreck me?" Frank says low as he moves Brock's hand across his chest and up to his neck.

"Fuck," he whispers with another shudder. When did his husband get so damn great at dirty talk? He exhales hard, "Yes… no! No, they don't need… to know." 

"You sure? Cause I can let them know how much I need you to fill me up with your big thick cock as you choke me." Frank speaks low before moving Brock's hand up and sucking on his thumb.

Groaning, Brock stops walking and turns, pulling Frank into a hard kiss. His hands grip his waist and pull him flush against his body hard, needing him to feel the painful tent in his shorts.

"Wanna go back?" Frank whispers.

"Fuck I want you so fucking much," Brock groans quietly.

"Let's go. We can play in the anime water later."

"What about the others?"

"They will be fine… unless you wanna wait?" Frank asks, "Cause I can keep this up." 

"We should at least socialize a little with the others… and not fuck like bunnies."

Frank pulls away, "Come on old man." He pulls Brock into the water. 

"'Bout time you join us. What, is Brock afraid of the water like a cat?" Ray teases. 

Lindsey shrieks as she comes up from under the water, "It's so cold!" Ray and Christa splash around in the water, embracing and kissing. Frank glances back and sees Bob sitting on the sand. Mike and Kristen sit a little further down, messing with the sand. His hand rests on her belly as they talk. 

"You've seen like the little mermaid or dirty dancing right?" Frank asks Brock.

"Yeah, why," he nods.

"I wanna do the lift. Maybe not now. Cause you're still _injured_." Frank grins. 

"The lift is not in the Little Mermaid," Brock says with a confused scrunched up nose.

"Kinda but not the same. The prince, like, lifts her in the sparkling water. Different I know." Frank says with a smile.

"Okay. I think I get whatcha going for. I think I can do that," Brock nods.

Frank grins up at him. He doesn't have to do this but when else are they gonna be in a situation like this? He leans up and kisses Brock softly. 

"You should probably run towards me," Brock murmurs against his lips.

"You gotta be in deeper water." Frank says with a smile, "We don't have to do this. If you're not into it." 

"Your theater kid is calling to me. Come on." Brock moves, wading through the water until it's waist-high for him. 

A wave of giddy excitement runs through him. He takes a couple of steps back and gives Brock a nod, "Ready?" He moves as fast as he can through the water to Brock. He has a feeling he's gonna be dropped.

Brock braces himself and begins to hum the song from Dirty Dancing as he watches Frankie run towards him. It's almost comical how a person has to run in deeper water. When Frankie gets close enough, he grabs him around the waist when he jumps and lifts him high above his head.

Frank laughs as he is lifted over Brock's head. The feeling of Brock's hands on his hips is comforting. He points his toes for a moment. A wave comes crashing in hard with a bright blue glow and hits Brock. Frank can feel him falter as he falls backward. Seconds before he hits the water he holds his breath and belly flops into the water. He thrashes to the surface and gasps for air. He looks around through the wet lashes in the darkness only the blue illuminating the area. "Brock?" 

The surface is still minus the small ripples that surround Frank from his movement. Several yards away, Jack clamors out of the water. There's still no sign of Brock.

"Brock!" Frank shouts a little panicked. He killed his fucking husband. On their honeymoon. Oh god, his family is going to kill him. His mom is gonna let him hang! "Brock! Where are you?" He drops under the water.

Brock kicks hard to the surface, breaking through the still water with a gasp. Stupid fucking sandbank. Stupid rock. Treading water, he looks around for Frankie. "Frankie?" 

Frank breaches the surface with a gasp. "Brock! God damn it!" He opens his eyes and wipes the water away. Jack's gonna kill him. Fuck!

"You okay?" Brock asks as he swims several feet over to his hubby.

Frank wraps his arms around Brock the second he is within his reach. "I thought you were shark food!" Frank cries out and squeezes him, his heart slamming in his chest.

"No, but I think we're nearing high tide. Damn sandbank carried me pretty quickly after I stepped on a rock." Brock hugs Frank tight. "I’m okay, baby. I'm a strong swimmer. But we should get out before riptides form. Come on, love."

"Ok… what's a riptide?" Frank says giving him one final squeeze.

"A really dangerous current. It can pull people under and kill them. It's even more dangerous at night because you can't see the pattern changes in the waves. Let's go to shore."

Frank takes his hand and holds tight, "I thought I lost you." His voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, baby. Maybe we hold off on swimming at night?" 

"I think that's a good idea. Are you okay otherwise?" Frank asks as they reach the shore. 

"Yeah. No harm done. Did you want to go back to the bungalow or stay and play some more?"

"I wanna go to the bungalow… I have other plans." Frank says softly as he wraps his arms around Brock.

"Okay," Brock grins. Leaning down, he kisses him softly.

Frank kisses him deeper, "Do you need me to carry you?" He teases. 

"Pfft. I'd love to see you try. You'd break your Twinkie itty bitty body."

"Wanna make a bet?" Frank bites his tongue with a huge smile.

"Sure. Let's see if you can lift me. Out of the water though. You don't get to use the water's power of weightlessness."

"If I can do it, I don't walk to the traditional Wedding March. I pick it."

"And if you can't?" Brock smirks for a moment. "Just to be clear. We're not talking about a few millimeters off the ground here. You said carry me. I'm nearly double your body weight."

"I know. What do you want? Anything. I can carry you." Frank says with a cocky smile.

"I dunno. I already have everything I could hope for."

"Nothing?" Frank tilts his head, "I could do something as a sub? Uh, massage your feet? Toss your salad? Anything babe. Tattoo your face on my body?" 

"You'd massage my feet if I'd asked anyway. I have zero interest in the other two. You're just perfect for me." Brock squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek.

Frank sighs, "Far from perfect. It's not fun if there's not a risk for me. Even if it's a silly one; like you care about what I walk down the aisle to… but it's silly." 

"It's okay. We don't have to, let's go back to the bungalow and rinse off… to get dirty again." Frank shrugs then smiles.

"Oh but I do care that you walk down the aisle to the wedding march and not something like Rob Zombie," says Brock, tilting his head. "Perhaps that will be your risk?" 

"What wrong with a little zombie? But it's not what I had in mind…" Frank raises an eyebrow, "Is that your wager? Seems pretty soft for a military old boy…" 

"Can't I just be happy?" He laughs, "Yes that's my wager. If only to not spend all night debating this. I'd rather engage in other things. But first, lift me."

"How far am I carrying you? Home?" Frank asks as he throws his arms back and stretches his shoulders. 

"As far as you can without hurting yourself. Or until the boys intervene," he shrugs. 

"Aka Jack." 

"You know it. But seriously, don't hurt yourself."

"I'm indestructible," Frank says as he widens his stance, he takes Brock's arm and drapes it over his shoulder. He crouches down placing his hand on the back of Brock's knee. He pulls Brock's body into his then lifts. It wasn't easy. He was actually pretty fucking heavy. He places Brock's arm across his chest and moves. Slowly but he can do it, "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Frank manages to get out. _You're gonna throw your back out._

"You're gonna die. Break something. Put me down," Brock says. "Point made." 

"I'm. Fine." Frank says straining, "Like carrying. A baby." 

"You are going to hurt yourself. You've made your point. You win. Put me down," insists Brock. He can hear the strain in Frank's voice and it worries him.

Frank stops and sets Brock down. He exhales and nods.

"Be honest. Are you okay? How's your back?" 

"Back's ok. Muscles are twitching. I'm good. Did I hurt you?" Frank asks. He stretches long and looks up at his love. It might be dark but he can see the concern on his face. "Come on, I need to _go_." 

"I'm not hurt. Was just worried about you." Brock rushes his words as he holds Frank's hand a little harder and walks faster. The blood in his body was quickly running south. He calls out to the others, "We're going to bed. Good night guys! See you tomorrow!" 

"Use a condom!" Lindsey shouts.

"Fucking me without or with them on?" Frank asks curiously and he hurries to keep up with Brock.

"You said you wanted them on. Me too," Brock quickly replies. 

"If you weren't recovering, You'd be carrying me wouldn't you?"

"No. But I would be walking a little faster and without the limp. I still want you to struggle a little. On second thought, maybe I should go slower."

"Brock!" Frank frowns, he really has to pee.

"What? You know I love it when you squirm." Brock doesn't slow down but he doesn't speed up either. That's not meant to be torture; he's walking as fast as he can on his bad leg. He's going to need a pill tonight.

"I know you do," Frank whines a little.

"I'm hurrying," Brock huffs as they trudge across the grassy knoll that will lead them to the villa. It's in sight thankfully. He can't walk this fast much longer.

"We can slow down. You're limping pretty bad, baby." Frank says softly, he pulls Brock's hand back.

"I'm fine for now. I'll take a pill later." 

"Okay," Frank says as they reach the door. He looks at his husband, "Key?" 

"I didn't lock it." Brock opens the door and lets Frank inside. "This place is pretty damn secure. Other than locking it overnight for our privacy, I'm not seeing much of a reason to keep our keys with us."

"Oh. Okay." Frank nods. He moves for the bathroom. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Bathroom. You coming?" He stops.

"I intend to. But I wasn't thinking there…" Brock looks at the bed.

"You wanna do it there?" Frank asks, turning to face his husband. He takes his husband's hands and rests them on his hips.

"I wanna be comfortable while fucking you," Brock stops and contemplates. "Maybe let's not ruin the bedsheets." 

"Outside the bed? Towels?" Frank suggests.

"Sure. Or the bathroom. I'm going to start investing in those plastic bed covers. Safe playtime."

"In the new house, are we gonna have a _playroom_?" Frank asks, leans up and kisses him.

"Yes. Finally, my sex dungeon can not be in a box," Brock snickers as he kisses him.

"As long as you don't paint it red." Frank grins before biting his lip.

"Why not? Seems it would hide blood better..." He's teasing of course. He would never make Frankie bleed.

"You gonna spanking me hard enough to bleed?" Frank smirks.

"Never," he murmurs. "Blood play isn't my thing." 

"Well, that's good…. You should lead me to where you want me?" Frank says quietly as he pulls Brock down and kisses him deeply.

Brock pulls Frank flush against him, moaning quietly into the kiss. He walks Frank backward towards the bathroom. He'll sacrifice comfort for easier cleanup. As he grabs towels, his kiss turns frantic. The excitement of what they were going to do wa getting to him; driving him crazy. His hands fly to Frank's waist and begin to pull off the wet clothing.

Frank pulls back, "I wanna put new ones on..." 

Brock's pupils blow wide and he nods, needy desire written all over his face. He grabs more towels for him to lay on.

"Pick them out?" 

"Fuck," Brock whispers, a groan escaping. He moves for the duffle, digging through the available pairs.

"Bed?" Frank asks as he pulls his shorts off and stands there naked. He runs a hand over his chest.

"Bathroom. Towels." 

Frank picks up the towel and moves to the bathroom. He can feel Brock's eyes on him and he sways his hips a little. He's curious to know what Brock is going to pick out, "Don't keep me waiting… I need your cock inside of me and soon."

Brock pulls out a lace thong in blue and grins. These will work perfectly. Easy access, lace, and a good color that will darken nicely. His cock jumps at the thought. 

"And your hand around my throat," Frank calls from the bathroom.

"Jesus fuck," he whispers to himself. Grabbing the lube he hurries into the bathroom as best as he can with his leg and rock hard dick. He tosses the panties at Frank. "Here." 

"Oh, nice choice. It's called the Frankie." Frank smirks as he slips the panties on.

"Lie down." 

Frank sits then lies on the floor. The movement makes his bladder ache. He makes a soft noise.

"Fuck," Brock whispers. A guilty pang hits him for being turned on from Frankie's struggle. He has to suppress it or he'll spiral. Quicky, he strips and tosses his wet clothing into the hamper without looking. Carefully lowering himself to his knees, he covers Frank's body with his own. He kisses him frantically, hips rolling against his husband. 

Frank kisses him back, his fingers push into Brock's hair. He grinds into him. Trying to hold on and keeping focused is getting hard. He whimpers against Brock's lips.

Brock moans and kisses him harder. He's not sure what he wants this time; mostly he wants everything. To be able to watch. To be able to fuck him hard. To be able to feel Frank squirming underneath him. The expression _doing the potty dance_ enters his mind unbidden and while it's completely juvenile, it's also totally accurate. It was one of the things he found to be so arousing in the car in Canada. Watching Frank buck and twist and contort with the urge to go had made his cock nearly come untouched. Had Frank lost control in the car, it would have made him cream his underwear. He can't deny that bladder desperation was his weakness. He wonders if he could come untouched from simply watching… he files that for later. His left-hand ghosts over Frank's side while his right tugs on his nipple. 

Frank squirms at the barely-there touch to his side. He pushes against Brock and softly moans. He knows he's gotta keep moving to keep Brock hooked, so he does.

"You gotta go, baby?" Brock moans out, "Fuck you feel so fucking good." 

"Can I?" He asks with a trace of desperation in his voice, "Please?" 

Brock shudders hard and moans, the words hitting him hard and going right to his cock. Words fall from his lips, crafting a fantasy of sorts. "So fucking _dirty_. Filthy. Can't control yourself anymore."

"I can't. Please, can I?" Frank twists under Brock. His hips push up and to the side. The movement makes him almost give in and let go. He kisses Brock again, this time pulling back after holding Brock's lip with his teeth.

"Oh fuck!" Brock gasps out at the movement. He thrusts against Frank. He wants him to lose control. To push himself beyond his limits. He doesn't want to give permission; Frank will forever have it. But the feeling of Frank trying to hold back and losing the battle– the wrongness of it and the "embarrassment" makes his cock weep with need. Brock is fairly certain Frank knows he can go at any time; that's the goal and point after all. It's the fantasy role-playing part he wants.

"No. Fuck, no. Want you to be a good boy and hold it." 

Frank groans and pushes his hips down and into Brock's legs. He whines and squirms. "Fuck. I'm a good boy but _baby..._ " He tries to move away from Brock. It's all for play. It's exactly where he wants to be. But he doesn't think he's gonna hold much longer. He bites his lip hard and he whines louder. 

Brock's hips can't help but jerk up against Frank's. He's beyond able to control rutting into his husband. Moans continuously flow out of his lips. If he's not careful, he's gonna fucking blow before he gets to bury his cock in Frank's ass. He grabs Frankie's head and pulls him into a harsh kiss, fingers gripping his hair down by the scalp tightly. His hands go for the Magic Spot. He's going to force him to lose it. He can't hold and be tickled.

Frank loudly whines into the kiss. The rutting into him and the tickling forces his body to fold, he knows it is exactly what Brock wants. He pulls back and lets out a small whine as he lets go and messes the pretty blue panties up. The warmth and wetness are only secondary feelings to that of the amazing relief he feels. His eyes pop open, unsure of when he closed his eyes. Is Brock gonna be " _mad"?_

Brock's head snaps down between them so he can watch the panties darkening. He can't help the frantic whispered words of filthy praise falling from his lips. He has to force himself to look away just to keep from coming. Instead, he watches Frank's face smooth out with relief and fuck if that's not erotic too. He rolls his hips again but only allows himself to do it twice to prevent himself from coming too soon. Rubbing his cock in soaked underwear causes thrills of pleasure to run through him. He needs him _**now**_.

Frank bites his lip and watches Brock's face, "Fuck me..." Frank whispers, "Fuck me like a bad little whore." 

Moaning, he reaches down, uncaring and dismissive about the wet now that the show is over, and pulls the lace underwear aside. He needs to fuck him so hard. Grabbing the lube Brock squirts it directly on his cock before spreading Frank's legs wide, placing them on his shoulders. He slams in as hard as he can, bending Frank in half as his hand wraps around his husband's throat. Pulling out until only the tip remains, he slams into Frank at a fast and brutal pace.

The first push into him forces a damper cry out but the quick change into the unrelenting slamming into him stabs out moan half words and cries. The one action gets him hard and does it fast enough he thinks his heart skipped a beat for a moment, his hand grips Brock's wrist as a strained moan comes from his mouth, "Fuck me like a bad slut… fu- oh fuck!" 

"Filthy fucking slut. Fucking whore. Bet you love pissing yourself. You like that? Like being dirty? Gets you all hot and horny? Probably bend over for anyone with a cock, goddamn whore." Brock rams into Frank harder. His words affect him more than Frank and he knows it. He's nearing his peak. The coil in his cock tightens further. He's gonna come soon. "Should spank you for wetting yourself. Oh fuck…. Frankie…."

"I want all the cocks inside of me. Fuck, Brock!"

"Little slut like you wanna be stuffed full?" Brock growls, "Maybe I get a bunch of bikers or dirty cops. Pay them to fuck you sloppy. Gangbang you like a used ragdoll."

"Yes! Oh fuck, please!" Frank cries out as he grips Brock's wrist tighter, "Make you… fuc- oh fuck; watch!" 

"Oh go- I'm gonna… I'm gonna… Frankie!" Brock rabbits into him, trading power and deep for rapid thrusts. He's so fucking close. 

"Come in me! Fuck baby, choke me. Fuckin' oh fuck fill me!" Frank cries out.

"Oh god oh god oh fuck yes yes yes yes!" Brock screams, punctuating each word with a powerful thrust as he comes hard, fucking through his climax. His hands tighten harder around Frank's throat as waves of pleasure overload him. His eyes are screwed shut and mouth slack from the overwhelming feelings.

Frank's body tightens as his husband's hand tightens in his throat. He can feel himself on the edge of falling apart. His nails dig into Brock's wrist. A final but hard push into him from Brock cracks him and forces him to cum. His eyes never leave Brock's face, he loves watching Brock cum and then come down. 

Panting through the moans, Brock slows his thrusts, eyes fluttering. Slowly he turns into boneless jelly. He's exhausted himself in the best of ways. Groaning softly, he adjusts them and lays back down on top of Frank, needing to catch his breath. 

"Jesus, you're amazing." Frank pants out as he brushes Brock's sweaty hair.

"I love you," he pants into Frank's neck, "so very much. Love it when you wet. Mind… blowing…. Fuck I need a drink."

"Me too. I love you." Frank says softly as he kisses Brock's temple, "I'm the luckiest man." 

"You okay? Did I hurt you?" He forces himself to pull back so as not to fall asleep on his husband. He needed to remember they were not in bed and Frank needed to be cleaned up. He doesn't have the luxury of crashing just yet. Moving carefully, he sits on his legs and pulls off the soaked underwear from Frank's body.

"You were a little rough. But I think I'm ok." 

"Ass or throat?"

"Ass," Frank speaks softly as he strokes his chest.

"Alright. I'll go easier next time. Or, you know, stretch you for once. I should be doing that and I'm not. Sorry, love." Brock grins, "You just drive me wild, baby."

"I kinda like it, being tight for you," Frank says softly as he sits up in his elbows. 

"Mmm, me too. But you are always tight and I don't want to hurt you. You tell me if I do, okay? Promise me that." He leans forward and kisses him softly.

"I promise. You'll know if you hurt me." Frank kisses him back, "You know I like it when you are rough." 

"I do. Let's get you cleaned up, love. Then snuggles and cuddles before bed. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Fuck my brother is coming in." Frank groans as the realization sets in, "Your family..." 

"Si. Come; I'll take a warm washcloth to you. We can shower quickly in the morning. Unless you want to now?" Brock grunts a little as he moves to his feet. Carefully holding the sodden and dripping underwear, he takes that and the matching towel to the laundry hamper. He returns and washes his hands.

"Rag and then bed. I wanna wake up shower with my gorgeous husband..." 

"Va bene," he replies, taking out a washcloth from the linen closet and running it under hot water.

"I'm not hungry, thank you though." Frank snickers. He knows what his husband said but it's always fun to tease.

"Well if you do get hungry, I've got an Italian meatball sub you can snack on later," Brock retorts. He turns and begins wiping down Frank.

"I prefer Italian sausages. Or cannolis with cream..." 

"Subs are wider and come in foot long sizes," Brock snickers at the absurdity of his joke.

"True. I do like to be nice and full." Frank smirks. His hips move slightly at the touch of the warm cloth. He looks up at Brock, he can be ready to reload and go. They need sleep.

_Think about grandma's dentures. The smell of skunks. The color brown. Brock's eyes are a pretty warm and rich brown. No! Stop it! Get out of your head, he's probably talking to you and you're just staring._

"We should go to bed. I'm tired and zoning out cause this feels better than it should." Frank says softly.

"Oh," Brock asks, interested. 

"Yes. The touch. The warmth. Yes, please. And you're involved, so I'm already dialed in." Frank whispers.

"So receptive. I love that about you," Brock whispers. He stands, kisses him chastely, and rinses the cloth. 

"That I'm an over-eager puppy?" Frank smiles. He stands in the doorway, watching Brock before walking backwards towards the bed, "Am I getting Broctopus or blanket Brock?" 

"Aren't they one and the same," Brock smirks.

"Sort of." Frank says, slipping into the bed and waiting for that gorgeous man to slip in with him, "One loosens its hold after he passes out and lets me slip out if I need to." 

He pulls the blankets back and pats the mattress. Once Brock is in the bed, he molds his body to him and lets out a content sigh. He really is the luckiest guy. He yawns, "I love you, husband. I can't believe that I get to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I love you, husband. I'm thankful I get to spend the rest of my life with you. Sleep, _amore mio_." Brock pulls Frank tighter against him, wrapping his leg over Frank's. Nuzzling his neck, he kisses him softly there. "Goodnight." 

Frank passes out within minutes but it feels like he hasn't slept a wink when the sound of knocking on the front door pulls him from his dreams. He stretches long and groans, slipping out from Brock's arm, he pulls the flat sheet from the bed and wraps it around him like an old Hollywood starlet before padding to the door.

He pulls the door open and sees a shocked face on Taimani, "Oh, uh, Mr. Rumlow your guest has arrived and would like to meet with you." Her eyes scan him as a slow smile stretches across her lips.

"Oh, excellent! I will get dressed. Gimme just a moment." Frank says with a nod. He closes the door and moves to his duffle. He pulls out shorts and a t-shirt. Slipping into sandals, he grabs his phone and opens the door, "Ok! I'm ready." He glances back at Brock's phone before stepping out and closing the door. Brock won't even know he's gone. 

After what felt like forever, Frank quietly cracks open the door and slips into the bungalow. His guest was nicer than he expected, discussing the plan and what he was expecting then finding out it was already a plan set in their mind, made him feel better. He slips off the sandals and places his phone by the door. He exhales, today he's gotta get ready for the actual wedding. Taking out his jewelry, shaving and trimming his hair. He pulls off his t-shirt and drapes it over the chair. "Brock?" Frank says softly in the hopes his hubby is up.

"In the bathroom!" 

"Pooping or getting ready?" 

"Both," Brock laughs.

"Did you shower?" Frank asks as he sits on the bed. He shifts slightly, his ass was still a little tender. 

"Yes. Where'd you go?" 

"I had to go meet with the entertainment." Frank says with a sneaky smile, "Which went surprisingly well… I'm gonna hop in the shower once you're done..." 

He strips out of his clothing and lies back on the bed, enjoying the cool air on his, as Chrissy would say 'dangly bits'.

Brock flushes and washes his hands. He applies his deodorant and cologne and debates over shaving. "You can come in now." 

Frank steps into the bathroom and smiles at Brock before turning the water on. "You smell good." He steps into the spray and stretches. 

"Good. It's not too overbearing? I'm debating on if I should shave so it's a little bit of stubble or let it be full scuff. What do you think?"

"I like the scruff. I think it fits the wedding theme of an island getaway. Plus, have I mentioned it’s fuckin hot on you?" Frank asks, "You smell like sex on legs also." 

"Good. I prefer scruff over beard or clean-shaven."

"Me too. When is the family landing?" Frank asks as he wakes his hair.

"This evening, I believe," he says as he brushes his teeth.

"In time for the rehearsal?" Frank quickly washes his body. 

"Probably not. The wedding, yes."

"Do they not approve of the location or is something going on at home?" Frank asks softly. He closes his eyes afraid of the answer.

"It's more like they are trying to not leave the home base unattended. It's very rare that the entire family leaves Italy. They are setting up security. The last thing we need is someone attacking."

"Oh. Is that…" Frank trails off. He's not sure he wants to know more.

"It's standard. We have soldiers in place for protection. They will temporarily instruct a Caporegime on what to do while they are gone. If necessary, we will borrow someone from the other families."

"Oh, gotcha." Frank nods as he turns the water off. He steps out and grabs a towel, quickly drying off and standing in front of the mirror. He leans in and unscrews his lip ring then pulls his nose ring out. "I'm not shaving today but I will tomorrow morning." 

"Please don't take those out," Brock says softly.

Frank blinks in the mirror at Brock, "I just want to look the part…" he pushes the nose ring in. 

"You are the part. You look just the way I love you. I love your piercings. They're normal."

"Okay. I'll put small ones in, a little discreet?" Frank asks.

"Not today. Tomorrow, ok? I still wanna be able to watch you play with your lip ring and think dirty thoughts about you." Wrapping his arms around Frank, he kisses his neck and jawline.

Frank melts into Brock, "Do you want me to keep it a ring or a stud?" 

"Ring. I love watching it move when you suck on it. Makes me think of other things you suck on so well."

"Oh. Like what?" Frank turns in his arms to face Brock. He leans up and kisses him.

"Like my cock." 

"Really?" He kisses down from Brock's neck to his chest. His hand runs down Brock's side, "How do I do that?" 

"You start by getting on your knees. Or leaning over in the car. Cupping my dick, you lower the zipper. Love it when you run the tip of your tongue over my tip. Especially under the head. You know the spot."

Frank lowers himself to his knees and looks up at Brock with a wide smile, one hand holding the shaft as he runs his tongue under the head of his cock before running it over the slit, "Like that?" 

He moans softly, nodding. "Yeah… just like that."

"Should I keep going? Maybe suck on your head?" He asks before he lifts his cock and runs his tongue over his shaft.

Another groan escapes, "Yeah… God, you are so good with your mouth."

"Yeah. I love your cock!" Frank grins before sucking on the head of his cock. His hand strokes him. He takes him deeper into his mouth as he keeps stroking. He pulls back, "What else do I do?" 

"Deep throat me. Choke on my dick because you love it," Brock says huskily, watching him. His hands cup the sides of Frank's face, gripping his hair.

"I do love it..." Frank opens his mouth and sits up, he takes Brock deeper into his mouth and down his throat. He exhales out of his nose as his throat adjusts to the intrusion. He moans around Brock before pulling back, sucking his cheeks in before pulling back making sure there's a slight wet pop. "Throat fuck me?" 

"Want me to come down your pretty throat baby?" Brock runs his thumb over Frank's pretty perfect lips.

Frank sucks on his thumb, "Please _, daddy_?" 

Brock holds Frank's head tighter to keep him motionless. Using his thumb to open his mouth he slides his cock past spit sicked lips until Frank's nose is pressed up against his stomach. He holds him there, enjoying the way Frank's throat spasms and contracts in a panic at the intrusion. Pulling back slowly to let Frank breathe in through his nose, Brock begins rocking his hips slowly at first. Letting Frank adjust. 

Frank's eyes water as he looks up at Brock. His hands rest on Brock's thighs carefully, he hates the sound his throat makes when getting fucked but enjoys having it done. He opens his mouth wider and holds back the urge to gag. The pure enjoyment in Brock's face makes his own dick harden; a hand drops to himself and starts stroking at the same pace Brock is pumping into him. 

"That's right baby," Brock rambles, "Touch yourself. God, you feel so fucking amazing." His hips pick up the pace as he starts to fully enjoy himself. Watching Frankie jerk his cock mixing with the feeling of his husband's throat was a perfect combination to make him close to coming. He moans loudly; eyes fighting to stay open. "Fuck! Oh shit!" 

Frank speeds up, his body getting warmer and warmer each stroke. He pushes the air from his nose before swallowing as best he can. He grips himself tighter, twisting at the head and using the precum as more lubrication. Fuck, his husband is gorgeous. 

"Fuck! Gonna come baby." Brock tips his head back and moans. He thrusts two more times before he suddenly bends over Frank's head, hands shoving his husband all the way down onto his cock, his entire body convulsing as he comes hard down Frankie's throat. He shouts, "Fuck!" 

The sudden force causes him to gag hard around the intrusion down his throat going further than before. He tries to calm himself by breathing through his smooshed nose. He strokes faster but has to stop to keep focused on breathing as Brock spills into him. His free hand holds Brock's thigh tight, making sure to avoid his healed-over wound. He's not even sure he can swallow it all.

"Holy hell Frankie," Brock pants, slowly coming back online and pulling out of his husband's lips. Jesus, his husband is perfect at this.

Frank sits back and looks up at him with bleary eyes. He swallows the remaining cum in his mouth then wipes his chin, he takes a big breath in then smiles up at him, "Fuck," Frank moans. His cock is aching but he's in love with that man and can't keep his eyes off him. 

"Come," Brock orders. 

"Where are we going?" He asks confused.

He shakes his head and nods down to Frank's cock. "Finish it. Come for me." 

Frank nods and returns to stroking himself. He stares up at his husband, his teeth press into his lip as he moans. His head drops back as he pushes himself closer to coming faster. "Fuck, _daddy_. Feels good..." 

"Shit, you are so gorgeous. Love watching you. Wanna see you come, baby boy. Touch yourself for me like a good boy." Brock leans against the wall and stares openly at Frank, unable to look away.

"I'm close. I'm so close!" Frank groans as he strokes faster. His hips jerk as all the pieces click into place, his eyes close as he bites his lip harder and feels everything break away. He lets out a soft moan as he comes into his hand and on the floor. He keeps stroking until he's done, sitting back on his heels and leaning into the bathroom counter. He opens up his eyes and looks up at Brock.

“Fuck you’re perfect. If I trusted the floors and we had more time, I’d lick up your cream. Gimme your hand. I wanna taste you,” Brock says low and rough. He was so happy to be with Frank. No other man ever completed him as his husband did.

Frank puts his hand up and slowly rises. He watches his husband lick his hand, "I love you so much." 

“Not nearly as much as I love you. Damn you taste amazing.” Brock finishes licking all the cum off of Frank’s hand as sensually as he can make it before pulling him into a soft but deep kiss. 

"I don't wanna leave the bungalow. I just wanna stay in bed with you." Frank sighs as he rests his head on his husband's chest.

“We can do that after the rehearsal, though we should be a little more involved with our friends. Maybe after the wedding itself, I’ll tie you to the bed,” he chuckles, holding him tight.

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Yes, please." Frank grins. His hands wander Brock's back, "Maybe use the blindfold." 

“And the gag. Baby, you are reading my mind. There’s something I want to test out later; a theory. But, we need to get going. We can’t afford to miss our own rehearsal.” Brock kisses Frank lightly before pulling away to get dressed.

"Yeah… I suppose." Frank sighs. He doesn't want to leave but oh well, "What's nice is that we don't have to get dressed up but we can be casual." He follows Brock and pulls his clothing on and stretches long. As soon as Brock is dressed, he offers his hand with a smile, "We should find food." 

“I agree. Breakfast sounds amazing. I wonder what the island serves that is local. I’d be willing to try some of the local food. What about you?” He asks as they walk out of the villa and head towards the beachline. Brock decides they’ll take the scenic route to where they will be holding the ceremony.

"Within dietary reason, yeah! I'm in!" 

“Great. I bet they have a lot of fruit…” 

"I'm not a fruit bat! I can eat other things, you brat." Frank laughs, "Babe, where are we going?"

“To the ceremony place. Just the long way. Thought you’d enjoy the walk on the beach,” he replies as he walks them next to the water’s edge. Waves crash over their feet and they leave deep, muddy, footprints in their wake.

"I do! I was just confused." Frank glances around and keeps pace with his husband. "You mean that." He points up the beach to the arches.

“Yes, that. Are you excited?”

"I am. I thought they were going to have fairy lights on the arch though." Frank grins wide. 

“Maybe because it’s not nighttime yet, they aren’t going to bother? We wouldn’t be able to tell otherwise,” comments Brock. He spots the other boys chatting off to the side of the arches and he waves to get their attention.

"True. It's mainly for the pictures. But you're probably right." Frank says with a smile. He gives the boys a small wave as they approach.

"Hey! Didn't expect to see you two." Ray teases.

“We’re gonna do the all-day sex-a-thon later,” Brock replies nonchalantly. 

"Ah, you're gonna pop the dick pill and fuck yourselves stupid." Ray chuckles, "Nice!"

"This is coming together nicely." Gerard comments.

"It is going to look magical!" Frank beams.

“Not to sound like the stereotypical gay but it’s gonna be fabulous!” Brock grins wide.

"It really is though!" Ray says, glancing up the beach, "You should check out the reception area." 

“All lights and chiffon and cute?” Brock laughs and tugs on Frankie’s hand, walking over to a tent that would hold their dinner guests.

A candle lined path wound from where the wedding would be held to a simple wood structure that had chiffon draped ornately to create a tent of sorts. More chiffon was gathered and tied off with teal bands. Lights were strung in layers from side to side to create an ambiance while fairy chandeliers hung closer to the tables to provide proper lighting.

In the center was a custom-built table. It was well over ten feet long, enough to seat everyone that was there comfortably. A white linen cloth was draped over it with a table runner in teal lined the center. Unlit candles sat inside wine glasses and were everywhere. Every few feet were large vases of flowers. At the head of the tent was a smaller table raised for the married couple. It, too, had the same table decor as the guest table. It was stunning and magical.

"This is gorgeous," Frank whispers. His finger runs over the top of a chair, "Babe, I didn't think… it's amazing." 

"Right! They did such a cool job!" Ray grins. 

“They did it perfectly and beyond my expectations,” Brock comments as he walks around the guest table and to the groom’s table. He checks out the minute details and feels himself get giddy. He’s way beyond ready to do this. He’d much rather do it right now than to wait one day longer. He turns and grins to Frankie; he’s certain his husband feels the same way.

"I can't wait to walk down the aisle," Frank says with a smile. 

“I’m ready to do it now.” He goes over to him and wraps an arm around Frank. “All this excitement is nearly overwhelming. In a good way though. When does your brother arrive?”

"He should be touching down soon. If not already landed." Frank wraps his arms around him.

"I think he landed. Linda and Chris wandered off together," Gee says with a smile.

"Oh good. The less I see him the better." Frank says softer, he rests his head in Brock's chest.

“Amen to that, _tesoro_. He’s one of the few that I need to keep in the dark about my job and the less we interact the better of that chance,” Brock says to Gerard.

"I have a plan to keep you two apart," Frank says softly.

"We'll help too," Gee says with a smile. 

“Oh? Do tell.” Brock raises an eyebrow, intrigued about the aforementioned plan. 

"Drunk, but not really, Gerard. He's overly friendly, flirty and in need of a babysitter." Gerard grins. 

“So lemme get this straight. You are gonna pretend to get drunk and somehow convince _James_ to babysit you,” Brock says to Gerard, “Instead of Lindsey? And you think that will work?”

"It's a work in progress." Gerard scratches his head. 

"Yeah, I just planned to keep my time with him brief. He's not staying the whole time." Frank comments.

“Works for me. As I said before, I’m fairly good at evasive lying.” Brock nods, “Managed to keep most of you boys in the dark. I’m sure I can handle James. The only reason I’m worried even a little is because he’s a cop."

"That's a light term. He's on the way to being mall security." Frank snorts.

"Are they pressing charges on him?" Ray asks.

"No, he was demoted though," Frank says softly.

"Is that Dandy?" A man's voice calls out that makes Frank cringe.

"Speak of the devil," Frank murmurs. He watches James approach, he squeezes his husband's hand and takes a breath.

"This is a swanky ass place. What did you sell your soul to get us here…" James moves forward with a hand out, "Brock, yes?"

“Is there a reason you are pretending you don’t know me?” Brock asks as he shakes his hand, visibly confused. “We met at the 4th of July party at Linda’s….”

"Started the party early, did we?" Frank groans.

"Shit that's right! I didn't think Pork and Beans would keep you hooked." James smiles wide. 

As soon as the words are out of Frankie’s mouth, sure enough, the alcohol on James’ breath registers in Brock's brain and he visibly cringes from it. Extreme drunkenness made him uncomfortable and James was checking that box perfectly. “Uh, yeah. Frankie’s great. Thanks uh, for the nice comment? About the place. Who’s your date, er, lady?”

"Hey Aria, get your ass over here!" James shouts and makes Frank jump slightly. A young woman in heels and a short dress teeter towards them, "Aria, this is Brock and my brother. They are getting gay married here."

Brock leans over and mutters to Frankie and Gerard, “We won’t need your plan if this is staying.” He turns to the lady and gives her a little bow, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Ma’am. It’s an honor to have you attend our wedding.”

"Thank you!" She grins up at him, "It's a shame you're both gay. You guys are pretty." 

Brock clears his throat, highly uncomfortable from the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am. You look wonderful as well, though I do hope you brought sandals. The sand is not safe for heels, darling.”

"I do! I just didn't wear them. Promise we'll be sober for the wedding." She nods and teeters over.

Brock reaches out and tries to stabilize her just in case she falls. “Careful. Maybe you should take them off. I don’t want you to break your ankle…”

Jack wanders over, spotting his brothers and James conversing. From Brock’s body language, he could tell that his brother was playing host. But as he approaches the more minuscule tells appear. Brock was bothered and in mild distress. He silently walks over to them, standing next to Frank without a word as if he had always been there.

"Who's this tall glass of seltzer water?" James asks, offering a hand to him, "James, Frank's brother." 

“Jack, Brock’s brother,” Jack says, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

"You're brothers? Damn." James grins, "No resemblance. Then again, we always say Frank was found under a bridge. So…"

Frank cringes, he wishes he could just melt into the sand. He hates this. "James, you should go find coffee."

"Quiet. The adults are talking, kid." James snips at Frank.

Frank opens his mouth to speak but James puts fingers to his lips. Frank squeezes Brock's hand hard.

“He’s not a kid,” Brock replies. “He’s my husband and an adult. I would appreciate it if you didn’t treat him like Carolyn does. And I agree with him. Coffee and breakfast are in order. Join us and the others?”

"Brock, you're a good man but I think we are gonna go check out the bungalow."

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. It’s got some pretty fantastic views. Enjoy it. We’ll catch you two later,” Brock nods.

"You two. Maybe give _your husband_ some sugar so he lightens up." James nods at Brock but glares at Frank, "Later bean boy." 

Frank watches the two of them walk away, "Jack, I'll pay you to throttle him if he touches me again."

“I’ll gladly do it for free.” 

"He's as charming as ever." Ray sighs.

"At least he didn't put you in a headlock," Gee offers.

“Is he always like this or is it just the heavy liquor on his breath,” Brock shudders. He feels mildly ill.

"It's the alcohol. He's usually kinda rotten to me but at least he's civil." Frank sighs, "I'm hoping having mom and dad around he'll be a grown-up."

"He pulls some bullshit, I will beat his ass." Ray comments.

“I’ll help you, brother,” Jack grins. 

“Same. We take care of our own. And sometimes that includes helping others kick our own ass,” snorts Brock.

"You spank my ass all the time." Frank whispers to Brock as he turns into him and hugs him tight, "Does that count?" 

"Who's hungry?" Ray asks.

“I am.” He whispers to Frankie, “Yeah, sure.”

"Let's go eat. They have some pretty delicious food set out. Even Frank friendly food." Ray pats Brock's shoulder then Jack's.

“Good. I’m starving,” Brock groans dramatically. “Feed meeee.”

Ray leads them back to the dining area where the food is set out buffet style. Christa and Lindsey are sitting at the table chatting quietly as they eat. They wave at the boys then return to their conversation.

“Baby,” Brock coos out, leaving Frank and gravitating towards the small human. He can’t help it if he was like a squirrel with a shiny object. Baby Floof was just so fascinating.

"Yes. He's a little fussy and doesn't want to eat. So, take him." Christa says with a straight face.

"He just reroutes himself to baby." Ray chuckles.

"Yeah. I'll make sure to get him food. He just loves babies." Frank chuckles.

"And the second that kid sees him, he's gonna switch to being a happy baby." Gerard jokes.

Brock picks up Baby Floof and holds him, swaying gently as he talks in a baby voice to the infant. “Hi, baby. Why are you being fussy this morning, huh? Do you have air in your cute little tummy making you all uncomfy? Is that why you don’t wanna eat?”

"Is that how he treats you when you're fussy?" Gerard teases 

"No. He'd tell me to go have a coffee and poop." Frank snorts. 

“Has he pooped today?” Brock asks Christa and he shifts the baby over his shoulder, rubbing the infant's back and patting him gently.

"No, but he's been bearing down like he can't. I gave him some meds but nothing." She sighs. 

“You could give him an enema,” he suggests with a concerned wrinkle of his nose. He keeps rocking and patting the baby.

"That's the last resort but I'm hoping the meds solve it." Christa wrinkles her nose.

"Give him some coffee. It gets things moving." Ray jokes.

“If he was six months older, then sure,” Brock snorts and shakes his head. “How I have him will hopefully get things moving. Warm tummies and patting the air out should release whatever is blocking, along with the meds you gave him.”

Frank sets a plate for Brock and sits down at the table. 

"I told Ray that he's just got a bubble in his belly. But he immediately said we need to take the baby to a doctor." Christa sighs. 

"Well, when our happy baby isn't happy. I don't like it." Ray says sitting beside her.

Zach looks up at Brock then gives him an unhappy look as he bears down. He lets a small fart go and groans.

“That’s a good boy,” Brock whispers against Baby Floof’s cheek, “You can do it. I know it hurts, sweet boy. You’ll feel so much better after, I promise.” Brock adds a little force behind his patting of the baby’s back, hoping to get the air out.

"Did you girls see the setup?" Frank asks.

"It is fucking gorgeous like a damn fairytale," Lindsey says taking a bite of toast.

Zach groans again. His little fingers curl into Brock. He makes a small frustrated noise escape his little mouth as he whines. 

“That was the point,” Brock grins at Lindsey. He rubs the baby’s back harder, pressing him into his shoulder more so that there was a little pressure on Baby Floof’s stomach. He might get puked on but that was alright. He feels so bad for the baby’s distress. He kisses the infant’s shoulder and continues to whisper praises in a mix of English and Italian.

Zach lets another fart then one more before a relieved groan comes out, the unpleasant smell surrounding the two of them as Zach relaxes into Brock. Little tiny grunts escape as he continues to poop, happy that his stomach pains are easing up.

“That’s a good boy,” Brock praises as he rubs his back soothingly, “Yes you are. I bet you feel so much better now.”

"Brock the baby whisperer." Frank comments. 

"I can take him and get him cleaned up." Christa rises to her feet.

“He’s not done, yet. Give him a few more moments before we move him. Unless he starts leaking, then he’s all yours.” He loves babies and has no issue with changing diapers but he was out the proverbial front door the moment the diaper fails to hold everything in.

"Okay. Keep me posted. I have his diapers here. I just can go step away." She nods 

"Surprised he hasn't offered to change him. He loves that little boy." Frank smiles warmly.

"It's sweet." Lindsey smiles 

"But he doesn't want a baby," Gerard asks.

"Nope."

“Babies grow up and stop being cute and hold a hundred times more responsibility,” Brock comments to Gerard. “I like them small and tiny and adorable. Though with Baby Floof here, I’m certain I’ll love him all his life. Just not the same. I like the ability to give them back.”

"Just get a girl knocked up and then you'll see it's different." Ray comments, "Never really thought about babies until this little demon came out."

“He’s an angel,” Brock dramatically covers the baby’s ear with his free hand. He laughs, “I already did.” He points to Lindsey and Kristen. They are his girls and they are knocked up. He snickers. 

"Just get Frankie knocked up and you'll know." Ray laughs. 

"God, imagining myself pregnant is awful." Frank snorts. 

“I’m very glad male pregnancy isn’t a thing,” says Brock. He turns his head to Baby Floof, who was no longer making soft poop noises and instead was looking calm albeit a little tired, and murmurs softly to him. He nods to himself as if the baby replied before getting Christa’s attention. “He’s done. Sleepy and content now. All that hard work exhausted him. Poor thing.”

"You really are a baby whisperer Brock." Christa says rising to her feet and taking the baby from his arms, "We'll be back." 

"You should eat now before your baby radar goes off," Frank says, patting the seat beside him.

Laughing, he does. He leans over and kisses Frankie’s cheek. “Sorry, love. I did kinda leave you in the dust for a younger man.”

"I knew it would happen the second he came on the scene." Frank snickers, "I don't mind." 

“Good. ‘Cause I love you the most.” He kisses him again, “Thank you for getting me breakfast.”

"You're welcome. My baby needs to eat." Frank kisses him and closes his eyes with his shoulders softening, "Do you want coffee, lover?" 

“Mmm, yes, please. Sounds perfect. Thanks.” Brock begins to eat. 

Frank gets up and makes Brock coffee. Bob slips into the tent with sunglasses on. "It's bright out." He groans as he sits down. 

“Sounds like someone stayed up past their curfew and got hungover last night,” teases Brock.

"I made a friend." Bob grins before taking a bite of peanut butter toast. 

"Oh a friend, huh?" Frank teases as he sits down again. Bob nods with a grin.

“Let me guess; Taimani?” Brock smirks.

"Leilani actually. She's the florist." Bob smirks, "Got a mouth that is made of velvet."

“She got a sister?” Jack asks with a devilish grin.

"Taimani, who is single. Did you know this whole place is family run?" Bob comments.

“I did not but I do like to keep it within the family…” Jack trails off thoughtfully. He hadn’t looked twice at Taimani but maybe he should.

"I mean, you should talk to her. Very smart, girl." Bob smiles.

"Smart eh?" Frank rolls his eyes with a smile.

“I’ll consider it. I suppose I should have a little class at my brother’s wedding.”

"You know what, if you meet a girl. More power to you." Frank smirks.

"Just treat her with respect," Christa says returning to the table with Zach in her arms. Baby Floof is quietly cooing.

“I’m a little affronted that you would think I wouldn’t treat a lady with respect,” Jack says around a mouthful of food. “I’m always respectful to the ladies.”

"I mean, I've been a single girl before. I remember suave and handsome guys like you. Sorry to assume, love." Christa smiles softly.

"Jack's a good egg," Frank says, placing his coffee cup down. His appetite isn't what it should be but he's faking it. 

“My mother would whip me if I wasn’t. My teachers would probably do the same,” nods Jack. “Though I do understand why you would think that way.”

"Men." Lindsey, Christa, and Frank reply in unison. They all give a small smile to each other.

"What?" Jack tilts his head in confusion before looking to the others for clarification. "I don't get it." 

"In my short time dating men, a lot of them are bastards." Frank says glancing at Gerard, "So those who date men know the lies, mind games, and just general fuckery involved."

"Then you find the right one but he's complicated. Makes bad choices or is closed off." Lindsey says with a sigh. 

"Until you can break through and find out he's a good one. So you keep him." Christa grins at Ray.

"And you'll do anything to keep him loving you. Because he's the one and even if you know he loves you, you're scared it's all a game." Frank adds. 

Jack blinks as he listens to his friends speak. He turns to look at the half-eaten food on his plate. "Is there some sort of truth serum in this?" 

"In the coffee." Gerard snorts looking at the three of them with empty coffee cups.

Jack makes a point of pushing his coffee cup away from him. There's no way he is going to spill any of his secrets. Nope.

"Hey, you asked." Christa chuckles.

"I'm regretting it now," Jack laughs playfully. "I'd rather not show my feelings by drinking truth serum coffee." 

Coffee cup stilling against his lips, Brock pauses in the middle of taking a sip to stare at his brother. Truth serum is a thing? "Wut." 

"No truth serum. Only truth bomb, brother." Frank says with a smile, "You can drink your coffee, my love." 

"So what's the plan for today?" Lindsey asks.

"After rehearsal, you mean," asks Brock, "Not a clue. It's completely up in the air. There's a ton of activities we can do though. Anyone have any ideas?"

"Snorkeling? Paddleboarding? They have a spa." Kristen comments quietly from behind loading a plate of food up. She and Mike snuck in mid-conversation.

"She and I went for a jog and toured the property. Found a cool little cove with a waterfall." Mike grins wide.

"A waterfall, that's cool." Frank looks to Brock.

"I would like to point out that us girls are stealing your man for a bit after rehearsal." Christa comments, "Important groomsmaid things to be done." 

"I guess you gotta find something to do with the boys then…" Frank leans up and kisses Brock. 

"We are so checking out the waterfall later," Brock murmurs against Frank's lips in a tone that suggests it will be a private experience.

"Yes, please." Frank smiles before kissing him again, "So, whatcha gonna do with the boys, baby?" 

"We could go diving? Or snorkeling. Or just sit and chat while we wait for our girls and Frank. And then go into the water." Brock offers with a grin, "I'm good with anything you boys wanna do so long as it's in the water."

"We could hang out, have a drink while we wait for the ladies’ return, then go diving and or snorkeling," Ray suggests.

"There's another little resort town just up the island from us, we should go check it out. Go on an adventure." Bob suggests.

"That could be your bachelor party kinda," Gerard says with a shrug.

"In about two hours, the rehearsal starts. But can I talk to my bandmates, privately?" Frank says with a smile.

The girls nod before Frank pulls the band to the beach. 

"I wanna walk down the aisle to Helena… how do we do this?" Frank asks.

"I brought a guitar." 

"We could do an acoustic version," Gerard suggests. 

"I could see if the entertainment for the reception would let us borrow the band?" Frank suggests.

"Let me handle that." Gerard smiles, "Does B know what you're doing?"

"I was told no Rob Zombie." Frank grins.

The boys stroll back into the dining area with a smile. Frank sits beside Brock as he finishes his meal. He rests a hand on Brock's knee, "You almost done?" 

"Yeah. You?" 

"Yup." Frank smiles at his love. The sneaky satisfaction makes the smile grow wider.

"Alright. Go on with your girls," Brock says before kissing him. "Text me when you are done and we'll head back or you can join us."

"Okay. I love you!" Frank kisses him again. 

"I love you. Have fun. Don't let them go too overboard."

"Hey!" Lindsey calls out as she rises to her feet. Turning to the side, slightly allows the table to see the baby bump that's been slowly growing, "We aren't going to go overboard… we're classy ladies." 

"Plus we got two preggos and my mother." Frank snickers. He kisses Brock once more, "Be safe. See you soon." 

"I will," Brock says as Frank gets up and joins the ladies. 

Christa hands Zach to Ray before kissing him on the cheek and disappearing from the dining area. They head towards the spa, chatting and laughing. 

"You best believe that we are having mimosas." Christa smiles lacing fingers with Frank.

~~

Ray turns to Brock. "So what are we doing?" 

"Everything. Anything. I'm up for the drive. You guys decide. You're in charge."

"Let me drop the little man with Linda and Cheech and we can go on an adventure." Ray smiles wide.

"I'll go get a car for us." Gerard grins. 

"Sorry, there are no strippers." Mike jokes.

"I'll just have to watch you guys and pretend you are super hot strippers," laughs Brock.

"I can be your stripper, Brock." Bob jokes. He rises from his seat and gyrates awkwardly. 

Ray returns with a smile, "I am baby free." 

As the group heads out, Gerard joins them. "I got a jeep. Who's ready to go?" 

"I'm always ready," Jack grins. He rises to his feet and joins the group. 

"Yeah it doesn't take much to get you interested," comments Brock with a smirk. He wraps his arm around Jack's shoulders. He was aiming for his neck. Goddamn String Bean.

They load up in the Jeep. Gerard cruises up the road passing by several docks. They arrive in another village at a bar with a thatched roof with a sigh reading _Iguana Bar._

"Drink then snorkeling?" Ray suggests.

"I'm not making the decisions today. So yes, sure," Brock grins. This is fun, not having to plan everything out down to the last minute detail. Granted, this isn't truly going to last the whole day, but it was a nice change.

"Drinks it is." Ray pats Brock on the shoulder. He shuffles them into the bar for drinks. Ray gets him an umbrella drink and sits at the table with the guys.

"Brock, I can't believe that we are here, in paradise about to watch you and Frankie tie the knot for real." Mike smiles wide.

"So what, you're saying that us going to the courthouse was fake?" Brock snickers at Mike-n-Ike, "Rude, my friend. Rude. But thanks." 

"No! No, that's not what I meant!" Mike backtracks a little, "I meant that, like, the whole, like, fanfare. Tux and cakes and stuff like real wedding… fuck." 

"Relax, Mike-n-Ike. I'm teasing. I knew what you meant," Brock grins and pats him sympathetically.

The boys chat quietly as they finish their drinks. Gerard slowly rises to his feet and gets one more round.

Another drink and Ray turns to the boys, "Let's go play in the water!

"Yes!" Brock is excited to go swimming. It's one of his favorite things to do.

Ray rounds the troops and moves the party to the shoreline. They rent snorkeling gear and head into the water.

"Brock, did you know that after our swimming lessons, I went and got more lessons?" Ray asks.

"Really?! Oh, Sunshine, I'm so proud of you!" Without thinking, he turns and attacks him with a hug. 

"I knew we were doing the holiday in Italy and wanted to be prepared." Ray grins wide. He squeezes Brock back.

"Yeah! Are we still doing that?" Gerard asks.

"That's the plan. I can't wait." Brock grins excitedly.

"We should probably plan that soon. Like the week of Christmas." Ray grins.

~~

"Just get a damn mani-pedi," Christa says with a smile before taking another drink from her mimosa.

"Fine but you're still siding with Brock?" Frank sighs as he nods at the nail tech.

"We all are. He loves you for you. You're not marrying his family." Lindsey says with a smile. 

"Warts and all, Frankie," Christine says with a sigh as the tech massages her feet.

"But I wanted to look classy and like deserving." Frank starts but the girls cut him off.

"Stop it," Lindsey says, putting her hand up.

"You're not an imposter. He loves you like this." Kristen smiles touching his arm.

"Okay! Fine! I'll stop." Frank laughs, he watches the tech work on his hands.

"How much trouble do you think the boys are getting into?" Christa asks.

"None, Rumrollins boys will not let them." Frank snorts. A young lady in pink scrubs leads Kristen back into a room and closes the door, "Brock's gonna be jealous about us getting pampered and massages without him."

"Then he shoulda picked the girls for his groomsmaid gang," Christa smirks.

Frank points to the black polish and gives her a little grin. 

~~

"Guys! Look at the fish! They are pretty!" Gerard says popping out of the water.

Brock and Jack don't answer. They are swimming down deep, mingling with the fish. Large bubbles rise out of their tubes on occasion. Brock swims using his whole body to propel him down to the sandbar. He grabs a shiny object and turns it over before discovering it was nothing more than someone else's debris. He searches for his brother as his lungs tell him he needs to get air soon.

Jack is sitting on the sandbar petting a nurse shark that was interested in him. He kinda likes it. Secretly he names it Rosie. Turning to Brock to show him his new pet, he sees the signal to rise and he nods. After one last pet on Rosie's head and a scratch on her tail, he bids goodbye and swims to the surface. He swims up in a curve as to blow out the water from the tube, much like a whale before treading water and taking off the snorkel set. Next to him, Brock does the same.

The boys surface with huge grins on their faces. "Jack! The shark! Oh my god!" Ray grins wide as he pulls his hair into a ponytail.

"That's Rosie. Because I said so," Jack says. He's only a little out of breath. He pushes his hair out of his face.

"Rosie the shark is adorable and is now my date to the wedding." Bob smiles as he wipes his face.

"I was hoping that I could get some good pictures of us. I think I got them." Ray grins. He holds his camera up.

"What if Rosie the shark is actually a boy shark?" Brock asks Jack and Bob.

"Then Rosie and I are gonna have some drinks and hit on chicks with Jack." Bob grins.

"Rosie the shark can't tell me I can't call him or her Rosie so it doesn't matter. I do what I want,' laughs Jack. "Rosie can be our date magnets, right Bob?" 

"Hell yes!" Bob puts a hand up to high-five Jack.

"We should swim further out to that little island." Mike points to a little island. 

"Sure," says Brock. 

"Do you and Frankie still want photos in the water with your suits on? Cause this little island looks promising." Ray asks.

Jack jerks in the water and he looks down, confused. Something bumped him. He grins wide, "Hi Rosie!" 

"Aww Jack's gotta girlfriend!" Gee grins.

"Yeah totally, Sunshine." Brock looks at Jack and grins. "Look at you being a womanizer. Or you got a boyfriend."

"You're a regular Steve Irwin." Bob grins.

"Let's go!" Gerard dives under the water.

Brock and Jack grin at each other, a silent conversation passing through them. They both dive under the water and begin to race to the mysterious island.

~~

Frank lies on the table and stares at the crisp white ceiling, "Just take it all off..." 

"Alright. It's going to sting a little." The technician says spreading wax on his skin.

"I know." Frank says bracing seconds before the wax is ripped off, "Fuckfuckfuck. That sucks." 

Once the tech is done and Frank's skin isn't screaming he joins the girls on lawn chairs.

"How bad is it to want to sunbathe nude?" Frank asks.

"I mean, we are behind a fence..." Christa shrugs. 

"We should." Frank grins.

The group flips over and shimmies out of their suits. They sigh as a group and enjoy the sunshine. 

"How long do we have?" Frank asks.

"As long as we want…" Lindsey grins.

Frank picks up his phone and takes a selfie making sure his bare butt was visible in the background. He types out the words, ' _Wish you were here.'_

~~

Brock and Jack race underwater to the island, rarely coming up for air. Jack breaks first for air just a few feet away from the island while Brock makes it, touching down on the shore. He collapses onto the sand and pants hard. He won. He's out of breath and he may have swallowed water but it was totally worth it.

The others slowly join them and lie on the beach to enjoy the sun. 

"We should explore..." Gerard pants.

"Yes!" 

"I won," Brock says into the silence.

"Shut up. You cheated," grumbles Jack.

"I did not!"

"You kicked me!"

"I did not!" Brock sits up and looks at Jack incredulously. He would never cheat. Like that.

"You did too! I felt you kick my leg!"

"You calling me a liar?" Brock raises his voice, New York Italian accent coming out heavily.

"And a cheater." 

"Now ladies. Why are we fighting?" Ray teases.

"Not a cheater," Brock gets up and pounces on Jack.

"Cheater!" Jack yells, wrestling with Brock.

"Alright. My two old dudes… let's not pull a muscle." Ray teases. 

"Uh, Jack…" Bob smiles.

"Yeah?" Jack grunts as he tries to bite Brock's shoulder. 

"Rosie is trying to come ashore." 

Jack and Brock both still themselves mid-wrestle to see the top fin of Rosie near the shoreline. Jack untangles himself from his brother and goes over to the shark. "Rosie! Shoo! Go home! You can't live out of the water, dork. You can't be a human."

"Heartbreaker " Gerard snickers as he stands up and brushes off the sand.

"Let's go!" Mike says walking towards the grassy area.

"Told you I didn't hit you," Brock grumbles. He follows after the others.

"You two act like you're 10." Mike snorts.

~~

Frank paces the floor of their bungalow. "Where are they? We have rehearsal soon." 

"They probably lost track of time," Lindsey says sipping her tea from the veranda.

He steps on the veranda and texts Jack. He gives her a look and sighs.

_Frank: sooo, there's this cool thing called a wedding rehearsal happening in 45 mins. I kinda need my husband to, you know, rehearse._

He returns to pacing. Why is this the stressful part? He throws himself on the outdoor bed and sighs.

"Not like he isn't already yours… this is just the dress up." Lindsey comments.

"It has to be perfect for his family. For him." Frank groans before dropping his head in her lap, "I waxed my asshole for him." 

Lindsey snorts and spits her tea out just a little, "Ahh, true love." 

~~

Brock's leg is on fire. He's not sure if it's the hiking part or from the swimming. One of the reasons he loves swimming is that it's a low impact exercise. He gets to work on his muscle strengthening without overexerting himself. He might just be muscle tired. Huffing slightly, he stops. "What. Time. Is. It?" 

"Uh..." Gerard says looking back. His wristwatch is back at the bungalow.

"I dunno," Mike says turning and stopping.

"Cameras time isn't right, had to take the batteries out in the plane." Ray shrugs. He's a little winded. 

"A quarter past fuck this." Bob grunts.

"We should go back," Brock pants softly. "My leg hurts. I need a pill."

"Thank God. Now we just have to hike back, swim back and then drive back." Bob groans. 

"Oh stop it California. You were the one who spotted this place." Mike says irritated.

"Yeah but hiking with no shoes wasn't on my agenda." Bob huffs.

"Guess aqua socks aren't for losers then." Mike snips.

"Yeah, you gonna wear those when you bang your girlfriend too?" Bob grumbles.

"No. Just when I bang your mom," Mike replies, coolly.

"She doesn't fuck poor twigs." 

"Fuck you." 

"Fuck yourself, Way." Bob snarks.

"Hey, don't bring me into this." Gerard jokes.

"Someone needs some water and a nap huh?" Ray says putting an arm around Bob.

"I need shrimp dick to not be on my nuts," Bob grumbles.

"I got a big dick and you're jealous." Mike replies, rolling his eyes, "Needle dick."

"Enough with the dick talk..." Gee sighs, "Don't make me put you all in time out."

"Can it, Gee." Mike and Bob say in unison then laugh.

Brock ignores them in favor of carefully limping back towards the water. He glances up to check the position of the sun and curses hard, "Sonofabitch." 

"What?" Ray asks, snickering at the previous fight.

"We have forty-five minutes to be at the rehearsal," Brock grits out, navigating carefully around sticks and foliage.

"It's gonna take us 45 mins to get back to the resort." Bob comments. He knows it's not helping but the words fall out.

"I know. We need to hurry." 

~~

Lindsey runs fingers in Frank's hair, "I will help you get dressed, and then we can swing by my place. I'll change. You can have a drink and we will wait."

"Okay. This isn't like an omen right?" Frank asks. He's enjoying the fingers in his hair. In another life, he could easily see himself with someone like her. Warm. Tender. Caring. 

"...Nah. no. It's just the rehearsal." Lindsey pauses. It feels like a sign. But Frankie doesn't need to worry, "Alright. Let go get pretty. I can put makeup on you tomorrow to make you look flawless." 

"I dunno about that…" Frank snorts.

"You should make him sleep alone tonight. You know wedding traditions and all." Lindsey grins. 

"Let's see how rehearsal plays out before I even think about it," Frank says, rising to his feet and helping her to hers.

Frank goes in and changes into a nice pair of longer khaki shorts and a gauzy white linen shirt. It's similar to their reception outfits but this one is a full button down. He fixes his hair and washes his face. He smirks at the black fingernails curious about Brock's reaction. He pushes his lip ring with his tongue before brushing his teeth. He slides into white converse and steps out.

"Hello, gorgeous." Lindsey smiles.

"I feel like I am a parody of what a husband is supposed to be." Frank looks down at himself. 

"With those shorts that squeeze your ass nicely, your husband will have a _very_ hard time keeping his hands to himself." Lindsey puts her arm across his shoulder.

"Let's go get you changed and head to the practice run." Frank sighs.

~~

"Don't be mad Brock. Please but the engine won't turn over." Ray says soothingly as possible.

"Oh hell," Brock groans. "Someone find a phone and call Frank." 

"I don't have one," Mike says from the backseat.

"You flooded the engine. Give it a couple of minutes." Ray sighs at Gerard.

"Maybe someone has a bike or a boat?" Bob suggests.

Gerard looks around, "Uh, where's Jack?"

"I'm. Here." Jack pants, hands on his knees. "Rosie wouldn't take no for an answer. Pushy woman." 

"Engine’s flooded." Ray sighs, "Try it by just turning the engine, if you hear it click slowly hit the accelerator…"

"Frank's gonna panic." Mike comments.

The car turns over and roars alive. Ray hops in and waves Jack to hurry before Gerard speeds down the dirt road like a bat out of hell.

"We're so fucking late," groans Brock. At this rate, they needed to just hurry the hell up and get to the rehearsal. "Faster, please. Right to the rehearsal." 

~~

Frank is standing in front of their beautiful wedding altar. He pulls his phone out and sighs. 22 mins past the rehearsal start point. 

"We can always have someone stand-in for Brock. I mean all dudes are the same, right Frankenstein." James asks with a snicker. 

"I look like an idiot." Frank sighs and sits in the front row next to his mom.

"Maybe something happened and that's why they are late." Linda tries to reassure him.

"Or…" Frank opens his mouth but Linda covers it.

"Stop it. Brock adores you and wouldn’t do whatever that stupid voice in your head is thinking." She says softly.

"Probably found some hot island ass." James jokes, "Better get it out while it can still rise…" 

Frank can feel himself on the verge of tears or violence. James is probably right. Some hot island boy… he shakes his head and sighs.

"Can it James." Christine snaps.

As Frank squeezes his eyes closed the sound of an engine comes screaming up to them. He expects to open his eyes to some level of carnage but nothing. Nothing is out of place other than a Jeep is behind the altar.

"Frankie!" Brock scrambles out of the Jeep, nearly falling into the sand. He curses vehemently in Italian.

"You okay Brock?" Jack jumps out and catches his brother. Putting his arm around his shoulders, Jack helps Brock walk.

Frank stands up and flattens out the front of his shorts. He keeps a straight face, "You okay?" He asks.

"Leg. Fire." 

"We were swimming and we found an island. We swam to it and hiked. We lost track of time. We're sorry. He's in pain," Jack tells Frank.

"It is what it is," Frank says without any emotion in his voice. 

"Sounds like you had a fun time? Meet the locals?" James asks. 

"Are you going to be able to stand or do you want to sit?" Frank ignores his brother.

"James, if you imply my brother is anything other than an honorable man one more time…." growls Jack. 

"I can do this," Brock says, voice tight. He can still walk, just super slow.

"Or what curly sue? You're gonna glare me to death?" James replies with a trace of the jersey accent in his voice.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Frank says quietly.

"I want to do this. It's my fault for not bringing my phone. Or bringing a waterproof watch. I'm sorry, baby, that I'm late."

"Linda," Jack says her name with a trace of coldness in his voice. It's a warning. It very well might be the only one he gives. He will not tolerate anything or anyone ruining this wedding and vacation. Like hell will he stand by and listen to this piece of shit insult his family.

"You get one warning, James before I have Jack and Raymond escort you out. Don't test me. I'll cut you out like I did Carolyn." Linda points her finger. She turns to Aria, "Control him." 

"Oh, uh. Yes, ma'am." Aria stutters a little.

"Who is the uh, groom up with me?" The pastor says with a warm smile.

Brock kisses Frank lightly before moving towards the pastor and into his spot. He takes several deep breaths to control his pain levels before nodding that he was ready. Jack moves and stands next to his brother, leaving a space open for Ray to join in the middle.

Ray stands between them and nods at Christa across the way. Christine lets Emma go as she pretends to throw the flower petals down with the ladies following her as they make their way down the aisle and move to the side for Frankie. Frank Sr. walks with his son down the aisle with Linda trading off at the end. She gives Brock a little nod then returns to her seat. 

"This is where you both stand on the lines in the sand. I'll give my speech about marriage and how it takes patience and love. Then you, Brock, yes? You give Frank his ring and give your vows or go with the standard ones. Frank does the same. Then the I dos, the kiss. And I pronounce you married… how do you want me to introduce you?" The pastor asks.

"Uh…" Frank looks at Brock.

"Can you clarify?" 

"I now pronounce you husbands? I can say I give you, Mr. Brock and Franklin Rumlow. How do you want me to do this?" 

"Just Frank." Frank nods. 

"That's fine. That's better sounding than husbands or man and man," Brock nods.

"After the kiss, I'll introduce the newlyweds, Mr. Brock and Frank Rumlow." The pastor says, "Then it's party time." 

"What do you think of my parents switching off or should I just walk alone?" Frank asks Brock. He's trying to keep his tone neutral.

"That's cute. I like that baby," Brock nods.

"Okay. We'll keep it. So, Ray and Gee are gonna play me in… but once I arrive they will come back up." Frank says with a nod.

"Oh, right. My lost wager," Brock chuckles and shakes his head. "Alright. Do I get to know what song you picked or is this a surprise for shock and awe purposes?"

"Shock and Awe." Frank nods. 

"Goof," he grins in response.

"Does this all work for you guys?" The pastor asks, "Do you have your vows or are you going traditional?"

"We've written our own vows," smiles Brock.

"Excellent. That's all I have."The pastor's grin widens, "I am excited for you gentlemen." 

"Thanks! We're excited too! I can't wait until tomorrow," Brock says excitedly.

"Who is hungry? We have some sample cakes and hors d'oeuvres up at the dining area." Taimani says dressed in cream with a smile and a flower in her hair, "Come. A little pre-dinner snack." 

"I'll go get you a pill." Frank says, taking a step back from Brock, "So, you can rest." 

"No, I need to shower and clean up. We all do. Do you want to come with me? Help me get dressed and such?" Brock wraps his arms around Frankie.

"Yeah. I can." Frank says as he rests his hand on Brock.

"Come on. Let's ride in the Jeep." 

Frank follows him quietly to the Jeep, "Pretty sure you shouldn't drive on the sand." 

"Gerard's fault," Brock says, climbing in.

"You said delivery. I delivered." Gerard says climbing into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, maybe not do the max speed on the way back to the bungalows, okay? I'm not sure my ass can handle the bumpiness," Brock snorts.

"Okay. I'll drive like a normal person." Gee chuckles as the others pile in. Frank sits quietly as everyone is delivered to their doors, leaving Brock and Frank for last so Gee can drop the Jeep off. He crawls out and waits for Brock. He's confident Brock will need help. He watches his husband slide out and offers his arm, silently.

Brock eases out of the Jeep, taking Frank's arm and using it as a brace. Holding him tight, they carefully walk up to the bungalow door.

Frank opens the door and lets Brock in first. 

"I'll start your shower, while you take a pill," Frank says once Brock's inside. He closes the door, moving past Brock to the bathroom.

"Okay," he replies softly into the emptiness of the room. Guilt floods him. He didn't mean to be late. Frank was clearly angry at him. The bare minimum speaking was indicative enough. He probably made him worry. Slowly he goes to the bed and sits, popping the pill dry, and waits. 

As Frank turns the water on, he takes a breath. _You need to let it go. It's in the past. Don't dwell._ He tells himself as he turns to face the mirror, _Accidents happen. Brock is the most weirdly on-time person. He's allowed this once._ He steps away from the mirror and to the door.

"Frankie, I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me," Brock calls to him after the silence is too much to bear.

"I'm not angry, Brock," Frank says as he emerges. He curls his fingers for Brock to come to him, "Come on. You stink like saltwater, sweat, and maybe fish…" 

Frank steps into the bedroom and approaches his husband, "Did you hear me?" 

"Yeah," he whispers.

"There's a _but_ in there, huh?" 

"You aren't exactly happy to see me. Practically gave me the cold shoulder at the rehearsal. I'm sorry I was late. It won't happen tomorrow, I swear. We were playing around and I lost track of time. We were snorkeling and swimming and then they decided to check out an island for wedding photos and–"

"Hey. I was worried. That's all. You're allowed to lose track of time with your friends. I'm not mad I promise." Frank cups his face, "You showed, that is what is important. I'm a little peeved you didn't bring anything for your leg. But that's nothing. I swear." He kisses him but wrinkles his nose before pulling back, "Come on swamp thing, let's get you bathed and back to being my handsome mafia prince."

"My leg was doing fine until we went hiking. I think the combo of swimming and the physical exertion of the hike was just too much. I love being in the water and I think that had we stayed there, I would've been fine. Probably still late, but fine." Brock forces himself to his feet with a wince, limping towards the bathroom.

"Well, I guess we are taking it easy tonight then," Frank says helping him undress.

"Eh, the pill will kick in soon and I'll be good. I won't be doing anything like running or climbing tonight but I'll be alright." He steps out of the wet and seaweed covered swim trunks and steps into the shower.

"Probably shouldn't have any _extracurricular_ activities either…" Frank perches himself on the bathroom sink.

"Gimme an hour and we'll see. Unless you have something planned?" Brock begins washing his hair.

"Not really. Just maybe make love to my husband under the stars but he seems to be broken…" Frank grins as he watches Brock through the steamy glass.

"Not broken; just bent," Brock replies. He moves to wash his body. "What about cuddles in the hammock? I'm all for being under the stars, love."

"That works too." Frank smiles, "You said something about wedding pictures."

"Yes. Ray was talking about wedding photos in our suits while standing in the water."

"Oh, gotcha! Did you wanna do that?" Frank asks.

"Yeah, I think it'll be cute."

"I do too!" Frank grins, "How do you feel?"

"Cleaner, mostly. Are you excited about tomorrow still?"

"I dunno… what's tomorrow again?" Frank snickers. 

"Oh, you don't know?" Brock teases, "Do you want the good news or the bad?" 

"Always with the bad first…" Frank says with a smile, "Give it to me straight…"

"Our parents are going to meet face to face." 

"Oh shit. That's not good." Frank giggles, "What's the good news?"

"We get to say our vows and I do thee wed." Brock shuts off the water and opens the glass.

Frank tosses him a towel, "Oh I get to say some vows huh? That's neato." He bites his lip and raises an eyebrow, "Who am I marrying again?" 

"You did write your vows, right?" Brock asks with raised eyebrows. He dries his face and runs the towel over his hair.

"I have them started..." Frank says softly.

"Really? That's…. That's good but only started? As long as it's from the heart, that's all that matters. Just don't quote song lyrics." Stepping out of the shower, he wraps the towel around his waist and tucks it. Standing in front of Frank, he slides his arms up his thighs to rest at his hips. "Okay knowing you, you'll probably have at least one or two song lyrics in there. And knowing me, I'll probably miss the cue entirely."

"I was gonna wing it." Frank leans in and kisses Brock's lips, "You don't want me to throw in song lyrics… like when both our cars collide? Or something classic like the Beatles? Oh Billy Idol's white wedding!" Frank grins.

"Frankie," Brock bemoans. He leans forward and kisses him. "Why do you do this to me?" 

"I wanna fuck you like an animal?" Frank offers. 

Brock blinks several times. He's thrown off and confused. "..... Is that a song title?" 

Frank pulls his phone out and plays 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails. He smirks.

"Okay, okay, okay stop it. That's enough. I get it…" Brock tries to cover the phone to make the noise stop.

Frank presses stop, "I can't recite these words?" 

"No!" Brock pouts. He hates all the music Frank listens to. 

"Don't pout." Frank leans in and kisses him, "It's not that bad. It's kind of a sexy song." 

Brock returns the kiss but maintains the pout.

"Wanna watch the music video?" Frank asks.

"No. Let's cuddle."

"Now who's the grumpy one…" Frank snickers, "Lead the way poppa bear."

"Come on, cub," Brock smirks, tugging him off the sink. 

Frank follows happily after his husband, "Clothes or no?" He watches him crawl into the hammock and waits his turn. 

He pulls his shirt and shorts off, just leaving soft feeling undies on, and crawls inside with Brock. He kisses Brock's chest and strokes his skin.

"When have I ever asked you to wear clothing?" Brock chuckles as he wraps his limbs around Frank, holding him tight and nuzzling his hair.

"Can I be naked tomorrow?" Frank asks as he runs a finger over Brock's chest, "Also can we not move from this position, I never wanna leave your arms."

"I feel the same way. However, I don't think it's wise to go to our wedding in the nude tomorrow. I don't think it's good to shock our parents."

"Oh. Fine. I suppose." Frank giggles, "Don't wanna make anyone jealous with the big cock of yours.

"Lindsey suggested I sleep elsewhere tonight for wedding luck and whatnot," Frank says softly.

Brock scoffs lightly. "Luck. We do what we want. We're already married. We don't need luck when we have each other." 

"That's what I'm saying we have already been married for like a month now." Frank kisses him on the chest.

"Question. Are we going to celebrate our wedding anniversary at the courthouse wedding or this one?"

"Our December wedding." 

"Oh good. This is so much easier to remember. What's the date? 1, 2, 3! That's right, December 3rd! Yay…"

"You're a dork," Frank says before rubbing his nose on Brock’s chest.

"Takes one to know one. And that's disgusting. Don't rub your boogers on me. Ew!" Brock laughs.

"My nose itches! I practically pee on you, I think boogers are nothing." Frank snorts.

"That's different!"

"No! It's not different; explain yourself Rumlow." 

"That's hot and boogers are not," he replies simply.

"Oh my god. You are silly. My saliva is fine? My cum and piss but not a little snot. Mind you, I had an itch." Frank snickers, "You put your cock in my ass."

"I hear nothing wrong with those," Brock fights a grin and a laugh. 

"You're silly." He rubs his nose on Brock again then relaxes again, "I'm glad you had fun today." 

"Me too. I haven't had that much fun with wild abandon in a long time. It was good to just let go and have fun. What about you?"

"The girls and I had a nice relaxing day." Frank sighs. He thinks about Brock's words, "You need to let go and relax. You're too tense." 

"It's not something I can do easily. I do with you when we are alone and I know we're safe. But out in the open, not having to worry about anything and play around with the boys… it's rare. I wrestled with Jack after he accused me of cheating on our swim race but it was just Rosie. Fucker never apologized."

"Who… who's Rosie?"

"Jack's shark girlfriend."

"Oh cause that’s a thing apparently?" Frank snickers, "Babe, is my back a little sunburnt? It feels hotter than normal." 

"Uh… yeah… what the hell did you do, babe?"

"Laid in the sun… nude. You're in for a surprise when you check your phone." Frank says softly. He wonders if his front is burnt too. Or at least crispy.

"I'd check but it would mean moving. Nude, huh?" 

"Very nude. I saw a lot of boobs today. I wasn't expecting it." 

"Wait. You did _nude_ sunbathing with the _girls_?" 

"Yeah, Linds, Christa, and Kristen." Frank lifts his head.

"Oh lord."

"What, we played just the tip. It doesn't even count…" Frank keeps his face as straight as possible. He's not sure what reaction he'll get but it should be fun.

"Just the–! You little shithead," Brock laughs, fingers tickling him.

Frank giggles and squirms under his loves fingers. "It only counts… when balls touch!" 

"You are so mean! Shithead!" Brock laughs and continues tickling him. He stops, breathing hard. "Jerk." 

"You love me." Frank giggles, "But we did sunbathe naked, front and back. My luck, I crispy fried my dick." 

"This is why sunscreen was invented."

"But this means I won't look like a ghost in our photos." Frank leans up and presses his lips to Brock’s chin.

"I like your pale beauty. You won't look like a ghost, goofball. But you will be sunburned and uncomfortable in your suit tomorrow, however." He leans down and kisses him.

"There is where you're wrong. I'm gonna take a milk bath. Or a tea bath." Frank smiles, "And maybe, a really hot guy could put oil on me before we go to bed."

"Good luck finding one," Brock teases.

"There was a cute waiter last night..." Frank bites his lip as he grins. 

"Ha ha ha. Hush." Brock shakes his head and shifts, cuddling Frank closer. He sighs, winding down a little.

"I love you more than anything." Frank speaks softly, "I did miss you today. You would have enjoyed the mani-pedi, massage, and facial day." 

"What? You got the spa treatment? Damn. I'm jealous. We snorkeled and swam. A lot."

"You should’ve picked groomsmaids…" Frank grins, "I even got my nails painted."

"I saw that. Toes too?" Brock leans a little to try and take a peek.

"Nope, those are natural." Frank pauses, "I got waxed too." 

"I can _feel_ that. Maybe I should put oil there too?"

"I think so. Just to keep me smooth." Frank grins.

"I love it when you are so smooth."

"I have to admit something," Frank says quietly.

"What baby?"

"I am worried."

Brock's brows furrow and he hugs Frankie tighter. "Why, _tesoro_? What's wrong, sweetheart?" 

"James. He's gonna say something and get his ass kicked… he said some shit that bothered me." Frank cuddles closer, "The last thing I need is him to offend your parents."

"What did he say? Besides the fact that he thought I'd left you at the altar?"

"That you met someone and had extramarital fun with a hot island boy and that's why you were late." Frank says quietly, "He also made a weight comment. Which felt _great_."

"I love your weight. You are healthy and perfect to me. And I am not a cheater. You are my soulmate for life. Please don't think I would do that; to you. To us. You've made me the happiest man in the world. You are perfect."

"I know you wouldn't cheat on me." Frank strokes Brock's chest, "The weight thing is a struggle… I'm trying to stay a good weight. Maybe skinnier." 

"All I ask is that you don't be like me…. Vomiting; but for a different reason. Because you are so worried about your weight. What did James say?"

"That you must enjoy more cushion of the pushin'..." Frank pauses. He frowns, "Brock must like chunky Dunkin..." 

"I do love your tummy pudge. Makes a great pillow. But you are in no way 'chunky'. You are my Twinkie and I love you just the way you are. Jesus, his whore of a woman is fatter than you. He's an asshole and an even bigger one now that he's drunk. I've got zero problems punching him into next week."

"He deserves it. Aria was actually nice. I, by no means like her. Bunny and the baby are coming in after he leaves. Mom wanted her here but she couldn’t get the time off." Frank says quietly, "But she apologized after he was a dick." 

"Aww, Liam! Emma and he could play. So cute." Brock is silent for a moment. "Why does the name Aria sound familiar?" 

"The night you got shot, she was the cop in Christa's room." Frank strokes Brock's chest with his fingertips, kissing his skin.

"Oh." 

"I’m surprised you remember. You were so out of it from… you know blood loss." Frank says softly, "Promise me you won't do that again..." 

"You know I can't. But I will try my best not to get shot." He kisses the top of his head, fingers lightly caressing his skin.

"We've had our couples police report, criminal activity, two weddings, depression, break up, and a new kink. We really are hitting the first year of coupledom."

"We didn't break up but yeah. You also forgot panic attacks and a triangle love affair with another band member. And we haven't even known each other a full year yet. What else could there possibly be?" Brock laughs, "With that list, we can take on anything." 

"You're right. We are better together than apart that's for sure. I mean, we went through a lifetime worth of bullshit and trauma in 9 months. And what's crazy is that I am so happy. Blessed every fuckin day that I get to see your pretty face." Frank grins wide.

"Add that to your vows," he chuckles before kissing him slow and deep.

After the kiss, he lets out a soft sigh with a smile. He lays there and listens to Brock's heartbeat and the sound of the ocean. The two sounds are so peaceful and calm any anxiety in his chest. He truly is so lucky. He strokes Brock's skin and enjoys the cool breeze for a moment. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift off.

Brock closes his eyes and follows suit. The pill was taking effect and he was feeling pretty decent in his pain levels. It was warm but not too hot because of the cool ocean breeze that washed over their skin. Having Frankie on his chest was a comforting weight that pulled him into sleep. His last thought before he drifted off was to get a hammock for their new house.

The feeling of being shaken hard pulls him back into reality from his dreams, Frank opens his eyes slightly panicked, and lifts his head to look around. He looks down, Brock's still there. He looks up and sees Ray's face with that signature stupid smile.

"Y'all slept through dinner again." Ray says before shaking Brock, "Brock! Wake up." 

Frank sits up and realizes that it's pitch dark outside of their covered porch. He slips off Brock and stretches. He pulls the towel to cover Brock's junk.

"What time is it?"

"9 pm." Ray chuckles. "They sent me to come check on you guys."

"Brock," Frank says firmly.

"Here. Heard you the first time," Brock grumbles slightly as he yawns. He stretches long and yawns again. "I live." 

"He's alive!" Frank snorts.

"Momma Linda made you fools sandwiches and milk. She said you can nap during your wedding reception." Ray says handing Frank a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, "I have a wife to attend to. Night boys, see you in the morning, Mr. Brock Rumlow."

"Night, Ray. Come on Babe, let go inside. Maybe we can watch a movie." Frank says softly. He pads inside the cottage and places the plate on their table. He yawns and rubs his face. 

"I love PB&J sandwiches and milk," Brock yawns, following after Frankie. "This is probably better than what they were gonna feed us anyway."

"Probably fish again." Frank wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah probably. I like this. What movie did you want to watch?" Brock grabs a sandwich and takes a bite.

"I don't care. Something light. Maybe an old movie." Frank sighs as he takes a bite of a sandwich, "Maybe a black and white movie." 

"I had a dream we had kids. They were cute as hell too." Frank smiles warmly at Brock.

"Kittens, right? I got you knocked up with kitten babies?"

"No. Like kids. Two little girls." Frank grins, "Big brown chocolate eyes with their dad’s grin and my attitude."

"Sounds like a handful. Princess hellkittens," he snickers.

"Cherry and Lilly." 

"Is there something you want to tell me? Is your internal biological clock ticking and screaming at you?" Brock moves to sit down and eat the rest of his sandwich.

"I don't think so. Maybe my period's late." Frank snorts.

"Well, you have been a little moody as of late. Very emo. I hear that's the first sign."

"More than normal?" 

"Fair," he laughs. "Could be stress or it could be PMS. It's a good thing we're getting married before the baby comes. We're better than a shotgun wedding."

"Mmm… papa Cheech does have a few rifles..." Frank smirks, "I imagine momma Maria would lock me away in a tower. Hide the shame… you know." 

"Lucky for you, daddy. The only baby you have is me." Frank grins. He takes a big drink of milk, "How's your leg? Ready to go dancing?" 

"Still working on that. I am feeling much better though," Brock nods.

"Did you still wanna experiment or save that for tomorrow?" 

"Hmm. We need to go to bed like responsible adults tonight and not stay up all night fucking before our wedding. Unfortunately, we slept quite a bit and I don't think either one of us is ready to go to sleep."

"Yup." 

Brock finishes off the sandwich and drinks half of his milk. "Great. Now that I've rationalized it, yes I want to. It'll make us tired for sure. But we can't do a marathon."

"So we have to get off relatively at the same time." 

"Well, my little test of a theory involves only me getting off, first. After the experiment though, yeah we both need to make it good enough to help us sleep." He finishes the rest of his milk. "But first, you need to shower. You're not going to want to once we start playing."

"Okay, babe." Frank smiles as he listens to Brock. He finishes his sandwich, "So off to the showers I go."

He rises to his feet and stretches, "You coming?" 

"Oh, I intend to." He laughs at his little joke. "But I already took a shower." 

Frank playfully rolls his eyes, "I’ll be in the shower if you need me." He pads off to the bathroom, dropping the undies as he goes.

"Oh I always _need_ you," he calls after him, smiling. After a moment of thought, he decides to follow.

Frank steps into the shower and turns the water on. He's quietly humming as he waits. He glances over his shoulder and gives a small smile, "Miss me?" 

"Always. Thought I'd keep you company, at least." His eyes rove over Frank's body, in both appreciation and concern. "Your entire backside is sunburned, love." 

"It's very warm." 

"Yeah, you need a hot shower. It'll hurt like hell but it will open up your pores and release the heat. Eventually, it won't hurt while standing under the spray and that's how you know you're done. I don't think we have enough tea or milk to pour into a bath for you."

"Hot?! Baby. No…" he turns and pouts.

"It'll…. Work…" Brock trails off as he registers the new sight he's seeing. Frank was hairless everywhere that Brock could see. It made his mouth water. He has to push it away to be able to focus.

"You okay?" Frank asks as his head tilts to the side slightly. He glances down and sees his pink chest, "Did I burn my dick?" 

Taking a step forward, for science, Brock takes a closer look and tries his damnedest to not get hard. He's got plans. "Yeah, I think you did. Just a little." 

"Crap. Well, that sucks. It doesn't hurt though." He's stalling. He absolutely doesn't want to get into the hot shower.

"Good. That would make our play very painful for you. Let's not do that. Just like you aren't going to nude sunbathe again without sunscreen and a timer, right?"

"Yes sir." Frank pouts. His arm reaches back and touches the warm water. He steps into the spray and winces as his skin protests, "What are your plans for sexy time?" 

"That is going to remain a surprise, I think. I'm not sure it's going to work and don't want to hype it up and have it be disappointing."

"I doubt anything you do is disappointing," Frank says, carefully washing his body. He moves on to his hair, this shower needs to end. He feels like he's being burned alive. As he rinses off, he hisses then turns the water off. He might have broken Brock's speed clean record.

"You didn't stay under long enough. You gotta stay under the water until the sting is gone," Brock states.

His shoulders fall as he sighs, "Fine." He steps back in and turns the water on. He is not a fan of this. He pouts until the water gets hot and his face scrunches up. 

"I know it hurts but it'll help you feel a lot better after and even less sore tomorrow. I'm sorry, baby."

"We're moving to Alaska." Frank grumbles, "Stupid sun."

"I'm not moving anywhere there's cold. And your plan is flawed. Alaska gets months of 24/7 sunlight. And then 24/7 nights."

"Then we become mole people." Frank turns his head "Would being in hot steam count?"

"You want to sit in the jacuzzi?" Brock raises an eyebrow. "Sure."

"That's gonna hurt too." Frank sighs, "Stupid pale skin. I've become a pampered princess. Before I would just deal. Now, look at me… I'm clean. I have nice clothing… I'm not punk rock."

Brock leans against the sink, smirking slightly. "Do you regret it?" 

"Regret what?" Frank looks over. He hopes he looks as pathetic as he feels.

"Being pampered like the little prince you are?" 

"There's a song my mom used to sing to us kids and even Emma..." Frank wipes the water from his face, "Non, je ne regrette rien. It's how I feel." 

Brock frowns. He gets the gist of the meaning but the words were unfamiliar. 

"I'm a pampered little prince and that's fine. As long as I have you." 

"You'll always have me. What was that you were saying?"

"Non, je ne regrette rien?" Frank smiles.

"I don't know what that is or means. Is it French?" 

"It is French. 'No, I regret nothing' it's a song my mom sang to us. It's about having lived a full life and looking back and regretting nothing. Quite a nice song." Frank grin

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you regret nothing. And I'm glad you are getting accustomed to the life I want to provide for us."

"I care about the things I have. I got the only thing I have ever wanted." Frank nods, "It's about five foot nine, tan, dark brown eyes, chestnut hair. Killer smile. Smart and funny and compassionate."

"Pssh. I'm at least five-ten."

"Fine, five-ten." Frank laughs, "Can I come out now?"

"Are you still feeling pain?"

"No." 

"Oh well, what do you know, it worked. Yeah, you can come out now," Brock laughs.

Frank turns the water off and steps out. He shivers slightly, "Now I'm cold." 

Brock hands him his towel. "Let's get you dry and warm then." 

Frank wraps the towel around himself and pouts a little, "Oil me up, please?" 

"Alright, _topolino_. Come to bed and I'll rub you down." 

Frank follows Brock to the bed and sits on the edge, "Lindsey gave me aloe." 

"Good. You need it." Brock sits down next to him and squirts the aloe into his hand before rubbing it into Frank's neck and shoulders.

"Did you call me little mouse?" 

He chuckles, "I did. All of your adorable protesting and pouting made it just fit."

"I'm big and tough." Frank pouts.

"Not helping your case, _topolino_." 

"I wonder if your voice speaking Italian in my ear could get me off?" 

"Wanna test that theory right now?"

"Sure." He grins looking back at Brock, "Do you?" 

" _Yes. It would be interesting to see if you could go from soft to cumming from my voice alone_ ," Brock purrs in Frank's ear. He adds more aloe and works it into Frank's arms. " _With my hands on your body._ " 

"I don't know what you're saying but fuck, it's hot," Frank says with a smile.

" _Oh so I could ramble on over a menu or speak random nonsense but you wouldn't care because it's all in the tone of my voice._ "

"Mmmhmmm," Frank says leaning into his husband's touch. The words send tingles down his spine and rest between his thighs, "You know if you speak Italian while we have sex, I'll probably blow my load."

" _You mean you couldn't come from this alone? I would love that."_

"Keep talking. You're doing things…" Frank grins, he tilts his head back and kisses Brock's neck.

" _What's great is that this ties into my little experiment._ " Brock moves on to rubbing aloe on Frank's back. " _I wanted to see if I could come completely untouched. And now, I want to see if you can do the same._ "

Frank moans softly as Brock rubs down his back, "I love your hands on me." 

" _Good. I love touching you. I love making you feel so good. I love you._ "

"I know that one." Frank says softly, "I love you more, baby. Tell me what you wanna do with me." 

" _I want to make you feel so good. I want to make you happy. Want to see your beautiful face twist with pleasure. I want to make love to you tonight before our wedding day. After I make you come from my words._ "

"Fuck, I love you." Frank moans softly, his imagination taking over, and hardens him, "Want you to fill me up with your gorgeous cock and cum inside of me."

" _I love you, too, baby. So much. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. I can't wait to grow old with you together._ " Brock runs his aloe covered hands over Frank's chest, focusing on rubbing in the gel instead of intentionally trying to get his boy further aroused. He wants him to cum strictly from his voice.

"Fuck Brock." Frank moans. His hips rock slightly on the bed.

" _What are you thinking about, I wonder? Perhaps it is your favorite moments of us together. Or perhaps your mind wanders to the things you wish could be. I'd love to know your fantasies. What did you think about when you'd touch yourself? What were you imagining when you buried your cock into a woman?"_

He catches the word woman and his eyes pop open, "Brock, I just want you to touch me… I'm pent up." His voice is low as he rests into Brock.

" _And I want to see you come apart from my voice. I am touching you. You can feel my hands rub the aloe into your perfect skin. I love your ink. I love touching you."_

"Keep talking." 

" _I won't stop. Not until I watch your perfect cock twitch and jolt as you cum all over your stomach. And then I'll lick it up. God, how I wanted to swallow your cock down the moment I saw you freshly waxed. The smoothness is always so soft it makes me want to rub my face there before choking on your dick. I love your cock down my throat. I love tasting your cum. It's sweet, did you know that? It drives me insane with need. I know I can cum untouched from deep throating you. Not from humping the bed. But truly untouched. Especially if you mouth fuck me."_

Frank rolls his hips as he feels a heavyweight in his stomach that builds. "I'm close, Brock. Fuck. I fucking love you..." 

" _Keep humping the air. Bet it feels good to give in to the urge. Just don't touch yourself, baby. I want to hear you keen and whine with need. You're doing so good for me, baby. Such a good boy. Perfect little twink. I wanna see you cum. Cum for me, my love."_

Frank whines as his hips roll again. "Of fuck! I...Love you!" He feels his low stomach tense as his cock twitches. He leans harder into Brock. He tilts his head back and kisses Brock's throat and jawline, "Fuck oh god. Gonna cum" 

" _Good. Fuck you're amazing. Love watching your twink body move. I'm tempted to kiss and bite your throat but I know you're such a fucking pain slut, you'd cum on the spot like a good little whore. And as much as I enjoy that, I wanna see you cum without any physical contact. Cum for me._ "

Frank moans and squirms as the feeling of everything falling into place for him. His hands run over Brock's legs, then his own, "I'm gonna come. Fuck, " he whines again as his cock twitches, he's there. He just needs a little push, he tries to slow his breathing and get himself to cum but instead he holds it in with a gasp. A hand moves for his own cock out of desperation.

" _No. Don't touch yourself._ " Brock gently takes the wrist and holds his hands at their sides. He growls hot in his ear, knowing what it does to Frank, " _You don't get to touch your pretty cock. That's mine. You're gonna cum from my voice and my words alone. You are mine."_

Frank whines louder as he pushes his hips up, "Fuck!" He feels it happening, his body crumbling as Brock's growl sends tingles down his side, "Please, Brock!"

" _Cum for me my little angel. Cum all over yourself like a good kitten. Come for daddy,"_ Brock growls.

Frank's hips rock then pushes up, he gasps as he cums. Hitting his low stomach and chest, as he moans Brock's name loud before cursing. He softens into his husband's chest, tilting his chin up, and kisses his jaw.

"Fuck, _tesoro_ that was amazing. So perfect." Brock seizes Frankie's lips into a hard kiss.

Frank moans against Brock's lips. He pulls back and whispers, "Holy... I don't know what you were saying but god damn." 

Brock chuckles breathlessly, "One day. For now, I'm going to use that against you one day. Now…. Lay down."

"You can always use Italian against me..." Frank lies back on the bed and exhales. A hand runs over his own chest, "Am I taking a nap now?" 

"No. Not unless you want to." Brock shifts and carefully lays on his side, face level with Frank's groin. Using the flat side of his tongue, he licks up the largest cum streak across Frank's stomach. A soft moan escapes at the taste. 

"Oh, holy fuck!" Frank groans as his fingers run through Brock's hair. "I love you. I love your tongue." 

Brock groans as he quickly cleans up every inch of Frank's stomach and groin of cum. "Fuck you taste so damn good." 

"Jesus." Frank sighs. He pulls Brock up and kisses him hard before pulling back, "Perks of being with a vegetarian. I taste good..." 

"I think I would love the way you taste even if you aren't vegetarian. Now, your theory is proven. It's my turn now. You just relax. I'm going to get my phone." Brock sits up and grabs his phone, opening up his web browser and doing a search.

Frank sits up on the bed and watching Brock curiously. He scoots up towards the pillows, "For the record, my ass was not aloe'd, but I can do that." He leans over and sees porn then retracts like he shouldn't be looking. He grabs the aloe and slips off the bed and aloes his butt.

"You can watch if you want. I was going to finish aloe'ing you after my little experiment."

"Well sugarplum, I'm gonna need a second coat for sure. Or maybe lotion." He fans his butt before sitting beside his love. 

"That's fine," Brock replies a little absently. He's searching for his newest kink and hopefully to find a decent video. With sound. He scrolls through, reading the captions and finding nothing that catches his eye.

"So this theory we are testing..." Frank's gaze lands on Brock's phone and gets distracted.

"Something occurred to me last night while we were playing. You know how you were trying to hold until you couldn't anymore?" Brock doesn't find anything that looks long enough or good enough so he goes to the next page.

"Yeah?" Frank rests his head on Brock's shoulder.

"It was a lot like the car in Canada. And what I realized was that, had you lost it in the car seat, I would have blown my load. Completely untouched. I want to see if I could do that. Go from soft to coming without a single bit of contact."

"So what we just did to me, even though I just wanted more than just your voice?"

"Yes. You said you thought you could come from my voice and words alone. And so that's why I didn't touch you. Because the goal was to see if you could come untouched. My theory is the same. We both know I can go from zero to sixty, but I usually fuck you after and then cum. I just need to find a decent video."

Frank has questions about what Brock was saying but he's going to keep them until after the lesson, "Maybe try searching wet undies?" 

Brock hums and changes the search query. He scrolls through the new results.

"Baby… you uh, when you were whispering in Italian to me, I caught the word woman… why?" Frank asks softly.

"Oh, I was asking about your fantasies. And what was the sort of things you used to imagine while touching yourself or fucking a woman? I didn't want to say _her_ name." 

"Oh. Oh okay. A lot of things… by the way." Frank pecks Brock's cheek, "Any luck?"

"One day, I'd love to know them. And no. Not really but..." He clicks one video and checks out the related ones. A title catches his eye. _Stuck in traffic and I couldn't hold it!_ It seemed very promising. "This one might work. Do you want to see it? Or….?"

"Do you want privacy?" Frank asks. He's curious to know when exactly Brock gets turned on and when he cums. 

"To be honest, I've never had an audience during something like this but I'm not going to send you away if you want to watch. I just wasn't sure if you were _interested_."

"I can go... Just say. But I'm more curious about how fast..." Frank says softly as he runs a finger up Brock's arm.

"This one is…. 2:43. So we'll see if that's my record," Brock chuckles.

Frank sits quietly beside him, he listens intently. "I won't interrupt." He sits up fully and waits.

Brock presses play and turns up the volume. Having Frankie next to him is making him a little weird but only because it's his first time having an audience in his…. Would this be considered masturbation? He shakes his head a little and refocuses on the video. It's a point of view video with the camera pointed at his crotch. The guy sounds young and he's wearing light tan pants. Already he's starting to squirm, hand going down to grab at himself. Brock's eyes are glued to the screen. He can feel his mouth going dry and his cock hardening.

The guy whimpers and begs the traffic to move. He grabs himself again, a slight darkening spot no bigger than a dime appears. Brock knows then that he's close to losing it and the thought is enough to harden him fully. If the guy is leaking enough, it's not long now. The squirming and little soft noises of begging and panicked whimpers bring Brock right to the edge. Without looking in a mirror, he knows his pupils are blown wide. He's taking short breaths and his fingers turn white from holding the phone so tightly. He knows that the moment the guy in the video soaks himself, he's going to cum. The thought turns him on more.

More protests fall out of the guy’s mouth just seconds before a soft groan of relief escapes. The tan pants flood in a matter of seconds from the rush of liquid, quickly spreading in his lap, soaking the visible car seat, and dripping onto the floor.

Brock's breath catches and he cums hard at the sight. His body jerks slightly from the waves of pleasure. "Oh fuck!" 

Frank’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Brock literally go from 0 to 1000 in minutes. He runs a finger over the fresh streak on Brock's stomach and licks his finger. "That was a success..." Frank whispers.

"Mmhmm..." Brock pants. He's still a little blissed out. "Holy hell." 

"Impressive, lover." Frank leans up and kisses Brock's cheek, "And you say I have a teenage libido." 

Brock reaches up, cupping Frank's head, pulling him into a deep kiss. Pulling away for a moment he scrolls on his phone for a moment, watching another video. Once he's hard again, he turns off the phone, tosses it aside, and returns to kissing Frank hard.

Frank rests his hand on Brock's chest as he kisses him back, enjoying Brock's hand on his skin. His free hand runs down his side and back up, scratching his skin. 

Moaning, Brock kisses him harder. His hands, mindful of Frankie's sunburn, carefully caress over his husband's body. He tugs Frankie into his lap, needing him. His hips push up, loving the feel of Frank's cock against his. Another moan escapes.

"We need lube..." Frank leans in and kisses Brock. He turns away from Brock on his hands and knees moving for the lube on the nightstand furthest away from them.

"Shake that ass, kitten," Brock says, watching him with lust-blown eyes.

He reaches back and grabs a handful of cheek. Pulling his cheeks apart and looking back, "I got _everything_ waxed." He lets go and playfully smacks his own cheek.

"Holy fuck," Brock gasps out softly. He's gonna need to inspect that. For science.

"For you." Frank grins back at Brock and moves for the lube.

"You better give it to me when you get your ass back up here," he growls 

"Surprised you didn't yank me back by my ankle." Frank snickers as he grabs the lube, "How do you want me?"

"Face down, ass up. Hands and knees, boy."

"Yes, sir." Frank moves between Brock's legs. He plants himself down on his elbows and knees. He looks back, “Like this, _daddy?"_

"Good boy," he growls out for Frankie's benefit. 

He wiggles his ass a little with a wide smile as he looks back at Brock.

Placing his hands on both of Frankie's ass cheeks, Brock spreads them wide. The sight of his perfectly pink pucker has Brock's mouth-watering. Wasting no time, he dives in with a loud groan, licking a broad stripe right up the center of his husband's ass. Silky smooth skin with just a hint of soap and the musk that is his husband drives Brock wild with need. He groans again before lapping and teasing his hole.

Frank moans as he pushes back slightly into Brock. He fists the comforter as he pushes his forehead down, "Oh fuck, Brock!" 

The position he's in isn't the best and so he lifts Frank a little, sliding him across the bed so he can get onto his stomach. Once he's ensured they are both comfortable, he returns to licking and teasing. He flicks the tip of his tongue over the tight hole lightly. 

"Yes! Oh, fuck yes!" Frank moans louder as all the blood moves to his cock. 

Frank's screams are encouraging to Brock and he moves to shove his tongue inside his husband. He starts at a fast pace, undulating the muscle. He wants Frankie to come undone quickly.

His hips jerk at the feeling of Brock working his body, it's not going to take much more for him to come. "Fuck Brock! That's it! There!" Frank cries out as he squeezes the comforter tighter, "Need to come please!" 

"Then do it," he growls against his skin before tongue fucking him harder. He can feel himself reacting from Frankie's movements and cries.

Frank’s legs shake for a moment before he comes with a cry. His whole body shakes as the pleasure runs through him. "Oh holy fuck, Brock!" 

Brock pulls away from Frankie's ass and gives in to the urge to bite one of Frank's globes of flesh.

Frank moans again. He falls against the bed and lets out a big sigh. "Waxed and bleached are on the regular to-do list then…" 

He chuckles and rubs his hands over the curve of Frankie's ass. "It's a good thing you or I didn't put aloe there just yet, huh?" 

"Mmmhmm." Frank hums before he slowly flips himself on his back. He eyes Brock's rock hard cock, "So, now it's your turn… he looks quite eager to get a turn." 

"Very eager." Brock grabs the lube and pops it open, pouring some into his hand before stroking his cock.

"What does he want? I'm very eager to please..." Frank bites his lips as he sits up and kisses Brock's lips.

"Easy to please too," Brock murmurs teasingly against his lips. He kisses him again. "I think you know what I want." 

"Then take it…"

Brock pulls him close before rolling them over, pushing Frank into the mattress. He kisses him slow and sensual, hand caressing over his pink-tinged skin. Ever mindful of his leg, he carefully leaves a trail of kisses across Frank's jawline, throat, collarbone, and chest. 

"Are you working on getting me fucked out?" Frank murmurs with a smile. 

"Is that what you are wanting? To be fucked out," he replies against a nipple. His tongue flicks across the nub.

"I wanna be fucked stupid." Frank moans. His nails run down Brock's skin. He runs his fingers through Brock's scalp, pushing into the skin.

"I can do that." He bites down hard on the nipple. His hand scrapes nails over its twin.

"Oh...Fuck Brock!" Frank moans out louder. He hooks his legs around Brock and rolls himself into his husband. He can feel his body coming back around to round two...three? Fuck, his husband knew exactly what to do to drive him crazy with need. With another bite and suck from Brock's sinful mouth, he's hard again. 

Brock pulls away and moves up to kiss Frank again. He gets an idea that has him moving off the bed and for the gift box from the boys. He grabs the blindfold and returns to the bed. "How should I torture you? Hmm? Around the eyes? Your throat? Your wrists?"

"Yes." His grin grows wider as the ideas flood his head. 

Brock chuckles, "I only have the one blindfold, _tesoro_. You'll need to pick."

"Dealer choice!" Frank blurts then bites his lip. He's too flustered to decide. Frank sits up and watches his husband stroll back to the bed, "I mean, we do have other restraints too..." 

He grins wide. "Alright." 

~~

Frank stretches long and points his toes. He rolls to the side and faces Brock. He kisses his nose before slipping out of the bed. His skin doesn't hurt and he's curious if he's tanner. He stands in front of the mirror and examines his less pale skin. "Do I need to get third-degree burns to not be such a damn ghost?" He asks himself. He needs coffee and food. His stomach is aching. He pads to their little kitchenette and turns the coffee maker on.

"Brock. You want coffee?" Frank asks him with a soft shout.

"Yeah, okay… thank you!" He calls. 

"You should get up, lover. They arrive soon." Frank says stepping into the door with a little smile.

Brock stretches wide and yawns. "But I don't want to get up. I'm so comfy." 

"I know but I think it would be best if we _meet_ the plane when it lands… yes?" Frank says crawling up the bed and resting his head on Brock's chest.

"Nah. They can find us later. I'd rather spend every waking moment with you. They had me for the first half of my life… they can wait. They know me." Brock wraps his arms around Frank tight and kisses him.

"Must be the lazy _American_ rubbing off on our little _principe…_ " Frank says in an over-exaggerated accent. He grins wide as he looks up at Brock.

"Nah, I'm always a lazy _principe_ ," Brock grins.

"When we first met you had a job, you went to the gym and had hobbies… I'm a little time sucker." Frank says with a smile.

"I'm okay with the trade-off."

"True but now you're all skinny and soft. Not careful and I'll be the muscled one…" Frank says with flexing.

Brock laughs. "I am not skinny and soft! Though I am impressed with how you carried me. You _are_ getting muscles."

"You can thank your mean trainer called Jack for my muscles," Frank presses his lips to Brock's neck. He playfully bites his earlobe, "Get up." Frank whispers, "Get up!" He pokes his side. And repeats himself as he pokes again.

"No!" He drags out the word, laughing.

Frank tickles the sides of Brock. He pinches his nipple and repeats, "Up!" 

"Come have breakfast on the veranda with me!" Frank whines before kissing him, "We can wrap up in sheets and enjoy the morning breeze."

"Baby!" Frank stands up and over him, "Did you see I'm tanner?!"

"Are you really though or is it just a trick of the light?" Brock grins. He shifts and gets out of the bed. "Alright. Let's do breakfast on the veranda." 

"I'm tanner. Not as tan as you but tanner than before…" Frank sticks his tongue out as he bounces off the bed. 

"I'm sure it'll fade," Brock chuckles. He grabs the bedsheet and heads outside.

"Not if I keep tanning..." Frank pouts as he heads for the kitchenette. He makes their coffee and takes it outside, going back in he throws together a quick and simple breakfast. He's thankful that the island stocked their room with essential items. He joins Brock on the veranda and sits in the chair beside him, he's wrapped in a robe that probably shouldn't be as long as it is but he's thankful for it. 

Brock sits in the chair dozing slightly with bed head and a crisp white sheet around him. Frank leans over and kisses his cheek, "Eat. Drink. Wake up, or I'll become a pest." 

"Not asleep… just enjoying the lovely breeze," he replies, opening one eye.

"Yeah ok, mister old man snore." He bites his lips before picking up his coffee cup and tucking his legs under him, "Did you need a nap before Judge Judy starts between your soft food snack?" 

"Oh, hush. I'm not that bad."

"Eat." Frank giggles.

"Mr. Rumlow!" Ray's voice calls from the sand around the porch.

"Morning, Sunshine!" 

"Get up and get dressed. Groomsmen stuff to attend to…" Ray says with a wide smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Plus, you shouldn't see your bride on your wedding day… your bride who is showing the island his balls."

"Giving the kids a show." Frank snorts.

"Brock. Eat. Up. Come play!" Ray pats the railing as he climbs the stairs.

"What about the groomsmaids? Are they going to steal Frankie for his pre-party party?"

"I dunno. I do know that Jack and the boys are waiting anxiously." Ray shrugs. 

"I literally just got up. Join us while I eat." 

"I suppose." Ray says taking a seat beside them, "You kids have a fun night?"

"We did. Used the blindfold. Ten out of ten," Brock grins.

"Good, I'm glad it was a success. Dress comfortably. Wear shoes today Brock..." 

"What's wrong with toes in the sand? I'm _not_ going hiking..." He looks pointedly at Sunshine over his coffee mug.

"No hiking. But it's a sanitary thing." Ray chuckles, "Besides, it's your wedding. Last thing you need is to cut your feet to hell cause you were a stubborn ass and refused to wear a shirt and shoes." 

"Fair. What can I say, I'm enjoying the island life. I love it here. I am one happy guy."

"Frank, be ready to move to an island… your husband is turning into a surfer." Ray snickers.

"I live on an island and I am _not_ a surfer," Brock sticks his tongue out at Sunshine. "Besides. Manhattan is an island…." 

"You're a dork." Ray laughs, "Imagining you trying to catch a wave is funny. Might mess your hair up."

"Nah, I've got enough hair gel to prevent that." 

"I think Brock would be a great surfer. He's got the shoulders." Frank shifts in his seat and kisses Brock's cheek, he winks at Brock," Plus that means I get to be the beach bunny."

"I don't even know how to surf. Maybe I should learn," he snickers.

"Mmm. I support this idea." Frank grins wide.

"I'll consider it," Brock grins. He turns to Sunshine. "So, do I get to know what's the plan you've got cooked up for me, or is this a surprise?"

"Let's just say that the _prince_ will be well cared for," Ray smirks.

Brock turns to Frank and offers him a smile. "Baby, can I go play with the boys?" 

"Yes. But do not be late for our wedding! Unless you wanna deal with distraught Frank." Frank leans in and kisses him, "Play nice with the other boys." 

"I won't be late. Promise." 

"I love you, more than you'll ever know." Frank kisses him again, "I'll see you at the end of the aisle, baby."

"I love you too. I'll see you at the altar." Brock leans over and kisses Frank before rising to go get dressed. He holds the sheet tight around his waist.

Frank watches him disappear into the house and turns to Ray, "If you make him late to my wedding, I'm going to murder you." 

"He won't be late. Chill, Frank." 

"It's bad enough that I'm worried about his family being here, I don't need my groom being late." 

Ray laughs "He'll be there with bells on."

Frank kisses Brock goodbye before watching him head out with Ray. 

~~

Ray pushes the doors to Jack's place open and grins. "He's arrived!!!" 

"Brock!" The band cheers in unison.

"Hey, guys!" Brock grins at seeing his best boys. He moves and hugs Jack tight. "What's going on?" 

The boys glance at each other and grin, "Lots of fun."

"Are we ready?" Gerard rises to his feet. He checks his white shirt for any blemishes, "For the record, I hate white." 

"Looks good on you. Even though you look a little extra pale," Brock smiles at him.

"That's probably because I _am_ extra pale. Maybe I'll work on that." Gerard replies following them out. 

Ray takes the lead and escorts them to the doors of the spa. "Pampering for the prince." 

"Frankie told me about this!" Brock's eyes light up. He's excited. He loves being pampered now, thanks to the boys and Frankie.

"And you get the works. We booked everything for you. Christa said you have to be spoiled on your wedding day." Ray nods.

"I don't wanna get waxed though okay?" Brock says with a playful pleading tone.

"You don't wanna polish the boys?" Ray teases, "No waxing on this boys’ trip. Massages, manicures and pedicures, facials and acupuncture only."

"I love you," he states.

"What first?" Gerard asks.

"Massage!" Brock loves those. They are his favorite. He would be happy with just that and none of the extras. Any chance he can get touched makes him a happy, happy, man.

Ray pushes Brock to the desk, "He wants to be touched." 

The girl behind the desk grins wide and looks down, "Well, we can help with that..." 

"With oils? I love aromatherapy oils. Especially lavender."

"We have lavender. With lemon. And one with patchouli too." She steps around, "Follow me." 

~~

Frank lies across the bed as a soft knock makes him jump. He slowly rises to his feet and hesitantly opens the door. A girl the same height as him in a blue uniform smiles, "Housekeeping." 

"Oh yes. Give me a couple of minutes." Frank says with a nod. He picks up Brock's knives and gun then puts them in the safe. He makes the code his birthday and picks up the blindfold and lube, tossing them in the nightstand. He returns to the door, "Come in. I'm gonna sit on the veranda and wait until you're done. Take your time." 

"Thank you, sir." She nods with a smile, her accent is faint, "Are you part of a band?" 

"Yes."

"My Chemical Romance?" She asks.

"I am." 

"I am a fan." She beams at him.

"Do you have a phone? Wanna photo?" Frank grins 

"Can I?" She fishes her phone out and grins. Frank pulls her into a side hug and takes the photo.

Frank sits out on the porch with his phone and a cup of coffee. He zones out and listens to the ocean. He is curious about what the boys were doing. He kinda misses smoking, he could just sit out and chain smoke. 

~~

"Brock, just get a clear coat." Ray shakes his head.

“I don’t want any nail polish,” Brock frowns. “Frankie got black nail polish. Should I match? He’d like that….”

"Do you want to?" Ray asks.

"He would like that."

“It’s his wedding too,” Brock whispers. “And… A lot of the decisions made on the wedding were more for me than for him. He wanted to get married in Sunshine’s backyard. I wanted the island. I should do it for him…. Okay.”

"Yeah! Do it!" Bob encourages.

“Ok.”

"Just nails?" The girl asks.

“Yeah. I don't think I can do much more than that.”

"Toenails..." She looks at him with a cheeky grin.

"Next is acupuncture. That's what you picked right?" Mike asks squirming in the chair as the woman scrubs his feet.

“Yeah. You going to be ok there, Mike-n-Ike?”

"Ticklish. Badly." He winces.

“You’re so cute,” Brock smirks. 

"Thanks… fuck this is torture." He squirms a little.

"He and Frankie are crazy ticklish." Gerard comments.

“I know,” Brock looks at Gerard and gives him a knowing look. He’s certain the both of them are thinking of the same event. He winks at him. He’s ever thankful that their relationship has evolved and stabilized that they are friends.

"So Brock… you broke into your honeymoon box?" Ray questions.

“Yes,” he suppresses a snicker. “Thanks again, guys. The chocolates are atrocious and nobody needs dick pills, _Jack_ , but I appreciate the rest.”

“It was just in case. We all know Frankie can outpace you with his age in his favor. I just wanted to make sure you could keep up!” Jack says chipper. He’s relaxing in the chair as a woman scrubs his feet.

“I can keep up just fine. Sometimes I even outpace him…” 

"Frankie?" Gerard asks.

“Mmhmm.”

"That kid is insatiable in–" Gerard stops himself. He looks at Brock nervously. Did he cross a line?

“He is,” Brock grins. “I think I’m going to start slipping melatonin into his drink just to get him to pace himself. Neither of us can constantly do all-nighters. Though…. I have... Discovered something recently that allows me to keep up. It helps. I’m crashing hard each night but at least he’s not left wanting.”

"Don't bankrupt yourself though," Bob says concerned.

"You know, you can say no…" Ray says with a grin.

"Does he do the thing when he gets tired, where he curls up tight next to you and whines he's tired?" Bob asks.

“How do you know that, Rabbit?”

"He used to stay with me when… Jessica kicked him out. He gets whiny." Bob smiles.

"Have you seen him exhausted?" Ray asks.

“Of course,” Brock says. “I just didn’t know he has stayed with you, Rabbit.”

"Did… he not tell you he was kinda homeless? Like he had a place but not?" Ray asks.

“As a joke, yeah. Several times. It’s our running joke that he always looks like he’s a homeless kid. I would say the same thing if I had to ever live in that terrible apartment we met in. God, that was a hovel.”

"Yeah, she changed the locks and threw out a bag of clothes. This was before the band recorded Revenge." Ray says softly, "I feel shitty ‘cause I shoulda helped him, more."

"We didn't know _how_ bad it was." Gerard says softly, "Then some dreamboat with Raybans on strolls in."

“Thank fuck she’s dead,” Jack says into the silence.

The band laughs and nods in agreement.

"You still almost fucked her." Ray snickers.

~~ 

Frank sighs and wanders out onto the beach with a towel. He puts a little sunscreen on his face and chest. He lies in the sand and tries to relax. He's bored. And lonely. He closes his eyes and sighs.

"Room for two?" Lindsey asks.

Frank opens his eyes and smiles wide, "Of course! Sit," Frank sits up.

"Figured we could sunbathe for a bit then go back to my place and start getting ready with a couple of drinks." She smiles.

"The boys stole my boy." Frank gives her a half-smile.

"That's why I'm stealing you."

"I appreciate it." Frank smiles.

"It seems that Brock gets to have some fun, why can't Frankie." Lindsey pats his head before pulling her top off and lying back. 

"Two pasty pales in the sun." Frank snickers. 

"Shush you. Just because your hubby is like a tanned god." Lindsey snorts.

"Don't tell him that." 

"Now I'm gonna." Lindsey elbows him.

~~

"I don't think I like acupuncture," Ray comments to Brock.

"If you aren't blissed out Brock. I don't know what will get you there…" Mike comments.

“I honestly can’t tell the difference….” Brock replies, muffled by the table he was laying on. “But it’s weird enough that I’m not sure I like it either.”

"The relief comes when the needles come out," Ray says with a smile.

“Really? Huh. I thought it was when the needle went in and blocked the pain receptors. Which, now that I think about it, is weird because I never thought I would have any needles in me. Apart from vaccinations…” 

"I'm surprised Frankie hasn't peer pressured you into a tattoo," Bob chuckles.

"I'm thinking of getting a tattoo," Mike says softly.

“He has mentioned it. What are you thinking about getting, Mike-n-Ike? Nothing too weird, I hope.”

"Me and Kris talked about getting matching couples tattoos." He says with a smile, "Like a heart on fire or something." 

“Aww that would be cute,” Brock says. After a moment’s thought, he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I want a tattoo.”

"Don't get one until you're ready." Ray nods, "I just have my SL tattoo. I dunno if I wanna get more."

"I don't want to ever get tattoos…" Gerard says firmly.

“That’s because you are needle phobic. Or whatever the proper word is for that,” Jack laughs. “I wouldn’t mind ink.”

"Do it. Frankie will go with you. Probably get one too." Ray smiles.

“Not sure what I would get though,” Jack hums.

"Do you people have like a family crest?" Bob asks.

“Do you people? What the hell, Bob,” Jack laughs. “I’m not some alien, dude.”

"Rumlow people. Rollins. You know what I mean Jacqueline." Bob teases.

“Don’t make me take out one of these needles and shove it in your eye, Briar Rose,” Jack warns. “Call me that again. Watch what happens.”

"You don't scare me, Jackie Kennedy," Bob says with a smile.

“Jack, don’t threaten our friends. It’s rude. Play nice,” Brock says, sighing and closing his eyes. Is this over yet?

"Yeah, Jack!" Bob teases.

~~

Frank grabs his suit and follows after Lindsey to her bungalow. Once they enter, she immediately pours him a drink. 

"To marriage." She lifts her small glass of wine.

"Don't let Gee find out about that," Frank smirks.

"Eh. It's fine in small doses." Lindsey smiles, "Come let's relax in bed. We can watch a movie. We have an hour maybe two until we have to get ready."

Frank lies on the bed beside her and finishes the drink, "I'm more nervous than I was the first time."

"It's the fanfare." Lindsey brushes his hair with her nails, "He's gonna be so excited when you walk down the aisle." 

"I just hope that it goes smoothly. I hope his parents like me... well, Emilio." Frank sighs. A nap sounds good to him.

"He will. If he doesn’t he's a fuckin fool." Lindsey nods. 

"I like cuddling with you. I miss times like this." Frank says softly 

"Do you ever miss… you know..." she asks.

"Sex with a girl? Sometimes." Frank says softer than before, "I'm very, very happy with what I have but there's nothing like the feeling of burying your dick into… sorry."

"Girls _are_ pretty amazing…" Lindsey smirks. 

~~

"Do you wanna get ready in your place or mine?" Ray asks, " Or Jack's."

“Oh, Sunshine, I’ve been waiting to get invited back to your place for a long time,” Brock teases suggestively.

"I didn't know it would take you getting married to have to come true." Ray chuckles.

“We came close though, yeah? The blanket invite to your house is the first step. I’ve already slept in your bed. With your wife. I don’t remember most of it but I know it’s there,” Brock chuckles. 

"Real ladies man." Mike snickers as he keeps pace with the guys.

“It’s pretty sad that the only time you have ever slept in a bed with a woman, you don’t remember it,” Jack laughs. “Not sure what that says about her or you but it’s something.”

Ray chuckles, "You wouldn't forget her." He winks as he leans against the wall of Brock's place.

Brock quickly darts into the bungalow and grabs all the things he will need to get married. The reality of the moment sets in and a panic feeling creeps up on him. Does he have everything? What if he forgets his vows? What if something bad happens? He double-checks and triple checks his things, going over his list in his head several times. A fine tremor runs through his hands from the panic and fear. He is spiraling and he knows it. He grabs a gun after searching the room for his weapons and figuring out that they were in the safe and spending another five or ten minutes guessing the safe code. He tucks it in the back of his waistband for comfort and forces himself to leave. He’s not sure why the sudden onset of nerves hit _now_. He’s already married. This is just the pretty wrapping. He doesn’t like it.

"You good, B?" Ray asks.

He shakes his head. “Just…nerves getting the best of me. Just hit outta nowhere. I’ll be fine.”

"You got this. Let's go have a drink and get pretty for the ladies." Ray puts his arm around Brock's shoulder.

“Drinks at your place sounds great. First, it’s drinks… Then I get undressed…” Brock grins at his joke.

"Yes… yes. It is all part of the plan." Ray grins. 

~~

Frank looks at the girls. He's been preened over and dressed up like a Ken doll but it's time. He hears the music quieting and that's his cue.

"Ready?" Lindsey asks.

"Yeah. I am." Frank nods looking back once more at himself in a suit. He adjusts his tie and fluffs his hair, "I'm ready." 

His dad steps into the little tent and smiles, "Hey kid. It's time."

"Let’s go, pops." Frank takes his dad's arm. 

~~

Gerard and Ray duck to the back of the seating, where instruments are waiting for them. Mike and Bob are waiting with the guy filling in for Frank and their pianist. Gerard smiles at him and gives a nod. The music starts slow, building with the softness of the piano playing as Gee begins singing softly. 

"Long ago..." His eyes lock on Brock. He knows Linda is filming the reaction but he has to see it himself, "Just like the hearse you, die to get in again..." 

" _Really_?" Brock mutters under his breath. Come _on_ , Frank. Why did he have to be so…. Extra. He mentally shakes his head and internally rolls his eyes. He's on camera and he has his blank face on.

As Gerard hit the second chorus, he watches Frank emerge with his dad at his side. He can tell just how nervous Frank is from the expression on his face. The band now plays Helena as close to normal as possible as the final verse plays.

A big smile stretches across Frank's lips as he approaches Brock. Linda trades places with his dad. She kisses his cheek as they make their final few steps to Brock. God damn, Brock looks amazing in a suit. 

"Who gives this groom to the groom?" The pastor asks with a gentle voice as the song concludes.

Frank Sr. stands and in unison with his wife, "We do." 

They take a seat as Frank joins Brock at the altar. He keeps his eyes on Brock and finds himself lost for what feels like a moment. He can hear the pastor speaking but he can't hear the words. He is the luckiest man. Brock takes his hands and gives him a warm loving smile that makes him feel a little weak in the knees.

Brock cannot believe his eyes. This was really happening. Frank looks absolutely stunning walking down the aisle. Pride rises in him. Unfiltered joy wells in his chest. He wants to scream and shout and leap for joy and everything else that is cliché for this moment. He can't help a wide grin as Frank is passed from Linda to him. His knees feel a little weak and he's thankful that he chose a shorter ceremony. If his knees don't give out from the overwhelming excitement and emotions, his leg will from standing. Squeezing Frank's hands in his own, he mouths the words "I love you." 

Frank grins wide as Brock's words register, he mouths, “I love you too! You okay?" His eyes glance at Brock's leg. He looks to the pastor then the crowd for a moment. 

"Frank and Brock have chosen to recite their own vows. Brock would you like to go first?" the pastor says with a nod before stepping back slightly to give them space.

Clearing his throat, he nods. He looks at the crowd and feels a pang of sadness. His parents and sister still weren't here. They were gonna miss his wedding. He shoves the thoughts aside. There must be a perfectly valid reason. Locking eyes with Frankie, he gives him an adoring smile. He loves this man so very much.

"Frankie. I love being with someone who knows everything about me, but who gently takes the good with the bad - along with the happy and the sad and makes sure that our sunshine always chases any clouds away.

I love that I get to spend each season with someone who is such a joy to be with, and I get to wake up feeling like every day is a blessing I've been given. Thank you for being the answer... to so many prayers.

I'm grateful for every day we've been together. And treasure the days when we've been apart. And even though we've weathered storms most would have bailed on, I realize that I'm a better man because of you. The patience and the depths of your love know no bounds. You are the anchor to keep me from being swept away by the sea.

You are my treasure. Not just a term of endearment but the missing piece of my soul. My everything. I love you."

The sound of sniffles is muffled in Frank's ears as he feels himself turning into putty. He squeezes Brock's hands and smiles up at his love. He takes a breath.

"Frank." The pastor encourages.

"Oh uh, I sat down a while ago and wanted to profess my love for you but it's all words. Words are meaningless without action. Instead, I stand here today with the person who was made for me and I am going to make a promise. One that I know I can keep to you. One that I can keep every single day.

Brock, I promise to respect, admire and appreciate you for who you are, as well as for the person you wish to become.

I promise to support and protect your freedom because although our lives are intertwined, your choices are still yours alone.

I promise to seek a deep understanding of your wishes, desires, fears, and your dreams.

I promise to always strive to meet your needs, not out of obligation, but because it delights me to see you happy.

I promise to be there for you when you need me, whenever you need me. Even after a nasty bout of food poisoning.

I promise to nurture your goals and ambitions; to support you through misfortune, and to celebrate your triumphs.

I promise to keep our lives exciting, adventurous, and full of passion. Even when we aren't on the road.

I promise to persevere when times get tough, knowing that any challenges we might face, we will conquer them together.

I promise to treat you with compassion rather than fairness, because we are a team, now and for always.

I promise to show you, every day, that I know exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life. I love you more than I even knew was possible. You were the person made for me. Today is the first day of forever.” 

The sound of sniffles fills Frank's ears. He looks up at Brock and wrinkles his forehead looking for reassurance. He was dying in this suit in the afternoon sun.

"When two people love each other and decide to spend their lives together as one, their union is a contract. To bind this contract, their union is sealed with rings. Brock, do you have your ring for Frank?" The pastor asks.

Brock turns to Christa and Baby Floof and nods. His little ring bearer has the ring box and he's excited to see his little nephew in his tuxedo onesie and tiny shoes. Christa rises from her seat, carrying the baby on a sand-colored pillow. He's propped up against his mother and looking at everything and everywhere. In between his legs is a teal ring box. Brock takes the box, opens it, and palms the rings. Christa takes the box and the baby and returns to her seat.

"Please place it on his finger and repeat after me," the pastor smiles at Brock, "With this ring, I, Brock Enzo Rumlow marry you, Frank Anthony Iero, with my loving heart. With my willing body and with my eternal soul."

As Brock slips on the wedding ring that Frank has already been wearing, he repeats the pastor's words. Smiling at him, he gives Frank the other ring and offers him his hand.

"Frank, place the ring on his finger and repeat after me," the pastor smiles, "With this ring, I, Frank Anthony Iero marry you, Brock Enzo Rumlow with my loving heart. With my willing body. And with my eternal soul."

Frank slips the ring on Brock's finger, he repeats the words with a huge smile. 

"Brock, do you promise to cherish, love, and protect, Frank ‘til death do you part?"

"I do," Brock says with a grin.

"Frank, do you promise to honor, obey and cherish Brock ‘til death do you part?"

"Yes! I do!" Frank feels himself getting antsy for this pomp and circumstance to be over.

"If anyone can see a reason why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." The pastor pauses.

"Stop! I do!"

A young woman wearing a bright red skater dress with long brunette hair stands on top of a dune in her matching heels. Her head is held high and her poise demands respect. Soon she is flanked by Brooke and Maria Rumlow, Emilio joining next to his wife. Several others join in behind, most with visible guns.

The woman speaks again, her Italian accent strong. "I am Brock Rumlow's wife!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!
> 
> Look out for the coming Part Two of this series. It will be titled "Wars and Tours"


	35. The Christmas Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys finish off their wedding week and celebrate Christmas in Capri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter in a long series! We thank you for taking this incredible journey with us one year later, for sticking it out through thick and thin. When we started this story, we didn't think anyone would be interested. They are a niche pairing across two fandoms that have no business crossing and yet this story has far exceeded our expectations. We're grateful for our fans. We love you.

"What the hell?!" Jack exclaims, turning to Brock for some explanation before looking back at his family. He hollers, "Mom, Dad? What's going on?"

Brock stares at his family with utter shock at seeing the group, the unknown woman, and the guns. It takes a moment before things begin to click into place and a picture of what might be happening forms in his head. "Sonofabitch," he mutters with a groan. He never thought this would happen. He certainly never expected to have anyone protest _his_ wedding.

The room around Frank erupts in quiet chaos. The words reverberate in his ears as he scans Brock's face. This is a nightmare, he's going to wake up and it is morning. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them. Brock lets go of his hands and the air taken from his lungs. 

"Brock?" Frank speaks his husband's name, hoping it can understand his unspoken question. 

"I don't– I don't know, Frankie. I mean… I have an idea," Brock stumbles over his words. "And it's not a good one." 

Frank looks to his mom, who looks horrified. His dad shakes his head and drops it low. He glances at the band who look just as shocked as he is. He takes a step back into the groomsmaids. His center of gravity is rocked and he doesn't know what to do. 

"Your wife?" Frank's voice feels small as he croaks out the words. He stares at Brock. His eyes track to Brooke then Maria and land on Brock once more. He scans his face and feels the tears backed by confusion and anger building.

"I– that's impossible," Brock whispers in disbelief. He can't believe this is happening. He stares at them in shock which twists into a rage at the sight of another cresting the hill. Brock snarls, "Gotti." 

"Who the fuck is this bitch?" Frank blurts. His head is filled with questions. He can feel his already warm skin growing hotter. How dare she stake a claim to Brock?! That is his. 

"Caterina. Sebastiano's _sister_ ," Brock growls out. He wants a gun.

"Tacky ass bitch, at that." Lindsey hisses as she begins taking her earrings out and kicking off her sandals. She's ready to fight this little bitch, if Frankie won't.

"Seb– as in… are you fucking kidding me?!" Frank snaps. He stands straighter and steps forward to be just a step behind Brock. He calmly takes his jacket off then his tie. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. His fingers unbutton his right sleeve and roll it up. Next is the left before rolling it up, he refuses to go down without a fucking fight. "Fuck this." 

"Frank, wait!" Brock says urgently. He eyes the guns and a thought he's never had before occurs to him and terrifies him. What if they weren't his men, but Gotti's? He's not sure what to do here that won't end badly.

"Wait? Why? Because… are you married?" Frank asks, turning to him. He prays the next word out of his husband's mouth meets what he expects.

"To _you_!" Brock pauses and his face falls in confusion. He whispers, "At least, I don't _think_ I'm married to her? I'm not supposed to be. Unless my dad lied to me."

"Then I'd like to defend my husband's and my honor here… and rearrange her fucking face."

"I'm not sure yet if the guns there are on our side, _tesoro_ ," Brock whispers quickly. "Politics, remember? And there are _people_ here who don't know who I am. Not for much longer, I'm afraid…"

"Brock!" The lady in red, Caterina, calls again. She begins to descend the dune and approach them. Behind her four of the guards follow with machine guns in hand.

Frank turns to Lindsey and whispers to get the area clear of prying eyes. Then to come back cause he needs back up. He watches her begin moving guests out.

The remainder of the Rumlows follow with their equally armed escort. Emilio walks slower with a cane in hand and a medical boot over his right ankle. Maria stays close to her husband to help him maneuver across the shifting sand. Next to them is a smirking Sebastiano who stares at Brock with barely-concealed malice. Brock wants nothing more than to break every bone in his body or blow his brains out. He's not sure yet which one is more appealing.

Frank Sr. approaches Brock and hisses at him, "I don't know what the fuck is going on here but I better get a fucking explanation later, Rumlow."

"I swear to you, sir, I've never met this woman in my entire life," Brock says frantically. It was the truth. He didn't know her, only her name and only because of her damned brother. Surely she's lying about him being married to her! He didn't say or do anything to make it official! His parents couldn't legalize this? Right?

Linda pulls her husband along and towards the exit. James chuckles as he walks past them, "Picked a winner there Franklin." 

Frank's blood turns cold at the sight of his husb– Brock's parents coming down the sand behind the girl. He balls his fist up and pushes down the doubt. He and Brock will have words later. Right now, he's got to be tough and try not to get shot. "Where's Jack?"

Brock points him out by the guest table, heading for his parents. "Looks like he's trying to figure out what the hell is going on."

The voice of the pastor comes from behind them. "Perhaps after some discussion, once this is sorted, we will return to your wedding, Mr. Rumlow."

Without looking, Brock nods, "That's an excellent idea. Thank you." He hears the pastor scurry off and wishes he could do the same.

"How about we go meet the new Mrs. B. Rumlow?" Frank asks with a sourness to his voice that he couldn't contain even if he tried. He still wants to fight her. 

"We're not married," he replies automatically and absently. His fingers gravitate towards Frank's as they walk to meet the woman who dared to ruin his wedding.

Frank laces his fingers with Brock's and stares her down as they get closer to her. His stomach tightens at the sight of just how young she is. She was pretty even from a distance he can see that. He looks up at Brock, then behind him. His chest relaxes when he sees the band behind them with the wives too. 

"Caterina, I suppose?" Brock does his best not to glare at the girl. For that is exactly what she was in his book. She appeared to be barely 18. Small in stature and a thin frame with striking green eyes, she was beautiful. Were Brock straight or she a male, she might have attracted him. Instead, he forces himself to remember that this isn't her fault any more than it's his. This is their parents' doing. And her brother's.

"Yes," she smiles up at him. "You look gorgeous by the way. You're much better in person than in photos. I lucked out to have such a handsome husband."

"Yeah, about that… Can we talk? Because I'm fairly certain I'm not married to you and yet you keep saying that," scoffs Brock.

Frank glares and growls out, "Are you even old enough to be out of the country without your parents, _neonata_?" 

Her face scrunches up in annoyance. "And who are you? How dare you speak to me like that?"

"He is my husband," Brock interjects. "And he can speak to you however he pleases."

"Not possible. I am your bride. It has been preordained before I was born." She does a graceful curtsey that only looks mildly out of place in her red skater dress.

"And like I told your brother, I don't care. I'm gay. I'm already legally married to Frank. I will not walk the path they have chosen for me," argues Brock.

"Your sexuality is of little to no consequence. You can keep your boy. Our marriage is one of an alliance. You have no choice in this, just as I," Caterina says, one hand going to her hip.

"If it doesn't matter and he can be with me, then why did you come here to crash this dressed like you're about to go hook a rich husband to support your _habits?_ You both have a choice. Just cause your slimy brother pushed you into this doesn't mean you have to go along with it... _"_ Frank asks as he stares at her. _God, she is so young_. 

" _I am not a hooker, asshole_ ," Caterina spits at him in rapid Italian.

"Hey!" Brock barks. "Stick with English and don't insult my husband."

"Tell him not to insult your wife then!"

"I caught the asshole part." Frank snorts, "You're not his wife."

"That is where you are wrong," says a new voice. Sebastiano steps up beside his sister and smiles. "It's nice to see you again, Brock. You look _alive_ and well." 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you here and now," snarls Brock.

"Your parents wouldn't be too happy. They would be forced to cut you out. Leaving you penniless and homeless. Neither would your _guests_. I imagine they would be rather shocked to discover their friend is a murderer. At least you'll make new friends in jail. I would recommend you don't drop the soap but you're into that so it's a win for you."

Frank wants to hit him. No, he wants to stab him, in the same place he stabbed Brock. His blood is boiling under his skin as he loosens his hold on Brock's hand. He can't keep it in and the words just fall out of his mouth, "I don't know nor do I care who your cheap cologne wearing ass thinks he is, get the fuck out of my wedding… take your cheap looking sister with you and go back to threatening fishmongers and shop folk, you discount Godfather extra, Jersey shore, guido-looking ass. Don't threaten my husband or my family…" 

Sebastiano's eyes darken with anger for a moment before it disappears and a smile appears. "Oh, but we are family." 

"Nope. We sure the fuck aren't. I didn't have to fumigate my house after Thanksgiving… get the fuck outta here with your bullshit." Frank snaps as he dismissively waves his hand in the air to shoo the nuisance away.

"Perhaps you need to teach your boy some manners on how to speak to his betters. Did you seriously think he was ready to be by your side? He doesn't even comprehend how the family works."

 _Okay. That kinda hurt._ Frank thinks as he glances at Brock. He hopes he says something. Anything. 

"Well considering he's my equal, I think he speaks to you just fine. And I'm working on training him. He is my chosen," replies Brock coolly.

Frank takes Brock's hand again and squeezes it, "He's my husband and my family. I wasn't speaking of _that family._ " 

Before Sebastiano can respond, Maria and Emilio approach with an unhappy-looking Jack and a blank-faced Brooke. Maria places a hand on Sebastiano, who steps aside. Maria looks at Brock with sadness in her eyes. She knows this isn’t what her son wanted and quite frankly, neither does she. But Emilio could not be moved. “Perhaps we can speak in private, Sebastiano? Why don’t you take Caterina for a walk on the beach? Get into something more comfortable, perhaps. I will speak with Brock and Frank.”

Sebastiano tilts his head in a small bow. “Of course, madam. Come, Cate. I will escort you.” Placing a hand on his sister’s arm, he gently nudges her away from the wedding decor and towards the water.

Maria embraces Brock and then Frank, whispering in their ears, “Come. We need to talk. Perhaps there’s still a way we can salvage this. I know this isn’t what either of you wants.” She pulls away and steps aside. “Frank, this is my husband and Brock’s father, Emilio.”

“Frank,” Emilio nods, expression hard.

"Sir." Frank nods and feels his heart jump to his throat.

“Father,” Brock says softly. “I can explain…”

“Save it. For now,” Emilio replies. His foot hurts in the boot and the uneven sand is making it worse. His expression is pained for a moment before he sighs. “Where can we speak in private that is not outside?”

“We have bungalows, dad.” Jack offers, “If you want we can go to mine?”

Emilio nods. “Acceptable.”

Frank looks up at Brock and feels a cold chill run up his back. A private talk is never good. Their love is doomed. _Fuck_. Fuck the Rumlows. Fuck the Gottis. 

~~

Jack helps ease his father into a chair before taking a seat of his own to his father’s right. Brooke does the same, sitting on Emilio’s left. Brock sits with Frank on the bed and can’t help but hate the juxtaposition of his father holding council. They were sitting, sure but the implication was there, loud and clear. The weight of the silence intensifies.

Emilio breaks the silence. “I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Frank.”

"It's okay sir." Frank can feel his hands shaking, "I was hoping this would be a joyous occasion to meet but apparently Brock has a _wife_." 

“Yeah, about that,” Brock frowns. “How is that possible considering I _refused_ to marry her?”

“You mean, go behind my back and get married so I would not have a say?” Emilio retorts, “You deliberately disobeyed me. I told you, you had to marry the girl.”

“And I expressly told you I was not, father! You promised me you were going to speak with Gotti and find another way to handle the alliance. You told me this was going to be taken care of and I didn’t have to go against my preferences.”

“I told you I would try to see if Pietro could be swayed. I never said you could marry him without my permission!”

Things begin to click in Frank's head. The rush. The change in Brock, that was so slight he missed it. He knew but he didn't tell him. A hundred little questions fill his head. The push to do this before the end of the year, "You wouldn't have let me marry Brock." His voice is firmer than I expected it to be.

Emilio sighs and his face softens. “Were it not for the alliance set between myself and Pietro, I would have. I am not against your relationship, though I have my reservations about you. My children and wife speak highly about you. The break between yourself and my son nearly killed him. I do not find that to be a good thing about your character.”

"With all due respect, sir, you don't know me. I didn't want that break. I never want to hurt Brock. I begged him not to go." Frank replies with a little heat in his words, "Don't think for a second that I was having a good time, I was not." 

Brock takes Frank’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “What nearly killed me was Sebastiano stabbing me at the cafe. Why are we still bound by the agreement knowing full well he tried to kill me? Why is Sebastiano still alive, father?”

"Discount Pachino out there doesn't deserve the air in his lungs for what he did to Brock," Frank says coldly.

Jack tries his best to keep the smirk off his lips but fails. He knows without looking that his mom and sister are doing the same. He agrees with his little brother– he wants to kill Sebastiano himself.

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” 

"If he can't lose his ability to breathe then some kind of punishment needs to be dealt… I have an idea or three." Frank grumbles. 

“Frank fits in rather well, don’t you think, dear,” Maria asks Emilio with a glint of mischief in her eyes. She catches his eye and winks.

Brock can’t help but feel proud of Frank right now. To be able to stand up to his father and not back down in the face of adversity was something that Brock didn’t think was possible for Frank to accomplish just yet. He had the potential, sure, but he realizes at the moment that he hadn’t expected Frank to not cave under the pressure of meeting his dad. Emilio was an intimidating man when he wanted to be and he knew that Frank had plenty of insecurities that tended to crop up. He squeezes Frank’s hand again and smiles at him.

“He does. It’s one of the reasons I love him.”

Frank leans up and kisses Brock's cheek. He turns his attention to Emilio, "With all due respect sir, but that girl is a child. Why are you betrothing your fifty-year-old son to a teenager?"

Emilio debates over answering or not. He chooses to answer simply because he was interested in hearing more from this young man who has captured his family’s love and attention. He was aware that Jack was also curious to know the answer, having asked him when he intercepted them earlier. “The details of the deal between myself and Gotti were simple. My first-born son would wed his first-born daughter. The ages were not taken into account. Considering your age, young man, I doubt this should be an issue. Caterina has just reached her 20th birthday. Consider that a blessing as she’s legally able to be wedded to Brock at 16. This union was determined and set forth long before Brock was born. When Sebastiano came to my house in September it was to activate the deal.”

"Oh. She looks young. Apologies for judging too quickly," Frank says with a nod. His stomach is twisted in knots, "Does this _union_ have to happen? Is there a way to satisfy the Gotti clan without Brock being the sacrificial lamb?" 

"Sebastiano's made it clear that he intends me to father a child with his sister. I'm assuming he speaks for their father. I've made it clear again and again that this agreement ignores my sexuality and is unjust," adds Brock, voice hard and terse from the subject. "I will not touch her. I refuse."

"Wait, they just want a child? Like the marriage part isn't… important? Like it can be symbolic?" Frank asks. The wheels are turning in his head.

"No, dear," Maria speaks up. "Think of this as an arranged marriage between two countries. An heir born from the union is expected and will make the alliance stronger. This is an arranged marriage but within our family as a whole. Having two families under one rule would eventually eradicate the need for the five families. We would be one family and no longer have the council of Heads."

"Oh." Frank's heart sinks as he speaks. There's no way out of this. He is going to lose the best thing that has happened to him, "I understand." 

"I don't care." Brock huffs, "Gotti can kiss my gay ass. I'm not touching his daughter. I told you years ago, dad, that I was going to do things my way."

"Baby." Frank speaks softly to his love, "I don't want to start a war within the five. Especially over me, I'm not worth it…" 

"No, I'm not giving up on you. I'm not losing you after all we've been through. You are worth it and so much more. I love you." Brock takes their joined hands and kisses his fingers. "There has to be a way." 

Jack leans forward on his knees to look at his dad. "I don't understand why Gotti won't be moved on this. There are other ways to honor an alliance. Why does it have to be a wedding and a baby?"

"Gotti is a prideful man. Headstrong and proud, he's set in the old ways. He does not recognize the changing times. Rarely does he change his mind on something," answers Brooke. "Head talks with him involved are rather tiresome."

"So, I'm new, obviously, to all of this but if he is a source of conflict or won't budge during negotiation, why not just cut the vine at the source and remove them from the families?" Frank asks, wrinkling his forehead. 

Brooke grins briefly before answering for her father. "The Gambino Family holds one of the largest territories in the Five. They have incredible resources and are valuable. It's beneficial to us all to keep their family within the umbrella. The best thing to do is to instate someone who could… be more reasonable. Controllable."

Frank nods. He curls into Brock slightly. 

"Yes, but Sebastiano's the heir. Not Caterina. Me marrying her will not put me in charge," counters Brock.

"No. But your heir would. Once Sebastiano's out of the photo."

"The baby is our leverage." Frank comments. The thought in his head is callous but they are literally ruining his whole relationship so fuck it, "And children are, uh, easy candles to extinguish, if you will." 

Brock looks at Frank with shock in his eyes. Not at the implications of his words but that he seemed… agreeable? He's taking this rather well. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't understand something. He'll wait to ask his dad in a moment.

"What if..." Frank stops himself. That's an idea that is outta bounds.

"What, bärchen?" 

"Accidents happen." Frank shrugs like he is indifferent but he'd happily put a bullet between her eyes to spare Brock, "No firstborn girl, no deal..." 

"It would start a war for sure," Brooke counters. "Should anything happen to either of them now that Brock has practically announced his defiance to the Five, would appear suspicious and mafia wars have started for less."

"Well, fuck." Frank groans. His heart breaks a little more, "I don't want to lose him. Or Jack. I… I can't." 

"Two questions, dad," pipes up Brock. "Why did you agree to this deal in the first place and what happens now that I'm already legally married to Frank?"

Frank doesn't see a way out of this. He can feel his body getting colder. He's finally found his match. His love is being taken from him by a bunch of old fucks and a god-damned child in a dress. 

"At the time, the Gambino's were the strongest in the Five and I was just made Head. The alliance would have made me stronger in power. There were discord and discontent in the streets. The people did not listen to me. Gambino had a strong army that I did not. I was young. I don't believe I had even met your mother yet…"

Brock nods. That made sense. The part of him that is mafia first is saddened that he cannot give his father what he expects. The rest of him is angry that his wishes have been discarded and dismissed without any care of who he is as a person. They didn't care about Frank either.

"What now?" Frank says, looking dead on at Emilio. His anger rises again as he pulls away from Brock slightly to stand taller. 

"What do you mean, you are already legally wed? We heard you speak your "I dos" but the ceremony is incomplete," Maria says.

"Yeah, I know. But are you going to make him and I divorce? Or what? Obviously, Walmart Don Corleone isn't going to back down from this deal. So what now?" Frank replies. He knows Catholics don't like divorce. He's praying this to be true in this case.

"You cannot get divorced if you are not yet wed," Emilio says with a frown.

"Yeah... about that."

Brock echoes Frank and has the grace to look sheepish. "I'm not going to apologize because it would be lying but Frank and I already took care of the legalities. Right after I returned."

"You did what?!" Emilio bellows, rising to his feet in rage.

Jack tries his best to sink into the chair and hide from his dad. He's praying that if he doesn't move, he won't be asked if he already knew about this or not. He cannot lie. He cannot choose between his loyalty to his father and brother. 

Frank flinches at the outburst. He wants to hide from the anger. 

Brock sits up straighter on the bed and clenches his jaw. He knows full well what this looks like. What it is. He's a traitor to his family to go against his father like this. "I will _not_ let you dictate my life like this, father. Frank is and always will be my chosen. You taught me that love was more important than anything in our way of life. You supported me through everything growing up. Taught me to be a good leader - made sure that I was my own man and not some blind follower of the Five's ways. You said it yourself, were it not for this stupid deal you would support my choice to marry Frank. As I knew you would."

Emilio contemplates his son's words. A weathered hand taps his fingers on his cane. Sometimes he wondered if his son was too much like his mother but it's times like these that he sees the fire burn in Brock's eyes. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and nods. Carefully he sits.

Frank squeezes Brock's hand. He's proud of Brock. Standing up to Emilio had to be scary. He presses a kiss to Brock's cheek before whispering, "I love you." 

Brock turns his head and nuzzles him. "I love you." 

"I don't wanna lose you," Frank whispers again. He nuzzles back and buries his face into Brock's neck.

"You won't," Maria says.

Resting his head on Brock's shoulder as Frank asks, "How, mama?"

Emilio looks at his wife and a glance is shared between them. He looks at both boys. "You will not wed Caterina." 

"Really?" Frank says, a little skeptical. There's always a catch. He looks at Brock then Emilio.

"Yes. On one condition." 

"And that is?" Frank asks eagerly. 

"This time…. I would like to stand by your side at the wedding, my son," Emilio says with a small smile.

Frank rises to his feet and moves towards Emilio and speaks playfully, "I'm going to hug you. I'm a hugger. Don't shoot me." He does just that and hugs his _father in law_ , not too rough because he's brittle. He moves to Maria and hugs her tight, he whispers thank you in her ear. He loves her so much.

Brock has no such qualms about hugging his father tightly. He murmurs words of gratitude in Italian. He knows what this will cost. He's ready for it. He will do what's best for the family and make his father proud. "I love you, papa." 

Frank sits on the bed and waits for Brock. He is still waiting for the other shoe. He knows it can't be that simple. The bed dips next to him a second before strong arms wrap around him and knock them both into the mattress. "Frank!" 

"Love you, brother bear!" Frank laughs and squeezes Jack. After a good hug from Jack, he kisses Jack's cheek and rises to his feet. "Don't think I forgot about you _sorella_." 

"Good. I hope not," Brooke grins as she opens her arms and hugs him. "I'm sorry we didn't properly say hello earlier. And for temporarily holding up your wedding. I hope you aren't mad."

Frank squeezes her, lifting her slightly, "I was but I'm over it. I'm just happy you're here. I know my husband was heartbroken you guys weren't here."

"We would hate to miss this. I'm glad things have worked out. I love us being family, _fratello_."

After a long moment of excited embracing, Frank looks at Brock with a wide grin as he takes Brock's hand and kisses his palm, "Can I marry my soulmate now?" 

~Meanwhile~

"Who the fuck is he marrying Linda?!" Frank Sr. snaps at his wife in the reception hall. 

"Well. Uh. I. You see..." Linda is grasping at anything to make this less awful than it is already. 

"Imma knock her teeth out for doing this to Frankie!" Lindsey seethes in her seat. Gerard keeps a good hold on her hand to keep her tethered to him.

"No, you're not. You're five months pregnant. You're not fighting anyone." Gerard pinches his nose.

"Fine. I will." Christa says, her hand on her hip. 

"No. Nobody is fighting anyone…" Ray tries to be the voice of reason. 

"I mean. I could take the greasy-looking one… Sebastian or whatever." Bob chuckles. 

"I mean we can go royal rumble and bring out the chairs." Mike jokes but only halfway.

"That's it. I'm going to find them. I demand answers!" Frank Sr. rises to his feet. He marches for the door. "This is a bunch of bullshit. Breaking my kid's gosh darn heart." 

A salt-and-peppered man steps in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. The white tunic shirt he's wearing stretches in protest over his muscles, amplifying his size. At his hip sits a 9mm Beretta. Two more gunmen shift closer to him; ready.

"Move." Frank Sr. says firmly with no room for bullshit.

"No." 

"Are you holding me against my will, young man?!" Frank Sr. glares.

"You will not interrupt their meeting," he replies in a thick Italian accent. "It is forbidden while they hold council." 

"I don't give a shit." Frank Sr steps to the side to exit, "My son is in there and I demand answers!" 

The man moves again to block Frank Sr. "You will see them after they finish. Wait." 

"What's your name?" Frank Sr gets closer to the man blocking the exit. 

"Anatolio." 

"You a cop, Tony?" James asks as he steps closer with a glass of wine in hand. 

"Quiet James." Frank Sr. waves his son away, "Do you work for the Rumlows?" 

"Cheech, sit down," Linda warns from the table as she rubs her forehead. She needs a drink.

"Quiet Linda. There's something going on..." Frank Sr. says, glaring at Anatolio. 

James decides it's time to do something irrational, he pulls a small gun out and aims at Anatolio, "You need to move." 

"James!" Linda cries out. 

All the guns in the room suddenly point at James at once, except Anatolio's. He doesn't blink at the sudden change in the room's atmosphere. He answers the father-in-law, "We _all_ work for the Rumlows. Stand down or you will lose your life before you can fire your weapon."

"Oh… hot crowd. Hot crowd." James chuckles, "Let my old man go outside, Annie" 

"We have orders to keep you here until the deliberation is complete," Anatolio replies coldly. "Do not call me that again."

"I mean, I don't got much to live for, Anakin, so your death threats ain't holding water," James chuckles.

Ray steps up to James and speaks low, "Sit down you moron before you get us all killed. Jesus Christ, you were supposed to get sober."

James scoffs and lowers his gun to argue with Ray, "I'm sober!" He follows Ray to the back of the venue.

Ray pulls the gun from his hand, stupidly, yes but fuck sake. He makes sure the safety is on and tucks it in his pants. "Sit and be quiet." 

Anatolio makes a hand motion and signals his team to lower their weapons. He returns his focus to the father-in-law. "Wait," he repeats. "They will not be long." 

"Yo Tony! You a cop or ya'll cappo for the mob, baby?" James shouts with an accent.

Anatolio gives him narrowed eyes and a hard stare. "We are not _caporegime_." 

"Just gotta ask … you never know."

" _I am_. They are soldiers."

"Ah good to know. I can smell a cop on the payroll." James holds his glass up with a grin.

The band sits quietly and cringes. This. This is how they die. Because James won't shut his stupid fucking mouth.

"Cheech, come sit. We can talk to Frankie when he returns." Linda insists. Her husband glares at Anatolio then returns to his wife, grumbling. 

"Mama… I want Be-rock." Emma says quietly rubbing her eyes. 

"Shh... I know baby. He's coming back to see you." Christine shushes her. She's afraid the goons with guns would hurt them.

"Yo, Anatolio. I'm pregnant and have to pee. I can't hold it." Lindsey says as she approaches.

He looks at her for a moment before turning to two of the guards and signaling them to approach. "They will escort you." 

"Thank you." She nods and looks at the goons, "Come on henchman 1 and 2."

Ray paces the floor as Christa hums to Zach. Gee stares out the window, waiting for his wife to come back. Time seems to go slower, waiting for the Rumlows and Frank to return. 

Frank steps into the reception hall with a frown. He moves for his mom and wraps his arms around her. He's ahead of the Rumlows, "I'm sorry momma." 

"Baby, what happened?!" Linda rubs his back and tries to soothe her son. 

Frank pretends to sniffle as he buried his face into her neck "He…is" 

"That son of a bitch." Frank Sr. hisses.

"Oh god. Frankie, I'm sorry." Christine hugs him.

Frank sniffles, "He's gotta… child bride." 

Ray squints at Frank. Something feels weird, "Where's Brock?"

"A child bride?!" Linda asks. 

Ray moves towards the front of the venue, maybe he can move close to the exit. He leans in and peers out. "Where are they, Frank?"

Frank doesn't answer.

The door opens and Anatolio barks an order, causing the guards to stand at attention. Brock steps through, brown eyes searching for his husband. Jack and Brooke follow behind him. Brooke goes over to Anatolio and whispers to him the outcome of their meeting in rapid Italian.

Frank Sr. pushes past Ray and moves right for Brock. He jabs two fingers into Brock's chest, "What the fuck did you do to my son?!" 

The guards go to make a move but are stopped by a hand motion from Brock. He expected this. "Nothing, I swear." 

"Who are you fucking people?" Frank Sr spits out. He jabs Brock again. Ray stands behind Frank Sr., with a hand on his hip, next to James' gun.

"Sir, this is all a big misunderstanding, okay? It's been resolved and things are going to be okay. You have my word," Brock says as gently as he can.

"Why are you marrying that girl and not my son?" Frank Sr. asks, glaring at Brock. 

"I never said he was marrying that girl…" Frank says looking up with a shit-eating grin. He sits up from his mom's lap and straightens his shirt.

"Frank?" Linda asks. 

"Brock tock! Tell 'em you're in the mob!" James shouts from the back of the venue.

"Okay, who gave James more alcohol," Brock asks the room. 

"Haha! No one! I’m a sneak!" James cheers. 

"Someone escort him to his room,” Frank orders. He doesn't know if anyone will listen but it's worth a shot. A pair of guards go to James and each grabs an arm to take him to his room.

"What the hell is going on _Rumlow_?" The elder Iero says with an unhappy tone.

Frank stands beside his husband and takes his hand with a grin on his lips.

"The wedding is back on," Brock replies with a smile.

"So, who's the cheap-looking child?" Lindsey asks from behind him.

Brock turns. "Caterina. She _was_ someone I _was_ betrothed to, courtesy of our parents, but we fixed it and I'm marrying Frank. Again. It was a misunderstanding."

"Mmmhmm. I get to actually marry my soulmate…" Frank beams up at him.

"Great! Someone get the pastor." Ray says with a quiet clap of his hand.

"Yes! Let's get the show on the road!"

"We're going to have a talk, son." Frank Sr. looks up at Brock as he speaks low. The band rises to their feet and begins to move out of the tent. Linda swats Frank's arm.

"Rotten little shit!" Linda hisses at him. 

"Not sorry momma." 

"Rotten little shit." Linda sighs and follows the group out. 

Frank laughs and grips Brock's hand. "Baby. Round two?" He watches as his friends reset the whole scene. The pastor rejoins the group, he looks only slightly spooked. 

"Didn't realize we needed two rehearsals but I'm okay with this," grins Brock. He beams at Brooke who's standing with the other groomsmaids. One of the island girls had found her a dress that fit in with their theme. His mother joins her and he's certain his heart will explode with love. 

Frank smiles wide at the addition to the wedding party. This is exactly what Brock needed. 

A new voice calls to them over the dune. A man approaches, wearing a gray suit jacket, jeans, and shades. Under the open suit jacket is a Black Sabbath tee shirt. "Uh, hello?! A little help here? Uh, yeah, which way to the tiki bar?"

"Who's that?" Frank asks Brock as he peers back to see the person moving closer to them. 

Brock groans, "Tony." 

"Is that Tony Stark?" Bob asks.

"Like… Ironman Tony Stark?!" Gerard asks. 

"Why is Tony fucking Stark at my wedding?" Frank asks his husband.

Brock pinches the bridge of his nose. "He's my cousin."

"You're… related to him?" Frank grins. 

"Did you see the unveiling of his newest suit?" Gerard asks Bob excited.

Tony makes his way down the sand and walks up the center aisle. "Nice party you've got here. It's a shame I wasn't invited." 

"Didn't think you'd care," replies Brock. "Why are you here?"

"Well when I got the news that you were getting hitched without permission, your fabulous mom called me to charter the crew and family to here. Turns out the family plane arrived before I did but I got the pleasure of joining the trip. Always wanted to visit Fiji. I like the…" Tony looks around and judges the place. "Decor."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Stark," Frank says with a small nod, he knows Tony is a germaphobe.

"Yeah, hi. Listen, drink? With the little umbrella in it? No?" Tony looks around at the crowd for a moment. "I was promised a drink." 

"Tony, I will personally fix you a drink in two minutes if you'd sit down, shut up, and let me get married. Okay? Promise," Brock pleads. It's not that he doesn't like his cousin, it's that he has zero patience with the man. Tony has the attention span of a spoon. It was a little much sometimes. Okay, he's lying to himself. It was a whole lot of much all the time. Next to him, he could hear Jack stifle a snicker.

"Fine fine. Don't be such a killjoy." Tony looks around for an empty seat. "I'm just. Gonna sit right here. That's cool? Ok."

"Behave, Anthony," Maria gently warns.

Tony slouches in the chair and crosses a leg over his other. He tips his head back and thinks about how many things can possibly go wrong with the structure of the tent. And how he can improve it. It was calming.

Frank looks at Brock. He gives his husband's hand a squeeze and nods. "Come, baby." 

~~~~~a short while later~~~~~

Frank sits at the table at the front of the room next to Brock. He hasn't stopped touching Brock, in some form. He's afraid, if he does, he'll lose him. Again. He watches as Ray takes the microphone and clinks his glass with a knife.

"I'd like to propose a toast to the happy couple." Ray starts, "I figure now is the best time to do all the speeches and things before everyone gets too sauced."

After a small pause for chuckles, Ray continues, "To Brock and Frank, I hope you two have a much more mellow rest of your lives. And maybe, let's not leave people at the grocery store. Or a gas station." 

"It was one time, Sunshine!"

The group erupts in laughter. 

Frank chuckles and rests his head on Brock's shoulder. 

"Jack, would you like to take over?" Ray offers.

"I suppose," he teases as he stands up and raises his glass. "Brock. Words cannot express how much you mean to me. Not even in three languages. You're my brother. My best friend. My partner in crime. I'm proud to be your Second. Frank, though we had a bit of a rocky start, I realize there isn't anyone more perfect than you to be by Brock's side. You've shown yourself to be loyal, trustworthy, and fierce. I'm proud to call you friend and brother. I wish you both the best in your future together. Just remember, I've always got your backs. I love you both."

"Love you, Jackson Hewitt!" Frank says with a huge smile and big puppy dog eyes.

Jack sighs hard and gives a mock glare before sitting down. "Someone take this damn thing before I chuck it at him."

Gerard takes the mic from Jack, "Uh, let's spare the happy couple the violence for a day." 

"Hi, um, Gerard. Frank's bandmate and friend. I just wanna wish you two the best of luck, even if they don't really need it. Brock has turned Frank into a new man. He's become confident and helped him grow. Not physically, he still stands on tables to feel tall." 

Frank shakes his head and covers his face. Brock joins in with the rest of the crowd in laughter. He nudges Frank and rubs his back soothingly.

"Frank knows how much I love him but Brock, I love you. You have helped to make me and the band better. And without you, I don't think I'd be a father in like five months. So, uh, to love and laughter that you two are gonna share for a very long time." Gerard says before rubbing his neck and putting the mic down. His cheeks are a little pink. He still doesn't like public speaking.

The crowd claps before the mic is passed along and picked up again, this time by Brooke. She stands and adjusts the dress a little before speaking. "Frank, I must say that you surprised me the first time I met you. We had only spoken a handful of times before and Jack's initial impression wasn't the best at first. The time we spent together, though short, only further solidified my stance on accepting you into the family. Given Brock's trashy history, you were the diamond in the rough and exactly what my brother needed. I'm thankful you entered our lives Frank; our family was made stronger for it. You'll make a great king and queen, so to speak. And we all know Brock looks fantastic in his princess tiara. I wish you both years of never-ending love, laughter, joy, and peace. To Brock and Frank!"

The room cheers for the couple. Frank reaches forward, taking his glass and raising it before sipping. Frank leans up and kisses Brock, "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too."

After the cake is cut and the dances are danced, the grooms mingle with their guests, chatting and enjoying the sunset with champagne. A few of the guests retire early as the party winds down. Maria takes it upon herself to introduce her husband to the rest of the band and family. Brooke does the same with Anatolio.

"Oh, so you're the tall, dark, and handsome man who stole Brooke's heart?" Frank grins wide.

Frank Sr. touches Brock's arm, "I'd like a word with you." 

Brock's grin falls and he nods. Touching Frank on the shoulder, he whispers that he'll be right back before stepping aside and following after his father-in-law. He's not looking forward to this talk.

Frank wrinkles his forehead and nods. He kisses Brock and lets him go. 

Frank Sr. stands on the beach and crosses his arms as he waits for Brock to catch up.

"Who the hell are you people?" Frank Sr. asks.

"I think you already know that answer, sir," Brock says carefully. 

"Just say the damn words." 

Brock hesitates only for a moment. He didn't want to disappoint Frank Sr. He liked the man. He had hoped that his family business and lineage would remain a secret. He was wrong. Even though he and Frank were now married, it didn't protect them from being turned in. He banks on his character as a man and his heart to sway his father-in-law. "We, that is, my family, are _mafioso_." 

"Jesus fuck, Brock!" Frank Sr. exclaims, "Can you not be?" 

Frank Sr. can't imagine his soft and kind son fitting in with mobsters. His poor kid was going to be spit out after being gnawed on by these mobsters. Brock is a good man. A kind man. How can he be a mobster? He scans his son-in-law’s face. 

"It's my birthright. It's a way of life and all I've ever known," he replies, the corners of his mouth twitching just a little. 

"Well, fuck Brock." Frank Sr shakes his head, "We can't tell Linda. She'll lose her shit." 

"She already knows, sir. Pretty much everyone does."

"I'm… what?! What the hell Brock!" He says with an offended face.

"It's not something I _intended_. I told Frank, who told Linda. After she threatened to cut my balls off, she said she wouldn't say anything to anyone. Eventually, the band started figuring things out during the tour…" Brock shrugs.

"What… this is bullshit!"

"The only people at this point who didn't already know were you, James and his new girlfriend, Christine, and Carolyn. We need to keep Carolyn from knowing the truth."

"Well, that's smart. She's a moron with a big mouth. James is… a mess." Frank Sr. chuckles, "Why didn't you tell me? You don't trust me? That's rude."

Frank steps out of the tent and slowly makes his way to his husband and dad. His stomach is tied in knots, "Baby?" 

"Wait. You're mad that I didn't tell you _more_ than the fact that I'm a mafia prince?" Brock didn't understand the logic of these people sometimes.

"Son, I don't care that you're in the mafia. You could be a Nigerian prince scamming old ladies out of their money. Is my kid safe?" Frank Sr. asks.

"It's the mafia, sir. He's as safe as he'll ever be. But there are plenty of those who will lay down their lives for him and his safety. To protect us all." Brock turns to Frank and offers his hand to him.

"Do you hurt kids? Animals? Is he gonna be able to make music?" Frank Sr. nods before continuing, "Does your love change because you're a mafia prince?" 

Frank takes Brock's hand and smiles up at his husband. He was going to ask if everything is okay but apparently, it was.

Brock chuckles, "Uh, let's see… Not if I can help it. No. Yes. No."

"Then fine. Don't get my kid killed and I'm happy that he's happy. I'm not happy you didn't tell me… at all. And Jack, he knows?" Frank Sr. asks.

"Dad," Frank sighs. 

"With all due respect, that's a silly question, sir," Brock laughs. "Of course. He's my bodyguard and second in command. And my father's, since he's the Boss."

"And his brother," Frank adds with a little smile.

"Sweet Maria… that devilish woman coulda said something too! Oh and Paco, your mom. Oh, all of you are jerks!" Frank Sr. exclaims.

Frank snickers, "Sorry dad."

"So, do I need to hire James to keep his drunk mouth shut?"

"I mean my kid is crooked. So it wouldn't hurt." Frank Sr. snorts.

"Yeah, but can I trust him though?" Brock asks with a look and a head tilt. "He'll start at the bottom of the totem pole. He needs to understand the risks though before I consider him. He's a loose cannon and I can't have him blowing my operation out of the water. Traitors tend to find themselves not coming home for Christmas, sir."

"Wouldn't be much of a loss," Frank snorts. 

"Maybe see if he actually knows anything or if he's just a drunk idiot." Frank Sr. sighs, "Your mother would be heartbroken if he was off'd because he's an idiot." 

Brock laughs, "That's a fair point. Though according to my possible future brother-in-law, he pretty much knows."

"Yeah. He knows a lotta nothing too." Frank Sr. pats Brock’s arm and chuckles, "Take care of my kid, Rumlow." 

"Always, sir. Promise." 

"Alright, let's go have a drink and then I am gonna put my wife to bed." He chuckles.

Brock turns to Frank with a smile, "Ready to go back and do our first dance?" 

"I've been waiting all night." Frank grins at his husband. He feels giddy and can't wait to see Brock react to his last surprise.

"I think you are more excited than me, love," chuckles Brock as he allows himself to be pulled into the dance space.

A young woman dressed in a soft blue shift dress turns from the band and smiles at Frank. Her warm red hair, curled and pulled back from her face, "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Brock and Frank Rumlow."

Frank smiles wide as he and Brock reach the center of the dance floor, "Are you okay to dance?" 

Brock pulls him close, wrapping one arm around his waist. His other hand interlaces with his husband as he whispers, "For you, for this, I will be. I'm not missing this for anything. I love you." 

"I love you more. Thank you for marrying me." Frank looks up at Brock with starry eyes. 

The music picks up in a light and bouncy way that evokes the feeling of springtime. The music is Puccini. The singer smiles and steps forward slightly as her lips part as the words come out, "O mio babbino caro,

mi piace, è bello bello!"

Frank follows Brock's lead, he watches his husband's face. He waits for the recognition to hit. 

Brock nearly falters in step. His eyes widen and slowly his jaw drops open. He knows this song! He loves this song! It's opera! It's not Emo death music! He whispers excitedly, "Frankie! I know this song! It sounds just like Naomi O'Connell!"

"It is her," Frank smiles and replies softly, "This was playing when you _kidnapped_ me."

Brock will not admit that he squealed like a fangirl at one of the boy's concerts. But he did hear a familiar-sounding noise that may or may not have been coming from their general vicinity. He kisses Frank. "This is so cool! I love you!" 

"Is she a good surprise?" Frank asks as they move across the dance floor. The look of pure joy in Brock's face makes it worth it.

"Yes," he replies giddy. He turns Frank around in a circle before pulling him in again. "Can we talk with her? Oh! Can I get an autograph?!?!" 

"Of course! I told her all about you and she is excited to meet you." Frank grins. There's another will-not-admit-it's-real squeal from Brock again.

"Can we switch over to something more upbeat," shouts Tony as he drags Caterina onto the dance floor. The girl was gorgeous and cute enough to hold his interest. Since Brock didn't want her, he'll try his luck. "Where's Panic? It's gay, right?" 

Frank's legs get heavy for a moment. Fuck, Brock's gonna lose it. Where's Jack? "Baby, breathe."

"Actually, can we sit after the song?" It wasn't just Tony. He needs to rest for a bit. Maybe take a pill if he's allowed. He underestimated his leg and dancing.

"Of course, my love," Frank says with a gentle smile. He watches Tony and the child trying to dance.

"Thank you, baby." He takes a few slow, deep breaths to try to help with the burning in his leg. He can finish the song. He wants to. He has to.

"We can be done if you hurt too badly." 

"I wanna finish the song at least," he whispers.

"Okay." Frank is thankful the song is almost over. His poor husband is hurting.

Brock forces himself to keep up appearances and finish the dance the way they practiced it; with a flourish of twirls and a dip at the end. Holding Frank into the dip, he leans down and kisses him for a moment before pulling him upright. The song ends and the crowd applauds. He grins at him, happy and joyful despite being in pain. "I love you." 

"I love you more. Let's go have some cake and pills." Frank says softly, cupping Brock's cheek and kissing him once more.

He closes his eyes at the touch, feeling his heart pound and leg burn. A slight tremble courses through him and he fights to catch his breath. He hates this. He was supposed to be able to dance the night away with his husband. He was supposed to be whole and healthy on his wedding day, not weak and broken.

Frank pulls Brock back to their seats and scoots his chair closer. Fishing the pills from his pocket and passing them to his husband, "Here you go babe." 

"Thank you," Brock murmurs, ashamed. He quickly takes one and hopes nobody notices. He's not sure why he cares. Maybe it's because he wants this to be perfect and magical and doesn't want to ruin the image. The fire slowly burns away his energy levels and makes him tired. He hates having to rest. He should be over this part by now.

Frank holds his hand and watches their special guest hand the microphone to Gerard. He gives Frank a little smile and nod before beginning the next song. "Baby, do you want a piece of cake?" He is trying to distract Brock from his own head.

"Uh, sure. Just a small one though. Please," he replies.

"Kiss me," Frank says softly.

Brock turns and leans over, kissing Frank softly on the lips. Pulling back just a little, he whispers against Frank's lips, "Is a kiss your price for cake?" 

"No. The kiss is to satisfy my addiction to your lips while we're apart." Frank smirks.

Brock matches his smirk with one of his own. Even with the pain, joy and playfulness shine in his eyes. "Oooh. Okay. Well, then I guess I'd better kiss you when you get back, huh? Wouldn't want you to suffer."

"Probably double kiss me too." Frank says with a playful tone, "Wouldn't want me getting the shakes..." 

"The only shakes you're allowed to be doing is the hippy hippy shake," he snickers.

"Uh, sure." Frank pretends to not understand. 

"Sorry. That's an old man reference. You young baby whippersnapper wouldn't get that." Brock tries not to laugh.

"I mean you almost got two child brides..." Frank says with the straightest face possible.

"Good thing I like 'em young," he whispers against the shell of Frank's ear. "And cute Twinkies." 

Frank is thankful that Brock didn't say something to make him blush, he swallows a little before speaking softer than before, "We both know you like the creamy center of the Twinkie…" 

"I do like frosting…." Brock trails off with a sly grin. "How about that cake now, hmm?" 

Frank pecks his lips before rising to his feet, "Yes, dear…. That’s how the old men like it right… yes, dear? Or is it honey?" 

"Either work for me, dear."

Frank departs, he speaks with a server and picks up cake for them, and returns. He places the small piece in front of Brock, "A cappuccino is also coming your way too." 

"Oh well aren't you just the sweetest little thing," Brock replies in what he hopes is a little old lady voice. He leans over and tries to pinch Frank's cheek to really seal the bit.

"Are you gonna try to eat me, Mr. Wolf?" Frank asks.

The playful demeanor drops as something darker slips in behind Brock's eyes. His voice drops lower and deeper. Again, he ghosts his lips against Frank's ear, whispering, "Do or do not. There is no try. I plan on eating you later, little Twinkie. Might even make you scream my name while I shove my tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking until you give me your cream."

Frank shifts in his seat as the words hit him in the low stomach. His cheeks flush a little as he parts his lips, "I...I don't break easily." He's a liar, he'll break like a cheap crayon.

"I'm going to _devour_ you."

"I, uh. Don't think I would have much to offer… all cake. Not filling enough." Frank tries to keep a straight face, Brock's voice in his ear gives him the chills in the best way possible.

Brock chuckles darkly, voice sultry and deep. "Oh don't worry, _gattino_ , I'll fill you up nicely. Maybe I'll see the rare vision of my cock in your stomach. Yeah, I'll fill you up and stuff you until you're leaking."

A little moan quietly escapes his lips before he can speak. He shifts ever so slightly in his seat, "I'd… like to see that…" he's a few words away from being fully turned on by Brock's voice.

A young man drops the cappuccino off and smiles politely.

Brock nods at him in thanks before turning back to his husband. He gets a wicked idea. "Yeah? You want me fuck you over and over and stuff you full of my cum? Maybe grab a plug. Maybe fuck you _with_ a plug. Think your tight ass can fit around 2 cocks?"

Frank sits quietly as he shifts. His face a brighter red than before, he can't get his head to form a clear thought, "You wouldn't." It comes out like a challenge and he runs with it. Defiance can be _fun_ , right?

"I would," Brock purrs. "And it won't be a small plug either. Maybe I'll switch it up with a vibe."

"Fuck…" Frank says quietly. His insides are twisted up. His hand slips under the table and grips Brock's thigh. His tease of a husband knows exactly what to say to make the butterflies swarm, "I didn't. I didn't think you'd wanna share with _anything_ or _anyone."_

"Oh but to see you wrecked and squirming with pleasure will be worth it," purrs Brock in his ear.

He shifts a little more in his seat, if this man was trying to get him hard with his words, he was doing a good job. "You don't have to do a lot to make me...squirm." Frank's quiet words turn to a whisper at the end. He already knows he's a violent red color and he could feel it getting worse. He shifts his feet under the seat a little as he rubs Brock's thigh.

"I know. You're just so _receptive_ to my touch… my cock… my _voice_." Brock whispers the last word in his ear, the tip of his tongue licking the edge of Frank's ear before he nips his earlobe. "I love it." 

A shiver runs through his body as the memory of Brock using his voice to get him off, "I love you," is all that he can manage to get out without a full moan. He curls his fingers into Brock's skin as he leans into him harder.

"I love you, too, baby. We should get back to the wedding and socialize with our guests. Do you want me to stop?" He pauses a moment and grins. "Or…"

"Or?" Frank repeats curiously.

Brock reaches over and cups Frank between his legs. "Or I bring you and finish this." 

Frank inhales sharply as his eyes widen, "Oh that sounds interesting." He swallows and smiles as Ray passes by the table.

"You boys having fun?" He asks with a smile and rosy cheeks.

Frank nods wordlessly, he opens his mouth and he might moan.

Brock looks up at Ray and grins happily. "Oh yeah! Surrounded by friends and family, this is the best day ever. We're so happy. Are you enjoying the wedding?" Brock's hand moves over the bulge under the table and works down Frank's zipper.

"This is such a great ceremony. The food's good. The wine's fantastic. Happy my two favorite dudes are happy." Ray beams at them.

Frank inhales a little and smiles, "We really are blessed! Fuck… I can't believe we are here," he blurts out a little but reels himself in.

"Can't wait for your gift opening." Ray grins and pats the table as Christa pulls him away. 

"I'll be sure to open yours first, Sunshine," Brock calls after him as they move away. He turns back to Frank and whispers, "Actually, I'm opening _you_ first." He gets Frank's zipper down and works his way into his pants and underwear to grasp his cock and softly stroke it.

"Fuck," Frank moans softly. He closes his eyes for a moment and pretends they aren't surrounded by their families. He turns his head and kisses Brock. 

He kisses him back, soft but deep. His touch turns harder, tightening his grip around Frank's length and stroking him harder. To keep up appearances, he pulls away and eats a small bite of cake. 

His mouth falls open slightly, his forehead wrinkles. Before a moan can exit his mouth, he seals his lips and hums a little. Once he can compose himself, he speaks with a shaky voice, "Cake good?" 

"It is," Brock nods, "but it's lacking a certain cream..." His hand speeds up rapidly, jerking him hard and fast. He's rushing him to the finish line, forgoing any more teasing. He doesn't want anyone to find out or interrupt them.

Frank struggles to keep a straight face. He bites his lip and a small whine comes out. His hips rock in his chair. Nervously he watches everyone around them with his eyes. _How is Brock so calm?_

"Oh god, _daddy._ " He pants quietly and closes his eyes. His stomach is tied in knots as his body pushes faster towards getting off. 

"Gonna cum for me, baby boy? Gonna ruin your pretty panties in front of everyone here?" Brock leans over and kisses his cheek before whispering in his ear, "Such a dirty, filthy little boy. Come for me, baby." 

"Yes, 'm close!" He whines out and tries to keep his cool as his hips rock slightly. He's never been more thankful for the table cloth. He can feel his legs tighten as it hits him. He's there and fuck he needs to moan. Instead, he bites down on his lip hard as he comes into Brock's hand and all over his underwear.

Brock groans quietly under his breath from both the feeling of Frank's cock erupting hot cum all over his hand and fingers and from the blissed-out look on his boy's face. Fuck, Frankie was gorgeous. He slows his hand and kisses him hard.

Frank moans into the kiss. His whole body is buzzing as he comes down. He wants nothing more than to strip his husband naked and return the favor. He'll have to wait but fuck, he loves him so much. 

"Love you, _polpetto._ " Frank breaks the kiss and speaks gently. 

"I love you, _tesoro_." He rubs their noses together before pulling back and withdrawing his hand from Frank's pants. After a glance around to ensure nobody was directly watching, he licks his hand clean. In a moment of pure curiosity, he takes a bite of cake with the cum and discovers that while he loves the cake and loves the way his husband tastes, that was a humongous, big, fat hell nope. He quickly washes it down with wine before giggling.

"Yeah? Not good." Frank asks with a smile. He leans forward and kisses Brock's lips. 

"Not a good flavor combination," he snickers, returning the kiss. "Separate, they are great."

"This party is great. Really. It's not bad for a beachy island shindig," comments Tony as he approaches them. He grabs a random chair and sits down, lounging in it. "I would have gone with a larger bass system. Or, you know what would have been really cool? Put it on a platform and on the water. Add a light show. Make it bigger. Anyway, how's the happy couple? I'm assuming you're still happy. You have that…. Glow. It's either that or the candles. Or allergies. Are you allergic? I hope not. I don't know the Heimlich Man–"

"Tony," Brock interrupts.

"Sorry. Sorry." He pauses for all of one second. "But you're good? Happy?" 

"Yeah," smiles Brock.

"We are very happy." Frank grins at Brock, "Happy you're enjoying yourself. And Caterina." 

"Oh yeah, she's cute. A little annoying but cute. The plane ride here was boring."

"You know, I've never officially introduced you two." Brock grins, "Frank was shocked you know me. I was just shocked you were here. I'm fairly certain I heard one of the boys fanboy too. So Frank, meet my cousin Tony Stark; Tony, this is Frankie."

"Nice to meet you." Frank smiles.

"Yeah totally. It's great to finally have another American in the extended family."

"Yeah. It will be nice to not be the only one called a 'add insult' American." Frank says with a nod. He is uncomfortable now that his underwear is cooled and beginning to dry.

"I mean, I'm half Italian-American and half British. They aren't going to say anything because of your bloodline. If anything it'll be to insult your intelligence. Not the idiot American but just an idiot," he laughs.

"No one's calling Frankie an idiot, Tony," Brock chastises.

"To his face," Tony counters. He turns to Frank, "I'm sure everything will be fine. Brock's alright and all that jazz. He wouldn't let anyone hate you."

"Why...why would they hate me?" Frank wrinkles his forehead as he looks between his hubby and Tony, "Like at all?"

"They wouldn't hate you for you but because Brock went against the rules. You represent that."

"Oh." Frank blinks. It hits him that this is going to be a thing in their relationship that can't be avoided. He's the one who ruined the mafia agreement thing. He lets his face go blank as he picks up his wine glass. In times like this, he wishes he still smoked.

Brock shrugs. "Eh, all the old farts can kiss my ass. I've always said I was going to run my portion of the business my way. I don't plan on changing that simply because a few people disagree with my choices."

Frank smiles at his husband but it's half-hearted. He's always going to be a problem. He takes a bite of his cake but decides he doesn't want it. 

"Besides," Brock continues, "once they get to know Frankie and see how awesome he is, they'll love him. Everybody loves Frankie."

"Uh, I think the show is called 'Everybody Loves Raymond' but that's okay, you're old," sniggers Tony.

Brock sticks his tongue out at Stark before getting a goofy grin on his face. "I vote to rename it as 'Everybody Loves Sunshine'.

"Who?" Tony asks.

"Ray. The other guitar god of the band? Tony, with your taste in music I figured you'd–" 

"Oh! Yeah, I know MCR. Loved your last album. Big fan of Helena," Tony cuts off Brock. "Just didn't realize he has a gay nickname. Do the others have one too?"

"Mike is Mike and Ike. Wait. You liked our album?" Frank does a double-take.

Brock purses his lips and mutters under his breath, "My nicknames aren't gay."

"Yeah. I got Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge on my Starkpod." Tony leans forward and snags Brock's cake from him and eats it.

"Hey! Jerk!"

Tony just grins. "You love me." 

Frank slides his plate to Brock, "I can send you a copy of the new album when we get it done if you'd like?" 

"Uh, hell yeah," Tony scoffs with a grin. "I need some more rocking tunes to jam out to when I'm in the lab."

"Can you show your cousin good music?" Frank smiles playfully at Brock.

"I can try. Depends on if you wanted to fly back on my plane or not. I've got my music hooked up to the plane speakers."

"Yeah. He'll put his hangover baby headphones on." Frank snickers.

Brock tilts his head. "Are you coming with us to Italy, Tony? I didn't think you celebrated Christmas anymore."

"Yeah, Aunt Maria invited me."

"I love Maria."

"Yeah, she's awesome. Dad was, well, dad but she's badass."

Frank squeezes Brock's hand, "She made a pretty good kid too." 

Brock smiles warmly at Frank. "Only sometimes, Frankie."

"Tony, how come you don't spend the holidays with the family?" Frank asks.

"Eh, I don't really do the whole Christmas vibe trying. You know what I mean? And anyway, I've got work building a rocket for NASA. They want to be able to fly to Alpha Centauri in the next ten years but I could probably do it in like ten weeks. I usually just write a check to some toys charity."

"Oh, Brock does that too! We go to a store and just pick out things. It's kinda neat. I prefer helping animal rescues." Frank says with a warm smile, "Since I can't have a dog." 

"I can build you a dog. Only take a few weeks," Tony offers.

"Brock wouldn't let me have a smart speaker… I doubt he'll let me have a robot dog." Frank snorts, "Wait until it wakes up and attacks..." 

"Please," Tony scoffs, "Give me some credit. I'm better than your average robot dog you buy in the toy store or some knockoff I, Robot. It's not going to attack. I could have it integrated into the house Wi-Fi."

Emma runs up and hugs Tony's leg, "Be-rock!"

"Woah!" Tony jumps in his seat. "Tiny human! Go away. Shop. Where's your mommy? Someone take this… thing… away…"

"She's not a thing!" Frank says rising to his feet after checking that he wasn't showing anything, "Amelia, come here."

"Who you? You no Be-rock." Emma glares at Tony.

"Yeah. I don't. Uh, can you like let go?"

Brock silently laughs at his cousin, knowing the man's inability to comprehend children. For all his genius, Tony hit a brick wall when it came to kids. "Emma, come here and gimme hug." 

"Why he mean?" Emma asks Brock with a frown. She moves over and puts her arms up. 

"Cousin Tony doesn't understand littles. Just computers," he replies as he picks her up.

"But _I_ nice," Emma says resting her head on his chest.

"Yeah, I'm just." Tony stands up. "I'll catch you later Rumlow. I'm gonna go find your discarded date and yeah…."

"The child bride." Frank comments.

He shrugs, "She's legal and likes my brain."

Tony takes the remainder of the cake and leaves, getting away from the small human.

"More like his money..." Frank sighs.

"Our money, love. She's just as rich as he is. Though Stark Industries isn't technically mafia-related, he sells weaponry and goods to the military and any other high buyer. And he's family just like she is." Brock wrinkles his nose at an idea that's just gross. "But not… Like that. Nevermind."

"Huh. Gross. But okay." Frank pauses and teasing tone continues, "So… technically. You'd have married family...ew."

"None of us are blood-related," Brock laughs.

"Yeah. I know how all your royals are." Frank starts then changes his accent to a bad snotty British, "Have got to keep the bloodline clean… family tree goes up not out." 

Laughing, Brock shakes his head. "You ass. True. But still. Dork." 

Frank leans over and kisses him.

"Himb mine. No Fronk." Emma pushes him away.

Brock snickers, "Emma, baby? What are you gonna do now that we are married? Hmm?"

"We play house!" She says happily as she yawns, "He da maid..." 

"I'm not the maid!" Frank exclaims. 

~~

After all the guests turn in for the night and the wedding is slowly cleaned up, Brock and Frank take a moonlight stroll along the beach. Glowing waters crash across their bare feet. A full moon hangs high above them and bathes them in pale light.

"So, you're like _really_ stuck with me..." Frank beams up at Brock.

"Happily, too," Brock grins.

"Me too. I'm glad you don't have to be married to someone other than me." Frank says before walking ahead slightly with a little smile on his lips, "I'm absolutely not the midnight snack. I'm the main course." 

"I am so thankful too. I can't imagine my life without you or having to share it with another. A stranger to boot."

"You don't wanna play house with a child?" Frank smirks. He's on cloud nine and couldn't be happier, "Oh… you could be _daddy_ and a daddy!" 

"Oh papà, fottimi bene!" Frank turns to face Brock, he exclaims with a stupid grin. He's been practicing that line for a different opportunity.

Brock's eyes widen. He didn't think he'd ever hear something like that from Frank's lips. At least, not anytime soon. He tries to keep up with the conversation and not let his mind wander. Yet. "If she ever said that to me, I'd run away." 

"Mmm… and if I said it?" Frank asks before biting the tip of his tongue. 

His lips turn up in a smirk. "I like it when you say it. Especially hearing you say it in my tongue." 

"I've been learning cause I like surprising you. Maybe some time soon I'll just switch mid-conversation… as you do to me." Frank smiles.

"I don't do that on purpose, I swear," he grins. "I'm glad you are learning. Have you been taking secret classes?"

"Kinda. Jack's been helping me and I do work on it when you sleep." Frank replies, pulling Brock closer to him.

"It's sexy. Want me to help you?" 

"If you want, I always love doing things with my baby." Frank stops and leans up to kiss Brock.

Brock wraps his arms around Frank and hugs him in the kiss. Breaking it, he buries his face in Frank's neck and plants butterfly kisses there. He sighs in contentment at holding Frank and being held. "I love you." 

"I love you more," Frank replies as he squeezes Brock. 

After a moment of quietness between them, "Does this mean we can get old and lazy, now that I secured you?" 

"You secured me the moment we met, _tesoro."_

"So what now?" Frank asks with a softness in his voice. Even in the dark, he is enamored with Brock and his pretty dumb face.

"Whatever we want, _tesoro_. We have our Happy Ever After." 

"Hmmm… we never decided on a honeymoon place," Frank says softly.

Brock nods, "True. Got any ideas? Someplace exotic? We should definitely go somewhere we've never been before."

"I've never been to Africa…" Frank suggests, "New Zealand either."

"Okay. New Zealand sounds pretty awesome. Remember how we talked about getting married there?" Brock takes his hand and interlaces their fingers again.

"I do! Can we go?" Frank asks with a wide grin. "We could always go to Capri if you want." 

The idea of backpacking in Europe with Brock is entertaining. Brock roughing it, made a little giggle escape from his lips, "We could backpack through Europe." 

Brock weighs the idea. It could be fun, sure, but he wasn't too keen on the idea of doing something adventurous just yet. He wants to be able to relax and spend it with Frankie as much as possible before going back to work. "We could do that anytime. Also, I'm not sure if that's a nice, relaxing honeymoon? I like a week in New Zealand. I live in Capri. Let's go somewhere different."

"Okay. I am more than okay with New Zealand." Frank grins, "I just want you to be there. We could stay at home, never leave the bed and I'd be more than okay with that…"

Brock grins, "Insatiable _gattino_."

"You're damn right. I gotta keep you young." Frank walks backward, "And you don’t want me any other way." 

"Ain't that the truth," he chuckles in reply. 

"Are we going back to our room or where are you taking me?" Frank says softly, "Did my life insurance policy come through?"

"I don't know!" Brock laughs, "I just thought we would enjoy the stroll on the beach. Did you wanna turn in for the night?"

"No! I am enjoying the walk." Frank replies, "How's your leg?"

"Hurting but I'll be ok. It's why we're going so slow. Probably shouldn't be out much longer. Another ten minutes or so."

"Okay, baby." Frank glances out at the water as the shore glows blue, "How'd we pick out such a magical place baby?"

Brock hums a little. "I do believe it was the turtles that called to us. Shame that we haven't seen any yet…"

"We still have tomorrow!" Frank snickers, "We didn't ride horses yet either."

"Damn. I was hoping you'd forgotten," Brock laughs softly. "You're set on that, aren't you?"

"I like horses. They are nice." 

"You like any animal. Face it, if it weren't for me, you'd be the forever single guy with the farm of animals. Kinda like the crazy cat lady but worse."

"What? No! Pshhh…" Frank giggles before softening his tone and gets a little dreamy, "Brock, have you seen baby cows? Baby horses!" 

"Have you seen _babies_?" He giggles. He knows exactly how Frank feels.

"Yeah, they look like potatoes." 

"How you feel about baby animals is how I feel about babies. Especially our friends' babies." 

"You mean especially Toro babies," Frank says with a smile. He knows Brock loves his best friend and his family.

Brock nods. "I love my curl babies." 

"You didn't dance with your girlfriend at our wedding." Frank comments.

"Yeah. But she was pretty much asleep in my arms. Which was utterly adorable."

"I know. You'll have to make it up to her."

"I'll be sure to do it tomorrow."

Frank smiles, "I don't really like your cousin." 

"What? Why?" Tony wasn't the best human being but he was generally a likable human dumpster fire.

"He rubs me the wrong way." He shrugs. 

"Is it because of what he said about Emma? I mean, I figured you'd be buddies because he likes your music and probably knows all about the things you listen to."

"Yeah. He just seemed to be… detached when he talks to people. Like… he's waiting for his turn to speak." Frank replies, "Maybe he'll grow on me."

"Maybe. I really don't know him all that well. We didn't grow up together."

"Yeah? That's okay. I didn't marry him…" Frank smiles, "I’m surprised no one noticed us, earlier…"

"Right?* Brock snickers. "If they did, they were nice enough to pretend they didn't."

"Devour me, huh?"

"I made you a promise, huh?" He smirks at Frank.

"Yeah, you did…" Frank grins, "a sexy promise." 

"Well, then I guess we'd better turn in so I can deliver, huh?" Brock pulls Frank in for a kiss.

Melting into the kiss, he curls his fingers into Brock’s shirt. "I’m all yours, I'd say carry me but..." 

Brock tilts his head and huffs a small laugh. "Maybe you should carry me with your new strength." He turns and takes Frank's hand again, heading back towards their bungalow.

"I can give you a piggyback ride." Frank offers. 

"Let’s not. We need at least one person in our little trio to be uninjured," he laughs. "Jack and I need you to cart us around while we heal." 

"Aw you mean, you need me to push your wheelchairs huh?" Frank snickers, "Make sure you take your old man vitamins."

"Does this mean you are going to dress up as Nurse Frankie?"

"Do you need a sponge bath, Mr. Rumlow?" Frank asks playfully.

"Only if you are going to be giving it, sir," Brock replies with a little sass.

"I guess you aren't the big bad wolf, huh…" Frank teases.

Brock doesn't answer. Instead, he's focused on something ahead of them in the dark. He saw movement. He thinks. He's not sure, it could be a trick or the moonlight or an animal. Crabs perhaps. He stares into the night as his brain tries to work out the shape his eyes are telling him is there. Finally, it clicks. He taps Frank, pointing out the black shape against the dark blue sky and dark sand. "Frankie! Frankie! Look!" 

"Yeah. It's sand." Frank says unimpressed.

"No, dork. _Look_!" Brock stands behind Frank and again points out the movement. A wave crashes against the shore and the small animal turns away from the water, heading slowly up the sandbar. It gets wet though and the moonlight catches it, highlighting its shape.

"Turtle!" Frank whispers excitedly. He grabs Brock's arm and wraps it around him.

"Told you! Not just sand," whispers Brock in the same tone as Frank. "Wanna get closer?" 

"Can we? I don't wanna bother them." 

Brock nods, resting his chin on Frank's shoulder. "Yeah. We just need to stay a respectable distance and don't touch them."

"Okay. I wish we had a phone. I wanna see them better!" Frank speaks softly.

"You could run back to the bungalow and get one. I'll stay here and follow them," he murmurs.

"No. It's okay. What are they doing?" Frank asks, "Are they going to make babies?" 

"I dunno. Maybe laying eggs. Or migrating. Maybe making babies. Or maybe just taking a moonlight stroll like we are." Brock turns his head and kisses Frank's cheek. "Come on. Let's go a few feet closer. But no more than that. Don't want to scare them or keep them from doing their thing."

"Okay." Frank can't help but feel giddy as he follows his husband, "Oh I wish we could see the baby turtles head for the water!" 

"I think that's in spring, not winter, love. We can Google it when we get back inside."

"Okay." He rests his head on Brock's chest.

They watch the turtles for a few minutes before Brock reluctantly pulls back. His voice is laced with pain, "I'm sorry. I can't…." 

"Let's go to bed. It's been an eventful day." Frank says softly. He begins to head for the bungalow, "I need to get you to bed." 

Brock follows after, limping heavily and leaning on his cane more. "I'm sorry..." 

"Not your fault my love," Frank says opening the door to their bungalow. 

"I just hate that I had to cut turtle time short. And our walk. And… I made a promise."

"It's okay Brock. You hurt." Frank replies, flipping on the light. He drops his jacket on the chair nearby and waits for Brock to come in, "The resort gave us champagne." 

Limping in, he heads for the bed. "Champagne sounds amazing."

"I can bring it to you," Frank says softly. He's thinking of a shower. Probably a cold one, "They have treated us very nicely here." 

He grabs the champagne and a flute then brings it to Brock with a smile, "Here you go, lover." 

"Well thank you, baby. Care to join me? I'm gonna play a dangerous game and drink this with a pill." Smirking, he takes a sip of the champagne. It was good.

"Yeah. I can. I'd like to get these itchy cum soaked undies off." Frank says looking up from his duffle.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Didn't plan on jerking you off under the table in the middle of our reception."

"Neither did I. I woulda worn sexier undies." Frank smiles.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I didn't notice what they were. I was too busy watching your face." He sips more of the champagne. "Mind getting me my pill bottle? I don't know where you put it, love."

Frank gives him a soft smile, "Yeah. I'll get it." He moves to the bathroom and grabs the pill bottle, he turns the shower on. He returns to Brock and hands it to him, "here you go." 

"Thank you, baby. Are you going to shower?" He pops one of the pills and washes it down with the champagne. He grimaces. He never thought he would be on opioids and drinking alcohol at the same time. He never thought he'd ever have to take prescription-strength pain pills either. 

Frank nods, "Yeah. I didn't think you'd be up to join." 

"Yeah… Bath maybe but not a shower," he replies absently. He wonders if he might be addicted to the meds. He's in pain, sure, but is it all in his head? How would he know? Is he going to be as bad as his Uncle? Suddenly he wishes he hadn't mixed the champagne with the pill.

"I can wait until you fall asleep." Frank watches his husband's face and eyes glaze over. He checked out on him. He sighs and goes back to the bathroom. He turns the shower off. He strips down and slips into soft cotton pants. He returns to Brock and sits beside him, he feels like he needs to be there.

"Frankie," he says softly, staring at his lap, bottle in hand, "am I addicted to the pain pills?" 

"Well, you do use them when you feel pain, yeah?" Frank asks.

"Yeah," he whispers with a nod.

"You don't need them to be with me during the day, right. Like during our ceremony today?" He asks.

Brock shakes his head. "Only when they wear off. No sooner than prescribed. Sometimes longer cause I'm trying, real hard."

"Do you think about your next dose all the time? Or do you want to take more than one?" Frank asks as he picks up with pills from his lap, "Does me taking them make you feel something?" 

"No?" Brock frowns. "No, but… Sometimes I think about them if I'm starting to hurt and it's too soon to take them. I have to force myself to wait another hour or two. To keep pushing. They don't last very long if I'm doing strenuous stuff."

"If you are worried, maybe we should think about switching to Tylenol. I don't think you are addicted."

He sighs and nods. "I'm just… I'm always worried. Scared I'll be– I'll end up like my uncle."

Frank scoots closer to his hubby, "Baby, do you think I would let you?" He takes the champagne flute and sets it on the nightstand. He pulls Brock into him, "I'd beat your ass. You're not leaving me like that." 

"Okay. I'm sorry I made myself sad. And I'm sorry for ruining your shower." He hugs Frank back as hard as he can within the angle. It's times like these he remembers what Dr. Johnson said about needing a therapist during his healing. He's very grateful this long journey hasn't been as bad as it could have been.

"It's okay. I could see you wrapping yourself into a big sad burrito." Frank runs fingers into Brock's hair. "I'll shower once you fall asleep."

One hand comes up to cup Frank's cheek, turning him so Brock can kiss him gently. "I love you. So much." 

"I love you too, Brock." Frank smiles and kisses his nose, "I won't let you drown baby."

"Good. I won't let you drown either. For better or for worse, _tesoro_." Brock kisses him again, slowly. He shifts a little so he can lay down, pulling Frank after him. 

"Oop." Frank says following Brock down with a little smile on his lips, "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Always, love. Well, I'll try." 

"Will you tell me if anything changes? Like if you need to use the pills to just do mundane things? Like if you feel like the pills are taking over?"

He nods, "Yes. Promise. I don't want that to happen to me. Promise me that if you think it's happening, you'll say or do something?"

"Yeah. I already have a plan in mind." Frank says with a smile, "I'll recruit, Jack and Steve and they'll whoop your ass then we'll lock you up and make you dry up."

Brock nods, relieved. "Okay. Good." He kisses Frank again, torn between consummating their marriage and cuddling until he falls asleep. "If you want you can shower now?" 

"You sure? I can wait for my hubby to conk out." Frank strokes his cheek.

"I want you to sleep _with_ me."

"Oh. Maybe wanna take a bath with me?" 

"Okay. Get it started? I'll hobble along."

Frank kisses him softly, "Okay." He slips out of the bed and into the bathroom. He starts the water in the tub. He turns to the mirror and stares at his face. The craziness of the day runs back in his head. The idea that he is part of the reason for an impending war and all of the things that come with that make him feel bad. 

The bathroom door opens and Brock enters, sans clothing having stripped himself down while still laying on the bed. He leans his cane up against the bathroom counter before carefully making his way over to his husband. The thought sends a giddy thrill through him. He smiles, "Hello gorgeous." 

It takes a moment, he blinks a few times and comes back to Earth. He smiles at Brock, "Hi handsome." 

"Bath looks good," he says, coming up and wrapping one arm around Frank as he watches the water fill the tub. He can't remember the last time he took a bath with only water in the tub. "Needs something though." 

"Shit. I’m sorry. I was gonna grab things." Frank says looking around the bathroom a little frazzled. 

"It's alright." Brock steps into the tub with his left leg first. Ever since he got shot, there's always been a moment of fear that shoots through him. It's the fear of stepping into the tub with his bad leg and slipping and falling. Or his leg giving out at the worst possible moment. He feels vulnerable for a second every time until he's got both feet into the water. He mentally sighs a breath of relief. Another success. Slowly, he eases himself down until he's sitting in the extra hot bath.

Frank pulls out a little bottle of lavender bubble bath, "if you'd wait I woulda put this in." 

"And you still can," he chuckles in reply. 

Frank steps up and adds the liquid to the bathwater, "Is there gonna be room for me?" 

"Of course. But you'd better join me before the water gets too high and splashes onto the floor." He holds out a hand for Frank as his favorite fragrance fills the room.

Frank slips off his pants and takes his husband's hand before stepping in. He sits between Brock's legs and relaxes. His back rests on Brock's chest and he takes a big breath. 

"Baby." 

"Hmmm?" 

"What. What exactly happens during a war between the families?" 

"Ever seen gangs fight in Jersey or New York? There's always graffiti and drive-by shootings. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah?" Frank tenses and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Kind of like that but from what I've witnessed, less messy. We tend to be a little more crafty than reckless. But, don't worry about it too much. Just because Gotti didn't get what he wanted doesn't mean there still isn't a way we can avoid a war. It's just not good for the business. Our customers hear about it and don't want to trade. The people get caught in the crossfire. I like to think not even Gotti wants that. I'm hoping that he'll accept alternatives."

"Okay. I just worry that I am gonna put people I love in danger. Cause… well, I'm not worth it." Frank speaks using a soft voice and gentle fingers running over Brock's skin under the water, "I was scared I was going to lose you." 

Brock shifts and turns Frankie a little, holding him tight. His voice is soft and somber. "Sweetheart, you are very much worth it. You're worth _everything_ to me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I will always choose you first over everything. My family will follow. I'm never losing you again."

Frank tilts his head and kisses Brock soft. "How did I end up with someone so amazing?" He knows the words are true but he needs to hear them. Emotionally he's been through the wringer today.

Brock smiles, soft and tender. "I do believe it involved a pineapple." 

"So, Italy is next," Frank comments before lifting Brock's arm and kisses the top of Brock's hand. He's curious about what an Italian Christmas will be like.

Brock hums in agreement. "Are you excited?" 

"Sort of." Frank's voice quiet as a mouse.

"What are you worried about?" He nuzzles Frank and plants soft kisses on his flesh.

Frank closes his eyes and tilts his head to the side to make space for the kisses, "A lot."

"I'm going to ask Dr. Choi to put you on anti-anxiety meds," Brock chuckles. He's mostly joking. Medication would only treat the symptoms and not the root cause of his boy being a worrywart. "What aren't you worried about? Let's start there." 

"The plane ride?" Frank can hear how unsure he is. "That it's Christmas." 

"So basically, you're worried about everything and the only thing you are sure about is that it'll be Christmas." Brock takes a deep breath, pulling Frank closer, more up his body, and literally rubbing his face on him, nuzzling. A content sigh escapes now that he's practically covered in a Frankie blankie. He loves cuddling this man. If he were a cat, he'd be purring right now regardless of the topic. He could fall asleep like this with the hot water, lavender scent, and his husband. "Want to talk about it? Work it out?" 

"Yeah. Do you? I know you're tired." Frank asks.

"I always have time for you. How attentive I'll be within that time is another story," he chuckles. "We can talk."

"Okay." Frank takes a pause, "It's mostly that I've never been to your home. I'm coming in as a usurper, in my mind. How do I act? What if my gifts offend someone? What if Gotti comes after you? What if I get arrested?" 

Brock thinks about this for a moment. "Do you remember when I first met your parents? How I felt? I was worried they wouldn't be okay with me and you were so sure they would. Here, you have already met everyone in my immediate family. My siblings love you. My mom adores you. And my dad accepts you. He's a work in progress. So, if the family already loves and accepts you, how can you possibly be a usurper?"

"I didn't say what was going on in my head was rational. I just worry a lot. What if I do something that upsets your dad and he changes his mind?"

"Do you worry that I might change my mind?" He prays the answer is no. Surely there's something Frank has faith in. He doesn't understand why his love hates himself so much.

"No. After everything we have been through, if you change your mind now, you'd be an ass." Frank smiles softly, "I know you'd fight to keep me, I'm not worried about that."

"Then fuck my dad. At the end of the day, I'm not changing _us_ so the rest of the world can either stand with us or burn for all I care."

"I love you." 

"I love you." Leaning forward, he kisses him tenderly.

"I'll be okay. I'm just being a little worrywart." 

He kisses him again, "Why would you think you are going to get arrested?"

"What if I jaywalk and a cop sees? Or they think I'm a suspect in a robbery?" Frank asks. It's irrational thinking.

"I'd bail you out the same day? And then wonder why the fuck you got arrested in the first place because you're a good boy." He shifts a little in the water, adjusting his leg and popping a few bubbles just for fun.

"I am a good boy, huh?" He beams up at Brock. "It's all irrational."

"It is, but at least you know that. It'll be okay, baby," he says, kissing Frank gently.

"Mmmhmm." Frank strokes his chest, "Just don't let me spiral. And give me lots of kisses." 

"Well, all but one. Your new rival coming after you worries me." Frank adds.

"Gotti? Eh, I'm not overly worried. He'd be an idiot to do much more. He's already in shit for attacking me. He'll have to stand before the council and explain himself. By right I could call for his death. I'm choosing to play it politically and go to the father and make him choose between his son or something else I haven't decided yet." Brock sighs, "It's nothing to worry about now. I'll address it after we arrive in Italy. I don't want it to taint our wedding week."

"Okay baby. So, a whole week of just me, can you handle this?" Frank smirks. 

"Why, yes, yes I can handle the cute," smirks Brock.

"Oh good. Cause I can't turn it down. In fact, it gets stronger. Even pushes into handsome." Frank bites his lip before pushing his little lip ring around.

"Handsome _and_ sexy." In a spur of the moment, Brock surges forward and kisses Frank before attaching to the lip ring and sucking on it a little.

Frank kisses him back, his hand pushes into his husband's hair. He shifts a little before deepening the kiss.

Brock moans quietly into the kiss. Maybe he's not that tired after all...

Frank stretches his hand down and grips his husband's perfect cock. He gives him a few slow tugs as he kisses down Brock's neck. He loves getting Brock worked up. 

"Mmmm, Frankie..." He tilts his head to the side to give Frank better access. Little bursts of pleasure cascade through him at Frank's ministrations and his cock begins to swell and rise. 

Frank smiles against Brock's skin as he keeps his stroke going. "I wanna make you feel good." He sucks on Brock's collarbone as he tightens his hold, just a little, on his cock and keeps going. He pulls away from Brock's skin and tilts his head up and whispers, "How are you feeling?" 

"Pretty good. Far better than good actually," Brock replies, matching his tone. "Do you wanna do this here… Or in bed?" 

"Where do you wanna go?" Frank asks. He nips Brock's skin before kissing him again. Frank keeps going, he is enjoying Brock's reaction. 

He shudders hard before he's able to respond. "Maybe...bed. Easier. Mmmm...fuck Frankie…"

Frank softly speaks, "Yeah, I wanna fuck you. Maybe in our bed." 

Brock moans and bucks his hips a little. He can't get enough purchase in the slippery tub. "Yeah… we need… clean." 

"Then we should get in bed then… so I can wrap my lips around that perfect cock." Frank sucks on Brock's throat for a moment before scraping teeth over his skin, "Or ride you and make you cum inside of me."

He slips off of Brock and stands in front of him, he grins down at his hubby before stepping out. He offers his hand to Brock and bites his lip, "Come, baby..." 

"Yes, please," Brock smirks, taking his hand. Holding on tight, he carefully gets up and drains the tub in the process. "Thank you, baby." 

Frank takes the towel and pats Brock's skin with a smile. He's making sure to keep eye contact with him. He bites the tip of his tongue as he wraps the towel around Brock's cock and strokes him. 

Brown eyes flutter closed and another moan escapes. He fights to keep watching Frank. One hand moves to rest on the back of his head, carding his fingers through his hair. "I love you." 

"Love you more." 

"Love you most, _tesoro_." 

He backs into the bathroom counter as he strokes a little faster.

"Oh fuck," Brock moans softly. He bites his lip and tips his head back. "Bed, baby. Need you."

"Okay." He lets go of him and slips out of the bathroom. He sits on the bed and waits for Brock to follow. Frank leans back on his elbows, his feet can just barely touch the floor in this position.

Slowly, Brock exits the bathroom, using his cane. It sucks that the sexy image he would have done is completely ruined by his old age and him needing the cane. Inwardly, he sighs. He doesn't understand why he is being such a downer tonight. Maybe his brain is more tired than he realizes. Physically, he's feeling fine now that the pill has kicked in. God, that sounded like viagra in his head. He reaches the bed and shoves away his thoughts, focusing wholly on his husband, his Frankie.

"Hi," Frank says with a smile. He can see how tired Brock is, his pretty brown eyes give him away.

"Hi, handsome." Brock sets his cane aside and leans down, kissing him, one hand going to his head and running his nails over his scalp

"Mmm…" Frank moans into the kiss. He lies back, "You sure you wanna?" 

"My cock says yes, don't you think?" Brock chuckles, carefully crawling onto the bed.

"I do but you said you were tired lover," Frank says just before kissing his lips.

"My brain seems to be but my body wants you." 

"I can suck your cock and we can do more in the morning…" Frank leans up and kisses him.

"Doesn't seem fair and I would hate to start something and leave you hanging, love. It's our wedding night. We're supposed to…. I want to." Brock kisses him. "I want you."

"I always want you." Frank moans softly. He wraps a leg around Brock and kisses him deeply. 

"Yeah? Didn't you say something about fucking me?" Brock murmurs as he makes his way towards Frank's neck, kissing and sucking a path.

"I did. I like riding your cock." Frank moans, enjoying the attention.

He sucks hard on Frank's pulse point. "Good. You know I love it when you bounce on my cock. Look so damn sexy." He nips the quickly purpling flesh. One hand comes up to pinch and twist at a nipple.

"Fuck..." Frank moans, "You should lay down and I'll make you feel good." 

Brock moves to the center of the bed, head resting on the pillows. He gets comfy before spreading his legs a little invitation. "I'm all yours, baby, to do with as you please."

Frank crawls between his legs slowly as he kisses up Brock's thighs, placing them on the inside. He stops when he gets to the spot he is aiming for. He grips Brock's shaft and places a kiss on the head of his cock. He runs a tongue over the slit before diving down deeper. He goes to work on getting Brock, his husband off. The words sound good in his head, his husband. He sucks in harder before sliding further down. 

He bobs his head and makes a little hum in his throat. He's trying his hardest to get the job done quickly and make Brock feel like… he's being worshipped. Rising from taking him deep in his throat until his lips are around the head, he pulls back slowly dragging it out to get that porn-worthy moan. Beginning to stroke Brock before lifting it up and carefully sucking on the balls, one at a time. A hand comes up and massages the balls and even gives the sensitive bundle of nerves before the hole a little attention. Frank devotes his attention to Brock's cock again. With watery eyes, he looks up at Brock and goes back to work.

"Jesus fuck Frank," Brock groans out, panting and gripping the sheets tightly. " _Cristo_. Feels so good. Don't stop. _Please_." 

Frank keeps going, he takes him in as far as he can with his nose almost touching Brock's skin. He fights the urge to gag harder than he should. He pulls back and uses a hand to stroke him. He takes a breath and goes back down. He loves hearing Brock cursing, especially because of him. His free hand keeps massaging with a gentle touch to the spot, between his balls and hole, that isn't given much attention. His finger slips a little and runs over his husband's hole.

" _Dio dannazione ho bisogno di te. Fottimi._ Ride me, Frank. Need to feel you around me," Brock babbles, hips arching and trying to get his husband to move. He feels like he's going crazy with need and lust. He needs to come.

Frank pulls off and looks up at Brock, "You sure?" He wipes his chin and smiles at him.

"Fuck yes. Wanna come. Need it. Need you." Again he shifts and arches his hips, no longer able to keep the lower half of his body still. He's not quite on the edge just yet but he is on the proverbial teeter-totter. It's the edge that will rush him towards the finish line or give him blue balls if things go slower.

Frank leans across the bed and picks the lube up from the nightstand, he squirts a little into his hand and some on Brock, he puts it on the bed. He strokes Brock a few times before readjusting his position, straddling Brock for a moment. A hand holds the perfect dick as he slides down until he's perfectly seated with a heavy moan. 

"Oh fuck yes," Brock moans out loudly with his head thrown back. A distant thought occurs to him that he's not going to last long. He's got that frantic feeling; the need to fuck Frank as fast and as hard as he can. He also wants to watch Frank ride and bounce on his cock so he'll have to settle with giving up a little control. Both of his hands go to Frank's waist, not giving him any time to adjust before he's bucking his hips and forcing the doves to undulate. "Come on baby. Give it to me. Ride my cock." 

Frank moans loud and begins to ride Brock. He is trying to find a place that matches Brock but he is failing. "Fuck. Oh, fuck Brock!" Frank moans out as his own hand runs over his chest and pulls at his own nipple. 

"Fuck, yeah, touch yourself, baby," he growls out, finding his rhythm and picking up speed. One of his hands reach out and grasp at Frank's wrist, placing it on his chest. He wants something. He's not sure if it's the weight of his husband on his chest or if he wants nails but he's desperate to come and he wants to feel the same from Frank. He wants his hellcat to be so needy that he demands.

Frank wrinkles his forehead as he folds forward slightly and a heavy groan pushes out of him. He tightens around Brock as he digs nails into Brock's skin. "Fu- oh my god!" Frank manages to get out as he folds further over and wishes he could pull Brock up to him. He wants to kiss his lips. His mouth falls open as he mumbles and moans about how good it feels. "Fuck, kiss me… bruise me… god something!" 

A part of his brain wanted to make love to Brock tonight. Nice, slow, and romantic sex but it somehow became this. He bites his lip, closes his eyes, and drops his head to his chest as a moan escapes. When he opens them he stares at his thighs draped over Brock, he pushes a thought out of his head and focuses back on the beautiful man in front of him.

Brock surges forward, sitting up a little. One hand buries into Frank's hair and yanks him down into a hard kiss. He moans into the kiss, tongue snaking out and swiping across Frank's lips, asking for entrance. His other arm wraps around Frank's waist and helps keep their movements going.

Frank parts his lips and moans in return. His hips move with Brock as he grips the back of his hubby's neck. He can feel something building in his body. The kiss is what he needed to not feel so frantic. 

Brock leans back on his arm, keeping himself in a semi-upright position. This new angle stoked some of the fire within him, bringing him down quite a bit. He keeps his eyes locked with Frank as he rolls his hips up to keep rhythm with his husband. The pressure in his cock builds steadily, leading him towards the finish. Another moan escapes as he kisses him again.

Frank kisses him back and tightens down harder around Brock. He is close. This isn't what he wanted but fuck, it's amazing. He moans in return and holds Brock's neck. 

"I love you," Brock moans. "Fuck you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good boy, baby. Got me close…. Fuck."

"I love… you!" Frank moans out and bucks back against Brock. The movement causes his insides to twist, "Fuck, 'm close baby!" 

The words cause Brock's body to tighten and a groan to escape. His hips jerk up uncontrollably. Shifting forward some more, his lips find themselves locked around Frank's pulse point, sucking and nipping hard. He's also so very close but he's trying to get Frankie to come first.

Frank gasps out and lets himself fall apart. His rhythm falls apart as he moans a loud 'fuck' out and comes. His whole body softens. He struggles to keep himself breathing instead he remembers to keep his hips moving and tightens around Brock's again. He wants to make sure that his husband finishes inside of him. 

"Oh god, Frankie," Brock cries out softly. He loves the sight of his husband coming; both his husband's face contorted with pleasure and his husband's perfect cock spitting and spilling his release over them both. Watching him come is almost always a trigger for Brock. It's like his body gets the ok signal and before long he's joining Frank in the bliss. This time was no different. His hips snap up thrice more before he stops holding back and lets the dam break. A deep, loud, and long moan of Frank's name spills from his lips as waves of thunderous pleasure roll over him. He's positive he's never cum more in his life. A full-body shudder runs through him and he kisses Frank softly.

Frank lets himself fully dissolve into Brock. His whole body is tired. "Thank you, husband," he whispers in Brock's ear. He doesn't care how sticky he is, he just wants to be cuddled and curls into Brock.

Brock wraps both of his arms around Frank and falls back to the bed. Carefully, he rolls them over before pulling away so he can start clean-up. They both need a quick wipe down. He yawns as he eases himself out of bed, crashing quickly. His body is very angry at his choice of activity for the night, having barely enough energy to begin with. After he takes a warm wet cloth to both of their bodies, he returns to his soulmate and curls his body around him. He sighs in contentment, already fighting sleep. "I love you, Frankie." 

"I love you more than anything, Brock Enzo." Frank strokes Brock's neck. He listens to Brock's breathing and lets his body relax.

Brock nuzzles him, burying his face in Frank's neck. He wants to be held and cuddled as much as he wants to hold and cuddle his love. He sleepily replies, "My love is greater cause I'm bigger." 

Hugging Brock back, he presses a kiss into his skin. "Nope. I love you more than all the grains of sand on every beach." 

"Wanna be the little spoon?" Frank offers.

"We can be each other's spoons," he replies, pulling Frank closer and intertwining their limbs. With a heavy sigh, he settles. He fights sleep as best as he can for Frank's sake but loses quickly.

Relaxing in Brock's arms, sleep comes quickly. Frank doesn't have sweet dreams. Instead of dreaming of happily ever after, his dreams are filled with a twisted version of the day. He dreams of the interruption at the wedding. The gorgeous girl storming down the aisle and Brock accepting her. He feels Brock's hand letting go of his and he watches the man he loves embrace her with strong arms and a deep kiss. Her accent rings in his ears as she calls Brock husband. 

"He is just a plaything. I love you the most, _tesoro_." Brock's fingers curl under her chin and kiss her. 

He tries to speak but the words are stuck in his throat. Tears roll down his cheeks as strong hands grab his shoulders. He eyes Emilio who is smiling wider than he expected. Maria stands tall beside her husband with a blank expression. 

"You aren't welcome here, Frank." Jack's hard voice comes from behind him, "Get your shit. Don't make a scene." 

He can't take his eyes off the love of his life in another's embrace, "No!" Frank shouts as he struggles from Jack's hands. He tries to move for Brock but is thrown to the sand, "He doesn't want you! Let it go. You're not what he wants. Grow up, Frank." 

He thrashes and shouts to stop but his voice gives out. This has to be a dream. He has to wake up. Frank knows it is not real. He looks down at his hand and his ring is gone. The air is taken from his lungs for a moment before tears pour from his eyes. 

"Frankie! Frankie! Wake up!" Brock whispers loudly, shaking him.

Frank opens his eyes, his face is wet and he can't breathe. The memory of the dream fades but the feeling of panic is still there. His fingers dig into Brock's bicep as he tries to pull Brock tighter to him. He's gotta keep a hold of him. Brock can't leave him.

"You're okay, baby. It's just a dream. You're okay," Brock whispers soothingly, wrapping Frank up tight in his arms and under the covers. He kisses his forehead gently.

"Please don't leave me." Frank whispers with a shaky voice, "I'm sorry. I promise I will be the best husband." 

The words hit Brock in the gut. His love's nightmare was because of him. Shame and guilt fill him and he struggles to maintain composure. This wasn't about him. This was about comforting his husband. His husband, who should have never been in distress and crying on their wedding night. He shoves his feelings on the matter aside. He'll deal with it later.

"Never, _tesoro_. Never again. Until death do us part. You are the best husband I can ever ask for. We're okay."

Frank nods and buries his face into Brock's chest. With a weak voice, he speaks into his skin, "Thank you for choosing me." 

"I'll always choose you, my little Pokémon. I've chosen you from the moment we met," he replies soft and gentle. Absently, he rubs Frank's back.

He looks up and kisses Brock. He can feel his breathing return to normal. His heart still hurts but it will get better, he whispers, "You chose her." 

Brock speaks soft but adamant, "No. I've never. I didn't even meet her until today. I only knew her name."

"In my dream. Jack was mean. I was alone. I'm sorry…" Frank stops himself. It was a dream, he needs to let it go and deal, "I didn't mean to wake you." 

"Just like I'm sure you didn't _mean_ to have a nightmare," he teases lightly. He kisses Frankie and squeezes him tight. "It's okay, baby. I've got you and you're safe. Jack's a good boy. You're my husband. And you aren't alone anymore."

Frank nods, "Okay. Sorry. " He buries his face in Brock's skin. It's safe there. He'll make the bad dreams go away. 

"Did you want to turn over? Get into a proper spoon? I promise I'll go octopus mode for you."

"I don't care as long as you hold me." Frank holds tight to Brock and exhales, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't worry about it, love. You were in distress. I'm here for you; always and forever. Try to get some sleep, love." Brock peppers little kisses all over Frank's face and lips before being true to his word and wrapping him up into his arms and legs. He whispers his usual _go to sleep_ in Italian for some sense of normalcy for Frank. He stays awake and on guard until he feels Frank's body relax with sleep again. He follows soon after.

~~

The week flies by, between swimming and being lazy on the beach. Frank tries to get his husband on a horse but it doesn't go as planned. Brock was very adamant about not getting on the beast, even volunteering to watch the kids.

On the last night, Frank pours Brock a glass of wine and joins him on their veranda. He kisses his cheek before slipping into his lap, he's conscious of Brock's hurt leg. "Ready to go home?" 

"Kind of. I'm enjoying this place more every day. I wouldn't mind coming back. But yes, I'm ready to go home. And taking you with me. Are you ready?"

"Yeah! I have been dying to see where you grew up. Where I will call home sooner than later." Frank rests his head on Brock's shoulder, "Maybe we can make a tradition of coming here for our anniversary."

"I'd like that."

He closes his eyes and listens to Brock's breathing and the sound of the water crashing to the shore. He can't believe he's this blessed. He presses soft kisses into Brock's jaw and neck. As soon as Brock finishes his glass, he follows his husband to bed. The morning comes quickly and shines bright through the bedroom windows. The alarm goes off and soon enough they are up, dressed, and out the door. 

The flight feels like it takes forever. He can feel himself getting anxious as he watches the plane land. He knows there is a boat that takes them to the island but he just wants to be on solid ground. He follows Brock on the boat. He can hear the band and his family chattering quietly. He buries his face in Brock's chest. His anxiety is bubbling up in his chest as the boat cruises along the water, he asks softly, "We're okay, right?" 

"Yeah, baby. Of course," Brock murmurs into his ear, holding him tighter. "I'm okay, you're okay." 

"Okay." Frank clings tight to Brock and takes a deep breath in. The arms around him make him feel safe and calm again. The boat docks and everyone walks up the pier towards the house. Frank holds Brock's hand tight as they move closer and closer to the villa. 

As they approach the entrance the smell of the flowers and coffee hit his nose and force a sneeze out of him. He keeps close to Brock as they wait in the foyer for the whole group to assemble. 

"How big is this place?!" Ray asks with genuine wonder in his eyes. 

"It's so beautiful," Christa comments as she spins around with a very sleepy Zach in her arms. 

"I feel like I'm gonna be escorted out for trespassing," Frank says sheepishly.

"I love the pink!" Lindsey says excitedly but absolutely out of breath. Her hand resting on her bump that is much larger than Frank remembered it being. 

"You aren't trespassing, silly." Brock chuckles, squeezing his hand in encouragement. "This is my home. _Our_ home." He turns to Lindsey, "Thanks. Mom decorated everything herself." 

"She got new drapes," Linda says with a smile as she glances around. She's video chatted with Maria plenty to know.

Brock follows her gaze. "Huh. Hadn't noticed. This is why Frankie decorated the apartment." 

"And he's got no taste." Lindsey teases.

"Where is mama Maria?" Gerard asks.

"Mama mia… here I go again," Mumbles Mike with a smirk.

A maid approaches Brock, asking if he or the guests needed anything in rapid Italian. She smiles politely at the strangers. Her eyes turn fond at the sight of Brock's hand intertwined with one of the young men. She can't wait to tell her grandmamá that the Rumlow prince got married. With a grin, she congratulates them both before being dismissed.

"What did she say?" Frank whispers to Brock. He watches her as she disappears from sight.

"Asked if we needed anything. And then congratulated us on our marriage."

"Oh! That was sweet of her." Frank likes her. He glances around the room again. He wants to explore a little. Maybe find Brock's room.

Brock turns to the group, "Did you want to check out your rooms, guys?"

"Yes!" The group responds in unison.

"Come on, I'll give you a quick tour." Brock heads out of the foyer, pointing out various rooms as he heads for the ballroom sized staircase. Once upstairs, he points out the three doors that lead to his, Jack's, and Brooke's rooms, the four bathrooms, and hallway full of guest bedrooms. "Take your pick." 

The group splits off and disappears into each room. Frank looks up at Brock and waits for him to lead the way.

"The view!" Lindsey shouts from inside her room. 

"The flowers are gorgeous!" Linda comments. 

Ray pokes his head out, "Thanks, brother!" Before Brock can reply he disappears into the room. 

Bob slips into the room closest to Brooke's with a sly grin on his lips. She may be taken but he's still enamored with her. 

"Do I sleep with the staff?" Frank asks playfully.

"Oh no, you get the royal treatment," Brock chuckles, leading Frank into his room. 

"Oh. Yeah?" Frank says as he glances back, "Do I have to clean the room to earn my keep?"

"Nope. No need to earn anything. It's freely given for you to take as you please," Brock grins.

Frank pulls him back and then down to his level and kisses him, "What if I wanna take the prince of the villa?" 

Brock hums playfully. "Which one? I hear one is a notorious bachelor and the other is already taken by a sexy yet total sweetheart."

"Who's Jack dating?" Frank giggles.

"Himself." Brock laughs, "He's staring in his own version of Me, Myself, and I." 

Frank laughs, "You think I'm a sweetheart?"

"Yes. As shown by the many times I call you sweetheart, sweetheart," Brock replies with an impish grin.

Frank bites his lips with a little twinkle in his eye, "This room is gorgeous, baby." He tries to use his body to move Brock backwards to the bed.

"Yeah? Thank you. It's mostly my mother's decor but there's a few touches here and there that are mine. This was my childhood bedroom, getting an upgrade every few years." Brock moves, sitting on the bed. "I'm sure there are photos…"

Frank straddles his lap and rests his arms on Brock's shoulders, he places a kiss on his lips, "I wanna see your old photos… did they even have cameras back then?" 

"Ouch. I'm old, not decrepit. Damn," he chuckles.

"Did you have to sit really still for the photo to not be blurry?" Frank giggles before pecking his lips, "Flashbulbs and all."

"Heathen," Brock says, fingers digging into Frank's sides and twisting.

He squirms a little and giggles more, "The camera won't take your soul!" 

"I never believed that!" He tickles Frank harder. "Shithead!" 

He laughs and tries to get away from Brock. "Had to have a priest do a blessing to keep your soul!" 

Brock pauses with a faux seriousness on his face, "Hey now. Don't mess with us Catholics. You'll get cursed otherwise." 

"Fuck the Catholics." Frank snorts, "They were mean to you."

"A lot of people are mean. I can't fuck them all…. Just you."

"You can _fuck me_ in place of them…" Frank whispers in Brock's ear. He nips Brock's ear before kissing his lips.

"Brock! Frank!" came Maria's voice from downstairs. "Boys!"

Frank sighs, "Guess that means… no."

Brock pulls in his lips in a suppressed laugh. "Guess not. Later though." 

Frank slips off his husband's lap and offers his hand to Brock, "We've been summoned." He pulls his hubby to the door and towards Maria's voice. Frank walks down the stairs and waits for Brock's slow butt to follow him, he smiles at Maria.

"Hi, mama." 

"Hello, my love," Maria grins, arms open and eyes full of love and excitement. 

Frank hugs her tight, "You look lovely, momma!" 

"Thank you, sweetheart. Did you boys enjoy the rest of your week at the island? Did you see any more turtles?" 

"We did, we had a great time. I tried to get Brock on a horse." Frank kisses her cheek.

Maria chuckles, "And how did that turn out? Grumbly compliance or stubborn goat?"

"I am not a stubborn goat," says Brock, giving his mom a side-eye as he descends the stairs.

"You are your father's son. You have a stubborn goat inside you."

"Your mom's right, babe." Frank snickers. 

"Yeah okay. But mine's smaller and therefore better."

"No, I think he's a larger goat." Frank shakes his head with a chuckle, "Your home is amazing."

Christine comes down with Emma in her arms. Emma is babbling about her baby and that she wants juice. She smiles at Maria, "Maria, your home is amazing. Thank you for letting us stay here."

"Where's toys?" Emma asks with a pout.

"I'm so sorry. I'll make sure she is kept occupied." Christine says with her cheeks redding.

"Oh no worries, dear. I'm sure we can come up with some fun things to do. Maybe sweet Emma would like to be a little chef and help make cookies later?" Maria smiles at the little girl.

"Cookies?!" Emma asks with a big smile. She looks to her mom then back to Maria.

Frank slides a hand over Brock's back and invades his husband's space. 

"Cookies from scratch is a tradition we have for Christmas with all of the kids. We make it a whole day affair and get delightfully messy," Maria replies with a mischievous grin.

"My first memory of making cookies with Mom and Brooke is when I was four, I think," adds Brock.

Maria nods, "Sounds about right. Either four or five."

"Emma loves to help momma bake." Christine kisses Emma's cheek. 

"How come you never bake for me?" Frank teases Brock.

"I love cookies!" Emma chirps.

"Because he's not the baker, but the helper," Maria explains. "Though he's much better at keeping flour out of his hair now."

"Until Jack dumps it on me."

"Or Brooke throwing eggs," giggles Maria.

"I'm usually the one who bakes." Frank smiles up at Brock. He can feel the googly eyes he's making at Brock, "Emma, tell them about the gingerbread house we made."

"It was pink and had sparkles!" Emma grins, "An, Frankie maded a doggie!" 

"What did you name him?" Frank snickers.

"Soup!" Emma cheers.

"That's right!" Frank kisses her cheek. 

"We were gonna go tumble in the grass for a little bit," Christine says with a laugh. 

"Oh, by all means, enjoy yourselves. My home is your home."

"Mom, where's dad?"

"Oh, he's in the den, watching a game and enjoying coffee. You're welcome to join him. Not sure if the family would enjoy football though," says Maria. "Your sister is out with her boyfriend."

"Did you wanna go visit with your dad?" Frank asks softly as he rubs Brock's back. 

"Eh, I might say hi. Depends on what you want to do." 

"Let's go visit with Emilio." Frank nods with a warm smile, "See how he's feeling." 

"Okay, yeah. Sounds great." Brock smiles.

"Would you boys like something to eat or drink? I can send Gloria to you with something," offers Maria.

"Uh, I think I'm okay?" Frank answers. He's not even sure what they have. 

"I'll help myself to a drink, mom," Brock replies, "but thanks. I'd rather her tend to the others." 

Brock steps away and leaves his mother with Christine and Emma. He heads towards the den.

Frank quietly follows behind Brock. Nerves bubble up in his chest for just a moment. Emilio is still intimidating, no matter how much he pretends he is unaffected by him. 

Sounds of a sports game fill their ears when Brock pushes open the cherry wood door. Sitting on one of the large plush couches is Emilio, looking extra comfy in a tee and plaid sweatpants. Fuzzy slippers adorn his feet. Next to him is Jack, who's staring intently at the large 40" TV screen and also in pajamas. Both men are clearly embodying the lazy Sunday look.

Frank smirks before getting serious. He takes a seat next to Jack as quietly as he can without disturbing their ball game.

"Hey, bärchen," Jack says absently. He's watching the tv as a player runs down the bright green field, ball at his feet. He kicks the black and white ball hard and it soars. At first, it looks like it's going to land in the net but it's blocked by the goalie. Jack sits back with a hard thump and a huff. "Fucker!" 

"Frank, do you enjoy watching football," Emilio asks him.

"It's called soccer in America, dad," comments Brock. He squeezes himself in next to Frank, ruffling Jack's hair along the way.

"Yeah. Liverpool is my team." Frank answers Emilio with a little smile. He lifts a hip and sits on Brock's lap, giving him the whole cushion.

"Not a bad choice," Emilio nods. "But what is this about soccer? Why? It is football. Why must Americans rename something as if they invented it?"

"I, uh, I don't know. Stupid Americans… the usual." Frank chuckles nervously.

"Americans have a sport they call football. So more than likely when our games got popular, they had to scramble for a new name," surmises Brock.

Emilio nods, "Understandable. Still. This is football. How was your flight?"

"It was long," Frank replies. He glances around the room before looking back at the television, "My father is missing out. He's a big _football_ fan." 

"Then invite him." Emilio leans forward and grabs his coffee. As he leans back, a fart escapes. He ignores it and sips his coffee.

Frank pulls his phone out and messages his dad to meet them in the den.

Jack snickers behind his hand, trying hard to keep from laughing out loud. Yes, he's nearly 40 himself but he'll never not find dad farts funny.

Frank smirks and leans against his husband. He's trying to maintain composure but Jack isn't helping. "My dad is coming down." 

"Great. He's in for a real treat. This is an exciting game," says Emilio. 

"Oh, I'm sure Dad Frank will be utterly _surprised_ ," murmurs Brock in Frank's ear. He hugs him tight and puts his chin on his hubby's shoulder.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" Frank asks softly. 

"Never, _tesoro_."

Frank kisses his cheek. A moment later his dad slips in the door and takes a seat on the chair nearest Emilio. He gives the boys a nod and a deeper one to Emilio. He leans back in the chair and relaxes. 

After the commercial for a bank ends, the game returns. The two announcers give a recap of the game so far, the camera sweeping wide over the crowd and field before switching to the players. The announcers speak about their stats, shown on the screen. All of it is in Italian.

"What...what is this?" Frank Sr. mutters to himself, "Fuckin' soccer."

" _Football_ ," Frank smirks at his dad. He watches as his old man flips him off. 

Frank Sr. sits quietly and watches the game on TV. Better than hanging out in his room with the wife or alone. He can get into this. It's all the same, right?

Emilio turns to Frank Sr. "Your son was just telling me about how Americans have incorrectly named your sports. There is no socking in soccer but there is plenty of balls on feet in football."

"And yet," adds Jack, "in American football, you cannot use your feet, only your hands with the exception of the kickoff."

"It's a mix of rugby and soccer." Frank Sr. comments. He's done his reading. He can be a smart cookie once in a while, "It's why they called one football and the other soccer. Which was a British nickname." 

Emilio scoffs good-naturedly before turning back to the game. His favorite player was being discussed over his future chances of being traded. It's not long before another commercial comes on and his attention shifts. 

"So, what do you have planned for the day," he asks them.

"I think mom is making cookies with Emma later."

"Oh, Em is gonna love that!" Frank Sr says with a smile, "She loves baking." 

"Maria is an excellent cook. Not as good as Carlo but wonderful nonetheless." 

"Dad, be real, I'm sure you have had a few dishes mom made that was just terrible," Jack says with a smile. "I bet you had to lie your ass off, huh?"

"Never...."

"Sounds like the jackfruit tacos, Jackson…" Frank snorts, "Which were very good."

"Fuck you, they were _not_." Jack sticks his tongue out at Frank.

"What are jackfruit tacos?" Emilio asks with an eyebrow raise.

"They are a meat like fruit that can be made to taste like pork or steak with the right seasoning." Frank smiles, "It's a vegetarian alternative."

Emilio looks at Frank and stares at him for a bit before his lips curl up in a smile. It widens into a grin. "You're weird, kid." 

"Been saying that for years." Frank Sr. snorts.

"Dad!" 

"What? Just eat meat, weirdo." The elder Iero snickers.

"Oh he eats meat," mutters Brock. Frank elbows him.

Little feet patter in and a tiny giggle fills the room.

"Hi, Emmie," greets Brock with a soft smile.

She pokes her head around the couch and grins wide at Brock, "Be-rock!" Emma comes around the couch and stops in front of Emilio, "Papa, who dis?" She looks at Frank Sr. then Brock then back to Emilio.

"Emmie, this is my dad," Brock says.

"Your papa?" She tilts her head and moves closer to him, "Hullo!" 

"Hello, Amelia," Emilio says softly.

"Can I sit?" She asks with her head tilted.

"Of course, _bella_."

She carefully crawls on the couch and sits in his lap, "You Be-rock's dad?" 

Emilio nods, carefully holding onto the little girl as he leans forward to place his mug on the coffee table. He wraps both his arms around her.

"She's overly friendly. I'm sorry." Frank Sr. snorts.

"I had children," Emilio smirks with a wry grin at Frank Sr.

"What's your name?" She asks.

"Emilio. Much like your Emma," he chuckles. He leans down a little and stage whispers, "I like to think my parents wanted a girl named Emily." 

She giggles, "Melio a boy not a girl!"

Brock snickers in Frank's ear. "Emily." 

"What your favorite color?" She asks with a huge grin. 

Frank smiles and turns his head and kisses Brock, "Brockalina?" He whispers.

"No," he whispers, "Princess Brock."

Emilio pretends to think before responding to Emma, "Blue. What's yours?"

"Purple!" She grins, "What your favorite animal?"

"Dogs. What's yours?" 

"I like dogs too!" She grins at him, "Do you like cookies?"

Emilio scoffs, "Of course! Do you like milk?" 

"Yeah! Specially chocolate!" Emma beams up at him, "What your favorite movie? I like Aladdin and Frozen."

"Good choices," he nods. There's not a single movie he enjoys that the little girl would recognize so he goes with her choice, "I like Aladdin too." 

"I like you. You nice." She grins wide, "Be-rock?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I have a drink?" She asks with a smile. 

Emilio turns and shouts for Gloria. The maid appears and he speaks to her in their native tongue for her to bring the child some juice and the men wine and a beer for Frank Sr. Gloria nods her head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Emma flinches a little at the raised voice. She leans forward and buries her face into Emilio. 

"Sorry, little one," Emilio says, rubbing her back.

"You not mad?" She whispers.

"No, why would I be?" 

"You yell." She speaks a little louder. 

Jack frowns, watching their interaction instead of the football game. Emma's behavior strikes him as odd and he makes a mental note to look into it. He monitors and thinks about the next steps.

"Only to call Gloria. She's going to bring you a drink," replies Emilio. 

"Oh. You not mad." She looks up at him, bright wide eyes with water forming on her lashes. She was on the verge of tears. She was bad and made her new friend mad.

"No, bella. No one is mad." Emilio looks at Jack and sees his expression mirrored back at him. He's certain they are on the same thought train. He turns back to the little girl in his lap. He can't help but think of when Brooke was this age. He softens his voice, gentle and hopefully showing her she can trust him. " _Piccola stella_ , did anyone ever hit you when they yelled at you?" 

Her eyes widen, she looks at Brock and Frankie. "I get in trouble," she says looking back to Emilio then to grampa Frank.

"Peanut, it's okay. No one here will be mad." Frank Sr. says with a tender voice.

She nods her head, it's a small movement but the look on her face is heartbreaking. Frank grips Brock's arm.

"Who. Who did this?" Brock whispers. How dare someone touch her? How dare someone break her spirit in such a terrible, horrible way? He was going to break their bones.

"Daddy." She whispers back, her little eyes look down. 

Emilio puts a finger under her chin and tips her head up to look at him. "He was wrong. _He_ is bad, not you. Do you understand? Daddy's are not supposed to hurt their little girls."

Jack fidgets a little. " _Dad_."

"Go."

Jack bolts up from the couch and strides out like a man on a mission. Because he is. He listens and follows the sound of female voices until he locates his mother, Christa, Lindsey, Linda, and Christine in the kitchen. He wants answers.

"Hey, Jack!" Linda says with a smile.

"Hi, momma Linda. Christine, can I speak with you a moment?"

"Of course!" Christine replies cheerfully as she tilts her head and follows Jack.

He pulls her aside and works out what and how he wants to ask what's going in his head. He decides to go right to the point. When his thoughts are clearer he asks, "Emma's dad. What's his name and address? I want to… meet him. Personally."

"Why?" Christine asks, her whole body tense. She tries to calm herself down but it's too late. She already knows Jack is reading her.

"It's just something that Emma has shown me." 

Christine touches her upper arm and takes a breath, "Em. What did she show you?" 

"That her father has been hitting her. She's afraid of being hit when something as simple as a raised voice is going on. She's been abused, broken."

Christine's eyes well up with tears but she pushes them down. She's an Iero, her ass bottles her feelings, "Alexander Olyenik. 357 W 157th. He works at the firehouse on Kimball." She couldn't hide it. Neither could Emma.

Jack nods and strides away, unlocking his cell phone and pulling up several contacts. He starts a multi-way call with them and rapidly explains the situation and what he wants. He can't have him killed. The little girl needs her father, no matter how much of an asshole he was. No, instead he's going to have the man be on his best behavior. He'll always be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, afraid if he so much as lifts a finger in the wrong direction towards Emma.

"Sometimes daddy yells at momma. It scary." Emma says softly as she rests her head on Emilio.

"Peanut. Baby, I'm sorry." Frank Sr. speaks gently.

Frank looks at Brock with a frown. He knew that Alex was a prick but he never imagined he'd be that big of one, "He was a dick." 

"He will be handled," Emilio says softly. 

Frank nods. 

"Melio?"

"Yes, _piccola_?" 

"I sorry. I have a present to make it better." She smiles at him. 

Gloria enters the den with a tray of drinks, setting them down on the coffee table. She does, however, offer the child her juice instead, holding the tray steady for her to take.

"Thank you!" She takes the juice with a smile.

With a nod to the guests, she leaves, making her way to tend to the other guests in the house. Emilio trades his now cold coffee for wine and takes a drink before replying, "What sort of present?" 

"Frankie, hold." She says holding her cup out. 

He takes the cup and watches her crawl off Emilio's lap and patter away. He wrinkles his forehead confused at his dad then Emilio. Brock wears a matching expression.

Emma runs back in with a small golden lion in her hand. She crawls back on the couch and hands it to him, "Here. Melio the lion." 

Carefully he takes the small lion plush from her and holds it with one hand. It was cute. "Thank you, _stella mia_. Perhaps you could hold onto him for me? Keep him safe and clean."

"But he yours…" she blinks, "I give to you, in case Santa doesn't bring you anything." 

Frank leans back into Brock with a smile. He kisses Brock's cheek, "Wanna take me on a walk? Show me the garden?" 

"That sounds like a perfect idea," Brock murmurs his reply.

"Perfect. Let's go, lover." Frank grins wide. He slides off Brock's lap and helps him stand, "Lead the way." 

Brock grabs his cane and says bye to the dads with a smile and a nod. As they step out of the den, he spots Jack who's still on the phone and pacing. Agitated Italian falls from his lips as he shares with the voice on the other side. He nods to his brother as they head for the front door. He's doing exactly what Brock wanted. They step outside and he takes a deep breath, enjoying the temperature.

"It doesn't feel like Christmas," Frank says softly. He sneezes as they pass by flowers and along the path. He wants to ask but he doesn't. He already has a good hunch. 

"It's not nearly as frozen wasteland here. It's chilly but bearable and rather comfortable. Sometimes it snows but mostly it's the far northern part. 

"Ch-chilly? Babe." Frank asks in disbelief. It was nice, warm, and a dream.

"At night the temps drop pretty low. And the closer we get to Christmas, there's usually a cold wind in the air." Brock squeezes his hand and continues along the path. "So, what do you think of the gardenia? I don't think it likes you."

"Brock, this place is a tropical dream." Frank comments before sneezing again, "I think they are pretty but they do not like me." 

"Bless you. Maybe we should go in and get you some allergy medicine? I want you to be able to enjoy the outdoors, not suffer, love," says Brock with a light chuckle.

"As long as it doesn't make me sleepy." Frank nods before sneezing once more. 

"I'm sure we've got something. Come on, let's go check. At this rate, you'll sneeze your head off."

"I've never been allergic like this. Food yes." He smiles, "I'm sorry I ruined this walk."

"You didn't ruin it. Mom's gardenias did." Brock chuckles, "Besides, it's not like we can't come back." 

"Can I ask a question?" 

"You just did," he snickers. "Yeah?"

"What's Jack mad about?" Frank asks, knowing the answer.

"Emma's dad. He's not the only one angry either."

"Are they gonna kill him…"

Brock shakes his head, having heard Jack's side of the conversation. "No. But put in him some fear and heat, yes. He'll never raise a hand to Emma again."

"We and I got into it a few times. After Emma's last birthday." He didn't want to go into detail unless Brock wanted to know. 

"What happened?" Brock opens the door for Frank and holds it for him.

"He got angry about something and backhanded Christine. When Em cried he turned on her and I got in between them." Frank says softly before stepping in.

"Fuck… " Brock shakes his head. No wonder Christine had divorced him. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?" 

"Uh…truthfully?" He asks.

"Yes. Of course."

"He hit back. Called me a faggot." Frank says quietly.

Brock says nothing at first. Instead, he's silent as he leads Frank into the bathroom. Opening the cabinet, he grabs the allergy medicine and reads it.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Frank speaks quietly.

"What's done is done. It's in the past," Brock murmurs. He determines that the meds are safe for Frank and he gives him the box. "Here. Take one." 

He decides it was a bad idea to even bring it up. _Shoulda kept your lips sealed Iero._ Looking at the box covered in Italian writing he replies, "Ohkay." 

He kisses him lightly. "I'm glad you are okay though."

"I'm always okay." Frank grins up at him, he pops the pill and grins, "Especially when I have a handsome husband who takes good care of me."

"I'll always take good care of you," Brock kisses him again.

"I'll take care of you too. You're my whole world." Frank smiles and strokes his cheek.

"A whole new world," Brock sings before laughing.

"Exactly! Except I have given you more stress than adventure." 

"I wouldn't say that, love. We've had plenty of adventure."

"Can't we have a quiet marriage?" Frank asks as he slips off the bathroom counter, "Maybe we can start a farm… grow strawberries." 

"I like strawberries."

"I love you." Frank leans forward and kisses him, "Wanna go back out and avoid the pretty but mean flowers?"

Brock chuckles and takes his hand again. "Alright. Did you want to walk the property or go down to the beach?" 

"Dealers choice. Wow me with Capri." Frank bites his lip with a grin on his lips.

"Alright," Brock smiles, "I think I can do that." 

~~meanwhile in New York~~

A dark-haired man with a square jaw and dark eyes steps out of his apartment, he turns up the collar on his peacoat and stuffs his hands in his pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up then continues down the road. He flicks his smoke out into a snow pile then turns into a bodega and picks up a sandwich and coffee. His buddy's place was just a couple blocks down and the old ball and chain of his was outta town.

As he rounds the corner, two men step out in front of him.

"Alexander." A man with sandy colored hair and blue eyes speaks with a raspy voice. His leather jacket is visibly worn along with his jeans and scuffed up work boots. He looks like trouble. 

Alex stops in his tracks, "What?"

"Alexander Olyenik, we've been looking all over for ya," the other man speaks. He's long-legged with tight black curls and golden brown eyes. The sneer on his lips that seems to be a permanent expression makes Alex's stomach tense. 

"I don't know who you are but what can I do for you?" He asks. He can feel his hackles rising.

"Please don't make this difficult," Sandy hair says.

"We'd rather not make a scene. Come with us and nobody has to get hurt," Black curls smirks. He opens his coat just a little to reveal a shiny black pistol.

"We'll even let you finish your sandwich."

"But cross us or scream, and we'll kill you right here."

"I don't have money!" Alex says a little more panic rising in his voice, " Woah! Hey! We don't have to kill anyone!"

The sandy-haired man looks at his partner and motions with his head to the alleyway. "Please move or we'll force you. And I'd rather not do that." 

Alex walks with them and tries to keep calm. "Gents. What's this all about?" 

"We'll get that matter in a bit," the curly hair man sneers. "But first enjoy your sandwich. Then we will… talk."

"I told Tony I would pay him once I got the money!" Alex shouts as his eyes dart for an exit.

"We don't work for no Tony. Eat your meal. It might just be the last thing you do if you don't cooperate."

Alex takes another bite of his sandwich, he chews it slowly and debates. He makes a decision and squeezes the cup of coffee so the lid pops off. He throws it in the general direction of the tall one and the sandwich is hurled at the sandy-haired one. He takes off running as fast as he can. 

The sandy-haired man rushes Alexander, ignoring the food in his face. The boss said to rough the man up but didn't specify how with one special request. As he runs, he withdrawals a short knife from his pants and lobs it at Olyenik.

The curly-haired man curses hard under his breath at the scalding coffee in his face. He uses his coat to wipe it quickly. He's trying not to scream. The boss wants this quiet. He's going to make this fucker pay though, slowly. 

Alex lets out a shout as the sharp pressure lands in his back just below the shoulder. He keeps going. Slower now and in a great deal of pain. He feels arms wrap around him and throw him to the ground. 

The blonde man gets up quickly, kicking Alexander as hard as he can in the ribs, stomach, balls, and face. He continues until he's sure the man is unconscious. Glancing at his partner, who nods at his unspoken question, he exits the alley calmly and gets into an unmarked black van. He pulls up the van to the curb and opens the door for his partner to toss the unconscious Alexander into the back. His partner gets in and they drive off.

Alex opens his eyes and feels intense pain in his head. He tries to move but can't. He looks down and discovers he's tied to a chair. _No no no no!_ is all he can think as he struggles in the chair. He never thought that he'd die this way. He hurts all over and can smell the blood. 

"Told you now to run Alex." The sandy-haired man’s voice rings in his ear.

"You really made someone real mad at you…" the curly-haired one says with a hint of anger in his voice.

"I know you ain't my bitch of an ex-girlfriend's brothers. Darlene didn't send you did she?" Alex groans. He can taste a mix of blood and maybe sawdust. 

"Nah, bossman ain't said nothing about no Darlene." Curly hair leans down and grabs the hair on top of Alex's head, "He did say they know what you did. And the boss ain't too happy about none of it."

Sandy hair smirks and steps into the light with a pair of pliers, "You know. We're criminals, we know what we are… but you know what we ain't… pieces of shit like you." 

"I don't know what I did but I'm so sorry please don't kill me!" Alex pleads. 

"Ain't gonna kill you… just hurt you real bad." He approaches and grabs Alex's hand. He holds the finger still and pulls a nail out, "Quit bitching." 

Alex spits in his face, "I'm gonna fucking kick your ass then his! You piece of shit!" 

"Oh, when we're done with you you won't be doing much," the dark-haired curly man says. He steps forward next to his buddy for a second before punching Alex hard in the jaw. He grabs him by the cheeks with one hand. "We hear you gotta beat on little girls to feel like a man. How're you feeling, asshole? Feel like a man now?" Curls steps back and Sandy uses the pliers to pull a finger back slowly until it breaks. 

Alex screams louder and bucks against the chair, "Fuck you! Fuck you, I'm gonna fucking kill you and your little girls!" 

The words click in his head and his eyes widen as the man snaps another finger, the sandwich in his stomach begins to churn. The pain sears through him and forces the tears to stream down his face. 

"Aww, whatsa matter? Thought you were a big tough man. Not some pussy bitch who can't take a little pain," sneers Curls.

"Fuck you! I don't know what you want you bastard!" Alex spits as tears pour down his cheeks.

"Maybe we break every one of your fingers. Maybe your hands too. Then the next time you raise your hand to little girls, you'll be reminded of this," Curls snarls in his face. He slaps his face hard enough to force his head to the side.

"What little fucking girls?! You sick fucks!" Alex's voice cracks as he squirms in his seat. He needs to get away from them, he needs to get help.

Sandy moves the pliers to another finger and breaks that one too. "We heard that you can't control your temper, Alex. That you need to hit others to feel like a man. You don't have the balls to be a fucking grown-up."

"What are you talking about you stupid fucking bastard!" Alex sobs, "I don't even like kids!" 

"But you got one, right? We know all about you Alex," Sandy says.

"Amelia?" He asks, looking up confused, "I haven't seen that little brat in months!" 

"Our boss owns the city you live in. And he doesn’t like it when snot-nosed fuckers like yourself make trouble in his city."

"That slut of an ex-wife fucking him? She couldn't keep her legs closed. That little bitch and her bitch child deserve worse!" Alex spits again. His face is aching. His finger burning and throbbing, "Shoulda strangled the little shit!" 

Curls steps aside and pulls out his cell phone. "Break every finger. I gotta call the boss. Since it seems Mr. Olenyik here isn't learning the lesson."

Sandy grins wide, "Gladly."

"Fuck." Alex moans out as he struggles a little more panicked in his seat, "Better hope I don't get outta this chair pretty boy, I'll kill you." 

"You aren't going anywhere," Sandy replies. He finishes one hand before moving onto the next. This time, however, he switches the pliers out for a hammer. Swinging it hard, he brings it down on Alexander's first two fingers.

His sandwich makes a second appearance as he coughs up on himself and Sandy. "Why? Why's your boss care?!" 

"Doesn't matter other than he does." Sandy steps away from the pool of sick. "And he's given us free rein to do whatever we want to do. Anything to make sure the _lesson_ sticks. And don't worry, we'll be watching you. Always waiting, always watching. Next time you see your little girl, you'll be forever reminded of this."

"I see her or anyone in that family, I'll make sure they will regret paying your fuckers to do this!" Alex snarls. His whole body hurts and throbs.

Curls steps back into the light, face carefully blank. He waits until his pal is finished breaking the fucker's hand before speaking. "I've got good news and bad news Olyenik." 

"What, your mom needs you home for supper? Or the doctor called and you've got impotence?" Alex spits and groans out.

"We've been given the all-clear to kill you." 

Sandy grins wide and steps back, switching the hammer for a gun. He points it at Alex. "Any last words, bitch?" 

"What?! Wait! No no no! We can work this out!" Alex panics and pleads, "I won't even see that little bitch and her mother! You won't have to see me! Please!"

"See, the problem with assholes like you is that you have _no_ respect for your betters. Even in the face of death. You blew your chance, Olyenik," Curls says.

"Please! Don't do this!" Alex begs.

"No. He wants you dead now. And we follow the boss's orders," Sandy says.

~~

"How are you not starving?" Frank grumbles at Brock.

"I don't know, I just don't feel it. I'm hungry but my stomach isn't complaining yet. It's not going to be much longer, _tesoro_." Brock smiles and kisses him.

Frank groans, "It's only ten. I'm going to bed. I feel like I'm being punished."

Brock chuckles, "Why?"

"Did your parents never send you to bed without food cause you were bad?" Frank asks.

"No, that's terrible. It's not right to withhold basic necessities as punishment. Didn't we go over this on our first or second date?" 

"I think we were talking about touch and affection." Frank smiles softly. He knows that he's being dramatic.

Brock snaps his fingers in remembrance. "Yeah, it was food, water, shelter, sleep, and sex, because I consider touch and affection essential to human life and loop it into the sex category. Yeah, no my parents never did any of that."

"What's that gotta do with eating an early dinner on Christmas day?" Frank scratches his head.

"I mean, it's not a punishment for me, _tesoro_." Brock changes into his pajamas.

"I love you. It's just foreign to me. I'm not a 'eat dinner at 3 pm' kinda guy." Frank smiles as he watches Brock change, "Now being poor and having no food is another thing, so you sleep instead, yes." 

"Well thank God you aren't poor anymore and will never have to go through that again," Brock says softly.

"True. I am very lucky." Frank slips his arms around Brock's middle, "Cuddle me?" 

"Always, baby. Gladly." Brock leans down and kisses him.

"I'd suggest more but Santa is watching and all." Frank grins against Brock's lips.

"Santa and anyone within earshot," he chuckles. He nudges Frank to the bed before getting in after him. He curls up behind Frank, wrapping his arms and a leg around him.

"I can be quiet…" Frank snorts as he rests his head on the pillow.

"Barely," Brock snorts into his hair. "Which is fine by me. I prefer you vocal." 

"I do have the pipes." Frank smiles and leans his head down to kiss Brock's arm. They haven't even fooled around since landing. They have been too busy to have the time or urge. 

"Did you enjoy today?" 

"Yeah. I'm just excited to spend my Christmas with you. Our first Christmas." Frank sighs and melts into him.

"And presents," Brock offers.

"Oh, all I wanted for Christmas was you." Frank giggles. 

Brock laughs, "I love you but that was lame. And true, I know, but still silly. I love you."

"Well, I can't get a puppy. So you'll have to do," Frank giggles again. He thinks he's hilarious.

"Wow. Didn't know I rated second best to a dog," laughs Brock. He runs his fingers over Frank's side, tickling him. "Shit head." 

Frank giggles and squirms, "Maybe you'd even be third to a new guitar!" 

"Third?! Third?!" Brock tickles him harder, "I'll show you _**third**_!" 

Frank squirms more and laughs, "Brock, baby! Maybe….maybe a solid fourth!" 

Brock doesn't answer, instead, he's determined to continue ticking Frank until he can't breathe. "Say uncle and I'll stop. Or I keep going!"

Frank tries to escape from Brock's arms as he laughs and squirms, "No! Death before dishonor! Or. Whatever!" He manages out with giggles between each word.

"Heathen! Guess you'll die then!" He uses a leg to keep Frank in place as he continues to tickle him.

"Gonna pee! Baby!" Frank laughs and pushes his butt against Brock. Any means are necessary to escape the tickle trap.

"That's not a threat here," he snickers in reply. His hips push forward into Frank, cock stirring in interest like some Pavlovian response to tickling. They haven't had tickle sex in quite a while.

Frank pushes back into Brock and giggles as fingers dig into his side, "Baby! Not my fault! You aren't a puppy!" 

"Rude! You're supposed to love me more than anything!"

"Except puppies!" Frank giggles and pushes back again then rubbing his butt against Brock, "Puppies. Brock. Then music!" 

"No that's not how that works. Me first in all things. It's in the vows," Brock laughs.

"I know. I'm teasing, baby." Frank gasps for air and turns his head to face him, "You above everything."

"Good," is Brock's only reply before he continues tickling him.

Frank wiggles and tries to wriggle free but can't. His sides hurt from laughing and his own dick was becoming harder at the ideas filling his head, "You gonna… fuck me or make me pee myself?" 

"Up to you. You never said uncle…."

"I don't wanna fuck my uncle..." Frank giggles, "I wanna puppy and my husband." 

"Well you ain't getting a puppy," growls Brock. He stops tickling him. He had to, his hand was starting to cramp. His cock was rock hard and very interested in their play.

Frank takes a huge breath in and turns his head to face him, he kisses Brock tenderly before grinding against him. His thighs tense with excitement that had built up from the tickling. His chest was filled with butterflies.

The little bit of reprieve was enough for Brock to get a sort of second wind. Quickly he returns to tickling him, enjoying the movement. He watches openly, hips making miniature circles and thrusts into Frank's ass.

The giggles are mixed with a soft moan with each push from Brock. "I'm sorry..." Frank pauses for Brock's inquiry, knowing Brock wants an explanation for the apology, as he grinds his ass against Brock. His hand moves between his own thighs and rubs at his cock with his palm.

"Why are you sorry," he huffs out, quietly. His hips buck into Frank. 

"That you can't make me cum." Frank replies at the same volume. His hips falter a little.

"And why would you think that, _gattino_?" Brock's voice is a little breathless from a mix of the laughter and his quickly spiking arousal. Desire forms an ever-changing plan. He returns to tickling Frank as hard as he can. 

Still squirming and laughing as quiet as he can, "Cause people can hear us…" as long as he's on his side, there's a chance for escape. If Brock pins him and hits the _spot_ , he's screwed. Hopefully, he gets screwed too. 

"All they'll hear is you laughing. I would love to find out if you can cum from this. Or maybe that's just me." Brock's fingers assault his sides, stomach, and tries hard to get to the Magic Spot™. He can't help but rut up against Frank's ass. The movement was just too intoxicating for him. He needs him to move more.

Frank laughs and squirms as he presses hard against Brock. He shifts and tries to keep away from the assaulting fingers, "Are you trying to make me cum?" Frank pants out with a huge grin.

"I know you can't; from this," Brock replies and rolls over on top of Frank, slotting himself in-between his legs and spreading him wide. His fingers twist and flex over the Magic Spot repeatedly. His cock hardens further and he grounds their lengths together.

"Fuck..." He pants out, his hand moves from his hip, and grips Brock's side. He squirms hard as Brock hits the spot. He drops his hips and grinds hard into his husband, "I don't think you're trying hard enough to get me to cum." 

"I'm not. Never said I was trying to elicit that response just that I had wondered about it," pants out Brock. He grinds them together again, hard.

"Oh," Frank says softly. He leans up and kisses Brock. "I thought that's what we were doing... Sorry," he says softly before a moan pushes out of his lips.

Brock smiles fondly at him. "Sometimes you surprise me, love." Leaning down, he kisses him tenderly. His fingers pausing in their ministrations during the kiss only to return to tickling him, albeit slower and more precise.

Frank squirms and grinds into him, "I do like to keep you guessing. But I don't know what… fuck. I did!" he struggles under him as he hits the spot.

Brock moans before pulling back and begins to strip them down. He pushes up Frank's shirt first, moving to his chest and sucking on a nipple. He bites it hard then moves to do the same to the other. The fabric bunches at Frank's armpits and he struggles to not rip off the annoying fabric. "Take your shirt off, now." 

Frank inhales sharply before he bites his lips for a second before pulling the shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. He debated being a shit but decides compliance is the best thing right then. He can tell by Brock's tone, that if he pushes the wrong way, he might get burned. 

"Good boy," Brock purrs. 

Frank leans up again, trying to bear with it and not jerk before he kisses Brock's lips again, "I feel like we are teenagers who are gonna get caught." 

Chuckling, he leans down and captures Frank's lips again. "You're not wrong, baby. Think you can be quiet?" 

"I think so. I might bite." Frank grins wide, "But only if you trap me… canary in a cage." 

"Hmm, I think I like that. My _passerotto_." Brock kisses him quickly before hooking his fingers into Frank's waistband and tugging his pajamas down. His lips follow, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses and love bites. Carefully he pulls the fabric off of Frank, taking his underwear with him, and tosses it over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. His clothes soon follow after but less erotic and more urgent.

Frank watches Brock with a stupid love-drunk smile. He glances at the door before sitting up and pulling Brock down on top of him. He shimmies down the bed a little to really feel covered by his husband. His hands run over Brock's side, "Love you, _polpetto_." Frank whispers.

"I love you, _tesoro_ ," he whispers in reply. Leaning over, he grabs the lube he has stored in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. Raising his lower body, he quickly coats himself. He's decided to forgo preparation in favor of going slow. Hooking one of Frank's legs over his hip, he blindly lines himself up by feel and pushes in. A deep sigh is released at the feeling of Frank's body enveloping his cock in a velvety tight heat. He goes slow, savoring the moment until he finally bottoms out. A low moan follows.

Frank's mouth falls open in an o shape. He swallows hard and quietly moans. His fingers grip Brock's arm, he tries not to moan loudly instead opting to tighten around Brock as he pushes all the way inside of him, "Fuck baby..." Frank whispers.

"God you feel so good," Brock says under his breath. He slides onto his forearms, arms cradling under Frank. He kisses him tenderly, pulling back before pushing forward again, creating a slow rhythm. He's forgotten about tickle sex, pushed it aside because this feels right.

Frank leans up more and kisses him deeper to keep himself quiet. The mattress below them squeaks quietly. He rests back down and pants softly, he's trying not to be noisy. 

Brock groans, long and deep. He buries his face in Frank's neck and kisses Scorpio. Catching a bit of flesh in his teeth he worries at it before sucking hard. He wants Scorpio to be red with his love bites. 

"Love your mouth." Frank moans softly. His fingers dig into Brock's skin as he finds Brock's rhythm and matches it with his own. 

"I love you so much, _tesoro_. I'm so incredibly thankful you've been in my life. I'm the luckiest man in the world." His breath of hitches and a low moan reverberates in his chest. His lips seek out Frank's.

Frank kisses him, "Second luckiest." 

"No. Not possible." He curses softly from the feelings and bucks harder than he intended. "You… _ohfuck_ … you saved my life." 

"I love you. 'm the luckiest man. I have... _yes! That's it._ Everything I've wanted because of you," Frank moans softly before he nips at Brock’s skin. 

With a pant, Brock jerks his hips, wanting and needing to hear Frank's praise again. He needs to make him feel so good. Needs to hear his moans. Slowly, he increases his speed causing a moan to fall out of his mouth in the process.

Frank keeps his moan soft and enjoys the new speed, "You're perfect… fuck, feels so good!" Breathing in sharp to cut the moan that wants to come out loud off. He bites his lip and lets his eyes roll slightly.

"Yeah? You like this? God, you're amazing. Gorgeous. Love you," Brock pants out.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes," Frank moans out, a little louder than he planned. He slaps his hand over his mouth and breathes in hard as another whine comes out of his mouth. 

Brock takes his wrist and pulls it away from Frank's mouth, replacing it with his lips. He moves his hand to his shoulder, nudging the limb a little. He's hoping his love will take the hint. There are other ways to display wild pleasure and he's discovered he likes a little pain.

Frank digs his nails into Brock's skin as he tightens down harder around his husband. His nails scrape along his shoulder and back. As he pulls back a little, he bites Brock’s lip and pulls. He turns his attention to his hubby's throat and bites a soft spot as he moans. 

"Oh god yes. Fuck, Frankie..." Brock moans and arches his back. "Again. Shit; more. Give it to me, little hellcat."

He moves his attention to Brock's chest, he bites and sucks on the skin. He moans into him, the excited moans from Brock are all the encouragement he needs to keep up. His fingers are still digging and scratching him.

The stinging pain in his back drives him wild and his thrusts increase. Each one pushes him closer to the edge. He can feel it building within. Frank's body electrified him, encouraging him. He moans in Frank's ear, "Getting close, baby." 

Frank moans softly and nods, "Come in me, baby. Fill me up." He feels his insides twisting and tightening as Brock pushes inside of him. He turns his head and bites Brock's shoulder.

His stomach contracts and his hips snap several times. He's racing to the finish. It overwhelms him for a moment as he drowns from the waves of pleasure. With his eyes closing tightly shut and a moan following, he jumps over the edge and cums. Bursts of pleasure explode in his body. He's fairly certain he moans Frank's name.

Frank moans as Brock finishes inside of him, the hand that was scraping Brock's back wraps around his cock and strokes himself fast. He's so close, he only needs a little more. Moaning, he bites his lip. His eyes scan Brock's face as he arches his back a little. 

"Fuck, you're sexy." Brock's eyes are glued to the intoxicating image of Frank's hand jerking his cock. Even though he's finished first, again goddammit, he doesn't stop thrusting. He needs Frank to cum all over them. "Don't stop baby. Wanna feel you cum." 

"Fuck. Oh my god!" Frank strokes himself faster and lets himself come all over his stomach and a little on Brock. He tightens down hard on Brock's cock inside of him until he finished. He melts back into the bed and exhales softly.

Brock slows and eventually stills. Leaning down, he kisses Frank deeply. Uncaring about the hot, sticky, wetness between them, he gently pulls out of his husband. His hands caress over his skin lovingly. "I love you." 

"I love you, more." Frank kisses his lips softly. 

"Not possible, sweetheart. I love you most."

"I am the luckiest little _gattino_ in Italy." He kisses him as he cups Brock's cheek, "Merry Christmas, baby." 

"Merry Christmas, Frankie." 

The End

Brock and Frank will return in Wars and Tours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Scene:
> 
> "Brock are you okay?" Frank asks, touching his cheek.
> 
> "I'm fine. We're okay. I'm okay," he replies distantly. He pulls away and looks at the dog.
> 
> Frank looks up at him concerned. He touches the top of the puppy's head, "Okay." He doesn't believe a word of it. Brock's not okay.
> 
> Gerard puts a cup of coffee in Brock's hand, "Drink." 
> 
> Brock's phone rings. Ignoring the coffee for now, he answers it. His mother's frantic voice fills his ear and he switches to Italian, trying hard to soothe her. He can't understand the broken words through the crying. 
> 
> Frank puts a hand on Brock's back and ushers him outside. The band quietly follows and leans against the wall. The sound of the bar next door spills into the street each time the door opens. Frank glares at a small group of men outside the bar.
> 
> "Mama. Mama, please," Brock urges. A pit is forming in his stomach. Finally, her words are clear and he pales. Tears well in his eyes and he falls to his knees, phone falling to the ground. A wail that turns into a scream escapes his throat.
> 
> "Mama mama! What a little bitch!" One of the men mocks Brock. 
> 
> Frank kneels beside him, "Brock what is it?" 
> 
> "The gag bang Musta got moved." Another man says and their group laughs. 
> 
> Ray puffs up. 
> 
> Frank tilts Brock's chin up, "Baby, breathe. What's going on?"
> 
> "He did it," Brock whispers, tears streaming down his face. 
> 
> "Who? What?" Frank is confused. 
> 
> Brock rises shakily to his feet. He needs….something. A time machine or tissues or a drink would be preferable. He turns to the mockers and feels rage replace his grief.
> 
> "Gotti."


End file.
